Fred Sayeau
The Catalyst
Fred Sayeau, instructor, mentor, provocateur, influencer, and friend, was my high school art teacher from 1984–1986. Upon reflection, my Junior High art class was free-form and unstructured compared to Fred’s program. Fred taught his high-school students as if undertaking a profession: something I did not appreciate then. While all high-school courses should be introductory and preparatory—new subjects for young minds—his approach was foundational and rigorous.
On day one of year one, Fred gave a speech about his course not being a “bird-course,” it would be no fly-through course where high grades for little effort were expected. No, this course was for those serious about art, with aptitude and interest. I doubted my choice on that day.
In 2020’s hindsight, I see his intention: to separate the “wheat from the chaff.” His curriculum was for those with an aptitude for the arts and the wrong course for those not cut out for the work or in the class for the wrong reason. When I taught foundation and intro courses at NSCAD University and later at the University of Manitoba, I took a similar approach—influenced wholly by Fred. I believe my job is to provide a solid understanding of graphic and typographic design fundamentals. I also want to help students understand the design discipline—the rigour, the purpose, and how it differs from fine arts—to help their decision-making early on. To continue or not to pursue. I would also add that my approach to design education is founded on an iterative process, which I must attribute to Fred’s “trial and error and trying again” method.
Fred entered the public school system in 1970. He told me there was no formal curriculum—I suspect none that lived up to his standards. So began his pursuit to write and fine-tune the art program. Upon arriving at the "Queen Pats" in 1975, he was prepared. When I started nine years later, his program was structured and dogmatic.
Fred recounted that Year One focused on “observing, documenting, and interpreting the visual world in black and white before colour.” He titled the first semester “Black and White, from Dry to Wet” and introduced “Colour” in the second. If interpretation happened by then, he was happy—with certainty, I can say I could not move beyond poorly executed pastiche and misunderstood appropriation. By year two, he had lost many students. This year was “Art as Design, Design as Art,” followed by “Art as Craft, Craft as Art.” Every Friday, he trapped us in a room for art history lectures: Ugh. Fred later quipped, “I can hear the groans now!” In the third year, everything became more serious. The approach was purposeful and delivered with a unique blend of “support and sarcasm,” says JJ Lee. Fred’s determination to expose us to all aspects of art and design gave us a full perspective of where a career in the arts could lead.
As I write these notes, I see common threads: a late bloomer and a slow learner are just a couple. In the 1980s, I would like to believe the design discipline was not as commonly known as it is today. But then again, perhaps my developmentally challenged adolescence influenced that thought. I collected and admired album cover art such as Thomas Dolby’s Wireless, Joe Jackson’s Night & Day, and Sonny Rollins Vol. 2. I marvelled at Orchestral Manoeuvres' simplicity in the Dark LPs and New Order’s Blue Monday. I recreated Malcolm Garrett’s Rio countless times. I even redrew the logos of Public Image Limited, the Buzzcocks, and the 2 Tone Man to understand construction. Yet, the names Peter Saville, Malcolm Garret, Neville Brody, and others would not sink in until later. It wasn’t until my second year of art school that I understood how their design products influenced my career.
Not until art school did I realize how strong his program was. Most NSCAD students entered the university's Foundation program. I felt the courses were repetitive, as did my high school cohorts. NSCAD felt the same for Fred’s graduates, directing us to instructors prepared for more advanced entrants. The connections I made with classmates—JJ, Maya, Sandra, Christian, and others—were among my earliest friendships, bonds that helped define what friendship could be.
I credit Fred Sayeau with many things. I would not have learned about graphic design without his program. However, it was his architectural component that was particularly memorable, perhaps having the most significant impact. Designing a 1000 sq. ft. house—a site-specific plot chosen for each student—confirmed my interest in the built environment. As you will discover later in these thank-yous, drawing and architecture profoundly influenced me for many reasons. Fred’s tutelage and friendship not only influenced my career direction, but his pedagogy greatly enhanced my teaching.
Fred recounted one student telling him, “I don’t know whether to love you or hate you!” He was happy to have admiration but appreciated the hate! “Creativity ain’t an easy process,” he reminded me.” Agreed. If Fred hoped his changes to the public school art curriculum would enhance our careers, he succeeded. I hope he knows just how many careers he started and the lives he has influenced. Fred, you were the catalyst for my career in design.
In Memory
June 14, 2024—A few days ago, I learned that Fred Sayeau died peacefully in his sleep. His daughter writes: “Those close to him were shocked that he decided to leave so soon. We’re all heartbroken. Rest easy Dad. You will be missed. Until we meet again. ❤️”
We are stardust, we are golden and we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden.—Joni Mitchell
