Januar Kristianto in Conversation with Saleh Husein on How Design Shapes Music Communities

Up until today, design and music have always gone hand in hand, constantly influencing one another. As space continues to open up for different genres, references, and cultures, music communities have grown more diverse, bringing with them visual needs that move alongside the music. At the same time, music often becomes a source of energy for design practices, shaping visual languages that emerge from the communities surrounding it.

For the second edition of Out of Brief, we brought together Saleh Husein, a musician (The Adams and White Shoes and The Couples Company) and Art Director of Synchronize Festival, with Januar Kristianto, a musician (ZIP) and Co-Founder of Krapela, to take a closer look at how design and music intertwine and help keep Indonesia’s music scene and its communities alive.

Saleh Husein:

Let’s play a little analogy game, Jan. If I were design and music, what would my visual language and music be? Anything goes–could be a genre, could be a musician.

Januar Kristianto:

For design, I’d say you’re Laszlo Moholy-Nagy. There’s the geometric composition, but it’s also abstract. It’s neat, but there’s a bit of punk in it. For music, probably prog rock. You explore in all directions and don’t really limit yourself.

Saleh Husein:

I don’t believe in time codes, huh? Hahaha. What about you? I see you as the Black Flag logo. If I were God and I saw the Black Flag logo and decided to create a human being out of it, you’d come out. As for music, maybe something more groovy.

Januar Kristianto:

Groovy, hahaha.

Okay, I’ll start. Ale, you’re a visual artist and a musician. In your opinion, what role does design play in the music ecosystem, and how is it different from the way it used to be?

Saleh Husein:

Looking at how things have developed, especially when it comes directly to music, I feel like things used to have more soul because there was still a human feel to them. A lot of design was done manually back then, and many designers also continued their practice into more hands-on forms of graphic production, like screen printing. You could really feel that in music, whether through merchandise or album covers.

I first realized how important an album cover could be when I saw Green Day’s Dookie. At the time, I didn’t even know what the music sounded like, but the playful, chaotic illustration immediately caught my attention. That’s when I started to feel that a cover could be an entry point into discovering music.

Another example I find interesting is Raymond Pettibon. He often works in a very simple way, using things like black-and-white brushwork, but he still has such a strong sense of composition. His work is also deeply connected to music and punk culture, like Black Flag, because the visuals, lettering, and way he draws all feel integrated with the character of the music. For me, that’s important. When a visual artist creates something for music, the visual language has to feel right for the music it represents. So the role of visual design isn’t just about making something look good, but about creating something that genuinely connects with the character and energy of the music.

What about you? You have a background in graphic design. How do you see the role of design in the music ecosystem?

Januar Kristianto:

The most defining moment for me during design school was probably getting involved with Jakarta 32. That was when I first had the chance to build a network and discover a different culture outside the campus environment.

When I eventually had the opportunity to build Krapela, I saw just how diverse the community was, with people coming from all kinds of backgrounds. I think the increasingly open access to technology and information has allowed different generations to influence one another. At the same time, in the middle of all this digital overload, there’s also been a renewed interest in things that are manual and handmade. To me, that shows how the music and design ecosystem keeps developing through an exchange of references, experiences, and influences between communities.

If you look at the music scene today, I also feel that the spirit of gathering and doing things together is still very much alive. You see new movements and scenes emerging in cities like Bogor, for example. The spirit has remained the same: people come together, make something collectively, and influence one another along the way. I think that’s exactly how new waves within the music and design ecosystem continue to emerge and grow.

Now, speaking of community, how do you think design can bring people together and make them feel like they’re part of a music scene?

Saleh Husein:

I think even when it comes to music, the logic is still essentially the logic of design. There’s a certain framework or composition that you’re trying to offer, and the question is how that visual and musical composition can be presented together. When we talk about community, I think both can become entry points for creating a sense of belonging. You can see how a certain visual identity eventually shapes the character of a community or a scene.

