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Gifts are easy, but really nailing it is difficult even for the most experienced perennial shopper. To avoid bestowing loved ones with shower gels from the mall or other generic sentiment, look to the Cool Hunting Gift Guide. A list we’re updating year-round, there’s a real variety of items…

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Barnbrook studio has designed the cover for Penguin’s new ‘restored edition’ of Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange. Here, Jonathan Barnbrook and art director Jim Stoddart explain the process behind approaching a book with such a formidable visual history…

That Burgess’s 1962 novel has had such a visual presence is in part due to Stanley Kubrick’s 1971 film version, where the director constructed a vibrant visual language for the author’s story. David Pelham’s book cover for A Clockwork Orange from 1972 then referenced that vocabularly and established a potent, cog-eyed symbol for the work in the process (Pelham’s cover is shown at the bottom of this post).

Penguin’s ‘restored edition’ includes Burgess’s original final chapter which was cut from US editions on publication (and is missed out of Kubrick’s version); a glossary of the ‘Nadsat’ slang used by the protagonist Alex and his ‘droogs’; and additional explanatory notes, author interviews and writing by Burgess and others that relates to the book.

In keeping with the focus on re-establishing the text, the cover began, says Penguin art director Jim Stoddart, as a typographic brief. And as the company already has the book on its Modern Classics list, the ‘restored text’ would require some subtle positioning. “The unique angle of this edition is really about the detail of the writing for real fans of the book,” Stoddart says, “and it felt like a lovely idea to use typography to celebrate these details of the text.”

As a typographer, Barnbrook claims he was drawn to the “layers of meaning in a book written entirely in a future language” and “how the definition of words change and are heavily influenced by the morals and fashions of the time.

“The first roughs we worked on were a typographic expression of the future language, but then this idea [above] emerged, I think because I had been working on the David Bowie cover. I was very aware of the almost spiritual power of simple abstract forms having been looking at a lot of abstract painters at the time like Malevich.”

Among the cover visuals Barnbrook had prepared was, Stoddart says, “this incredibly striking design with [a] large orange circle” which had no additional text. “It’s really important to gauge these first impressions emotionally, before your brain takes over to justify the really ‘smart’ ideas instead,” he says.

“The orange circle was so iconic, that with such a cover it becomes a book you just have to own. The book becomes an object inspired by the text, yet compounds the text into something physical – which is very powerful for a book like this; somehow otherworldly. I’ve always felt that David Pelham’s cover also achieved this extremely well. It was an emotional issue.”

David Pearson’s recent cover for George Orwell’s 1984 also worked in a similar way. “[Pearson’s cover] reached beyond the norm,” says Stoddart, “which is again very important to justify its existence when the Modern Classic edition is definitive. These kind of designs are little jewels in the mountains of ‘commercially’-led book designs that fill our shelves. It would be so easy to suppress these sparks of creativity as ridiculous anomalies, but of course that is what is so good about them.”

For Barnbrook, the famous Pelham cover also became something to react against. Both approaches are graphic and bold on colour, but Barnbrook’s is reductive in the extreme. “I was very aware of [Pelham’s cover] and I think every design ever since has been in relation to that,” says Barnbrook.

“So it felt like it should be something quite bold and uncompromising to stand up against it. I’m happy to say Penguin were very fully up for something radical. Fantastic though [the Pelham cover] is, if there is a problem with it it’s that it identifies too strongly with the film and, really, with a book cover, you need to give space for the imagination of the reader.”

In reducing the design to mere colour and shape (the circle is also embossed), Barnbrook’s cover uses two of the most dominant hues of the book. Originating in a Cockney phrase Burgess overheard in a pub, the book’s title, he wrote in the Listener in 1972 (reprinted in the new edition), referenced man as “a growth as organic as a fruit, capable of colour, fragrance and sweetness; to meddle with him, condition him, is to turn him into a mechanical creation.”

In this sense it’s Alex on the cover, hemmed in tightly by the white around him, perhaps a reference to the heady “milk-plus” drinks regularly enjoyed in the novel’s Korova Milk Bar. “It could be the glass of ‘moloko’ that Alex drinks,” says Barnbrook, “but it could also be a piece of 60s abstract art [in] one of the interiors of the houses that Alex breaks into; [or] the sun – energy and life – which Alex represents; the all-seeing eye of the government; or the eye of Alex, unblinking, forced to watch atrocities when being ‘treated’.”

Back cover text

The typeface used on the cover is Doctrine (Barnbrook’s latest release through its Virusfonts foundry), which also appeared on The Next Day sleeve. “It had exactly the right feeling, looking very modernist but actually based on the logo Air Koryo, the North Korean state airline,” says Barnbrook. “So it’s a faux corporate font with sinister undertones. It matches the feeling of the book very well.”

