History — Draplin Design Co., North America (2024)

Bred from the loins of the proud Midwest, this little fucker was squeezed out in Detroit, Michigan on October 15th in the year 1973, to the proud parents of Jim and Lauren Draplin. Little sister Sarah Catherine arrived on April 3, 1975. Baby sister Leah Susan arrived on January 11, 1983. Growing up on a steady stream of Adventure People, Lego, Star Wars, family trips, little league baseball, trips down to Detroit, summer beach fun, stitches, fall foliage, drawing, BMX bikes, skateboarding and snowboarding.

He grew up in Northern Michigan in Central Lake, Mich., a small village of roughly 800. Kindergarten through 8th grade, when the family moved to Traverse City, just an hour to the south. He did two ill-fated years at St. Francis High School, avoiding roaming jocks, food fights and last-chance incorrigibles looking to wreck kids’ lives. In 1989 he enrolled in Traverse City High School for his junior and senior years and rode out his final two years of school beneath an old army jacket, with his Walkman on jamming Fugazi, Butthole Surfers or Dead Kennedys.

Right out of high school, he enrolled at Northwestern Michigan Community College in the Visual Communications program. In two years, he earned an Associated of Arts in Visual Communications. This was his first taste of graphic design.

At 19 in the late summer of 1993 he left the nest and moved out west to hit jumps in Bend, Ore. His career started with a snowboard graphic for Solid snowboards and took off like analog wildfire soon after. Everything from lettering cafe signs to drawing up logos to thinking up local advertising campaigns were manhandled under the ruse of the newly formed—and gigantically reckless—Draplindustries Design Co.

The summers were opportunities to work. 1994, his first summer back in Michigan was a job for a traveling fair, working with his friend Chad Smith in the pizza wagon. You can read about that harrowing adventure here. The summer of 1995 was spent up in Government Camp working for High Cascade as the wobbly hospital driver. The summers of 1996, 1997, 1998 and 1999 were spent all the way up in Anchorage working for

Princess Tours as a dishwasher for the first two summers, and a dishwasher/cook the last two. The funds from these summers funded the following winters, or art school in the fall.

After five winters out west, the kid sobered up and headed back to Minneapolis to finish up a high-falutin’ design degree at the prestigious and painfully expensive Minneapolis College of Art and Design. During this time he polished up his design skills, learned how to weld and how to develop a photo in nasty chemicals. These were the salad days. He fell back in love with the Midwest he once pined so hard to leave.

In April 2000, much to the chagrin of his proud Midwestern roots, he accepted an ill-fated art director position with Snowboarder Magazine. He moved it all down to Shithole, Southern California—alongside some hot, caustic beach—and wrangled some 23 issues of the mag. He won “Art Director of the Year” for Primedia in 2000, beating out such esteemed titles as Gun Dog, Cat Fancy and Teen. No other awards were bestowed in this period, and like he gives a rat’s ass.

Thankfully, in April 2002, John “Goo” Phemister of the Cinco Design Office of Portland, Oregon called up and offered a Senior Designer gig which he instantly accepted. He moved it all north to the land of rain and gloom and rolled up his sleeves to work on the Gravis, Helly Hansen and Nixon accounts. He did two years for Cinco and plotted going out on his own.

The Draplin Design Co. finally stepped out on its own four hairy feet in the fall of 2004. Twenty big years later, he’s proud to report that he’s managed to “keep everything out of the red.” He rolls up his sleeves for Coal Headwear, Union Binding Co., Richmond Fontaine, Esquire, Nike, Wired, Dinosaur Jr, Timberline, Chunklet, Eaux Claires Music Festival, Poler, Incase, Sub Pop Records, Fender, Marc Maron, Cobra Dogs, Joey Soloway, Sasquatch Music Festival, Rhett Miller, Old 97s, Jason Isbell, Nixon Watches, Bernie Sanders, Patagonia, Target, Chris Stapleton, NASA/JPL, John Hodgman, Ford Motor Company, Woolrich and even the Obama Administration, if you can believe that. You can see all the clients here.

In 2009 we partnered with Cinco colleagues John “Goo” Phemister and David Nakamoto to start Wilderness Office. They secured a spot in the Olympic Mills Building on SE Stark and 3rd, down near the train tracks here in Portland, working out of Suite 540 for the next nine years. In 2018 he built the backyard shop and moved the DDC back up to 67th Avenue.

Somewhere around 2009, he spoke in front of his first public gathering, and this spiraled into the first couple official speaking fiascos at design conferences, which quickly turned into proper tours all over America, Europe and the world. As these words go to print, he’s pulled off some 580 speaking gigs the world over. Sometimes it was Bend, and other times Berlin.

Skillshare came knocking in 2012 and he partnered annually to create eight online courses, and even a couple little documentaries, too. Those classes roll on, and you see all the projects here.

DDC Fonts officially became a proper type foundry in 2016 after partnering with Eau Claire’s very own Stuart Sandler. They’ve released three typefaces and license fonts to companies big and small all over the United States.

