Sunday Inspiration | Lucienne Day

I've always has a real soft spot for art that was produced in the 1950s, particularly the textile and surface pattern designs of the era. More specifically the Astro 50s look which was the inspiration behind my 2016 range of Christmas cards. With that in mind, this weeks instalment of the Sunday Inspirations blog will be focusing on a woman who is probably one of 20th century Britain's most influential designers and whose work, for me at least, really embodies the cheerful energy and optimism of Britain in the years after the Second World War. That woman is Désirée Lucienne Lisbeth Dulcie Day OBE RDI FCSD or better known as Lucienne Day.

Born in Coulsdon, Surrey, England, and raised in nearby Croydon, Day was half-Belgian; the daughter of an English mother (Dulcie Conradi) and a Belgian father (Felix Conradi). At the age of 17, Lucienne enrolled at Croydon School of Art, where she developed her interest in printed textiles. She went on to specialise in this field at the Royal College of Art, where she studied from 1937-40. During her second year she was sent on a two-month placement to the firm Sanderson, where she worked in the company's large wallpaper studio.

During the early period of her career, Day's textiles were characterised by energetic rhythms and a spidery, almost doodle-like graphic style. Although apparently spontaneous, her designs display a considerable amount technical skill, particularly with their colourways and repeats. As well as pure abstracts, she often created stylised organic patterns incorporating motifs such as skeletal leaves, spindly stems, feathery seed heads and butterflies. Her early textile designs were inspired by her love of modern art, particularly the abstract paintings of Swiss-German artist Paul Klee, which when compared to Day's works, it's quite clear to see the inspiration.

Calyx | Produced in a variety of different colourways, Calyx was considered the breakthrough design for Day's career

Calyx | Probably my favourite colourway that Calyz was produced in. The contrast between the yellow and the grey is stunning

Calyx | Even though there are many colourways, each one is expertly composed, with all colours working impeccably well together

One of her most well known textile designs, Calyx (pictured above), was originally shown at the Festival of Britain in 1951, and is considered her breakthrough design. Day collaborated with Heal’s (the British furniture and furnishing store chain) to create Calyx; a stylised floral design mixing muted and earthy colours, that represented a radical new aesthetic in pattern design. Lucienne said later in an interview that Heals’ then fabrics director, Tom Worthington, was unsure of the pattern, and “would produce it for me but only pay me half the fee of 20 guineas because he was certain he wouldn’t sell a yard”. She went on to produce around 70 patterns for the brand over 20 years, and Calyx still remains in production today.

 Later in the decade, responding to new artistic trends such as abstract expressionism and the architectural fashion for floor-to-ceiling picture windows, Lucienne’s designs for Heal’s became more overtly painterly and much larger in scale. 

Although abstraction was the dominant idiom in her work, Day also perpetuated the English tradition of patterns based on plant forms, often incorporating stylised motifs derived from nature, such as leaves, flowers, twigs and seedpods. After dabbling in painterly, textural abstraction during the early 1960s, she experimented with more hard-edged, multi-layered geometric designs composed of primarily of squares, circles, diamonds and stripes during the mid to late 1960s. Stylised florals and arboreal designs remained recurrent motifs until the mid 1970s.

Perpetua | For British Celanese, 1953

Herb Anthony | For Heal's, 1956

With a career spanning over six decades, Day had worked with countless big-name brands including the likes of Liberty, John Lewis, Cole & Son and Rosenthal, designing fabrics, wallpapers, carpets, homeware and ceramics. To each, she brought her unique flair for colour, line, form and composition, creating a recognisable style that feels fresh decades later. In an interview with It's Nice That, her daughter Paula stated that her work is ‘timeless’ in much the same way as that of William Morris' has become a veritable classic.

"I wanted the work I was doing to be seen by people and to be used by people. They had been starved of interesting things for their homes in the war years, either textiles or furniture."

