Dutch designer Henk van Assen moved to the United States in his late twenties to enroll at Yale University and never left. In 1999, he was appointed lecturer in graphic design at Yale’s School of Art, where he is currently a senior critic. He is also a principal of HvADesign, a studio in New York City. Yves Peters started the interview by asking Henk about his background.

I was kind of lost after high school and did several odd jobs. I got interested in graphic design and applied to a few art academies. Fortunately, I was accepted at the KABK, the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague. Their focus was strongly on typography. It clicked, and I never looked back. After completing my four years, I interned with Total Design, Hard Werken, and, finally, with Reynoud Homan. As we got along well, he offered me a job.

Where does your love of letterforms and typography come from?

I must thank Gerrit Noordzij for this. He was an important person at KABK. Noordzij taught us calligraphy, which he called “writing letters.” We learned how to write with the broad-nib and pointed pens, and how they relate to translation and expansion, the types of contrast he was always talking about. I had to do exercises I had never done before – learning calligraphy wasn’t why I enrolled – but somehow it connected with me, and I turned out to be quite good at it. I found my rhythm when writing letters and getting them just right, and I enjoyed the process a lot.

It makes me laugh. I sometimes tell my students how, after doing my other homework, I set out at eleven at night to write letters for a few hours, a cigarette dangling from the corner of my mouth – it was the eighties, after all. The process put me in a sort of meditative state. You still had to do it in ink or gouache, mess with Wite-Out to correct the letterforms where needed, and then xerox the artwork to get a clean result. It’s funny when you compare it to how it’s done today. I don’t know why or how, but it really suited me. Eventually, it became clear to me that it only took a small step to translate this technique of “writing letters” to typography. I learned a lot from the practice, and it still influences my work to this day, for example, when I design books.

How did you end up in the US?

After two years working with Reynoud Homan – I was in my late twenties – I realized there was still more to learn. I thought about going to graduate school, but there weren’t that many. You had RCA, the Royal College of Arts in London; and, you know, the Visual Art School Basel in Switzerland. I also knew about RISD, the Rhode Island School of Design. However, I was aware that Paul Rand and Armin Hofmann taught at the Yale School of Art, so I applied there. To cut a long story short: Not only was I accepted, but I also got a fellowship, which meant I could afford it. Central Saint Martins in London also accepted me, but the idea of studying far away appealed to me. The joke was on me because Paul Rand and Armin Hofmann had left Yale; by the time I enrolled, Sheila Levrant de Bretteville and Michael Rock had taken over. [De Bretteville was named director of graduate studies in graphic design at Yale University School of Art in 1990, becoming the first tenured female professor. Rand resigned in protest; Hofmann followed suit. —Ed.] The program was quite different from what I had expected. In retrospect, that was a good thing, because otherwise it had been very similar to the education I received in The Hague. Of course, I had never studied at a university. A place like Yale offered so many possibilities: libraries, lectures, courses, you name it, which was a completely new experience for me. It was fabulous.

You received your MFA. in 1993. What was it like to be a Dutch designer in the US? Did you feel different from your American peers, and did it matter to your clients?

Yes, I think being Dutch in the US made a difference. I did approach projects with a Dutch twist. People have given many names to what is essentially “Dutch design.” It started in the early ’90s and became especially popular in the 2000s. It was a mix of influences, including Dutch modernism, which was decidedly different from what was happening in Germany and Switzerland. Let’s say Dutch design allowed for greater visual expression. There was a huge interest in Dutch design, so it played a role, and I am thankful for that.

Dutch design is also known for its typography. What do you look for when choosing type?

Choosing type remains very subjective. There are all kinds of different reasons why you select a specific typeface for a project. These reasons can be very practical, like a large type family with many weights and widths for a branding campaign. Personally, I’ve always liked historical references. If you’re designing a book dealing with a certain era, using a typeface related to that period makes the design more interesting and meaningful. Geography can also play a role in the selection. Last year, we did a major branding project in New Zealand, so we chose type from Kris Sowersby.

You have also used Retype’s fonts on several occasions.

Robert Tombs, a good Canadian friend of mine, introduced me to Kade. I was intrigued because kade is such a typical Dutch word; it means “quay.” When I discovered the surprising corners and tense curves in its letterforms, I imagined flying over Amsterdam or Rotterdam in a small plane and seeing those typical shapes below me. There is something appealing about how the letterforms look – how can I describe them? – incomplete. When you compare Kade to typefaces fine-tuned for legibility and immersive reading, I detect an interrupted continuity in its letterforms. If you think of letters as outlines, that’s very beautiful.

