10 Years at Bernstein Andriulli

I worked out a couple of weeks ago that it's exactly ten years since I signed with Bernstein Andriulli, my agency in Manhattan, NYC.

The invitation to to join them came after an incredibly busy period taking our Write Off the World Show from London's Truman Brewery to Manhattan, where we'd taken over a whole chunk of Chelsea Market at about 5 weeks' notice; an unbelievable amount of space in an unbelievably central location for an unbelievably low cost. There is no way we'd get that space now, because a) it's been split up into lots of little eating parlours and b) the cost would be totally prohibitive to a two-man-band like us. But back in 2007, we had the whole space to ourselves, an apparently always-available-to-help site supervisor to pitch in with logistics, and a security guard who knew All The Right People. And we had determination in spades, together with helpers in the form of family and friends flown out for the occasion.

 

So, there were were; the show had had its raucous, whirlwind opening party with performances by Sage Francis and B.Dolan, Christine O'Keeffe Aptowicz, Taylor Mali and Shappy Seasholtz, the drinks table was halved, the freebies cracked into, the nibbles nibbled and the merch table had had a good going over. I'd already got a few clients in NYC, and had invited them along with Louisa St Pierre, who I'd known from AOI talks and from running Central Illustration - now overseeing Bernstein Andriulli. In she walked, a picture of poised curiosity, with the most elegant companion - an art editor at Vogue who had me glancing down anxiously at my bought-that-morning Forever21 dress - only to fight her way through a maze of hand-printed wallpaper covered in profanities, get shouted at by angry poets, and faced with artwork full of skulls, crying faces and lost orphans.

Amongst the raw energy and the politics, the sad stories and the reflections on death and humanity, she must have seen something she liked, for the next day I was in her office, chatting about plans, bags, Forever21 frocks, NY life and having an agent. I'd never had an agent before, having flown resolutely solo for 13 years, so I didn't say yes straight away - but by the time we left the city a week later, I had. I knew I was at the point where if I was to enjoy more work in the US, I needed someone to help facilitate that. Within a few months the folios were sorted, the postcards printed, and I was In The System.

 

I had joined the US's most prestigious illustration agency. A lot has changed in that time - trends and movements and fashions have continued their restless shift, agents have joined and departed, the company's moved premises, but I've blazed through a decade of work without seemingly taking a breath. From the initial green light to today, I've worked on a ceaseless parade of jobs from all corners of the USA and Canada, brought my book cover list up to over 400, and had the enormous privilege of working on projects which have seen us travel, make new friends and see the work appear in places we never thought it could.

I've hardly taken a pause for reflection, which has been both a good and a bad thing. The time has flown, and I've not once got to the end of the list - B&A are good at keeping the work coming. Many times I've described them as a 'weapons-grade' agency, because of their relentless pursuit of jobs, history of multi-pronged promotion and organisation. At times, juggling 15 jobs at once (my maximum so far) with as many art directors, it's felt like having 15 bosses in several time zones, overseen by the agents overseeing them, and that takes a lot of energy and administrative focus - you need to be horribly organised to deliver that many jobs in parallel without the wheels falling off. While 'side-projects' have continued apace, working that hard for this long has not come without sacrifice (TV, sleep, socialising, learning and playing have all been forsaken at various times), but I like the challenge.

 

I've been posting a few jobs on social media from the last 10 years of working with B&A, from the huge 72ft billboard in Times Square to the 3" black and white matchbook, the infamous Playboy cover and the classic novels, but there have been so many jobs in between I couldn't possibly post them all. I can only think of a single one which ended on what you could call a less than positive note - and even that wasn't terrible. I'm grateful and bewildered at the variety and pace of the work.

When students ask me about getting an agent, I always say that it's good to get a few years' experience under your belt first. I still firmly believe that - there's no way I was ready to enter into a relationship with an agent on graduation, and I think it's extremely healthy to learn the ropes before you start to lean on an agent to take some of the responsibility. Does the average eager Instagrammer need an agent, or even think about getting one? I don't know. The other thing I tell them is that signing with an agent is a relationship. Both sides work together to build on a career and ultimately turn your artwork into $, creating a win-win for each party. Even now in these very evolved times of immediate, uninterrupted client-to-artist exposure, rapid shifts in trends and technology and global access, I hear students and new creators suggesting they can take a back seat while the agent takes the reigns. Maybe that's true for some, but I know I have always felt the anxiety of needing to stay proactive.

I don't know what the future of agency representation is, but I do know it will always be work, of the best and hardest kind. I'm staring into the future with curious, watchful eyes, and look forward to agency-style collaboration continuing, in whatever shape and form it may take.

So tell us a bit about how you work

I made a quick 'snapshot' of some of my behind the scenes photos, as I'm regularly asked how I make my work.
The answer:
Brain > Paper > Pencil > Pens > Ink...and anywhere else it needs to go from there!

