Graphic Journey Blog

Fletched 7

2002 Postscript / Fletcher's wit remembered...

He was part of the fabric that helped to make Britain's graphic scene. And Alan Fletcher's contribution was a very big piece of the fabric. Five years before his untimely death, I interviewed Alan for my Design Week 'Heroes' series. The encounter was every bit as fascinating as I'd hoped it would be. So join me now on a warm summer evening in 2002.

Toy Story 

It was one of our rare sultry summer evenings. I walked the length of a pleasant mews, decorated with neat window boxes and cosseted from the hubbub of London's Notting Hill. I was on my way to meet Alan Fletcher, a hero that I have resisted writing about until now. Could I add anything that hadn't been covered already?

I could hear distant notes of a piano filtering out into the night air. It was coming from a door at the end of the mews, set slightly ajar. I rang the bell. A gruff voice from inside told me to enter. As I passed over the threshold I was aware of a gentle tinkling sound from above. Looking back I noticed an upturned pink feather duster attached to the top of the door. Its tips had just caressed a hanging cluster of small bells. Alan Fletcher sits perfectly centred behind one of his generous worktables. Smiling, I point to the pink duster. ‘My burglar alarm,’ he says with characteristic wit.

Fletcher wears a crisp white button-down shirt, chinos and a fly-fishing waistcoat. As he reaches to pour me a glass of wine, I notice his bright red watch strap. His face has a lived-in feel and puts me in mind of the playwright Arthur Miller. His voice is foggy, with a slightly weary delivery that some have misconstrued as detached disinterest. But for anyone who knows Fletcher, this couldn't be further from the truth.

He is Britain's most distinguished and applauded graphic designer. For nearly 50 years he has pursued a career that he refers to as a vocation. In that time he not only has given birth to an astonishing body of work but was also instrumental in creating the world's most respected design phenomenon, Pentagram. His working life has been picked over more times than he cares to remember and his two books; Beware Wet Paint and The Art of Looking Sideways have shed much light on his approach to the art of graphic design

A supreme example of Alan's wit

As we started our conversation, I scanned the pin board wall behind Fletcher. On it was an array of proofs, work in progress and some kind of planning chart. Held by two large bulldog clips was a cluster of printed flotsam and jetsam. These ephemeral outcasts will no doubt find their way into one of his collage pieces.

One of the many paper collages by Alan

I also noticed a menagerie of animals made from loo rolls, card, cork, and string. I recalled seeing them at last year's Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, where they had been selected for inclusion much to the surprise of Fletcher. I was intrigued as to how they had come about, as Fletcher is not known for 3D work...

 

Toys above and top photographed by Zafer Baran

He explained that while on holiday in Crete with his wife Paola, daughter Raffaella and his young grandson Tobias, he was given the task of amusing the youngster while the ladies went on a shopping trip. Fletcher, who admitted he is not particularly good in these situations, sat looking at his grandson. The boy clearly had a lot of energy to burn up. Fletcher set his mind to work and instructed Tobias to rummage through the waste bin, cupboards and draws to find any old boxes, corks, bottle tops and string because granddad was going to make him a zoo.

Half an hour later the first few animals were born. Working rapidly with glue and scissors, Fletcher found himself engrossed in this process, so much so that he kept steering his young charge's sticky hands away from what was now becoming Fletcher's own array of animals. Feeling a little guilty, he had an idea. ‘OK Tobias,’ he said, ‘I want you to think about this very carefully. You have to give names and sounds to all these animals’. This seemed to do the trick and during the course of the day, an impressive collection of coloured creatures came to life. Tobias never actually got to keep them because Fletcher liked them so much.

I can understand this. Many artists that I know hate parting with their work. And with Fletcher, what started out as an innocent distraction to pacify a small child, became something far more important. The rapidity in making these funny creatures appeared to be pure, intuitive creativity. Admittedly, intuition fuelled by 50 years of practical

knowledge. But nevertheless, for Fletcher, something special was happening and he enjoyed the moment. And here the animals now sit, in his pristine white and highly organised studio.

