EMEK, Guy Burwell, Mike King interview from The Oregonia

Kristi Turnquist of The Oregonian interviewed Portland's best known rock poster aritsts.

In Portland — where it sometimes seems as if everybody under age 30 plays in a band — concert posters pop up everywhere: stapled to telephone poles, tacked to bulletin boards at coffee shops and bookstores, displayed in record store windows and pasted to the sides of music clubs. Many get papered over or recycled and are never seen again.

But as the recent new book, "Gig Posters Volume 1: Rock Show Art of the 21st Century" reveals, those scores of design-it-yourselfers are surrounded by some of the most accomplished poster artists in the country. Flip through the oversize volume, with more than 700 examples of concert art, and the work of Portland professionals — Mike King, Guy Burwell, Emek, Dan Stiles, Gary Houston and Justin Hampton — are among the creations that merit framing, not forgetting.

Some gig-poster designers consider their work an art form. Others reject anything so pretentious-sounding and take pride in reflecting the image of a band. But no matter how you classify them, rock posters are a visual history of the country. They're snapshots of what was, at the time, considered the ultimate in cool. For example, in 1956, Nashville's Hatch Show Print Shop commemorated an Elvis concert with a simple red, white and blue letterpressed poster featuring a photo of the King, and capital letters blaring out the gig details. It looks charmingly retro now, but the design still pops.

The best posters walk that line between living in their moment and looking great decades later. The posters featured in the "Gig Posters" book are all recent — as the subtitle says, from the 21st century — so it may be premature to declare that they'll stand the test of time. But there's no denying that they're fascinating, overflowing with imagination in how to visually convey music.

Nobody counts exactly how many people make posters in Portland. It's safe to say dozens, from members of bands making their own fliers to fans whipping up posters for free. Those who make a living at concert-poster work are fewer in number, however.

"Off the top of my head, I would say maybe four people are doing concert posters full time," Burwell says. There are others, he says, who do posters in addition to other graphic design work.

What brings national-caliber poster artists to Portland? "It must be something in the water," jokes Clay Hayes, author of "Gig Posters Volume 1." In 2001, Hayes, from Alberta, Canada, founded the Web site GigPosters.com, the world's largest historical archive of posters. Even those who moved here from elsewhere seem stumped about why Portland attracts poster artists.

Emek, who became a successful poster artist in Los Angeles before relocating to Portland, suggests it may be the same reasons we hear about why so many writers live here. "When the weather's nice, I want to go outside," he says. Portland's cloudy days are a great reason to stay indoors and work. "I'm more productive here."

And in a digital age, designers don't have to be in cities such as L.A. and New York, he adds. "It's all virtual now," Emek says. "I can live anywhere that there's the Internet and Fed Ex."

No matter where they live, top poster artists' work is in demand. "The gig-poster scene has grown by leaps and bounds in the last five to 10 years," Hayes says. Collectors and bands seek out creators of limited edition, screenprinted posters, which can sell for thousands.

For a look behind the colorful surface, we spoke with three of Portland's best designers of gig posters about their art, why they're in Portland and what music they listen to when they're off the designing clock.

MIKE KING

Age: 49

Web site: crashamerica.com

With more than two decades of experience, Mike King could be considered the patriarch of Portland gig-poster design. Or, as the Oregon City native puts it with characteristic sardonic humor, "I'm a bitter old man. Get off my lawn."

King started making posters well before "the influxers," as he calls them, moved to town. King still designs telephone pole-style fliers, in addition to record covers for the likes of Jack Johnson, signed-and-numbered, limited-edition posters for Pink Martini, the logo for Voodoo Doughnut and other graphic design jobs.

King, who has no formal art training, creates posters highly varied in style. In the "Gig Posters" book, King says he's influenced by "cartoons, early Soviet art, the ads in comic books, matchbooks, '60s movie posters, Victorian advertising, the smile on a small child's face." He lays out a design on the computer and then, as he says, "attempts to screenprint it."

The "Gig Posters" book features, among others, King's poster for a 2007 Arcade Fire show: a drawing of a boy sleeping near what appears to be an empty liquor bottle, beneath a window revealing a purple, starry night. In a poster for opening night of Portland's Doug Fir Lounge, King combines a found image of a deer with his own lettering of the show info, curving throughout the animal's antlers.

In his younger days, King played in punk bands. He started making posters, as do so many, "in exchange for tickets to the shows, and for beers." By the early '80s, King started charging money for his work. After years working as a janitor, in a print shop and at Powell's Books, King has supported himself with graphic design since 1990. These days, King shares a studio in an inner Southeast warehouse with fellow poster artist Burwell.

Like many poster artists with a track record, work comes to King in a number of ways. Music labels, promoters and bands sometimes contact him directly. Sometimes he contacts them. King, who lives in Southeast Portland, is making a living — "I get to eat," he says — though King teases his studio mate. "I get a little jealous of Burwell," he says. "I think he makes more money than I do."

