This is Neisha Crosland…
Neisha is one of Britain’s leading textile designers. She started her own company in 1994 designing scarves and accessories, and has gone on to design fabrics, wallpapers, rugs, bed linen, tiles, fine china and stationery home and fashion accessories that sell around the world. I recently recorded an RDInsights interview with her, about her life and work. You can listen to it right here.
We slid seamlessly into the 90s while all around were fighting with their banks. In 1993 we were voted number 1 in three categories of Design Week's yearly survey: identity design, editorial/book design, annual report design and poster design. Various publications ran profiles on the company including Graphis and Blueprint…
All very flattering. We were in a good place and the attention was a great morale-booster, coupled with the company running smoothly and profitably.
Above brand identities for the South Bank Centre 1994, Our Price 1993, Docklands Symphonetta 1994 and the Design Museum 1995. Sadly all no longer exist.
Things were going so smoothly, in fact, that Nicholas and I started to think about the long-term future of the company. We had turned down an offer from a major advertising agency in order to keep our independence, but we also realised that we needed a succession plan.
The problem was - and still is - that very few 30-something designers could afford the share value; most have marriages, mortgages and children to pay for. So we hit on the idea of setting up a new company.
Annual reports for The British Land Company from 1991 and 1992. We continued to work with the company for 2 decades.
We called it CDT Design. Removing the individual personalities would allow new designers to surface and hopefully shine. We had identified 4 staff members who were good designers in their own right. Sadly one of them, Fernando Gutierrez, came to tell me that he was leaving to move to Spain to work. It was an emotional moment for both of us, as we’d worked so well together over the years. So off he flew. The others - Iain Crockart, Ian Chivers and Neil Walker - became Associate Directors. We divided up our clients between them and gave them responsibility for their own teams and profit centres.
The Royal Mail Year Book was devised by us in 1984 and we produced it for 10 years before bowing out. Above the 10th anniversary edition 1994.
Stained glass window Christmas stamps for Royal Mail 1992.
We had a 5 year plan at the end of which - depending on their individual performances - they would become full share-holding directors. Leaving Nicholas and I retaining controlling interest of the new company. It all sounded fine and dandy. Contracts were drawn up and signed. But we had been fore-warned that the chances of all three making it were pretty slim. Ever the optimist, I thought it would work out. Famous last words.
In 1994 we designed the physical shape for the South Bank area signage with a nod to the famous Skylon from the Festival of Britain.
In addition to the 3 Associate ‘Design’ Directors, we also gave our in-house finance guy a small share allocation too.
CDT Design. Clockwise from the left: Nicholas Thirkell, Ian Chilvers, Mike Dempsey, Iian Crockart, Neil Walker and (centre) Ashwin Raithataha.
Over the first two years the underlying personalities of the 4 became apparent. It would be insensitive of me to identify the traits of each individual - so, without naming names, we had the following types: one charming, at ease with clients, presentations and working well directing assistants, the second intense, stressful, pessimistic and a major procrastinator, while the third did not work well with assistants, found it difficult to confront problems head-on and was extremely stubborn. The fourth was a cross between Iago and Machiavelli; he had discovered the concept of divide and rule in childhood and would use it to great effect to disrupt the company further down the line. Few of these people had any real experience of running anything.
To dovetail with the creation of CDT we published a book of our work in 1993. A very rare find these days.
We completly redesigned the French cultral listings magazine,Telerama in 1992 and contiued to act as their editorial design consultants until 2000.
D&AD Silver nominated seasonal stationary range for still life photographer Andy Seymour.
So a seemingly-straightforward idea turned into a high-risk experiment. But we soldiered on and trusted that things would bed-in. Nicholas told me that he wanted to leave in 1999. He admitted that he was losing interest in the rough and tumble of the design world and wanted to pursue more gardening which was a big passion with him; and he hated the dreary British winter months and planned to spend that time of the year in India. So the die was cast, there was no going back.
Complete book on Russian textiles.