It just so happens to be Lucienne Day's centenary this year, of which John Lewis are celebrating with a new collection of her prints. For me though, I wanted to look at the work of a prolific surface patter designer because it's an area that I want to consider as a new application for my own work.
While I enjoy screen printing for paper prints, I'd quite like to get into turning lettering work into more pattern-based prints for textiles and t-shirts. I have this vision in my mind of what it would be like to have my lettering used as a repeat pattern on the fabric of a smart shirt (this thought came about after seeing a gorgeous dress my friend Naomi has). The question now is, how do I go about this?

Well, it's been done before, I know that much. One of my career inspirations is Martina Flor; she's got a wide range of applications for her work including metal pins and bags, but she's recently been experimenting with repeat patterns...
 

Dreamer | Courtesy of Martina Flor's Instagram

Caps | Courtesy of Martina Flor's Instagram

While both pattern experiments are gorgeous, I feel like I'd much rather have the "Caps" design as a print on a piece of fabric or item of clothing, whereas the "Dreamer" would be too busy (I've got this design on a small pin badge and it's gorgeous on its own), but much better suited to something like wallpaper or a screen print. I feel that the recent work I've been doing with Spencerian scripts could fit quite well with a pattern style similar to that of the "Caps" piece, with intertwining letterforms and flourishes creating sub patterns similar to the details of Lucienne Day's works.

There's plenty of scope here for experimentation on my part, which means the next couple of weeks are going to be filled with sketching and test printing. Like I need an excuse to spend time at PrintHaus anyway!

Identity Crisis

With the whole "new year, new me" cliche flying around, I'd been debating whether it was time that I refreshed my freelance identity as I felt it wasn't really reflecting who I am as an artist. After a spell of indecision, I started sketching out a few thoughts running through my head and wrote down a few things that I felt summed up where I was in terms of my current skill level.

Don't get me wrong, I loved how my original logotype looked but it started to look a little dated to me. I created the original way back in 2015, not long before I moved to Cardiff, and a part of me didn't want to rework it because I felt like it had become a part of who I am.
Like I say, the main reason for updating it was to ensure that I was representing my current skill level. If you look at the the two of them side by side you can clearly see a HUGE difference in both style and skill. I've got a bit of a thing for Spencerian-style scripts, and that's been reflected a lot in my most recent works (of which there haven't been a lot of, sorry...) because I love the contrast of sharp points and silky curves, so this was obviously something that I felt needed to be included...

Left: Original logotype from 2015 | Right: Reworked lettering for 2017

Not that I'm blowing my own trumpet here, but there's a dramatic improvement in the way I shape my letterforms, but also more confidence in their form. I think Spencerian is probably my strongest lettering style because it's one I love so dearly. I've also tried to incorporate a more rhythmic visceral appeal, something I've always admired in modern calligraphy, with the slightly varied heights and undulating descenders.
One thing I especially like about the new-look lettering is that there's less dependence on superfluous flourishes. I want the focus to be on the letterforms and the composition, not the things that surround them. Cutting down the flourishes to just the one of the end of "Stee" works to balance out the overall shape of the logo, and the simple underscore adds a little depth because there aren't any descenders in "Chromatic".

This confidence and rhythm is something I'm really aiming to embody in my work this year.

For the first time in too long, I'm going to be back at Printhaus this weekend, so I'm going to have a play with some printed editions of the new logo and create a colourful version for use somewhere, maybe Twitter.

Sunday Inspiration | Mike Perry

I enjoyed what I studied during my undergraduate degree, but I felt like I'd left with no idea where I was or who I was as an artist. It drove me mad for months. When someone asks why I chose to study lettering for my MA, I tell them about the initial struggle I had when I was surrounded by students that knew exactly what they wanted to do, those that wanted to take their practice to new places or those that wanted to shift it into a completely different area.

Filled with doubt about my future, I headed home at the end of an induction session at the Parkside campus of Birmingham City University. Sitting in front of my then limited collection of books, I spotted something I fell in love with when I was studying at college: Hand Job: a Catalogue of Type by Mike Perry. A collection of various artists and designers from the Western Hemisphere (mostly from the U.S) that either dabbled with, or specialised in hand drawn lettering. As I started flicking through the pages (of what I now refer to as my Bible) and grinning to myself, I realised that typography was always something that I should have pursued right from the very beginning. The next day, I took the book on to campus and thrust it in front of my tutor Clive and said "that's what I want to be". The rest is, as they say, history.
The book itself only features snippets of Perry's work on the beautifully illustrated covers, as well as in the accompanying preface and contents pages. So for this week's installment of Sunday Inspiration, I'd like to introduce you to the work of artist, illustrator, serial doodler and my hero Mike Perry.