When designing a poster, King says, "I'd rather know how a band visually represents itself than listen to the music." When indulging his own taste, King says, "I'm enamored with culture on all levels. I like live theater, and I like 'The Hills.' I like all kinds of music: indie rock, Jewish music, jazz music, classic rock, metal, country-western."

Part of the appeal of design, King says, is getting "to force my opinion on an unsuspecting world." In a moment of sincerity, King describes his job with an unprintable term of endearment. And then, smiling, he says, "I feel pretty good about the work I do."

GUY BURWELL

Age: 43

Web site: guyburwell.com

Like his studio mate, on the day we visit, Guy Burwell wears a black shirt. King describes the two as "slightly chubby, scruffy older guys in black clothes." But the similarities end there. Burwell's artistic style is as identifiable as King's is unpredictable.

"I'm an illustrator, first and foremost," he says, and takes inspiration from illustrators of the 1930s, '40s and '50s. The "Gig Posters" book spotlights Burwell's trademark approaches. For example, a poster for British singer Holly Golightly reveals Burwell's penchant for telling stories in his work. At first glance, we see a brunette gal in a country-style, vintage dress, holding a rifle.

But as Burwell explains, Golightly's songs are a mixture of roots music, heartbreak and messed-up romance. So Burwell gives the gal a heart-shaped black eye; arms her rifle with heart-shaped bullets; circles her head with bluebirds; draws worms emerging from even more hearts; and renders it all in subdued, autumnal colors.

Burwell loved drawing from childhood, and his passion for music eventually translated into working in record stores. That led to doing posters for bands, plus murals and calendars. His art training consisted of, as he says in the "Gig Posters" book, "half a semester at Southwest Missouri State University." Restless with his hometown of St. Louis, Burwell moved to Portland in his mid-20s and got a job at a record store. A music promoter came in one day and wondered who did all the cool art around the shop. It was Burwell; shortly after that, Burwell started doing posters for the promoter.

That led to a job with Will Vinton Studios, where Burwell designed characters and content for TV shows and commercials. After about five years, Burwell started his own animation studio and moved to California for a while. "I lost some weight and got a tan," he recalls. But he missed the Northwest, and moved back to Portland in 2004.

In the past few years, Burwell has been on a roll, thanks to working with bands who boast huge, passionate followings, such as My Morning Jacket and Phish. Such national acts often buy limited-edition posters to sell as part of their merchandise line. Burwell says the copies he retains to sell on his Web site generally sell out within hours.

Burwell, who's single ("I was married once, a million years ago") lives in Northeast Portland. He makes a comfortable living, he says. "But the comfort level depends on each person's definition of comfort." He's lucky, he says, in being able to travel and work most of the time on jobs he wants to do. "But it's a seven-day-a-week job. Work is always on my mind."

EMEK

Age: 39

Web site: emek.net

For one of the most respected gig-poster artists in the business, Emek lives a decidedly non-rock'n' roll lifestyle. He works at a studio in his home, a comfortable Northeast Portland house surrounded by a lush, well-kept yard and populated with his wife, 3-year-old son, 1-year-old daughter and the children's toys. Emek (who doesn't use his last name, Golan, professionally) enjoys working in the garden when not sitting at his drafting table, creating intricate, painstakingly detailed posters for such clients as Erykah Badu, Radiohead and the Coachella music festival.

Befitting a man whose Web site identifies him as "the thinking man's poster artist," Emek is soft-spoken and reflective when discussing his work. His first commission for a gig poster was for a political demonstration on Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday, following the L.A. riots that broke out in 1992 after a jury acquitted police officers charged with beating Rodney King.

Emek grew up in the Los Angeles area, the son of politically minded, artistic parents. He studied art at California State University at Northridge, but eventually the L.A. scene began to wear thin. "It's all about going to art shows to be seen, not to look at the art," Emek says. "I like to put my nose to the grindstone and let the art speak for itself." A visit to Portland convinced him this was the place to be, so he and his wife moved here in June 2006.

Examples of Emek's work have been hailed as among the best rock posters of all time by Billboard magazine. Collectors scoop up his posters in seconds, paying in excess of $1,000. Emek is doing well enough that he recently bought his parents a house a few doors down from his own.

At a recent gathering with other poster artists in the city, Emek recalls, "We got to wondering about why are we all here?" Nobody could put their finger on one particular reason. "There's something about this city that just feels refreshing."

In his work, Emek likes to branch out. On the one hand, he'll channel Soviet propaganda art for a bold poster of Erykah Badu as a workers' heroine, surrounded by upraised fists holding microphones. But then he'll print on Plexiglas, or sculpt three-dimensional pieces.

When designing a poster, he'll listen to the music and see what it suggests to him. And when listening for pleasure? "I like Afrobeat, like Fela Kuti. Thievery Corporation, kind of electronic soul."

And then it's back to work. In his family, Emek explains, art was a calling. "You didn't do it because you were going to be rich and famous," he says. "You did it because it was in you."