Seven Stories

In April I began working on some pieces for Seven Stories, the National Centre for Children’s Books in Byker, Newcastle. I’d been involved with them before when they had their Fairy Tales exhibition, and had used illustrations from my Grimm’s Fairy Tales book, cover published by Puffin Books, on the walls of the show.

Earlier this year Alison Gwynne at Seven Stories explained that they were about to undergo a massive overhaul of the 18th century building they were housed in, part of a previous paper mill on the River Ouse with big windows, loads of light and, as she explained, lots of bits ready for an upgrade! Nestling in the Ouseburn Valley, ‘birthplace of the industrial revolution in Newcastle’, Seven Stories is a big 7 storey (of course) wendy house of books, stories, shows and collections dedicated to celebrating British children’s books, and based at Lime Street. (Right now, you can see an exhibition about Michael Foreman, who I met while working there - now there’s a body of work to admire!)

Seven Stories is on the left behind the trees, helpfully:

Oh and yes, these you can pass as you stroll to 30 Lime Street, courtesy of the City Farm right in the belly of the valley:

The first task, completed in the studio, was first to develop a repeat type-based pattern for the big wide reception desk, and the desk inside the fulsome book shop. I wrote out the words for the seven basic types of story from which ALL stories are evolved - tragedy, comedy, rags to riches, voyage and return, monster, quest, and redemption - which were then set into a repeat pattern and printed at a huge scale on the specially-built desks - here’s the desk before and after:

Thereafter the job was to have these words applied to a set of seven bespoke lightbooks, which were to flap and hover over the heads of the visitors as they entered. Though I produced the design for them in April, we didn’t get to see these until the last couple of days of actually being on site, but here’s how they looked, lit up and wafting through all the LED colours of the rainbow:

See them glowing here!
https://vimeo.com/134312033



The big task however was the one which took us up to the Ouseburn Valley itself, saw us installing ourselves in the cosy Cumberland Arms (vegan full English brought to your bed every morning, ales and a fine view over the valley) for eight days, slapping on our Inkymole overalls and walking down the valley to work every morning: The Big Mural.

We printed up some workmanlike Proper Overalls (do workmen wear gold embroidery?) and some Inkymole On Location threads - we thought it was about time - and packed them with our fresh brushes and new paint collection, and embarked on the mega-drive to Newcastle.

The Café had had three empty walls since it opened ten years ago, but was a bit flat and tired looking. Alison’s idea was to create a food-inspired mural to fill these walls and give the little munchers and their families something their eyeballs could feast on as well as their tummies. Taking inspiration from the hundreds of children’s books whose central theme is food - or which are famous for a single foody reference! - and using Dulux Trade colour sample pots, we decided on a tryptich of images with a large, busy central illustration hiding the word ‘I’m Hungry’  in its negative space. Would it work? It did on paper, but whether it did on the wall we wouldn’t know till we started painting!

[If you would like to see the massive selection of books which contributed to the illustration, you can see it here. This is only about half of what I could have included!)

Fuelled by morning sausages, packed lunches and exquisite midday fresh-roast coffees from Ouseburn Coffee Company, just over the way, we embarked on The Big Mural.

The Café before:

During:

Watch some of the frantic action here:
https://vimeo.com/134085382




My plan was for either side of this central motif to explore the darker side of ‘food in children’s books’ - the stuff I remember from childhood; ancient classics such as Three Billy Goats Gruff, Red Riding Hood, the three tragic little piggies, terrifyingly large beanstalks and the horrific Wolf and the Seven Little Kids on the left, with the right hand side dedicated to possibly the most famous book about food, Charlie and the Chocolate factory, which has its own murky morals and lessons.

To be executed in a less playful Mole-style silhouette with brooding atmospheric skies, we wanted spray paints to achieve an almost Photoshoppy gradiented sky, and after consulting assistant Graham to look at some slighjtly left-of-centre sky gradients - this had to look a little unusual - we enlisted the help of local spraypaint expert Dan.

Dan owns the nearby spray paint emporium, Colours, and was delighted if a little surprised to be asked to come and paint our backgrounds for us. With a sandwich and *the appropriate health and safety gear*, Dan arrived on the Sunday and got those skies and aurora borealis down in a fraction of the time it would have taken us, to breathtaking effect:

After which it was down to us to add the foreground, stars and my giant cheese moon, stencilled and dabbed with more spray paint:

And the last job was - in response to demand from a few of the people we’d called out to for requests - Agatha Trunchbull's stolen chocolate cake, eaten in secret by Bruce Bogtrotter who’s then forced to scoff the lot till he…well...

Along the way we had plumbing dramas, floods and access issues - all part of the process of major works being done around us as we painted - but we also had some delicious Lebanese food, great coffee, massive breakfasts and a proper Byker welcome, and despite feeling like I could have painted for another two weeks, the mural was duly completed and the team were delighted. We are returning in early October to paint the reception wall - welcoming guests with the line ‘There are sevens stories in the world, but a thousand ways to tell them’, and I can’t wait to go back!

Seven Stories is open every day except Christmas Day and New Year’s Day, with tickets costing from Free to £7.70.