Mike Perry | Portrait by Matt Rubin for The Great Discontent, 2015

Born in Kansas in July 1981, Michael Christopher Perry is an artist, designer and print maker based in Brooklyn, New York. He's worked with a number of institutions, the likes of editorial and commercial clients such as Apple, The New York Times, Dwell, Microsoft, Urban Outfitters, Nike and most recently the opening credits to the American sitcom Broad City.

“I want to show people that the world is a beautiful, powerful place where you can be yourself and make whatever you want.”
 

Perry's work revolves around the philosophical concept of existentialism; the connection between an individual and the universe, and how we are all interconnected. Much of his work, if not all of it, focuses on his own personal metaphysics and the relationship between his imagination and reality. For me, this is most notably portrayed in his more sculptural work, some of which feature ladders that seem to disappear into the ground, or pass through the floor, into an adjacent wall. Interestingly they also only ever seem to go “up” (which I like to think is a notion of positivity), depicting this transition from one realm into the next.

I've always admired his work, but it's difficult to describe; there's a simplicity and seeming naivety to his letter-based work that I love. A kind of cosmic "otherworldly" feel to it which, while being light-years away from the stuff I produce, is every bit as skilful.
You can really feel the passion he has for his work when you look at it. The incredible use of highly saturated colours through everything he does is what really appealed to me way back when I discovered his work. I remember looking over his work and at first thinking "that's so simple" and "how has he managed that?!" and then looking into it and seeing that there's far more to it than my jealousy for his commercial success.

When it comes to typography as a whole, we recognise that it mirrors qualities from history and the physical world (for example the Humanist type classification is influenced by the calligraphic scripts of the Italian Humanist writers) and that understanding is consistently similar from one person to the next. So with that in mind, we could say that the qualities we see in Perry's lettering illustrations reflect the inner workings of his imagination and possibly represents dimensions outside of the one we perceive.

A feast for the eyes | Perry's current homepage

Perry's type triggers the imagination, evokes a sense of playfulness and links to all of the senses. Personally, some of the attributes I recognise are from the real world, like how loud the words might sounds or what it would feel like to hold it in your hands.  I'm not sure if this is subliminal or not because I'm trying to disseminate the work, but if you look at the screenshot of his current homepage (above) it's like a multisensory, imagination grenade with all the warmth and joy that welcomes you to his site!

Below are a selection of small lettering projects from over the last couple of years. I think snippets such as these are great representations of the naivety and playfulness I've mentioned. I also believe that they reinforce the idea of a multisensory approach, the "touch and feel" that is most apparent throughout Perry's 2D work. The initial vibrancy and freedom that drew me to his work all those years ago still fills me with nostalgia and joy.

I've wanted to talk properly about Perry for a long time as he's probably the biggest influence on my career path. I did a research project on him and the notion of existentialism back when I did my MA, but I think I completely missed the point when I was writing it. In a way, I'm hoping that this post has picked up from that essay and built on it with hindsight, more informed information and a more rounded opinion.

Finally, I'd like to apologise that this is over a week late, but it's taken a while to write and edit this piece. Trying to set myself a benchmark each week is proving slightly difficult! 

London Type Safari | Pt. 1

This week my sister is off doing her work experience at The British Museum and I've got the week off work to keep her company.
While she's off cataloging, I've tasked myself with having a whirlwind museum/gallery tour as well as taking in some of the typographic delights that London has to offer. I will point out now that I had originally started putting this post together in August (the last time we visited the city) but I never got around to actually writing about it. So just in case anyone is wondering why the weather looks bizarrely wonderful for December, I'll be including some photos from last time of things that I found to be inspiring and generally rather interesting.