As with Pearson’s treatment of Orwell’s seminal novel, Penguin has struck out bravely with this pared-back design. “I love the cover that David did for 1984, [it’s] one of my favourite of all time,” says Barnbrook. “I think Penguin really are leading in terms of covers, so I knew they would take a chance. It was a very reductive process working on it and in a very similar way to the Bowie stuff; it was about as much as I could take away. I have to say, [it’s] the opposite of my working process when I was younger.”

“These editions have to be brave to justify their existence, but there is also something very Penguin about them,” says Stoddart. “These books are A-format – the size of original Penguins up until the 1980s – and there is something very Penguin in their design-led purity of concept, and simplicity of design. It all makes so much sense.”

A Clockwork Orange: Restored Edition is published on December 5 (£7.99). See penguinclassics.co.uk. More of Barnbrook’s work is at barnbrook.net.

Three Clockwork Orange covers, 1962 – 2007:

First edition Penguin (UK) cover by the Australian designer and illustrator, Barry Trengove, 1962. Photo: Francis Mariani

Penguin cover designed by David Pelham in 1972, produced to tie-in with the release of Kubrick’s film. Having been let down by an airbrush artist, Pelham “worked up an idea on tracing paper overnight, ordering front cover repro from the typesetter around 4am. I remember that my type mark-up was collected by a motorcycle messenger around about 5am. Later that morning, in the office, I drew the black line work you see here on a matt plastic acetate sheet, specifying colours to the separator on an overlay while the back cover repro was being pasted up by my loyal assistants…” (Penguin By Designers, 2007). Photo: John Keogh

Penguin Modern Classics cover from 2007

In the first of a new series looking at the making of an individual book cover or set of titles, we talk to Penguin art editor Isabelle de Cat and illustrator Petra Börner about creating visuals for five new editions of works said to have inspired JRR Tolkein…

Beowulf cover. Artwork by Petra Börner

The five Penguin Classics that make up the newly launched Legends from the Ancient North series are The Wanderer: Elegies, Epics, Riddles; Beowulf; Sir Gawain and the Green Knight; The Saga of the Volsungs and The Elder Edda. As works that inspired the fiction of Tolkein, they are, says de Cat, “startling, brutal, strange pieces of writing, filled with heroes, dragons, trolls, dwarves and magic”.

“The iconographic tradition linked to these ancient legends is as diverse as it is rich,” she continues, “and I started on the project by looking through vast amounts of images, from early northern stone carving to pre-Raphaelite paintings, from medieval saga illuminations to the illustrations of Elmer Boyd Smith or Carl Otto Czeschka.”

As well as a translator of many of the epic tales of northern Europe, Tolkien was also an illustrator, explains de Cat. But instead of using what would have been his own contemporaneous visual influences – such as William Morris sketches, for example – the art editor took the opportunity to work with a modern day illustrator who could reference this visual heritage. “Petra’s bold line and incredible use of colour made her an ideal choice,” de Cat says.

All the artwork for the series was created by Börner who used cut-up coloured paper and then layered the pieces together to create single illustrations. From her sketches to the finished covers it has, she says, been a process of reduction and of paring back. “As a homage to Tolkien I asked Petra to adopt an element from the visual language of his illustrations: a strong black line, a lot of white, and a very restricted palette of two bold colours with a splash of red,” says de Cat.

“The focus of each illustration was to be the supernatural, the magical, the brutal and the monstrous rather than the heroes,” she adds. “Grendel for Beowulf, the tree Yggdrasil full of magical creatures for The Elder Edda, a giant for Sir Gawain, the dragon Fafnir for the Saga of the Volsungs and an epic battle for The Wanderer.”

“Initially I was commissioned to do the artwork for Beowulf, mirroring [a] cover of The Hobbit in terms of colour and composition,” says Börner. “I struggled to find the right tone for Grendel and explored different types of monsters, looking at the animal world – bats, bears and gorillas – but then trying to capture a more supernatural or alien madness.”

“At first, focusing on Beowulf solely, Petra sent back dozens of preliminary sketches, conjuring up a world of dangerous caves and scary creatures,” says de Cat. “She worked relentlessly to pin down the figure of Grendel, until we both loved him. The illustrations for Edda and the Volsungs came out nearly perfect from the first go. Gawain evolved quite dramatically right through to the end [see below].”

“I enjoyed sketching the creatures and setting the scenes and its surroundings,” Börner adds. “Whilst finalising the Beowulf cover I was commissioned to illustrate all five covers and it became key to work on a theme that could carry forward and tie them all together.”