We were interrupted by the sound of a large door sliding open. It was Paola inviting us through to dinner. We moved from the studio into a cavernous series of rooms that constitute the Fletchers' house. The sense of order so evident in the studio continues here, but functionality gives way to elegance and comfort. The interiors betray a lifetime of collecting. There are classic pieces of 20th-century furniture that have seen continuous use and have achieved that gentle patina of age. Rugs, paintings, and acres of books line the walls. All is lit in a low, intimate way to make you feel relaxed and at home. Sitting on the drive outside the house was a white Mini Moke 

and for a brief moment, I half expected Patrick McGoohan (star of 1960s cult TV series The Prisoner) to join us for supper. But no, this was Fletcher's car. These days he has opted for a more energetic mode of transport -- he walks. But with Fletcher, even this simple activity has been turned into a creative opportunity. Armed with a small penknife -- not to fend off muggers -- he scans the gutters and shop doorways for tasty graphic morsels to add to his burgeoning collection.

I was curious to know what it was like when the trio of 30-somethings, Fletcher/Forbes/Gill opened their doors for the first time in 1962...

  From L to R: Gill, Fletcher & Forbes

 
While Fletcher had been working in the US for Fortune magazine, he made a conscious effort to meet as many designers who he admired as possible. Many of these meetings initiated lifelong friendships. One person he failed to pin down was Bob Gill – a young 'hot' designer.

So it was with some surprise that on Fletcher's return to London he had a call from Gill, who had also just arrived in London where he was contemplating taking a job at an ad agency. They met and Fletcher introduced him to Colin Forbes, with whom Fletcher already had a loose working relationship. The die was cast. Gill amazingly persuaded the ad agency to bankroll the purchase of a small house in a mews just off Baker Street. A year passed while the property was being renovated to accommodate its new incarnation, as the first home of what was to become a devastating force in British graphics. On April Fools Day 1962, the Fletcher/Forbes/Gill doors were opened. It was just the three of them, plus a receptionist and her dog. They filled their days with work from Time/Life, Pirelli, and Penguin Books. With the latter client, they'd argue over which of them was to design a cover, for a handsome fee of £30.

One day Fletcher recalled coming back from a lunch to discover their receptionist painting her fingernails. Perturbed by this lack of conscientiousness, there were huddled discussions and talks of firing, but Fletcher had a better idea. He told her that they were going to promote her and that she was now going to be the receptionist and bookkeeper. It worked. The nail varnish never reappeared and she remained with the company, which by then had become Pentagram, for 15 years.

In 1967, Gill left. As a hot-headed and opinionated character, he was always destined to work under his own remit. And so ended a fascinating mix of graphic ingredients that made that early period of British design so special and so enduring.

At the many interviews I have carried out during this series, I have been surprised and flattered by the generosity of my hosts. On this occasion, no one had prepared me for the culinary talents of Paola. For part of the evening I found myself talking serious kitchen utensils and exchanging recipes with her while enjoying every scrap of what was put in front of me.

So what is Fletcher up to these days, post the publication last year of his 533-page opus? 

Quite a lot actually. This November sees the opening of his first gallery-based, one-man exhibition, Thoughts On a Wall, which constitutes his non-commissioned and highly personal work. I think all will be astonished at the amount on offer -- it will all be for sale. I asked him why he has made the decision to sell all of this personal work. ‘I've run out of space,’ says Fletcher dryly, ‘and anyway, nobody may be interested in the stuff’. I think not somehow.

The plan on his studio pinboard turned out to be the hanging order for his exhibition, which he has spent a lot of time organising. He also spends an increasing amount of time in Switzerland where he has been engaged by Novartis, a Swiss-based conglomerate of pharmaceuticals companies that is redeveloping the old industrial area in Basel into a new pedestrianised campus. This will comprise a mix of libraries, research and resource centres that are all related to the pharmaceuticals world, along with retail outlets. This ambitious project will take 30 years to complete -- making Fletcher 101 by then. His task is threefold. He sits on the architectural selection committee, is in charge of the identity and graphics and is responsible for the signage programme and street naming. On this latter aspect, he has come up with the novel idea of naming the 40 streets after famous scientists. These will be carved into the granite kerbstones so that the pedestrians can easily see them.

Phaidon, the art publisher, is still a regular client of Fletcher's, where he acts as consultant art director, overseeing all of the creative work and often undertaking projects himself. He still finds time to travel, which both informs and fuels his passion for design. For such an organised man, his own career path has been spontaneous and ad hoc. When he left Pentagram, 'things just happened. It's always been like that'. But the only conscious thing he did do was to throw away his alarm clock. Finally, I ask him if there was anything he was still burning to do. He pondered this for some time. 'Yes', he says, ‘but I'm not telling you’.