First on my list for the type safari is the beautiful ironwork on the entry to the British Library. I never got a particularly decent photograph back in August, mainly because I wanted to cram in so much into the three short days we were around that I didn't plan for going back and taking another shot...

Designed by the British stonecutter and typeface designer David Kindersley, I love the way the type goes from light to ultra heavy (top to bottom) forming a pattern that echoes traditional iron gates, and the way that light falls through the each letterform and the spaces between them. I'm also reliably informed by a member of staff at the library that the font starring in the ironwork gate is Octavian, which Kindersley worked on in 1961 for Monotype. To me it looks like a slight variation though because the serifs are a bit stubby, but this may be to do with it being translated into use at such a large scale. Come to think of it the sharp serifs would be a health and safety nightmare in such a public space!

Next up is a trek over to Blackfriars for a visit to the Blackfriar pub and its gorgeous tiled signage (and maybe a cheeky pint or two).

Built in about 1875, The Black Friar was remodelled in server all stages starting in 1903, then 1914 and 1925 by the architect Herbert Fuller-Clark, the exterior jade-green tiling and contrasting gold lettering clearly reflects the Arts and Crafts movement of the early 1900s. Much of the internal decoration was done by the artist Henry Poole, featuring sculptures and relief work relating to the history of the friary that once stood in its place.

And for the final part of day one, which turned out to be a bit of a shit day weather-wise, a short walk over to Southbank for the OXO Tower:

Originally constructed as a power station to supply electricity to the Royal Mail post office, it was built towards the end of the 19th century roughly, and was later acquired by the Liebig Extract of Meat Company in the 1920s, they are the manufacturers of Oxo beef stock cubes, for conversion into a cold store.

The building was largely rebuilt to an Art Deco design by company architect Albert Moore between 1928 and 1929. Much of the original power station was demolished, but the river facing facade was retained and extended. Liebig wanted to include a tower featuring illuminated signs advertising the name of their product. When permission for the advertisements was refused, the tower was built with four sets of three vertically-aligned windows, each of which just so happened to be in the shapes of a circle, a cross and a circle. This was very significant because Skyline advertising at the time was banned along Southbank. Despite these windows being the building’s architectural focal point, the tower is sadly not accessible by the general public. Granted access is only given to those who maintain the tower, like electricians.

*I realise I'm hideously late posting these, but life has gotten in the way a little bit...

A House for Essex

Situated in the small village of Wrabness, A House for Essex was designed to evoke a tradition of wayside and pilgrimage chapels in the landscape. It is a singular building, appearing as a small, beautifully crafted object amongst the fields. Think of it less of a house, more of an ornate, terracotta-covered temple. It's a collaboration between Grayson Perry (one of my favourite artists growing up) and Charles Holland of FAT Architecture exploring the special character and unique qualities of Essex.

So while I've got some free time and I'm while I'm in London (a hell of a lot closer to Essex than I usually am), the opportunity to visit had finally arrived...

I have to say, of all the art I've seen in my life (which I'll be honest, isn't actually a whole lot), this is truely one of the most spectacular; not just in its form, but in it's narrative.
The whole concept of the house is based around the mythical Julie May Cope, a figure Perry created as an archetype of the "Essex Everywoman"; Julie is a figure that encompasses the kind of trials, tribulations, celebrations and mistakes of an average life. A representative of the emotions and experiences of the women of Essex as a way of overcoming the generic 'fake-tan' stereotype associated with them.

A stunning example of art meets architecture

The house is covered with terracotta tiles based around elements of Julie's life, with the largest of the tiles resembling her as a mystical goddess.

Part of the narrative is that the house itself was commissioned by Julie's soulmate Rob in her memory after she was killed in a freak accident with by a delivery driver in Colchester. The instrument of her demise, the delivery scooter, hangs in the main hall of the house as a chandelier.

After months, Julie feels this is her due. Good talk and wine, longer walks, slower art.
A senior social worker and her man enjoying complex friends and broadsheet lives.
Often, she had to remind herself that this is not ecstasy, a fleeting peek, but happiness.
A wide fertile valley in its familiarity, golden.
Julie said she had never known such bliss.
Rob had kissed her and said that if she died he would then grieve as deep as Shah Jahan and build a Taj Mahal upon the Stour.