Conceptually, this quality made Kade the perfect candidate for book projects I was working on around that time. The first one was Contesting Modernity: Informalism in Venezuela 1955–1975. It’s about artists using their work to protest against the political, cultural, and social reality of Venezuela in these times. I found that Kade having this “interrupted” quality and not looking entirely perfect was a good match for the book’s subject matter. The same reasoning made me choose Kade for African Cosmologies: Photography, Time, and the Other a few years ago. It’s the catalog for a major exhibition featuring visual artists of the African diaspora in the United States and beyond.

We design many books on culture and art. We explore the artist’s output to determine a typographic style and voice that complements the visuals. But it remains a personal and subjective process worthy of hours of discussion.

Looking at the future, I was quite pleased to discover Retype’s new venture Brutal Types, a collection of letterforms inspired by early-twentieth-century lettering on buildings throughout cities in the Netherlands. As I get a little older, sentimentality now and then enters the frame. This collection is just the ticket to address those feelings. I am looking for an opportunity to apply these typographic gems.

Another school of thought advocates a neutral typographic voice that doesn’t clash with the art, as in museum branding.

Those are two different things. Museums host exhibitions by different artists. While an exhibition catalog’s typography can be attuned to the artist or genre, the museum’s overall visual identity benefits from being rather neutral, so it doesn’t clash with any specific subject. Museum branding can be influenced by many factors. I am reminded of the Stedelijk Museum case. Atelier Pierre di Sciullo was originally awarded the rebranding, but they were sidelined in favor of Linda van Deursen and Armand Mevis when a new director was brought in. These can be very personal choices.

Are there any recent projects from your studio that you’re particularly proud of?

As the cliché goes, all projects (well, many) are our babies. But one particular project is dear to my heart for professional and personal reasons.

In 2024, HvAD completed a large exhibition design for the Museum of Photography in Riverside, California, titled Digital Capture: Southern California and the Pixel-Based Image World. It was an impressive show that spanned six decades (1962–2020s) and investigated the history and creative uses of digital imaging technology from the Cold War and space race of the 1960s to the ubiquity of digital media in our contemporary world.

Without going into too much detail, we ended up with an identity that was mainly typography-driven. After exploring some predictable typeface candidates, such as Bian Zhi Dai and OCR-A, we settled on Input, designed by David Jonathan Ross. The process for this font – starting as a bitmap, and then retraced for aesthetic reasons – seemed like an apt metaphor for representing the wide span of both projects and time. Also, the connection to monospaced composition lent itself well to the design ideas we had in mind.

The identity color was based on the Bayer Filter System, which arranges RGB color filters on a square grid of photosensors. This particular arrangement is used in most single-chip digital image sensors in digital cameras. And the accompanying catalog made visual references to the continuous-feed computer-paper fanfold for dot-matrix printers from the seventies.

We were quite pleased with the outcome, but what I recall best was the process from conception through execution. As is customary in such circumstances, we were working with a large team at the museum. While it certainly isn’t always the case, the whole team was in full agreement pretty much every step of the way, including the museum’s director, Doug McCulloh, who is one of the most supportive directors we have had the honor to work with! As a matter of fact, he pushed us to take the design even further several times. So it was very sad that Doug passed away after the opening, unexpectedly and much too soon. I will certainly remember his uncanny eye and the embrace of the professionals working with him.

You are a senior critic at Yale University’s School of Art. What does this entail?

Well, the “senior” part means I’ve been doing this a long time, more than twenty-six years at Yale. Honestly, I never expected that. I am not a tenure-track professor; I am hired on an annual basis. First, you become a lecturer, then a critic, and, after ten years, a senior critic. When you look at the number of hours, I am effectively teaching full-time.

Furthermore, I am also a core critic, meaning I am part of the core faculty. I’ve taught many different subjects over the years, but they have often revolved around typography. What I really like is teaching Introduction to Graphic Design to both undergrads and graduates; that is one of my greatest joys. But you teach too, don’t you?

Yes, at Artevelde University of Applied Arts. I teach Design Principles, Graphic Design 1, and Layout & Typography to first-year students. It’s very rewarding. I just became a full-time tenured lecturer, but I am also an independent copywriter specializing in type and typography, as well as a typographic consultant.

Okay, I see.

Have you noticed specific changes or evolutions in your twenty-six years of teaching at Yale?