On that note, I left him. Passing once again through the tickling door and back out into the real world, I left with the image in my mind of Fletcher on hands and knees in the gutter, surreptitiously cutting out a choice piece of cardboard to take back to his creative lair.

 One of Alan's last works. Cover for Wallpaper 2007

    Alan in his studio in 2002. Photograph by Trevor Ray Hart

Postscript: Well, that little gallery sale of his work went very well, but sadly he never got to that magical 101 years old. He left us far too early. However, as the work above shows, he still lives on to inspire and amuse us. And knowing Alan, he has probably redesigned the pearly gates to that big studio in the sky.

For more on Alan's work go to his Archive HERE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fletcher 6

Here is part six, the final stage of Alan's creative life in words only. A link will always be at a foot of this series to visit Alan's wonderful archive.

1992-2006 Alan Fletcher Design

From 1992 you’d find Alan sitting in his well-worn Eames office chair amidst an array of his colourful work set out in his pristine, white-walled, immaculate mews studio. Here he unleashed a torrent of highly personal work. For a while, he virtually abandoned conventional typesetting in favour of his own scratchy handwriting, along with simple, primary-coloured paper. He set about amusing himself, rather than others. He also decided that he would say ‘no’ to uninteresting work and people for the rest of his life.

He also embarked on two highly successful books: Beware Wet Paint and The Art of Looking Sideways. Around that time I interviewed Alan for a magazine and was taken by a menagerie of highly coloured animals made from loo rolls, card, cork and string displayed in his studio. He’d actually made them for his grandson, Tobia, to amuse him while on holiday. But Tobia never got to play with them because Alan liked them so much. They ended up in the 2001 Royal Academy Summer Exhibition.

His final years saw him as busy as ever: consultant art director of Phaidon Press; Domus magazine cover designer; and creative advisor to Novartis, a pharmaceutical conglomerate, for their new research and resource complex in Basel. The latter was an ambitious project that would have taken Alan 30 years to complete. 'I’ll be 101 by then,' he told me dryly.

Well, he never reached that grand old age. On 21 September 2006 he left us, far too early. The image of him that stays in my mind is of Alan on his hands and knees in the gutter, surreptitiously cutting out a choice piece of discarded cardboard to take back to his creative lair to add to one of his many collage pieces.

Alan Fletcher leaves behind an astonishing body of work: work that helped form the foundation of 20th-century British graphics.

And you can find much of Alan's work on the archive HERE

Fletcher 5

Here is part five of six stages of Alan's creative life in words only. A link will always be at a foot of this series to visit Alan's wonderful archive.

1972-1992 Pentagram

Alan was forever delving into books for pearls of wisdom and witty quotations. And the story goes he’d been reading a book on witchcraft and became intrigued by the name ‘Pentagram’: a five-pointed star. Although none of the others liked it much, the name stuck and so Pentagram was born. The five partners established a new business structure. Everyone would receive the same salary, regardless of the individual workflow; everyone would be responsible for their own profit centres and everyone would contribute to a communal fund for rent, administration costs and special projects. This mechanism would serve the partnership well for many years to come.

By the late 1970s, Pentagram was installed in a canal-side building overlooking Paddington Station, described by Alan as: “One of the best views of East Germany in London”. The studio had an air of calm professionalism with an endless array of strutting youthful assistants sporting denim flairs, Fair Isle jumpers and the bubble hairdos of the period. Lunchtime was a communal affair set out on long tables below a wall of enamelled Victorian advertising signs. Meanwhile, Alan immersed himself in ever-larger projects. One project for the Commercial Bank of Kuwait involved him in every aspect of the bank’s visual manifestation: just what he’d always dreamed of.

In 1978 Colin Forbes – still with the memory of his tour of Manhattan with the Fletchers back in ’58 – set off like Columbus to the Americas to set up Pentagram New York. And so began Pentagram’s tentative global reach.

The 1980s were a solid period for Alan, who built on his substantial experience in handling major identities and signing projects. He produced a sumptuous book and the signing programme for the then-shiny-new Lloyds of London HQ. Alan also enhanced the IBM Paris offices with new signage and a range of posters and produced the classic V&A identity, which is still going strong. By this time more partners were embedded in the Pentagram mix, among them graphic designers John McConnell and David Hillman, and a new office was opened in San Francisco. The rich mix of egos and the aromas from Montecristo cigars and Gauloises permeated the new HQ building in Notting Hill. By that time the design world was changing. A proliferation of new design consultancies appeared, many of whose personnel had passed through Pentagram. These were highly creative and well-organised consultancies and with them came the digital world, which was about to transform the industry. For the first time, Pentagram found itself in competition with this new breed. And the haphazard economic climate of the time was a worrying factor for everyone.