Take Aksara Bookstore, for example, with its design language drawing heavily from Western references while still incorporating local elements. Or Hermawan Tanzil through LeBoYe, taking local elements like batik and reworking them with more contemporary colors. When batik is given colors that might not have traditionally been associated with it, suddenly there’s a new interpretation of what batik can be for a contemporary generation.

You can see something similar in collectives like Ruangrupa, which doesn’t necessarily follow conventional design principles, but uses fragments of imagery, collage, and different backgrounds to build a shared visual language. I think that’s where community is formed: when people from different backgrounds and with different references come together, influence one another, and create something they can eventually feel belongs to them.

Januar Kristianto:

I agree. It’s important for a designer to know that you can be a lone wolf if you want, but it’s much better to be part of a community, to conspire with people.

Saleh Husein:

Exactly. To conspire and strategize, right?

Jan, Krapela is closely connected to music communities across different genres. In your opinion, how can design build a sense of belonging within a music community, rather than simply functioning as a promotional tool?

Januar Kristianto:

Looking at Krapela, one of the most standout things is our IP, Girlhood…is A Spectrum. It captures the spirit of current music trends, with artists like Mitski, Soccer Mommy, and Lana Del Rey. There’s also this internet phenomenon around it, so visually, people immediately get it. There’s a certain template, and then our design team at Krapela explores different visual combinations for each edition. From the visuals alone, people already have an idea of what kind of music they’re going to hear. We also bring in certain pop culture characters and references, like Carrie, for example, with its chaotic character. Or Niki from Obsession more recently. These characters represent the IP in different ways. The visual language is then read by the crowd, and they feel a sense of ownership too, like, “This is so my event.”

So, in your opinion, looking at all the different music movements around the world, which ones have had visuals that strongly influenced the musicians or the music communities themselves?

Saleh Husein:

I think the influence of visuals really depends on what someone is drawn to, whether it’s a certain kind of music or subculture. Looking back, there are so many album covers that have become iconic not only because they captured the era they came from, but also because they managed to “freeze” the visual language of that particular moment. Take Metallica’s ...And Justice for All or The Black Album, for example. They’re visually simple, but that simplicity makes them incredibly strong and recognizable. Today, that influence might also come from festivals. When a festival builds a particular visual identity, the bands and communities involved indirectly represent that visual language and carry it into a wider space.

In Indonesia, we can also see how visual languages grow out of their respective scenes. Take The Upstairs, for example, or C’mon Lennon, which used a more playful, drawing-like approach. In a way, those visuals represented Jakarta at the time as a kind of “playground” for young people. The same goes for punk shows or smaller communities whose visuals may not have had any ambition to become iconic in the first place. They simply made something based on their own character, and then the audience was the one that eventually gave it that iconic status.

I think almost any visual can be read again through the context of its time, genre, and the subculture that produced it. And from there, we can see how music and visual culture are constantly documenting and influencing one another.

How do you see the development of increasingly diverse subcultures, communities, and scenes today influencing your own creative practice?

Januar Kristianto:

In terms of creative practice, I probably feel it most through Krapela because I’m constantly meeting people from different backgrounds with different ideas. Because of that, design practice doesn’t always have to take the form of a visual work for me. It can also happen through dialogue. A lot of people come to me to talk, ask for an opinion, or look for a different perspective when they’re feeling stuck. For example, a band might ask, “If our music sounds like this, where do you think we should take the visual references?” For me, that’s also part of design practice, helping them understand their own character and find an approach that feels right for them.

Maybe that’s why, without really realizing it, I often end up involved in the creative processes of friends around me. Sometimes I’ll suddenly get a DM saying, “Jan, what do you think of my hardcore band’s album cover?” and we end up talking through the visual direction. I don’t usually give them a direct answer or tell them exactly what it should look like. I tend to turn the question back to them: “What’s your character?” Because ultimately, the strongest visual references and approaches come from the character of the music and the community itself.

Saleh Husein:

But Krapela’s practice is also closely connected to current visual trends, and trends are changing incredibly fast these days. How do you see these shifts affecting music communities, and how do they influence Krapela’s creative practice?