We deigned the title sequence and promotional material for Louis Malle's movie Damage 1992.
In July of 1995 I learned that I was going to be made a Royal Designer for Industry (RDI) but had to keep it under my hat until the awards were presented by the RSA later in the year. I’d just turned 50 and was deeply honoured to be in the same company of so many design greats. I remember, at the very first RDI meeting that I attended, there was Abram Games puffing away on his pipe, Herbert Spencer chatting to Robin Day, and Alan Fetcher sharing a joke with Derek Birdsall and Dennis Bailey. At the head of the table sat the sartorially immaculate Jean Muir and next to her the great textile designer Enid Marx and illustrator David Gentleman. And that was just a few of this exclusive cross-disciplinary design fraternity. It was astonishing.
One of many publications we produce for our rebranding of the Willis Group PLC in 1991.
In our new roles at CDT, Nicholas and I spent most of our time mentoring and hand-holding. The strengths and weaknesses of each Associate were bubbling to the surface.
In 1995 we embarked on our third art sponsorship - once again with the Tate Gallery. This was ‘Art Now’ an experimental gallery space within the original Tate building featuring new works. The first in the series was installation artist and film-maker Mathew Barney...
Mathew Barney OTTOshaft Hypoxia-Hypertrophy-Hubris Thr AI Davis Suite.
By this time I was well into my second marriage with two more children, making it a total of 5 from both marriages. I was living in Islington and had also had a cottage in Dorset, where my family and I would spend the holidays. I’d also thrown myself into photography having discovered Polaroid’s 35mm Polapan film, which was an instant black and white transparency, with a beautiful grainy quality. Whenever I decide to pursue something new I absorb as much as I can. These are just some of the books I consumed...
I had set up a studio at my home and began by photographing friends, family and then moved on to models, in fact anybody I could find…
Above: 2 of my photographic efforts used in our ENO work.
And this was one of 6 underground posters to promote ENO. I selected members of the audience to give a reality to this 'Everyone Needs Opera' campaign in 1995.
While out one sunny Sunday morning, I spotted a very attractive oriental girl walking past Tavistock Gardens. I stopped my car, which at the time was an old 2CV, and asked her if she would be interested in being photographed (I know, it all sounds very dodgy now). She agreed and this was one of the shots…
A short time after the above shot was taken she moved back to the West Midlands. But she was to reappear again, but not for 16 years.
Above: I removed this original vitreous enameled sign - in glorious Akzidenz Grotesk Bold - from our Brownlow Mews building when the new CDT sign went up.
The first few years under the new CDT Design banner had gone well with rising profits. But all was not well with me. I’d started to feel a little under the weather and eventually went to see my doctor who referred me on to a specialist. This culminated in my having a biopsy, the result of which I was supposed to get before a Bank Holiday Weekend. The Friday came but no letter. While at work I phoned the consultant - but he’d gone off for the weekend. I was told that a letter had been posted. “What does it say? I need to know”. After a bit of persuasive pleading, I managed to get the secretary to read the contents. Everything went a bit fuzzy after the word “Positive” filtered through. It appeared that I had prostate cancer. My world froze at that moment. I thanked her, replaced the receiver, went to the loo, locked the door, looked at the blank wall and felt tears cascading down my face. I spent the next week hidden from sight in the local library, reading everything and anything I could lay my hands on about the condition. The more I read, the more paranoid I became. After taking advice from a range of medics I underwent a major operation.
1995. This is a very special project for me. It was the last thing that I worked on before going into hospital. Although I'm not a great fan of packaging, I loved every moment of this job and subsequently became great friends with the owner. The labels have never changed.
While still in a state of post-operative euphoria, brought about by the most fantastic drugs, my three Associate Directors arrived clutching a rather nice frosted glass award. Apparently on the day of my operation we had won the ABSA Arts sponsorship award, the first design company ever to do so.
I was away from the CDT for about 8 weeks and it took me many months more to recover from the operation. But even then I managed to work on a project that I really wanted to do...