His book “Pretty Much Everything” came out on May 17, 2016 on Abrams Books and he’s proud to report it’s in its 13th printing. This was NOT supposed to happen.

He’s been fiercely independent since 2004, and isn’t going back anytime soon.

At 51 fuckin’ years old, he lives in sin with his beauitful, patient girlfren Leigh McKolay, working out of a backyard shop in a somewhat undisclosed location on the mean streets of Portland, Oregon.

–Written by the Disgruntled Night Shift of the DDC Factory Floor

The story goes that Mom and Dad were on their way back to Detroit after visiting Disneyland in Southern California. This would’ve been January 1973. They were driving in Arizona late at night when a meteor hit and lit up the entire desert landscape as if it were daytime. They drove a little further to the next town and got a room. One thing leads to another, and some nine months later, I'm born in Detroit.

So every time I’ve been to Arizona, I’ve had this weird little tingle inside me thinking about where and when I was conceived because, when you get right down to it, that’s when I came into the world! Dad's seed found purchase in Mom‘s fertile soil that night, and that’s where my life began. Maybe I came in on that meteor? Some tricky speculation there.

And how do I know this? I asked Mom to clarify once and for all, "How do I know you were conceived that night? Well, that was the last time we did it for a while, as Dad and I got into a big argument the next morning, and we still had four days of driving to go! By the time we got home, I was done with the guy for a month."

Each time I’ve visited Arizona, I've always made a point to buy a little bit of turquoise, just to remind myself of how I began and how improbable those beautiful rocks are, much like life itself. Now, I’m not gonna go wear some eagle claw bolo tie thingie with a big hunk piece of turquoise mounted in it or anything, but I do keep a couple rocks on my desk. Just to play with them each day, thinking about time and space and the beauty of Navajo country.

Here’s a tall tale that’s gonna sound pretty far-fetched, but with Sparky Anderson as my witness, this one certainly happened. And for whatever weird reason, many of the memories from my youth are gone to the ages. I mean, shit, do you remember what you did in the summer of 1983? It’s weird where all that stuff goes, and even weirder how things will come back to you. All stored in this pile of meat on my shoulders. Alright here goes…

In the summer of 1982—while down state visiting Uncle Tom and Aunt Barbara in Southfield—sister Sarah and I went with my cousins Michael and Patrick down to Briggs Stadium to be “extras in the crowd” for a movie about the Tigers. Michael Draplin was an upcoming fashion model (Michael Drake!) and had connections to folks working on the movie. That’s how we got connected to the day.

I remember it being hot and sitting in the crowd. “Look excited!” crew guys would yell, and the camera would pan across us, down on the field below. We did a handful of those shots, would wait in the sun, do a couple more, waited more, then called it a day.

We were in the hall above the seats, waiting for Michael who was talking to a seemingly important lady. Next thing I know, she pulls me aside and says, “You look a lot like our star! His name is Justin Henry. Would you like to meet him?” Some years before, he hit it big in Kramers vs. Kramer with Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep. She took me over to meet him and maybe he was a year or two older than me? 11? I was just 9. A year later he’d find himself as Samantha’s sarcastic little brother Mike in Sixteen Candles. “Sofa City, Sweetheart…”

I remember him being pretty uninterested in me. He was talking fast and kind of looking through me. But a real, live child star! I had ZERO experience with show business. Still don’t. He was just a kid, and I wonder how I introduced myself, or what I had to say? Gone to the ages.

The next moment, the lady asks me, “Would you like to meet Roy Scheider? He was in Jaws!” I remember him feeling so tall and shaking my hand. He was super suntanned and had this cool, ruddy, chiseled smile. The lady got my contacts—I assume with the help of my cousin Michael—and we hit the road back to Southfield. This would’ve been in the summer of 1983. I was nine, turning ten in the fall. We headed back up to Central Lake for the normal course of summer baseball, swimming and small town living.

A month later, I remember Mom breaking the big news, “A lady called from Detroit. They want to use you in the Tiger movie as a double.” What’s a double? Mom filled me in and things went fast from there. We all headed down to Detroit for my big day of filming.

Mom had this to say, “I do remember you were only allowed to take one parent. So I let Dad take you.” I wish I knew where the house was in the city. I’d love to go and see it. I remember it so vividly that early morning, showing up, meeting all the crew hanging out in the garage with the craft services. Once we arrived, things took off quick. Someone grabbed me and handed me a frumpy pile of clothes. I remember kind of freaking out in the little bathroom, wondering if the stuff would fit?! It did! They were the same clothes Justin had been wearing. Blue jeans, white Chuck Taylors and a striped shirt. You can see him sitting at the kitchen table with that same shirt on.

Did I meet the mom in the movie? I think I did. I remember how nice she was, with long, dark brown hair.

They sat me down at the breakfast table, and had me unfolding a newspaper open and resting my arms on it. Camera up behind me, to the left. I remember juice and toast with a bite out of it. Did the move a number of times and they wrapped the scene. Next shot was up in the bedroom, at the little desk. The camera was up behind me, to the right. My hand was scoring stats on paper, and I remember it being hard, as I was left-hander! You can see it in the footage where the marks I’m making are VERY unnatural. But there it is, on the silver screen for all to see. Ooof.