By this time Alan had been in the design business for almost four decades. He was bored with corporate clients and disillusioned with the daily complexities of Pentagram. He had begun taking on projects to just feed the crew. He wanted out. He wanted more time to play in the studio rather than worry about it.

In 1992 he walked the half-mile journey from Pentagram to his home in Notting Hill Gate. He never went back, leaving behind 25 partners over his period there. But there was one partner he didn’t leave: his wife and life partner, Paola.

For the Alan Fletcher archive click HERE

Fletcher 4

Here is part four of six stages of Alan's creative life in words only. A link will always be at a foot of this series to visit Alan's wonderful archive.

1965 - 1972 Crosby/Fletcher/Forbes

The idea of bringing Crosby into the fold came from Forbes, who felt that the notion of being involved with buildings and interiors would give them greater design possibilities. Alan could see the potential of this and agreed. Gill was not so sure but went along with it anyway. But in a short space of time, Gill’s patience wore thin. He found the whole protracted world of architecture infuriating, preferring the immediacy of graphics. As a hot-headed and opinionated character, he was always destined to work under his own remit and so, three short years after joining, one of the key figures in Britain’s most influential graphics trio packed his portfolio and left.

Eventually, the new, wider design offer did lead to bigger and higher profile clients, with the new trio dealing with decision-makers at the top of the pile, rather than underlings. Shell, Arthur Andersen, Reuters and Canard all became significant clients. They settled in to build on their dream.

The early 1970s saw significant growth and the three partners now had teams of assistants and often collaborated with external established designers. As with many companies of a certain size talks of expansion present themselves. They had been in conversation with the product designer Kenneth Grange and one of their own associate designers, Mervyn Kurlansky, about formalising a new partnership.

For the Alan Fletcher archive click HERE

Fletcher 3

Here is part three of six stages of Alan's creative life in words only. A link will always be at a foot of this series to visit Alan's wonderful archive.

1962-65 Fletcher/Forbes/Gill

Alan introduced Bob Gill to Colin Forbes. They all seemed to get along swimmingly, admiring one another’s work. Discussions of getting together formally became a regular talking point, which, as Alan recalled, was endless. It was only after some clairvoyant advice given to Gill in a caravan that they finally agreed to join forces.

Work was divided up and they found a nice little space thanks to Gill, who persuaded an ad agency he’d been involved with to bankroll the purchase of a small house in a mews just off Baker Street. A year passed while the property was being renovated and on April Fools’ Day 1962, the Fletcher/Forbes/Gill doors were opened on what was to become a devastating force in British graphics.

At first, it was just the three of them, all very hands-on, plus a receptionist and her dog. With not enough work to occupy all of them, they would often spend time in nearby cafés bitching about London and philosophising about design while puffing away on Gauloises and downing copious amounts of coffee.

What little work they had came from Time and Life, Pirelli and Penguin Books. With the latter client, they’d argue over which of them was to design a cover, for the handsome fee of £30 (around £450 in today’s money).

One day Alan recalled coming back from a lunch to discover their receptionist painting her fingernails. Perturbed by this lack of conscientiousness, there were huddled discussions and talks of firing, but Alan had a better idea. He told her that they were going to promote her and that she was now going to be the receptionist and bookkeeper. It worked. The nail varnish never reappeared.

The idea of passing on their wisdom in book form was established with A Sign Systems Manual, Identity Kits and Graphic Design: Visual Comparisons and were the beginning of many to follow. And up popped a new partner in the shape of Theo Crosby.

To visit the Alan Fletcher archive click HERE

Fletcher 2

Here is part two of six stages of Alan's creative life in words only. A link will always be at a foot of this series to visit Alan's wonderful archive.

2. Then there were two / 1959 - 1962

Alan’s journey back home from New York actually went via Venezuela (an ill-judged fantasy, but that’s another story) and then on to Italy with Paola. While there he spent time in Milan working for Pirelli.

When he did finally arrive back in London he still held the memory of his exhilarating time in the States, but that image was abruptly brought down to earth. London was even more depressing than when he’d left three years earlier. Teenagers looked like their parents, apart from the odd Teddy Boy. There was little design work to be had. The industry was still termed ‘commercial art’ and what good stuff there was, went to the established guard of the day: Milner Grey, Henrion, Misha Black, Abram Games et al. Alan longed to be back in the noise and neon of New York, where everything was big and blowsy, and work was plentiful and well-paid.