Film title sequence for David Hare's The Designated Mourner 1997. All shot at my home in 1996, while convalescing.
But the moment I got back to work I was able to quickly engage my brain in problem solving - something that has always fascinated me.
I was also very involved with D&AD, as it had been announced I was to be the next president in 1997. That news enabled me to divert my mind from the thought of the cancer returning, which tended to gnaw away in the background.
The whole horrid experience of 1996 dramatically changed my view of everything. I was no longer interested in next year, month, week or day. I had made up my mind to ‘live in the moment’. Life was suddenly a very precious thing.
The final 10 years of my time at CDT Design were to be rewarding, challenging and traumatic in equal measures and I rediscover painting. (To be continued)
For the other posts in this series... Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.
ATTENTION ALL GRAPHIC DESIGNERS WHO CARE...
The late great Raymond Hawkey is not having a great time at the moment.
Earlier this year I posted a piece about some limited edition posters that lifted Hawkey's classic 60's Penguin Len Deighton covers without apology or attribution. Well, it's happened again with his iconic 1962 Ipcress File book jacket...
Hawkey¹s classic 1962 book jacket published by Hodder & Stoughton
Now take a look at this...
A blatant and shameful copy of Hawkey¹s work to be published in June by Birlinn
The Art Director of the publishers of this lamentable effort stated in an email to Edward Milward-Oliver (a friend and supporter of Hawkey's work) that this "cover is homage to Ray Hawkey's original jacket for The Ipcress File."
I think that it an absolute insult to Ray and his work. And from what I understand, no permission was sort from Raymond Hawkey's widow. They just ripped it off, and it has to be said in a most inept way. What is more shocking to me is that neither Barry Fantoni (a very talented illustrator) nor the cover designer (so called) James Hutcheson thought twice about this and went ahead with this effort. Did they not have an original idea between them?
Ray can't speak for himself so I would like any designer reading this, who is as outraged as I am, to lodge an email protest to the publishers with the message:
STOP THE HARRY LIPKIN P.I. JACKET, IT HAS RIPPED OFF RAYMOND HAWKEY'S WORK! to info@birlinn.co.uk.
They just might relent.
In my view they should send a letter of apology to Mary Hawkey and a design fee for their lamentable copy of Ray's cover. There is a delicate line between paying homage and ripping off. This effort falls wildly over the latter.
Children beware of the Caped Crusader
Spotted close to the Brunswick centre. I have seen a number of these witty and joyous ceramic tiles dotted around town...
I have been revisiting some of my favourite British films from the 1960’s.
If you are unfamiliar with the period, The Pumpkin Eater (1964) directed by Jack Clayton is a very good place to start. It tells the story of a woman (sensitively played by Ann Bancroft above) in slow emotional disintegration brought about by her husband’s philandering and deceit. Photographed in sumptuous black and white by Oswald Morris with some beautiful compositions…
Above, Morris's composition and framing are superb throughout the film.
All under the sure direction of the great Jack Clayton, who knows exactly what he is doing even with children… The film is peppered with some stalwart British character actors giving gravitas to every performance. And not forgetting lead actor Peter Finch who is as always superb along with a great cameo from James Mason makes for a highly watchable film.
A Hitchcockian moment with this series on progressive close ups of James Mason's mouth delivering some venomous Pinter dialog
And if that were not enough Harold Pinter penned a terrifically taut script. The great French composer Georges Delerue created a beautifully charged score, full of emotion.
Above, Jack Clayton (right) on set directing Ann Bancroft and Richard Johnson.
The film is unhurriedly paced with a quiet integrity along with supreme elegance. It allows the viewer space to think and engage with the characters and immerse themselves into the story. Give it a whirl.
In 1965 I was working for an Artists Agent called Bryan Colmer. It was located in Farringdon Road, London. My window looked out across to this series of relatively new ceramic panels...