Of course, things have changed on multiple levels. Because I also teach at schools other than Yale, I noticed that, even more than the school’s reputation and identity, who teaches at the institution matters. Sheila Levrant de Bretteville, taking over from Alvin Eisenman (who founded Yale’s graduate program in graphic design), caused a shift in focus. Zimbabwean-born Nontsikelelo Mutiti is the current director. They all have different approaches that influence the direction the school is taking, and current changes are already evident three years after Mutiti took over. Under de Bretteville’s leadership, Michael Rock – one third of 2×4 – was very influential, as was Paul Elliman. Their focus and teaching style were evident in the students’ output. To return to the “Dutch invasion”: Irma Boom, Linda van Deursen, and Karel Martens added a bit of a Dutch character to the program during their tenure, a flavor that was impossible to ignore without becoming the sole defining factor.

In a certain sense, technology also plays a role, be it software or other aspects. There is increased interest in responsive and interactive typography and in the technologies that enable it. Despite the prevalence of conversations about AI, I don’t see it being applied much at Yale. It is being used to generate content, but not for any visual expressions.

Does Yale consider AI in the curriculum? I can imagine that clients or employers in the art and design world expect graduates to master its use.

Well, individual students dive into the technology. I am not aware of any faculty members actively integrating it into their courses. Ours is a master’s program. We react to what our students do; we don’t hand them a project and then have them execute it exactly like we tell them to. It all depends on whether certain students themselves integrate AI into their process, and then we engage with them. I can’t say AI plays a major role in our program, even though we have many discussions about the technology and its implications. We don’t want to ignore it: we adopt a critical attitude. There is a level of concern about how it’s evolving and how it impacts artistic endeavors.

Personally, I am a bit worried about how AI outsources creativity and decision-making, and about the negative effect it has on students’ ability to analyze and synthesize information. For example, some students increasingly struggle to process information about a specific topic and then visualize it as an infographic.

Most of our master’s students have already been working for years and have accrued experience in studios and agencies. They’re coming back to our master’s program to find their own voice, kind of. If they’re interested in AI, it will happen, but it’s not part of the curriculum.

In my six years as a lecturer, I’ve come to realize that teaching works in both directions. Does interacting with students influence you and your work?

Oh, one hundred percent. I’ve experienced this from the very beginning, and I love it. Young people – especially the undergrads – entering your course with a somewhat naive, wonder-filled mindset come up with unexpected artistic expressions. Initially, you may think, “Whoa, that doesn’t look very good,” but when thinking about it a little longer, you discover interesting approaches. It keeps you on your toes. That is what I have always liked about teaching and mentoring. Because students are busy with social media and new technologies, I am forced to keep up to avoid falling behind. It keeps you young; it keeps you fresh, so to speak.

When you and I were young and enrolled at our respective art academies, we were attuned to the visual culture of that time. It’s interesting to observe what twenty-somethings today are looking at and how they process it, so you stay aware of what’s happening. On the other hand, maybe because they grew up with screen-based media, they actually enjoy having to do everything by hand in my Intro to Design course. Going back to collage techniques for experimenting and presenting yields great results, and the students enjoy not working in a digital environment for once. With regards to the graduate program, it brings together students from all over the world, so everybody brings their culture and background to the table, which guarantees wonderfully varied influences, both in the actual work and in the discussions around it.

Finally, to wrap up, has your experience as a lecturer given you any insight into which qualities students must possess to build a career in design successfully?

This is, of course, very personal. What I have noticed over the years is that a certain curiosity about the world at large is essential. Also, not being afraid of working hard. Design is as much a craft as it is art. You can’t just go, like, “I know how it’s done,” and then quickly do the job and be done with it. It requires persistence because it takes time. Talent also plays a role, though that one is difficult to define. For some people, visual expression simply comes more easily than for others.

Being able to express yourself verbally is often underestimated. When you and I started, getting the design right visually was often sufficient. In my current design practice, I’ve found it is crucial to explain artistic choices and how they enhance visual communication. From the outset, I tell my students that they have to talk about their work. Many enroll in visual studies because they are not as confident in speaking and writing. We do that all the time in class. Everything gets discussed and criticized. It helps considerably if students are, or become, good at that.

And finally, ambition and networking, you know? But most importantly, if you have a passion for what you do, it will work out in the end. It may sound like a cliché, but I’ve witnessed it so many times over the years. For me too. Things suddenly clicked in my mid-twenties, and then it was full steam ahead. Eventually, it all falls into place for students with a passion for design. That’s practically a given.

Interview: Yves Peters
Edition: Caren Litherland