“I Remember This One Time with Archie Boston, Jr....”

By Alixandra Rutnik on Aug 20, 2024

Get to know our Creative Hall of Fame laureates with stories from their students and colleagues

The Creative Hall of Fame has a rich history dating back 60 years that has honored more than 225 men and women in advertising, design, branding, illustration, photography, typography, and education. And this September 5, we will be adding nine more incredible individuals to that list, alongside recognizing the Type Directors Club’s TDC Medalist. You’ll want to grab your?tickets and tables today!

In celebrating these nine?inductees, we wanted to move away from simply posting their?work and many accomplishments,?and instead get the?inside scoop from their friends and colleagues. We gave them each the prompt “I remember this one time when...” and encouraged them to share stories from the laureates’ pasts. They could be funny, poignant, a little bit embarrassing — or even all three!

Archie Boston, Jr. is the second to last Creative Hall of Fame laureate to be featured for his brilliance in art directing, teaching, and championing social justice. Archie is a beloved Design Professor who taught at California State University Long Beach for 30+ years. He helped establish and grow the Visual Communication Design program during his time as department chair and bonded with his students over the years.

Archie’s stories reveal the impact he has had on those around him.

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Dino Spadavecchia Creative Director, Consultant

I remember this one time when Archie tore my buddy a new orifice.

I was a young design student - edgy, ambitious, and ready to take on the world. There were about 22 of us in total, we were the whole new crop of inductees that made it into the CSULB Design Program, a grand achievement.

I was pretty scared of Archie. See, Archie was an imposing figure, seemed to be seven feet tall, giant hands, booming voice, a resting bitch face, and some sort of scary facial scar. He didn’t take crap from anyone. Not colleagues, not faculty, and certainly not students. We’d all heard stories about him from the upperclassmen and from others who couldn’t hack his classes and dropped out. Archie, it turns out, did not suffer fools.

When it came to Design and Advertising, he took everything very seriously. He had tremendous respect and mastery for the craft, was always on time, and expected the same commitment from you. When class started, everybody had better be in their seats ready to get all their work torn to shreds. It was an era where things were done by hand, using gouache to paint letterforms perfectly, illustrate images with Rapidographs and Prismacolor markers, spray mount, and Quark was used to throw layouts together… the dark ages.

“He had tremendous respect and mastery for the craft, was always on time, and expected the same commitment from you. When class started, everybody had better be in their seats ready to get all their work torn to shreds.”

We were a diverse and rowdy group. Bonding intimately as we suffered through the program, teaching each other tricks in Photoshop, writing lines for each other, and staying up all night working on projects. All that bonding breeds a sense of comfort… and inevitably some people would start to crack, and get a little soft.

It was not good to get soft with Archie.

One day, like clockwork, Archie walked into class. He started teaching and realized one of us was missing. Dan was a confident, stylish, super talented designer. A handsome fellow, sometimes he’d wear what could pass as a blouse, his bare chest in full view. And he had been late before. Well, Archie wasn’t about to let that become a habit. He walked over to the door locking it shut, and commenced teaching. Within a few minutes, Dan’s head appeared in the little square window in the door. He was trying to get in. It was hard not to look and laugh, his head bobbing up and down signaling for someone to let him in. After about what seemed like too long, he stopped trying. Archie eventually opened the door and let Dan in. There was some loud, humorous orifice tearing. I don’t remember exactly what was said, but it was good stuff. And from that point forward, Dan was only known as Sex-Symbol Dan. He never lived that down. And he was never late again, not to Archie’s class.

Congratulations Archie! I’m extremely honored and thankful to have been one of your students, and to have you as a mentor. You mean more to me and my family than you will ever know.

Gail Anderson Design & Advertising Chair,?School of Visual Arts

I met Archie years back at an exhibition we both had work in. I didn’t quite know what to expect because of his total badassery, but Archie was like a big ole teddy bear. I mean, he just needed sewn-on button eyes. A full-on teddy bear and gentle soul. Go figure.

“I didn’t quite know what to expect because of his total badassery, but Archie was like a big ole teddy bear.”

Steve Jones Principle,?plantain studio

Although I never knew Archie?personally—my connection to him is from the perspective of a Black design student and professional designer. Within the Black design community—where he commands “one-name” status—Archie is a trailblazer, inspiration, and role model.

“Within the Black design community—where he commands “one-name” status—Archie is a trailblazer, inspiration, and role model.”