Januar Kristianto:

We don’t adapt every trend. There’s a process of curation because if we tried to follow everything, we simply wouldn’t be able to keep up. The acceleration of music itself is incredibly fast now. Genres are becoming increasingly fluid, and people can take elements from hip-hop, hyperpop, techno, dub, or pop and mix them together. If there used to be a certain kind of devotion to specific bands or genres, things are probably more genre-agnostic now. People can take a bunch of references, extract what they want from them, and then spit them back out as something new. I think that’s also why we have to be more thoughtful about what we choose to adapt into our design practice. Technology has made the cycle of visual trends even faster. Changes used to feel more gradual, while now there’s new content or technology appearing every second. So at Krapela, we can’t simply chase trends. We have to look at the moment and its context.

As the Art Director of Synchronize Fest, how much does your experience as a musician influence the way you design the visual experience of a music festival?

Saleh Husein:

At Synchronize, I always start from a few pillars that I want to achieve: history, the environment and sustainability, as well as the idea of the city itself. When I first came in, I wanted the Synchronize Festival to be an inclusive space where people from any background could come and enjoy music together. I see Jakarta as a hybrid city, where identities are already very fluid.

Take the environmental pillar, for example. Sustainability, for me, isn’t only about the products we use, but also about how a festival can keep regenerating itself. That’s why Synchronize has always made space for emerging artists. From there, I work with artists, designers, illustrators, or visual artists who I feel can translate the ideas for each year. This year, for example, I chose Marishka Soekarna because her work is colorful but also carries a sense of loneliness. I felt that character could represent where we are today: still vibrant and celebratory, but with a certain uneasiness underneath. So it’s not simply about color or composition, but about how the visual can carry a more subtle idea.

For me, Jan, design is actually everywhere. Cities, architecture, plants, roads, even the everyday objects we use are all designed to guide how we move through and experience things. That’s why design can also be a very skilled liar. In the context of a festival, design is the front line. People first encounter a festival through its posters, social media, invitations, or promotional materials. If the visuals promise something vibrant and exciting, but the actual experience isn’t there when you arrive at the festival, then the design has lied to you.

Januar Kristianto:

I agree. At the end of the day, design is guidance. But sometimes, even when a design looks great digitally, its application in the field can be completely different and needs to be tweaked according to the conditions. If the venue is in the mountains, for example, you have to think about challenges like altitude and the environment. That’s what makes design fascinating to me, it’s always adaptive and constantly morphing according to its environment.

Saleh Husein:

And keeping every element of the design consistent becomes another challenge. That’s probably also what made me interested in getting into music festivals. I often see designs that look great on screen, but once they arrive on site, the result is completely different, the colors fall flat, the execution isn’t maintained, and yet it’s still left that way. Visuals are one of the most in-your-face elements of a festival, alongside the audio and the atmosphere.

So, Jan, if there are young designers today who want to contribute to music communities, what do you think are the things they need to know and have?

Januar Kristianto:

I think one of them is understanding historical context. A subculture or scene doesn’t usually just appear out of nowhere; there’s always a momentum, an idea, or a trigger behind it. If we look at different music movements from the ’60s, ’80s, and ’90s, the ideas that emerged from the social and cultural conditions of those eras were reflected in their music and visuals. That’s why I think it’s important to build as many references as possible and consume everything; film, music, design, fashion. Don’t just follow one pattern. The more references you consume, the more you sharpen your ability to see different perspectives.

Saleh Husein:

I’d probably add one thing: don’t try too hard to be relevant. Everyone is so busy thinking about whether the work they put out is relevant enough to its time. I think when you know what you’re doing, and you’re honest about your process and the way you read the context, you don’t need to force relevance. In the end, relevance isn’t something you have to claim for yourself. It’s the people experiencing the work who will read it and decide whether it’s relevant to them. If it comes from an honest place of self-expression, I think the work will find its own relevance without you having to say, “This is relevant.”