Thanks to the connections he had made in New York he’d secured a three-day-a-week consultancy for Time and Life in London, along with work from Pirelli and a one-day-a-week teaching post at Central School thanks to Colin Forbes, who was head of graphics. Alan rented space in Colin’s flat as a studio. With the security of some income from his two clients, he began to work.

During the tail end of Alan’s time in New York, he’d made a point of contacting the city’s creative set. He’d been keen to seek out Bob Gill, a young ‘hot’ designer at the time. But it never happened. Back in London, he settled into a daily routine in his basement studio at Forbes’s flat. One evening his phone rang: “Hello Alan, it’s Bob Gill. I’m in London. Can we meet?” The die was being cast for the beginning of something very special.

For Alan's archive click HERE

Fletcher 1

In 2013 Alan Fletcher's daughter Raffaella asked me to write the creative stepping-stones to Alan's remarkable path, for the website/archive she was planning as the permanent go-to place for all things, Alan Fletcher. It has been running now for almost a decade and is a treasure trove for any graphic student or fan of Alan's work. With evermore being unearthed regularly and made available. And I would urge you to visit the site. A link will always be at a foot of this series of six stages of Alan's creative life. So here, in words only, is part one.

1. Beginnings / 1952 - 1959
For many of us, Alan Fletcher was always part of the graphic landscape, fully formed and brilliant. So it’s hard to imagine him as a twenty-something trying to find a creative identity in the ravages of post-war London: a grim, rationed, fog-laden, gloomy place.

In 1950 he wove his way through a series of art schools, culminating in the prestigious Central School of Arts and Crafts. Here he found like-minded students: Derek Birdsall, Terence Conran, Colin Forbes and Theo Crosby. This little gang had a plethora of inspirational tutors at their disposal in the shape of Paul Hogarth to Victor Pasmore and Richard Hamilton to Eduardo Paolozzi and many more. The place was bubbling with experimentation, a sense of optimism and a vision for a future Britain.

That ethos continued later when Alan was awarded a place at The Royal College of Art, another hothouse of surfacing talent, including Len Deighton, Dennis Bailey, David Gentleman, Joe Tilson and Peter Blake. While there he managed to get himself an exchange scholarship to Yale School of Art and Design in the States.

In 1956, sporting a full head of hair and with his young wife, Paola, on his arm, Alan set sail to the land of plenty, bustling with vibrant colour and full of unapologetic energy. It was a revelation and something he embraced with open arms. At Yale, he was again blessed with tutors of exceptional talent, among them Paul Rand, Bradbury Thompson and Josef Albers.

While in the States Alan kept in touch with Colin Forbes and was sad to discover that he was having a depressing time in London. “Come over, you’ll love it”, suggested Alan. Forbes did just that and was picked up from the airport by Alan and Paola in a classic open-top roadster. They spent the entire evening driving around the dramatic skyscraper canyons of Manhattan. Forbes camped out in Fletcher’s apartment and the stay did the trick: when Forbes departed back to London there was a definite spring in his step and a seed had been planted in his mind that would blossom two decades later.

Before leaving America, Alan made a point of zooming around New York, Chicago and Los Angeles, making many lifelong friends along the way while freelancing for some of the most creative art directors of the time, including Saul Bass and Leo Lionni.

The experience of his time in America gave him not only a professional edge but also the confidence to head back to London with the intention of making some waves.

For the Alan Fletcher archive click HERE

Mike Dempsey: My graphic journey

That’s me above, and this post is unashamedly about me and how I got into what has become a lifelong affair with graphic design – something that has never diminished but grown. Now heading towards my 80s (I still think I’m 34) and having lived through monumental changes in the creative world (from the old analogue days to the hyper technology of today and everything in-between), I am posting a recorded interview from RDInsight, a podcast series I conceived in 2006 and still going strong. I interview those who have received the accolade Royal Designer for Industry (RDI), which is a UK honour awarded by the Royal Society of Arts to exceptional designers across all disciplines for their creative contributions to society. There are over 60 interviews. But for the 60th one, the tables were turned and I became the interviewee. So at the end of 2022, I got to talk about my life and work. I’m now relieved to be back in charge of the microphone again.

To hear the recording, you’ll find the link at the foot, just click the bar, where you’ll find me recounting my own ‘graphic journey’.

