My Timesharing with Peter
An energetic and savvy pioneer of 20c graphic design, later emeritus professor, Peter Seitz never ceased improving, innovating, mentoring: “What moves those of genius, what inspires their work, is not new ideas, but their obsession with the idea that what has already been said is still not enough.” (E. Delacroix)
When Peter Seitz (1931–2023), a colleague and friend of mine, retired from teaching and professional practice a decade and half ago I wrote this piece. In theory my “pitch” would have been to invite members of the Twin Cities’ (MN/USA) graphic design and art communities — anyone actually — to “timeshare” Peter.
At the time I had little visual matter to support my narrative. It was never published in its whole, rather it was excerpted for use in his biography, Peter Seitz: Designing for Life, that was later published by the Minneapolis College of Art and Design (MN/USA). (Figure 1) With his recent passing I have revised my tribute/timeshare into this illustrated essay. His biographical details are offered aplenty online.
A loose metaphor
Timeshare is defined as a “property with a divided form of ownership and rights of use.” Timeshare is done with property, but what if one extends it as a loose metaphor for what we can do with people — luminaries, mentors, coaches, friends, etc.?
A character sketch: in first person, as two paragraphs
Peter Seitz’s early years of growing up were in a war-torn Europe and they demanded he overcome great adversity. He had stories to tell about that and over decades I learned of a few. He obtained the equivalent of his undergraduate degree at HFG/Ulm, Germany’s post-Bauhaus design education gem. The school was unique and innovative. Peter was talented and productive, studying under Otl Eicher, Helene Nonné-Schmidt, and others who have been ordained by scholars as Bauhaus luminaries. His student work was gorgeous, I have seen many examples firsthand. (Figure 2) Not many who graduated from Ulm in 1959 would have looked west, specifically, to Yale University’s graduate program in graphic design. Yes, it was America’s first graphic design program, but at the time was in its adolescence. No matter: Peter was accepted, travelled by ship across the Atlantic, entered the program in New Haven (CT/USA), and completed his M.F.A. degree. Peter’s passage from Ulm to Yale is a testament to the humility, determination, and risk-taking of a young man in search of a creative life. In the end Yale was a great investment and embarkation in (and for) both he and his chosen profession. It would be Peter and many of his classmates who helped lead the then newish discipline of graphic design in America for the remainder of the 20th century.
If Peter’s education was a bit of “a road-less-traveled,” perhaps it was seeded during what we now called a “gap year” as — by his own narrative — the year that he was an unmitigated ski bum, “ski-penner,” to quote Peter. You just don’t become a pioneer of 20th century graphic design without experiencing a little countercultural lifestyle as well as taking risks! Peter’s love for slopes, winter and summer, eventually (i.e., a half-century later) transmigrated into his fine-art painting of the many and beautiful watercolor-landscapes that he created and exhibited during retirement. Relentless and energetic as a Professor Emeritus who lived and practiced his art in Pepin, Wisconsin, Peter never stopped improving, innovating, and mentoring.
A master teacher
As a teacher across three decades at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, Peter brought the best out of his students. (Figure 3) Given his high standards, he of course tendered the same of himself as them. This seemed also true for his friendships. (Peter attended my son’s bar mitzvah, that’s friendship!)
Though Peter is recognized far and wide as a preeminent master teacher I always felt he regarded his former students as peers. Often this was a process of evolution: many went from being his student, to protégé, then to peer. Many of his students eventually started their own design businesses and studios. As a teacher and mentor Peter would never turn down requests to meet a colleague and/or college alum for coffee (strong coffee, with lots of cream and sugar). After he retired, I did such visitations with him at least annually, always bringing a few questions his way. If and when I asked him for honesty, I discovered that there was no question he would not at least try to answer, or as often, help you contextualize it so you could answer it yourself.
A peek inside
Peter was generous, consistently so. I have a half dozen gifts from him, most of them “graphic.” (Figure 4)
But he wasn’t just “2D,” he was as utterly architectural and “3D-savvy” as much as anyone trained in those fields. For years I would drive up a valley from Lake Pepin (WI/USA) to visit with him, each time getting a better look, outside and in, of his hilltop home, a Bauhaus-inspired gem he designed for himself. (Figure 5)
(Some argued at the time that his studio there may have had the best private wood shop in western Wisconsin.) Within the many gifts Peter gave (to friends, his family, his church, his art center, and so on) he always embedded a compelling quality of an old-style crafting. One I particularly love is a watercolor of Peter’s in a custom-made wooden frame. His giclée is a perfect visual statement of the zeitgeist of a gardener. (Figure 6)
Due to our household humidity the print slipped off its paper-hinged mat, so I had to take it apart to repair it. It took me a half hour to open the back of the frame: it felt like “artistic archaeology,” peeling away layer after layer of TLC, i.e., “tender-loving-craft”! This was a kind of old-world attention to detail that was not at all apparent until one “peeked inside.” (May I assert that my timesharing of Peter was in fact a collection of peak “peek experiences?!”)
Perky Peter: may he keep on rolling
Peter eventually had to leave Pepin and moved to a care community in Northfield (MN/USA). Last summer Peter perked up one day and decided to depart his assisted-living residence in his wheelchair: he scooted off, alone, to visit an art supply store four blocks away. (Figure 7)
Given his nonagenarian status the staff did not approve of Peter’s little jaunt. But, frankly, what’s not to love about his longing to see (feel, maybe smell, …??) all those fresh, new, colorful art supplies akin to what an artist-designer like Peter might have had in (and on) hand for (say) eighty-five of his ninety-two years? When I heard that story I all could do was laugh out loud. Sadly, it was his last visit there.
My own final visits with Peter were also this year. (Figure 8) I have a story or two to tell about those, but let’s face it: accolades are best when kept brief. Time to close my “timeshare tribute” to him.
As a friend for half his life I believe there are a couple key values that come to mind, ones that I felt I saw in — and shared with — Peter:
Longings (aesthetic, psychosocial, spiritual, occasionally tenacious) and gratitude
I’ll close with quotes from a French fine artist and a German philosopher, both of whom were “old-world class,” having offered us “their say” on exactly the above two values:
What moves those of genius, what inspires their work, is not new ideas, but their obsession with the idea that what has already been said is still not enough. – Eugene Delacroix
Art is the proper task of life. The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude. – Friedrich Nietzsche
Acknowledgement: Editing assistance courtesy Kathy Heuer. Errors that might remain are mine and mine alone.
J. Kevin Byrne (MA/Minnesota, MFA/Cranbrook, MSc-Cert./Saint Mary’s) is Professor (now Emeritus) at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design. He has published in print and continues to do so online. Feel free to Link-In to him here.