They were designed by Dorothy Annan*, and commissioned to celebrate the world of tele-communications and graced the front of the then GPO telephone exchange building built in 1960 and have recently been saved from destruction by English Heritage.
I was the in-house designer at Bryan Colmer and my main task was to design the typography to accompany the illustrations for the book covers they had been commissioned for. At the time the agency represented some of the most talented illustrators working…
Above two examples of Fratini's work from the 60's
Gino D'Achille at 82 his still at it. Photographed by Max Bailey in 2012
Above D'Achille's unashamedly commercial approach that has kept him busy for 60 years.
Above the work of Tom Adams who also illustrated many Agatha Christie covers in the 1970's
Above two examples of illustrator, Michael Johnson (not that one) who was a highly sort after British illustrator in the 60s and 70s.
For a young twenty something in the haze of 'swinging (it had an innocent meaning then) London’, it was very exciting. There was a continual bustle of illustrators coming and going through the agency delivering their work to the hand of Virgil Pomfret, a tall, prematurely bald, languid ex-Eatonion with a penchant for Mozart. He was the co-director of the agency and it was he who had looked through my little A4 portfolio of hand made book covers created at my kitchen table in the evenings. To my amazement he offered me the job as in-house designer, thus rescuing me from a claustrophobic commercial art studio where I had been working for a man who favoured the use of Albertus on every single job.
Once installed at the agency, I would be given a collection of illustrations, which needed to be converted to finished book covers. For me this became the perfect playground to experiment with type, and where I discovered that the personality of a typeface could engender a myriad of moods. As I was the only designer working there, my inspirations came from whatever I happened to be soaking up at the time from magazines, books and films. The agency did represent one graphic designer, an American with the rather catchy name of Sam Sulliman who created a reputation in the jazz abum cover world. He was in the UK at the time. Here's a little of his work...
Above three paperback covers and a 12" album cover designed by Sam Sulliman during the 60's
I would often meet the illustrators as they hung out at the Farringdon Road offices. One day a young, good-looking guy turned up with a large portfolio. I noticed him for two reasons. Firstly he smoked a pipe but more importantly for me, he was kitted out head to foot in pure Ivy League clothes. Since childhood I was somewhat obsessed with America and all things American. His name was Bruce McDonald...
That's Bruce on the left in a TV commercial around 1965. Nice light weight summer suit, Oxford button down shirt and diagonal striped tie.
Little did I know that he was to help change my destiny. At the time Bruce had been one of the artists working on concept drawings for Stanley Kubrick’s film 2001. I thought this pretty fantastic and much enjoyed, via Bruce’s drawings, having a brief glimpse into a film that I was avidly anticipating. Bruce’s style had a delicacy, brought about by a very free pencil line, overlaid with soft washes of colour…
Above two book jackets illustrated by Bruce with typography added by me way back in 1965/6 while at Bryan Colmer Limited as their in house-designer.
Like so many illustrators of the time he was inspired by the great established American magazine illustrators, two notables were Bernie Fuchs and Bob Peak…
Bernie Fuchs (1932-2009)
Above two examples of the work of American illustrator Bernie Fuchs who was a towering talent during the late 50's to the 70's.
Above Bob Peak. Another big influences on British illustrators from across the pond.
I always looked out for Bruce when he came into the agency and on one of his visits he told me that some friends of his from Cincinnati had opened a design consultancy in London and were on the look out for designers. He asked if I’d like to take my work along to show them. A month or so later I found myself in a new job working for Cato, Peters, and O’Brien** as a designer...
Above the mailer sent out by Cato,Peters, O'Brien announcing their arrival in London.
At last I was in a serious design consultancy run by Americans. I was in seventh heaven especially when the boss, Mac Cato...
Mac Cato plus pipe (very trendy then) in 1965.
threw a party at his Eaton Square flat in Chelsea furnished with Eames chairs, potted palms and a cluster of grouped picture frames. It all looked so cool (in a sixties way) that I was already seeing interiors differently. Below, my first house a year or so after that party...