The above extract is from the three thousand word poem that Perry wrote in conjunction with the building. It's such a shame, I'd love to read the whole thing but, as far as I can tell, it isn't on the interweb. It feels a bit strange referring to this as a building, because is is so much more than that. This is about a woman that doesn't exist, yet there is something so relatable about her, like the lyrics of an Adele track.

Sadly, I couldn't get inside as you have to have your name registered to take part in a ballot in order to get a slot to stay in the house. Plus it appeared to be closed for the winter season... 

If you're reading this and are interested in finding out more about this gorgeous place, Channel 4 made a short documentary with Grayson Perry about the process behind its design and construction. It's on All4 still, just search for "Grayson Perry's Dream House". It's an excellent piece of television and I strongly advise watching!

*apologies if there are any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors, I'm trying to write this on a crammed train from Colchester to Liverpool Street.

Quarter of a Century

So I'm 25 years old now. It feels pretty much the same as 24, which felt much the same as 23, but now thinking about things like "is this really the right path for me?" and "what are my next steps supposed to be?" are far more serious issues than they were a few years ago.
This is my first birthday as an adult where I haven't really had anyone close to celebrate it with, so even though I've been at work all day and surrounded by people I enjoy the company of, it just wasn't the same. I have this overwhelming sense of melancholy and I can't quite put my finger on exactly what's causing it.

I've been in Cardiff for just over eighteen months now, and since the split with my significant other I've been trying to use my time to meet new people, build friendship circles and move forward with my freelance work. To some degree, it's been fairly fruitful in the sense I've met lovely bunch of people and have started to form some great friendships. It has however been difficult to strike up the balance between social life and work life, and recently it's all becoming a little bit too much. I can feel myself beginning to burn out.

I moved down for one reason and that reason is no longer valid, but I've been having a real good go of making something of myself in Cardiff. I mean, I'm miles away from everything that I've known and while I do miss my friends and family, I don't think my life is in Birmingham anymore. Honestly though, unlike my ex-boyfriend who is surely going to spend the rest of his life in this city, I on the other hand (as much as I love the 'Diff) can't see myself being here for much longer than another year.
I've been in my current job for just over a year now, which is something else I wasn't expecting to happen. While I love everyone there, I did think that I'd be in a position to move on by now, lord knows I could do with something more challenging and creative, and a little extra in the bank each month would be a welcome bonus.

I could really do with a holiday too, even it it just means a week away from the day job for some time to recuperate...

Saturday 3rd September

Let's look at the positives though; I've made some new friends, got closer to existing ones, got to know the people of Printhaus better and feel more integrated in the community, got a few wedding commissions, travelled to new places, pulled in a club and various other exciting things I never thought I'd do.
I'd like to affectionately refer to this period as my Dead Cat Bounce (a temporary recovery after a substantial fall, it's actually a financial term. It's a real thing honestly, Google it) but less of a temporary thing, more the start of an uphill climb towards something better.

When I started writing this post on my birthday (September 1st)  I was quite down and a little uncomfortable in myself, but today as I write I feel much better. There are certain factors that keep me going, like Printhaus, that give me focus and a drive to succeed. I've got commissions to be working on, Christmas cards to be designing! I can't let these feelings bog me down forever or I'd get nothing done! I have a plan for the next 10 years and I'm sure as hell going to see it through. Like I said at the beginning though, I'm not sure what my next steps are, but every situation and opportunity is like a stepping stone; some have a level of uncertainty and will wobble when you stand on them, while others will be small but solid, sturdy. Some will even be large enough for me to stop and see where I'm going and where I've come from.

I didn't want this blog to turn into a space where I vent. I wanted it to be a place where I talk about work and the things that influence it, but I think this actually is somewhat relevant. Yes, there are tangents but it's all part natural flow of things, like any good conversation.

The next post will hopefully be about the new stuff that I'm working on, but for now at least I'm being more proactive with the blog like I said I would back in the new year.