Apart from photography and music videos, I also do graphic

“Apart from photography and music videos, I also do graphic design.” Thus spoke Anton Corbijn, the Dutch visionary whose eyes have long captured the soul of sound and image. To the unknowing ear, his words may seem modest, even casual—a simple statement of skill. Yet within them lies a profound philosophy of creation, a truth about the unity of all art and the boundless nature of human expression. Corbijn, a man who has photographed legends and directed haunting visuals, reminds us here that creativity is not a narrow path, but a vast horizon. The artist, he implies, should not confine himself to one form, but allow his spirit to flow where inspiration calls.

In this declaration, Corbijn reveals something essential about his own journey. He is not merely a photographer, nor only a director—he is a weaver of moods, a translator of emotion into form. Through graphic design, he completes the circle, binding stillness and motion, image and meaning, into one living language. For him, each art form feeds the other: photography gives him composition, video grants him rhythm, design teaches him structure. The same hand that frames a portrait also arranges a poster; the same eye that captures a shadow understands how color speaks in silence. His art is not divided—it is harmonized, a symphony of disciplines united by one vision.

The origin of such an idea reaches deep into the wisdom of the ancients. In the days of the Renaissance, the true artist was not a specialist but a universal mind. Leonardo da Vinci painted, sculpted, invented, and studied the stars. Michelangelo carved marble, painted ceilings, and designed cathedrals. They did not separate art into fragments—they understood that beauty itself is one, and that all creative acts spring from the same sacred source. Corbijn stands in that same tradition: the modern polymath who knows that the artist’s task is not to master one tool, but to let his imagination master them all.

Consider, too, the life of Bauhaus, that great movement of design born in Germany a century ago. Its disciples believed that art, craft, and technology were not enemies but allies—that architecture, typography, and music could all serve a single aesthetic of purpose and clarity. They sought a world where every object, every building, every poster was infused with thought and beauty. Corbijn’s approach echoes their creed. In his work, whether an album cover or a film frame, we see the same balance of restraint and intensity, of light and meaning. His creative life is proof that the boundaries between disciplines exist only in the minds of those afraid to cross them.

Yet there is more than technique in his words; there is humility. When Corbijn says, “I also do graphic design,” he speaks not as one boasting of many gifts, but as one who sees no hierarchy in art. He reminds us that no form of creation is lesser, no craft too small to deserve reverence. The photograph, the music video, and the design are all expressions of the same longing—to communicate, to connect, to leave behind a trace of one’s vision in the world. True artistry, he teaches, is not measured by fame or form, but by the sincerity of its purpose.

In this way, Corbijn’s philosophy becomes a lesson for all who seek to live creatively. The modern age often demands specialization, forcing souls to narrow their talents until their work becomes mechanical. But the artist must resist this. He must remain curious, fluid, alive. He must remember that creation is a conversation, not a category—that the hand which sketches may also sculpt, and the voice that sings may also write. To be whole is to embrace the fullness of one’s gifts, not to silence them in favor of convention.

Let each reader, then, take this wisdom to heart: do not confine your creativity. Whatever forms of art or craft call to you, follow them, for they will strengthen one another and deepen your understanding of beauty. Learn to see the world through many lenses—to think in color and line, to hear rhythm in silence, to find motion even in stillness. For when all the arts unite within you, you will discover what the ancients knew and what Corbijn now reminds us: that to create in many forms is not to scatter your purpose, but to refine your vision—to become, in truth, a complete artist and a complete soul.

And so, Anton Corbijn’s words, simple yet radiant, stand as a quiet hymn to creative wholeness. They tell us that the true artist is not limited by medium, but liberated by imagination. Whether you design, photograph, compose, or build, your calling is one and the same: to transform the invisible into the visible, and in doing so, to leave behind something that whispers, “I lived, I saw, I created.”