Over nearly two decades as a designer in the outdoor industry, Randall Levensaler has demonstrated a keen eye for detail and a deep understanding of how to balance aesthetics and user-centric design principles. He is best known for his design work during an 11-year tenure as art director for Climbing, Rock and Ice, Trail Runner, and Ascent magazines. His past clients include La Sportiva, Sierra Designs, Kelty, the American Alpine Club, and Access Fund, among others. Randall is also a passionate photographer and birder. When not designing, he can be found outside, biking, climbing, skiing, and exploring the mountains. Even through a career of reinvention, he is quick to say that old dogs don’t learn new tricks. You can follow him on Instagram @randalllevensaler
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Q&A with Randy Levensaler, Creative Director of Summit Journal
Summit Journal: You have a reputation as a top art director and designer in the outdoor industry. Interestingly, on your website, you seem to emphasize your personality rather than your career accomplishments. Why is that?
Randy Levensaler: Well, my reputation precedes me, Ha!
Funny that you should say that because my website is not the best at gaining new work or clientele. It probably lacks the professionalism needed.
In any case, in 2020, after losing my job and watching the last of the print era fold and close its doors, I wanted to create a website that was a direct response to what I was seeing from other Art and Creative Directors’ sites. (Some big names I once followed were fashionably missing from any digital representation.)
What I did find were websites and portfolios that were sterile and lacked any personality or originality. Yes, they ticked all the right boxes as far as skill set goes, but any notion of depth of experience was sorely missing.
It was my choice: assimilate or do my own thing. What I was attempting to build was a website that represented more of my personality and a well-rounded and original representation of who I am.
So, there you have it. My website isn’t complete or finely polished. Just like all of us, the portfolio is never finished.
SJ: On the About page, you list your roles as:
art director
designer
photographer
nature geek
bike rider
dog guy
In that order. How come you don’t list climber? (Michael says you were quite good back in the day).
RL: Ha! I fell in love with climbing from my first college climbing class in 1990. I learned to climb and lead at places like Joshua Tree and Tahquitz Rock. I look back and remember what a special time it was to be a young, adventurous climber.
Climbing is great when you have lots of time to travel and train. However, as I started my professional life, I found I had less time to climb, and my body craved more cardio-oriented activities, like biking and skiing, to offset sitting at a desk and designing full-time.
But I love climbing, the sport’s culture and history, and lore.
I will always be a climber. It doesn’t go away even though I am not climbing as much as I used to. I have a couple of old photos on my refrigerator door of me skateboarding as a kid. I am unapologetically Gen X and all it represents. Growing up during that period, creative expression was everywhere: from ‘80’s punk rock, to Powell and Peralta, to surf zines and climbing in neon colors.
Climbing had a fringe sport culture to it, just like surfing and skateboarding, and I fell in love with it.
“As an artist, I believe that learning is never over, that a constant state of breaking down and building up is a necessary state of being. Always observing, questioning, formulating.” Photo by Randy Levensaler
Sticking with your website, you say, “As an artist, I believe that learning is never over… [that] a constant state of breaking down and building up is a necessary state of being.” How has this notion played out in your career?
RL: I had an art professor in college once say that you have to know the rules before you can break them.
The Rules are the classical rules of art and design. (If you don’t know them, just ask AI).
As an artist, you can’t create original art without understanding the basic principles of art first. In this era of copy art, you better know what artist you're drawing your inspiration from and who that original artist was influenced by or what social/political significance is tied to the original art.
SJ: Certainly, in climbing media the past few years, there has been a constant state of things breaking down and new things starting up. Summit Journal is but one example. What do you think we’re learning about climbing media now, and what rules are being broken?
RL: I don’t know if any rules are being broken necessarily. I see it as a renaissance in print media, an evolution in how people want to consume print media in light of the digital age. In a way, I see the renaissance of high-quality print filling a void that hardback picture books used to fill.
Summit Journal is a lesson in less is more.
SJ: Let’s talk about Summit Journal. To start, the layout is larger than magazines of yesteryear (it’s 10x13” compared to the more conventional 8.5x11”) and the paper stock is hardier (which you describe as eliciting “a cozier reader experience”). In what other ways does designing for longform storytelling and large photos influence the form and format of the magazine?
RL: This question could take all day to answer correctly. I’ll leave it at this statement: Summit Journal is a lesson in less is more.
When I was a new designer, I over-designed things. As I matured, I realized that the art form was at its best when the designer isn’t noticed, yet the viewer could feel the harmony naturally.
The true art is in the storytelling. I am just there to make sure the story is translated to the reader.
"I learned to climb and lead at places like Joshua Tree and Tahquitz Rock. I look back and remember what a special time it was to be a young, adventurous climber." Photo by Randy Levensaler
I like the concept of creating artifacts: physical items imbued with a sense of deep and long value, which goes way beyond utility. To say it simply, artifacts are things with meaning that you want to keep around, separate from their actual monetary worth. Powerful human stories in tangible form could be an example. [Editor's note (Aaron): Look at me being a homer!]
In general, I think artifacts take time to develop.
So, in what ways does having more time to spend on each issue (SJ is only published twice a year) affect the concept of value compared to previous magazines you’ve been a part of (where you may publish 6-10 issues a year), if at all?
RL: You would think that is how it works. That's a very linear way of thinking about it. But every issue, whether it's ten a year or two, they both have their challenges.
SJ is biannual, but the issues are 140-150 pages long. Yes, there is a little more time to spend on SJ. But I am also keenly aware not to over-design things. The extra time goes into the overall feel of each issue and the rhythm that each issue carries from story to story.
Regarding artifacts, I think we see them in a different way. Yes, artifacts can offer a sense of deep value, utility, and symbolism. Artifacts, to me, are highly visual symbols that resonate with periods of society, ancient or modern day. For example, a circle is the vowel "O." Also, it is a symbol of life and community. Fertility, prayer or a process of meditation. A Kanji script circle is a form of prayer and practice.
Maybe what you are trying to allude to is the underlying sense that with SJ, it is the value and care that each page embodies. This sense comes from a combination of elements coming together. Those elements are: page size, margin space or white space, type size and paper quality. As a reader, that care is best recognized through the tactile experience of holding the issue in your hands and reading it by lamplight. It was a serendipitous moment that happened before I knew it.
SJ: Can you talk about typography and font selection? It seems there is extra emphasis put towards this, on the title pages of stories, for example.
RL: I love playing off of different fonts and their weight and space on the page. It's a tough and careful balancing act of minimalism. I think I probably had a bit of dyslexia growing up. I understand that letters make recognizable shapes. Those shapes combined make words that have sound and meaning to them.
Designing and branding the new Summit Journal was a good challenge for me. I really
put a lot of focus on the typography as the tool to help build the brand.
When we started presenting Summit Journal on social media, there wasn't a print issue to lean on yet. I was tasked with creating the brand using social media as the tool versus print, which felt so counterintuitive to me. We were launching a print magazine via social media that had never been printed before, and that was a challenge.
SJ: Lastly, as I imagine you and Michael are never complacent, what can Summit Journal readers expect from future issues?
RL: Working with Michael is an incredible thing. A very creative process. Our mutual respect for each other goes a long way to creating a space where we can allow each other to go down one track of thought and then change our minds and allow another direction to be revealed. Each issue is a wild ride. I created some minor graphic rules for SJ that we use as guardrails in the creative process. But they are just suggestions; there is still a lot of room to be creative within those.
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Feature Image: “I strive for simplicity of solution, with an element of flow. Function over fashion, and timeless over trend.” Photo by Randy Levensaler