SA: So, Martin, what’s with the controversy? Why do you think you and your work elicit such strong opinions from the design community?

MV: King of chaos? No, Sean, no! I don’t think my work is chaotic at all! Rambunctious and jubilant—sure. But “a jumble of forms”? As for controversy, that always surprises me, since I imagine that my work flies well under the general design radar. I realize the kind of work I do isn’t right for everyone or every project, but then again my work is much broader than most people realize. A lot of it is really very refined and respectful. The most extreme or radical aspect of my work is the time it takes to make these things. And, except for the obvious dismal financial ramifications, I can’t imagine why that would upset anyone.

SA: Is it justified or misguided?

SNAPSHOT CHRONICLES, COPUBLISHED BY REED COLLEGE AND PRINCETON ARCHITECTURAL PRESS, 2006.

MV: Some folks may see my work as a car wreck, but I think it is more like a busy, urban intersection. There’s a lot to see, but it all flows with its own logical order and gets you where you need to go.

SA: One of the markers for success in our industry is to become a “famous designer.” One aspect overlooked in that ambition is that for everyone out there who thinks you’re swell, there is someone else who really hates your guts. What do you think about the idea of celebrity, good and bad, in the design world?

MV: I think that for celebrity to have any meaning it requires commitment and sharing. That commitment could be for the absolute craft and integrity of the work, or it could be as a teacher or writer or sponsor.

SA: You mentioned the word melancholy in an interview once, and it seems to follow you around like a lost puppy. I’m not sure I see that as a driving force in your work. There are many other emotions and ideas being expressed. Where did the melancholy idea come into play?

MV: I titled the lead essay in my monograph “Design and Melancholy,” so I’m not reluctant to use the term. But as I frame the argument, melancholy is a motivation for the processes I employ, rather than the feeling expressed by the end product. Collecting discarded ephemera, working with delicate materials and anticipating the inevitable unraveling of my surroundings—these are all aspects of my process and my need to create. But I wouldn’t expect anyone to decipher that from looking at the work itself.

SA: I see humor in your work all the time. Is that intentional, or am I just completely misreading it?

MV: Yes, definitely. Humor is a direct result of objects coming together in unexpected ways. The humor I enjoy the most is not the literary joke-telling sort, but the surprising relationships that reflect and encapsulate the external world.

THIS FLYER WAS DESIGNED AS PART OF THE FLUXUS-INSPIRED EXHIBITION, “DRAW A LINE AND FOLLOW IT,” LACE GALLERY, LOS ANGELES, 2006.

SA: Your work has such a powerful and personal voice. Has it always? What were the forces that helped shape that voice?

MV: I’ve always been an interior sort. That is, I’m used to looking at the world as a somewhat misinformed observer—curious but unsure, preferring to look through a window rather than walk through a door. That has given me a lot of time to think about how the world gets stitched together, and to examine and poke at the structures beneath the spectacle.

SA: And how has that voice evolved over the life of your career?

MV: The biggest evolution has been in seeing my own eccentricities and “outsider” status not as a handicap, but as a valuable point of view worthy of expression. It’s unfortunate that design marginalizes the eccentric because I find these unexpected creative bursts essential to invigorate what could be a dreary profession.

SA: Talk to me about your relationship with your clients. A question I get often is, “How did you get away with that?” This sort of presumes that the client is an enemy, which I don’t agree with. But, really … how do you get away with that?

MV: Most of my clients contact me because of the work they’ve seen. My clients are usually passionate about what they do, and that already establishes some common ground. If I am thinking of an unusual approach, I discuss it with them right away rather than save it for a formal presentation. So not only are they free to say no, but they become a part of the creative process right at the start and can watch and comment as ideas develop and mature. I know some clients insist on it, but I really hate the whole “provide us with three ideas in a formal presentation and we’ll choose among them” routine. It is so antithetical to creative inspiration and is probably what makes enemies out of clients.

TOP: THESE ENDPAPERS WERE CREATED FOR WORKBOOK 29, 2007 (HEATHER SCOTT, ART DIRECTOR; BRAD COHEN, PHOTOGRAPHER). THE HANDCRAFTED COLLAGE WAS PHOTOGRAPHED FOR THE PHOTOGRAPHY VOLUME AND SCANNED AS LINE ART FOR THE ILLUSTRATION VOLUME.