Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Kari Trail. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Kari, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. What’s been the most meaningful project you’ve worked on?

My most meaningful project is a publication I worked on this summer called ToolKit: A Magazine On Making. The issue is all about building methodology, and it features conversations about creative process in a generative AI world. The project and subject matter emerged from my own interest in idiosyncratic methodologies—as well as how advances in technology will undeniably prompt creative mutability, reshuffling our own personal “toolkits” along the way.

The process behind the magazine was a winding, wayward, and very quick one. From the first interview to the final exhibit, the project took roughly one month to complete—an amalgam of brainstorming, interviews, copywriting, AI/ethic discussions, copyediting, designing, organizing an exhibition, and more. A lot of my planning traces back to a giant Google Doc I made during the months (over 100 pages long…) full of concepts, ideations, and final write-ups. Much of the project was designed in the Portland basement I rented this summer; as soon as the 8 hour work day ended, my magazine work session began. At most, I worked a 77 hour work week (yikes!). Process, it seems, isn’t perfect—but is moreso a matter of adaptation. Of believing in the work you make and creating with the tools you have.

I find that when design is most meaningful when it actively engages with the world around us. That’s something I tried to do with the issue, merging my love for graphic design, creative outreach (interviews/curation), and writing together.

Take, for example, this excerpt from the magazine introduction I wrote:

“Let’s think about methodology as a toolkit, something built with tools you collect and methods you accumulate. Processes and modes of making are naturally shaped by curiosity, experience, and a touch of trial and error—and I wonder if building a personal methodology is one of the most powerful tools creatives can harness. Our ability to form relationships within our practice and establish nonlinear steps to making seems intrinsically human—a curious and unpredictable route to discovery that machines have yet to replicate.”

As well as some notes on AI :

“I wonder what happens when our inclination to generate work tilts away from experimental modes of creation and, instead, becomes a matter of mongering words into a search bar for AI to generate. Does adding generative AI to our personal toolkit undermine the more curated, personal, humanistic, and emotive tools we’ve come to cultivate overtime? Or, as others might argue, would this new tool actually enhance them? Does the ease of pressing a “Generative Fill” button become less a means of quick workflow and instant gratification, instead morphing into a slippery slope towards machine dependency?… David O’Reilly puts it best when he said, ‘The long term adaptive response to AI is likely to lead to unimaginably beautiful art and powerful affirmations of humanity, as well as widespread job disruption and the atrophying of fundamental human skills. It’s possible that when we stop drawing and writing, we also stop seeing and thinking. While AI will not make art easier, it does prompt us to clarify what we mean by it, and we may want to do so wherever it cannot look.’ Whether or not you choose to use AI in your own workflow, it offers a good reminder to reflect on what methodology means to you, and how the evolution of tools and tech will continually reconfigure our relationship with making.”

Kari, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I’m a graphic designer, currently studying design and writing at CalArts in Valencia, CA. I’ve most recently worked for Wieden+Kennedy (Portland) and East of Borneo (Los Angeles). From collaborating on projects with friends to exploring new tactile techniques, I like to think of design as a social practice and playground for experimentation.

Ever since I was little, I was obsessed with making tangible objects. I loved creating stories, building imaginary worlds (with both language and drawing), and reading—in a roundabout way, these elementary explorations stuck with me and still continue to inform my work. Getting outside and discovering tangents between both natural & digital landscapes is a big part of my work! Whether through personal projects on branding (like Good Sport, a speculative biking brand that encourages inclusive riding culture), editorial design (like Objectively Seeking, a catalog on found objects in Argentina), or writing (like The Machine In The Garden, a short story about the manufactured and natural world), I find these relationships to be the most creatively fulfilling.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

Growing up in the Bay Area and attending a STEM-inundated public high school, I struggled to find creative community and other fellow designers. There were no graphic design courses at my high school, and I distinctly remember the college counselor there discouraging me from pursuing graphic design, arguing that I would probably end up changing my major anyway. A lot of this quiet rhetoric made me question my undergrad pathway, but I’m glad I trusted my gut and followed where it eventually led me.

I also learned—by unlearning—that cultivating your own pedagogical path is often the most powerful form of education. Taking advantage of accessible resources, Internet rabbit holes, open source platforms, and the like will take you far—if you are genuinely passionate about something. My introduction to graphic design was through a free, InDesign-adjacent layout software called Bookwright. My high school junior year, I designed four 100-page magazines that way, one for each season, without any real formal introduction to what design “should be” or “could look like”. Instagram, the Internet, and library books were my teachers; Bookwright was my tool; a childish love for making was my driving force.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

Community! Before I came to CalArts, I didn’t realize how formative creative community would be and how much it would impact my own process. I’ve made my closest friends here, and found how exciting creation can be when surrounded by like-minded peers—people who push you, encourage you, and support you along the way. Studio culture is a big part of the CalArts graphic design program, and it’s really amazing to see how growth truly expedites when nurtured by people/space/support.

In that same vein, collaborative projects are such a wonderful and fulfilling way to learn from friends and create to a whole different capacity. New nodes and sparks form when you can push and pull ideas off of one another. One of my favorite poets Imogen Ann Donato once likened learning/emotion to “alveoli expansion,” and I like to think of collaboration that way; as a living, breathing, humanistic thing that always expands outwards.

Contact Info:

• Website: karitrail.com
• Instagram: instagram.com/perpetualcharm/
• Linkedin: linkedin.com/in/karitrail/
• Other: are.na/kari-trail

Image Credits
Michael Williams (Photo: ToolKit Magazine exhibition)