I remember the handlers letting me watch the crew set up this black felt “spinning newspaper” mini set in the living room. They’d give the thing a twirl and push the camera quickly towards it. The magic of the big screen! All the lights, apple boxes, cords and shit. Woosh!

I remember grilling Dad about it a couple years before he died. “Aaron, I ate my weight in food from the craft services table that day! Do you remember all the Tigers souvenirs and baseball cards tacked on the wall in the bedroom scene? They were the real things! It killed me to see them with thumbtacks jammed into them.” I remember Dad horsing around with the crew in the back garage, laughing and shit. He entertained those crew guys all day!

If my memory serves, I was paid $100 for the day on the job. I had big plans of what I was going to spend it on, and I remember Mom saying, “You’ll be getting something for your sister Sarah, too.” Got it, Mom. I treated myself to my very first Izod shirt. A white one. From the upscale Hudson’s at Northland Mall. That was the BIG TIME for a hayseed from Central Lake, Mich. I think it was $30! Sarah picked out something and I’m pretty sure I grabbed a couple Lego sets too.

Years later I told the fellas from SNOWBOARD magazine all about my big show business moment! Larry Nuñez piped up, “You should track down the folks who put you in it. You might be able to get into SAG and get cheap insurance!” Larry was a stuntman in New York City for a bunch of wild stuff, and got in the Screen Actors Guild because of it.

As these words go to print, I’m okay with the cool memories I have from that fun day and my 3-4 seconds on the big screen.

When you think about it, it’s a bit of a lottery just how one comes into the world. In my little story, it was Detroit, Michigan. Of course, you go where Mom and Dad take you. And that first move from Detroit up to Central Lake is blurry, but I remember sheepdogs, trapped skunks in our sandbox, hornet eye stings, learning how to ride a bike and other wild shit before I turned 7 or 8. The early years. Lots of time with Aunt Mary and Cousin Melodie.

Something got into me along the way, some indistinguishable wanderlust that would take me all the way to Oregon in August of 1993 with my snowboarding buddies.

Redford, Detroit, Mich.

October 1973–
July 1977

Was born at Grace Hospital, and moved up to Central Lake, Mich.

Central Lake,
Mich.

July 1977–
April 1987

Elementary school until 8th grade.

Traverse City,
Mich.

April 1987–
August 1993

8th grade Catholic middle school, 9th & 10th Catholic high school, 11th & 12th public high school, Associates Degree at community college then moving west to Oregon with snowboard buddies.

Bend,
Ore.

August 1993–

May 1998

Moved out west with Bryan Aleshire to meet up with Derek Denoyer. Johnny White & Chad Smith a couple days later. Eric & Megan Campbell came a couple months later for the winter.

Government Camp, Ore.

June 1995–

August 1995

Hospital driver for High Cascade Snowboard Camp.

Anchorage,
Alas.

Summers 1996, 1997, 1998 & 1999

Dishwasher and cook for Princess Tour’s “Midnight Sun” Alaska interior sightseeing train.

Traverse City,
Mich.

Fall 1997–
Present Day

Unofficially moved back in with Mom & Dad, simply as basecamp while shopping design schools. Split back bend after Christmas 1997.

Minneapolis, Minn.

August 1998–
April 2000

Went back to graphic design school.

Aliso Viejo, Calif.

April 2000–
April 2002

Moved it all down to South California to work for a snowboarding magazine.

Portland.
Ore.

April 2002–
Present Day

Back up to Oregon to work for Cinco Design. Went out on my own in 2004, working out of my basement.

This is EXACTLY why we moved out west. Back home, the hills were just that. Often times, the snow had to be blown, and would just whisk across sheet ice. We moved west to go to the mountains, into elevation, to ride powder and hit jumps. Did it ferociously the winters of 1993–1998, moving back to Minneapolis and hanging up that chapter of my life. I miss those days on the hill, ripping around Mt. Bachelor, enjoying nature and riding the chairlift up with friends. It was never about who was the best, it was just about being together and having fun. So thankful for those five wild winters at Mt. Bachelor, and around the American West.

And thank you to the locals at Mt. Bachelor who let us ride with them. The first couple weeks up there, it’s a little dicey plopping down on someone else’s turf. But after a couple months, hanging out in the lodge, riding the lifts we each other, we got let in to the fray. From JD Platt to Kris Jamison to the Fishpaw guys to Travis Yamada to Marcus Egge to Josh Dirksen to Allister Schultz to the Winter Wave guys to the Smoked Monkeys guys to the Quality Snowboards gang, I appreciate all those runs together.

And to my crew: Derek Denoyer, Bry Aleshire, Eric Campbell, Chad Smith, Johnny White, Robby Hottois, Kevin Porterfield, Fink, Jay Floyd, Robbie Benson and assorted fucks…thank you!