As a Black graphic design student, my design (history) education did not reflect any Black designers. I remember asking my instructor why they didn’t teach a more inclusive history showing the contributions of Black designers. The response was, that there was so much history to cover in such a short amount of time, that they could only focus on the “important” people. That response is a familiar one for many BIPOC students in their design history classes. Discovering Archie and his work was an important and reassuring experience for me as a graphic design student and a strong counterargument to my history professor. Archie represented a concrete possibility for me and the reality of a design career. Archie’s work was uncompromising. He made the audience uneasy. He confronted and utilized race/stereotypes for effective communication.

Black representation and messaging in popular culture has always fascinated me—it was the focus of my MFA Thesis at RISD. Archie’s use of imagery and language to critique the status quo informed my work. His self-promotional collateral (e.g. Fly in the buttermilk; ‘crismus’ cards; for sale poster…) is sublime.

Moving forward with my design education, and my early design career, I learned more about the seminal role of Archie from other Black creatives and mentors of mine, such as Sylvia Harris, Michele Washington, and Fo Wilson. Archie continues to be a source of inspiration for other BIPOC designers who are searching for an accomplished role model.

Tor Hovind Graphic Design Professor,?California State University, Long Beach

I remember this one time traveling with Archie, and we called each other Dad (Archie) and Son (Tor). We would get the weirdest stares because people?could not determine how we were related. He would tell students (at CSULB) to “go talk to his son” in the next classroom, and they would come in confused when they saw me. We would just laugh and smile at each other. Constantly stirring the pot. I love being his son.

“He would tell students to “go talk to his son” in the next classroom, and they would come in confused when they saw me. We would just laugh and smile at each other.”

Michele Washington Design Researcher,?Coforma

My journey with Archie began in 1991 when I had the pleasure of co-curating an exhibition with my dear friend Foleyami (Fo) Wilson. The exhibition, titled Visual Perceptions: 21 African American Designers Challenge Modern Stereotypes, opened at Parsons School of Design, and it was here that I first encountered the genius of Archie Boston. At the time, I had little understanding of the depth and impact of his work. However, that quickly changed as I came to appreciate the power of his visual puns and the sharpness of his parodies, and of racially charged stereotypes.

One piece from that exhibition remains etched in my memory. Archie’s poster, created for the show, was a bold and uncompromising statement that listed all the names African Americans have been called throughout history. Some of these names were derogatory, others were normalized by the period. The poster was not just a piece of art but a powerful commentary, a call to reflection, and a testament to Archie’s ability to provoke thought and discussion through his work. It’s a piece I admire deeply, not just for its artistic merit but for its bravery and the challenging questions it posed to all who viewed it.

“It’s a piece I admire deeply, not just for its artistic merit but for its bravery and the challenging questions it posed to all who viewed it.”

That exhibition was just the beginning of a long and treasured friendship with Archie. Over the years, I have come to cherish not only his friendship but also the wisdom he has generously shared with me. His guidance, especially the importance of documenting one’s work, has profoundly influenced my career. This advice has shaped how I approach my design projects and academic research, ensuring I leave a legacy others can learn from and build upon.

In graduate school at the School of Visual Arts, I was part of the initial AIGA Design Journey committee. Archie was among those selected designers for the Design Journey. Then a small group from Design Journey Rafael Esquer, Pablo Medina, and Gabriela Mirensky produced an exhibition, We Are Here. Rafael known for his mural work, designed a dynamic mural that integrated each designer’s name. Archie’s name was among those undulating names intertwined throughout the mural, a testament to his enduring influence in the design community and his significant contributions to the field.

Then I mentioned to Design Crit alum Mike Neal that I knew Archie. Mike’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. He couldn’t stop praising how much he loved Archie as a professor. It’s always a joy to receive such praise from students, a reminder of the impact they can have on others through our work and mentorship.

Archie Boston is more than just a designer; he is a mentor, a trailblazer, and a cherished friend. His work continues to inspire, challenge, and educate, and I am incredibly grateful to have had the opportunity to learn from and work alongside such a remarkable individual.

May de Castro Creative Director, Studio de Castro

I first met Archie Boston nearly 30 years ago. He was the chair of the Visual Communications department at Long Beach State and the head of its highly competitive graphic design program. Every year, hundreds of students would have to go through Archie’s discerning eye for one of the 20 or so spots. He was a tough professor who didn’t mince words when he thought you were slacking off but would be the first to praise you for a job well done. He cared about his students and pushed for them to be the best they could be. I will always be grateful for the lessons he taught me, not only about the design profession but also about life. I still look to him for career advice to this day, and am honored to call him both a mentor and friend.

“I will always be grateful for the lessons he taught me, not only about the design profession but also about life.”