Above my first home in the late 1960's - Very period indeed!
That party back in 1966 throbbed away into the night to the sound of the recently released Beatles Revolver album. Bruce McDonald rented a room at Cato, Peters, and O’Brien** as his illustration studio...
This is not actually the space Bruce occupied at the Albermarle Street studios but shows how he looked at the time.
and so we became work mates. Very quickly I wanted the low down on his clothes, in particular a rather smart summer weight, dark grey herringbone, three-piece suit. “I can get you this via mail ordered directly from the states” said Bruce. A month later I was the proud owner of a little bit of American culture to match the penny loafers I had saved up for. Amusingly when the suit arrive both side pockets had pouches of...
Clan tobacco, Bruce’s favorite pipe mix and not available in the UK and secreted there by his father. Bruce’s method of working was as with many commercial illustrators at the time. He would set up his reference, photograph it, have prints made and project them onto his drawing board via an epidiascope and off he would go. Often he would pull me in and other members of staff to photograph for whatever project he had on the go amidst a swirl of pipe tobacco. This is me in 1966 posing for one of Bruce’s book covers…
Me in full 'method' mode posing for Bruce.
.
And here I am again immortalised on another of Bruce's book jackets (That’s me on the left).
While working at Cato, Peters, O'Brien I produced a lot of album covers for CBS, one of the firms clients...
Above an EP designed by me in 1966 and includes an illustration by work mate Ginger Tilley who was a fantastically versatile illustrator.
Often CBS had photographs of artist for their albums, such as the two jazz covers above and this for Bob Dylan's 1967 album. I would simply make a design out of them or just add the type.
I left Cato, Peters, O'Brien in 1968 to join the publishers William Heinemann as their Art Director. That was the last time I saw Bruce McDonald. He moved back to the US where he worked for Young & Rubican as an advertising executive. In the mid 80's he set up his own firm in marketing communications based in New York. In 2000 he retired from the company and moved to Virginia where he purchased a house that dates back to 1775 (that's very old in the US). He now spends his time restoring the house, writing and teaching at two universities in Lexington VA. Through the wonders of the world wide web, and a little help from my old boss Mac Cato I recently tracked Bruce McDonald down. Here he is now...
Bruce McDonald last year. What a nice friendly looking guy.
Although all the above happened well over forty years ago it remains a vivid memory for me. Back then I had my whole life and career ahead of me. And boy, did that flash by. So to all of those twenty something’s who might be reading this - treasure every moment of your life, you wont get a second chance.
And if there are any old Cato, Peters, O'Brien alumni out there do get in touch. I'd be happy to add comments and photos to this post.
*More about the Dorothy Anna ceramic panels here.
**And more about my early life in design here.
I attended the launch of the book, London You’re Beautiful last night in the bustle of London’s Bond Street where the good and the great came to celebrate David Gentleman’s tour de force of illustration stamina.
Over the past year, come rain or shine, each day you would find Gentleman lurking in the nooks and crannies of London recording daily life with his uniquely distinctive pen and colourful wash style. 365 days later he has given birth to this beautiful book...
In its introduction David points out that, “Drawing anything makes you look at it harder and more intently, whether it’s a leaf, a building or a person; even if it’s a whole city”. The results of his marathon task is every bit as moving as a Betjeman poem.
To listen to an interview that I made with David Gentleman in 2010 about his life and work click here.
Back in the mid to late 1960s I had a soft spot, and considerable admiration, for Corgi Books in-house Art Director John Piper. He had a love of big, bold and brassy slab sans serif typefaces. Even in the highly commercial arena of mass-market paperback covers, he somehow managed to hold on to his typographical integrity. Here are some examples of his unashamedly commercial covers…
This last cover was designed for Heinemann in 1965 when John Piper had established a group called Designers Collaborative. If anyone knows what became of Piper, do add a comment, as I would like to fill out his history.
A thought for the week...
Recent Comments