But before that, here is a little of my work for clients English National Opera (ENO) and the London Chamber Orchestra (LCO) – two projects from the 1990s I dearly loved being involved with. Here is some of that work. 

MIKE DEMPSEY RDI FINAL EDIT 4:11.2022 copy

Persephone Books: A woman’s vision realised

There are still single-minded independent publishers dotted around Britain, quietly doing great things with the minimum of staff or the specialist departments of the London-based conglomerates. One of these is Persephone Books until two years ago was tucked away in Bloomsbury, just a short walk from Mecklenburgh Square, home to Leonard and Virginia Woolf’s Hogarth Press back in 1917. I met with Persephone’s founder, Nicola Beauman a little while back, to talk about how it all started. There is a scene in the classic British movie Brief Encounter (below) where Cecilia Johnson (as Laura) is collecting a book she had ordered from the Boots Library – yes, Boots had its own libraries in the 1940s/’50s. 

“Miss Lewis had, at last, managed to get the new Kate O’Brien for me. I believe she’d kept it hidden under the counter for two days.” LAURA, 'BRIEF ENCOUNTER' (1945)

Nicola Beauman kept that image in her head when she was formulating her idea for Persephone. What books would Laura have read and loved? Now in its 25th year, Persephone has gone from a few hundred enthusiastic readers back in 1998 to over 30,000 today. And what occurred to me while talking to Nicola is the fact that she has created the true meaning of a ‘brand’. It is a complete reflection of what she believes her publishing house should be, down to the last detail. No committees, just her. It is such a delight to know that this kind of independence still exists in this crazy age. Ironically, the Woolfs’ Hogarth Press is now part of the conglomerate Random House.

“...whether they are on an office desk, by the Aga, or hanging in a bag over the handles of a pram, it is important to take pleasure from how they look and feel.”

NICOLA BEAUMAN ON PERSEPHONE BOOKS 

Persephone hunts down neglected fiction and non-fiction by mid-20th-century women writers and now has 150 books in print. It is located in a little shop on Lamb’s Conduit Street, Bloomsbury. Here, everyone, including Nicola Beauman, often glimpsed behind a vase of freshly cut flowers, sits working away in the space. The lighting is warm and at a low level. On the walls are an eclectic mix of posters from the 1920s to ’50s, juxtaposed with a classic Massimo Vignelli wall calendar, along with aprons and mugs for sale.

The original Bloomsbury shop interior.

Below that are shelves filled with Persephone books, sporting their distinctive grey covers. “I don’t like book covers,” Nicola told me over a croissant and coffee in a nearby cafe, but what is very clear is that she does care. There is an intuitive sense of style ticking away in her heart. She takes great care of her books’ production. Printed in Germany, the process uses what is known as ‘dispersion binding’ – this allows the book to open and lay flat, with none of that irritating springing shut. The endpapers are carefully selected textile designs sourced from the period of the novel’s publication. The distinctive grey covers (below) were inspired by the New York coffee shop Dean & DeLuca’s cardboard cups.

The original Bloomsbury-based Persephone shop was instantly loveable, with all of Persephone’s staff making it their place to keep in touch with their customers on social media and running afternoon events throughout the year where authors and books are discussed. Persephone is one woman’s vision realised.

Here is their new Bath-based shop, looking every bit as charming as the old Bloomsbury one.

Persephone Books are at 8 Edgar Buildings, Bath BA1 2EE

 

 

Season's greetings

To all who stopped by to read my views and news over the past year. Thank you. May you have a joyful time with family, friends and lovers. X Graphic Journey

The cover designer's dread: "We have some notes".

Below:  Dec. 9, 2022 New York Times
NYT journalist, Matt Dorfman in the accompanying piece on 'The NYT Best Book Covers 2022' said:

" Most often, any personal stylistic expressions in their work are swallowed up in service to the multiple masters — editors, marketing directors, sales teams — who sign off on a book’s cover. There is also the matter of adhering to any one publisher’s dos and don’ts, which can inform mandates about typography, color palettes and production flourishes like embossing or metallic inks. For people employed in a theoretically creative pursuit, designers’ talents are often defined by how effortlessly they can make themselves disappear to serve the book".

Cutting to the chase Dorfman means a shedload of suggestions and interference from those in the publishing industry who think they know better than the poor designer. After that onslaught, they are left to absorb all that crap and attempt to produce something of merit. I think this group of covers demonstrates that they are fighting a losing battle. How sad things have got.