Sketch work for Beowulf cover

Background layer for the Beowulf cover

“We had to make sure all the sketches were perfect and that we had everybody on board before Petra could embark on finalising the artworks, as her meticulous paper cutting technique does not allow for changes of mind,” says de Cat.

The Elder Edda cover features the Norse tree of life, Yggdrasil

“I focused on the tree rather than the beast/snake or the deers and elves,” says Börner of her work on The Elder Edda cover, above, “as I wanted it to grow grand and powerful over the cover.”

Final artwork for the The Elder Edda cover

Artwork detail

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight cover

For the image on the cover of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, “the giant has to appear a gigantic,” says Börner, “and it was a challenge without making the composition too busy at the bottom.”

The Wanderer cover

Final artwork for The Wanderer cover

Artwork detail

For The Wanderer cover, above, which Börner constructed as a frenzy of colour, the focus moves to a battle scene rather than a character from the tale. “I initially wanted to focus on the starry sky with the battle raging in shadow below, but instead went for a close-up scene with heavy armour, blood and gore,” she says. “I wanted it to be chaotic, violent and grisly!”

The Saga of the Volsungs cover

Sketch work for The Saga of the Volsungs cover

Final artwork for The Saga of the Volsungs cover

Artwork detail

For the cover of The Saga of the Volsungs the dragon Fafnir is shown in the foreground protecting its treasure. “My technique called for simplicity,” says Börner, “as too many elements make for a very busy composition, [so] I closed in on the treasure.”

With final artwork in place the next stage of the process was titling each edition. “The double challenge for me was to integrate harmoniously all the titling into Petra’s creations – she agreed that I could deconstruct some of the decorative elements to allow for the type – and also to make sure the finished printed cover retained the vibrancy of the colours as she intended them,” says de Cat.

“The uncoated stock of the cover has a lovely feel, but tends to dull colour down, and it took a lot of testing and tweaking for the books to look as bright as the original artworks.”

The five titles will be published by Penguin Classics on November 28; £6.99. Series publisher is Simon Winder. More of Börner’s work at petraborner.com.

Cover by Jungyeon Roh

Two hundred and eighty eight editions of the new American Illustration Annual have handmade covers, created by 45 different artists and illustrators. Overseen by creative director Richard Turley, the project saw much ink, a lot of paint and several naked men…

Cover by Matt Dorfman

As the creative director of Bloomberg Businessweek, Turley is used to tight deadlines. But having a single weekend to realise his aim of creating over 200 unique editions of the latest American Illustration Annual must have been quite the challenge.

But from the film of the event, shown at the bottom of this post, it looks like it went like a breeze: illustrators are sat and stood here and there, drawing and painting, even drilling into various copies of AI32. According to Turley, the idea for the project was about taking a relatively small run of books and seeing if they could be made into “an event” to support this year’s Annual.

Working from the theme of ‘nakedness’ – and the idea that competitions facilitate a kind of ‘self-exposure’ – Turley says he invited several male life models on site, which the illustrators would then be able to work with should they choose to do so. The life drawing would also provide a central thread which would hold the covers together.

“To be judged by your peers (or anyone) is fairly unpleasant,” says Turley, “the idea of exhibiting your work, your ‘self’. Out of that tenuous thought; naked men felt far more interesting to see than naked women.

“When we did the event we had life models. Some used them, most didn’t. Quite a few people came to the event with a fairly fixed idea of what they were going to do, which was fine. Some used the human form, some didn’t. We were asking people to give their time and their work for free, and that sort of generosity isn’t best repaid by forcing people to draw naked men. In fact if I learnt anything from this, I learnt you can’t force people to draw naked men. (Though perhaps I’ll bank that idea for another project).”

Around twenty artists each created three or more editions over two days from a studio space set up in New York, while others, including Paula Scher and Bob Gill, contributed single editions. Peter Arkle, for example, drew himself naked (twice) over ten books. Shown below are a selection of images of the artists at work, plus several of the finished covers.

Cover by Marcellus Hall

Cover by Al Murphy

Above, editions of the American Illustration Annual ready to be worked on. Monica Ramos, below, adds detail to one of her copies.

Of the paper used on the cover, Turley says that they had wanted something off-white and that would work with a range of materials. “We were lucky with the cover stock,” he says. “Complete accident. For some reason, for me, off-white paper = expensive. Plus, it’s not passive. You see the paper, acknowledge it, rather than it only being a vehicle for the work.

“I wanted these books to feel hefty and valuable, to be proper pieces of serious design. Then to have people deface the cover. Violate this precious object. A lot of the artists loved the paper. It seemed to take whatever
medium you threw at it very well.”

Below, Monica Ramos adds some fine detail to one of her covers.

Chris Feczko (above) works on one of his books. He also produced the edition shown, below.

Ellen Weinstein (above) with four of her covers – a fifth is shown, below.

Peter Arkle working away, below, and a finished cover below that.

Serge Bloch produced the following two covers in his batch – and his materials he used on the day are shown below that.

And here are some more of the finished covers:

Cover by Al Murphy

Cover by Deanne Cheuk

Covers by Edel Rodriquez

Covers by Franca Barone

Cover by Judy Chung

Cover by Jenn Steffey

Cover by Jon Burgerman

Back cover by Jungyeon Roh

Cover by Matt Dorfman

Cover by Pablo Delcan

Cover by Richard Turley

Cover by Jordan Awan

Cover by You Byun

The artists and illustrators who worked on the covers project were Peter Arkle, Jordan Awan, Rose Bake, Marian Bantjes, Franca Barone, Nicholas Blechman, Serge Bloch, Mirko Borsche, Ethan Buller, Jon Burgerman, You Byun, André Carrilho, Deanne Cheuk, Judy Chung, Jennifer Daniel, Pablo Delcán, Matt Dorfman, Arem Duplessis, Chris Feczko, Ed Fella, Adrian Forrow, Bob Gill, Carin Goldberg, Steven Guarnaccia, Marcellus Hall, Scott King, Nora Krug, Tim Lahan, Pearce Marchbank Studio, Al Murphy, Victo Ngai, Other Means, m/m Paris, Monica Ramos, Rand Renfrow, Edel Rodriguez, Jungyeon Roh, Laurie Rosenwald, Jonny Ruzzo, Paula Scher, Chris Sharp, Tamara Shopsin, Jenn Steffey, Ellen Weinstein and Paul Windle.

According Mark Heflin, editor and director of AI-AP, the books will be sent out to those who purchased an advance discount copy of the AI32 book earlier this year (the receipient will not know what edition they have until they open the package). Subsequent orders will be fulfilled with the print edition which has a cover created by Jon Han.

More covers at americanillustration.tumblr.com. The American Illustration site is at ai-ap.com, where the regular printed edition of the book is also available ($45).

Cecil Beaton described her as “an authoritative crane” or “some extraordinary parrot,” while Nicky Haslam likened her presence to “a sock in the jaw.” Both were referring to the fashionable force of nature that was Diana Vreeland (1903-89), the subject of Amanda Mackenzie Stuart‘s Empress of Fashion, out Tuesday in paperback from Harper Perennial. The dazzling biography delves into the origins of Vreeland’s genius as it follows her from an ugly duckling childhood in Paris and a self-imposed extreme makeover at the age of 14, through her tenure at Harper’s Bazaar, at Vogue, and at the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

“There were imagination and fantasy in fashion before Diana,” says Stuart (pictured below). “What she did, indefatigably, and from a position of great influence at Vogue, was to assert the authority of the imagination—and the idea of possibility that galloped along beside it.” We threw on our most exotic caftan, streaked on the rouge, and managed to narrow our questions for Vreeland’s Oxford, England-based biographer down to an elegant seven.

When/how did you first encounter Diana Vreeland?
I’m British and live in the UK so I was only vaguely aware of Diana Vreeland before I started writing a different book, about Consuelo Vanderbilt and her mother Alva (Consuelo and Alva Vanderbilt: The Story of a Mother and a Daughter in the Gilded Age, HarperCollins, 2005). Before my research for that book, and like a number of people now I think, I knew something about DV without being quite sure why. I wasn’t quite sure what she did, but I did have a blurry image of a snood, a dash of brilliant red lipstick, and an achingly hip granny who ran ’round town with Andy Warhol. Quite terrifying, in other words.

At the very end of my research for the book about Consuelo, I discovered that Diana Vreeland had long been fascinated by her story and her style and had included her in the Costume Institute exhibition in 1976 called “American Women of Style.” So that was the point at which I first properly encountered DV.

Was there a particular aspect of her background or a finding in your initial research that convinced you to proceed with a biography?
Well, when I was writing the Consuelo book I should have been a very self-disciplined biographer and stopped myself from going off-piste for days on end. I should have allocated no more than half a day’s research, or maybe one day maximum, to the curator of an exhibition in which Consuelo appeared twelve years after her death. But it didn’t work out like that. I became completely distracted by DV, who was very funny, and, at first glance, not unlike Consuelo’s mother. (On second glance she wasn’t like her at all, but that’s another story.)
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