Shangri-La 2025 began a new chapter in festival creativity. Meet the creative force behind it.

Last month, as a fifth of a million people streamed into Glastonbury's sprawling Worthy Farm, the entrance to Shangri-La radiated with even more energy than usual. This year, as we reported live, the legendary field felt both familiar and radically new: a patchwork of fresh collectives, interactive art, and a palpable sense of inclusivity.

Standing at the centre of it all was creative director Kaye Dunnings; her vision, once again, pushing the boundaries of what a festival environment can be.

Shangri-La has always been Glastonbury's wildest playground, but this year, the changes were dramatic. The field's layout was reimagined to be even more open and welcoming, with themes of nature and growth evoked by a series of interactive art installations.

As Kaye reasons: "People come to Glastonbury for more than just the headliners. They want to be transported, challenged, welcomed—and for that, we have to keep evolving."

But how does one person orchestrate this level of creative anarchy at scale? To understand the alchemy behind Shangri-La's transformation, you have to start with Kaye herself.

Early years: surviving, seeking, and subverting

In an industry dominated by middle-class graduates, Kaye's journey is anything but conventional. Born in the late 1970s and raised on an estate in Totton, near Southampton, her childhood was marked by adversity.

"My area was really violent, never really that safe," she recalls with a grimace. No one in her family had been to university; most of the women had entered motherhood as teenagers. Kaye, though, felt she was destined for something different.

School was a battleground, where her creativity and unique sense of style made her a target for bullies. "I managed to cope through music," she says. "The radio was my window onto the world. John Peel, my dad's records… I realised there was more out there."

She left school at the age of 16 and took a job in retail. Even then, Kaye's instinct was to push boundaries rather than conform. "Window dressing was the closest thing to set design I could find," she laughs. "But my windows were always too out there for John Lewis."

The job itself introduced her to creative people, but it was the underground music scene that truly ignited her imagination. London's galleries and clubs beckoned, and by 18, she was making regular pilgrimages to East London, soaking up the work of Tracey Emin, the Chapman Brothers, and the city's vibrant nightlife.

Finding her tribe: art, music and the power of DIY

Art college was out of reach for Kaye: she couldn't afford the fees, and the government was no longer providing grants to students. Instead, she snuck into life-drawing classes, found work in a gay bar, and used costumes as a means of self-expression. "I found my tribe in the clubs and bars," she says. "It was all about improvisation. If I needed something, I made it. I didn't have anyone to rely on."

A move to Bournemouth, with its vibrant arts scene, proved pivotal. There, she met Robin Collings, her future creative partner, and together, they staged events, beginning with a fundraiser to build a skate park. It would be her first taste of creative project management and community action. "We raised money, built the ramp, put on a festival," she recalls with a wistful smile. "It's still there today."

This period set the tone for Kaye's career, which is characterised by resourcefulness, collaboration, and a belief that creativity thrives in constraint. "If you don't have money, you find another way," she insists. "That's where the magic happens."

Glastonbury: the crucible of creative risk

Kaye's Glastonbury story began around the turn of the century when she worked with Robin on the stage he created for his uni final major project. It was her first time at the Somerset festival, and she enjoyed performances by huge stars like David Bowie and PJ Harvey. "But I was more interested in what was happening on the fringes," she recalls. "The weird, the immersive, the spaces that felt like home for outsiders."

Two years later, she returned by working as a performer and hostess in the famed Lost Vagueness area. In 2003, she created her own space at Glastonbury: the Laundromat of Love, a tiny tent filled with 15 self-created characters parodying 1950s housewives, along with washing machines, a beauty parlour, and "basically everything I owned".

It was a haven for introverts, the lost, the lonely: a precursor to the radical inclusivity that would define her later work. "I wanted somewhere people could feel looked after," she explains. "A place for the delicate."

Kaye then took this DIY spirit and extended it beyond the festival, founding a theatre troupe, The Laundrettas, which performed everywhere from street theatre in Hackney to cabarets in Soho, local community centres for the elderly, and even opened for George Michael at Wembley Stadium in 2007.

It was a frenzied, chaotic existence: by day, she worked as a landscape gardener; by night, a cabaret showgirl. With finances always tight, improvisation was key. "If I needed something, I'd make it or find a way to create it myself," she says. "I didn't have anyone else to rely on."

Communal and resourceful: Kaye's process

In 2008, following the collapse of Glastonbury's Lost Vagueness area due to personal acrimony among the organisers—a chapter documented brilliantly in this 2018 movie by Sofia Olins—Kaye and Robin were key members of the team that stepped in to launch Shangri-La in its place.

Shangri-La essentially took the immersive, DIY model of Kaye's laundrette and scaled it up, giving 20 young collectives the freedom to create their own worlds. "I wanted to go further," says Kaye, "to make almost a living, breathing theatre set where there were no edges. I didn't want people to know what was real or what was a part of the show."

It was a mammoth undertaking, one where her recent experience with Bristol's Invisible Circus—a troupe that took over derelict buildings and transformed them into performance spaces—proved invaluable.

Living and working together, often for little or no money, the Invisible Circus had staged epic shows for thousands. "Being able to live together was the key," she says. "The buzz was so great, making this huge thing with so many incredible people you're completely in love with."

This communal, resourceful approach continues to underpin everything Kaye does at Shangri-La. Even as the field has grown to encompass hundreds of volunteers, artists and contributors, she strives to maintain a sense of intimacy and inclusivity.

"Every possible thing I can think of to make people feel welcome in that space, I will do," she says. "That's the real overarching theme of the field."

Zero ego and trusting the unpredictable

Throughout all of Kaye's projects (describing them would require an entire book), a distinctive creative process has emerged. Key elements are embracing uncertainty, trusting collaborators, and finding beauty in the unpredictable.

"As a creative director, you have to have zero ego," she stresses. "Everything is a collaboration." In practice, this means leaving space in her designs for others to fill in and encouraging artists to try things they haven't done before.

This approach has not been without its challenges. "Some people would love a perfectly finished plan," she laughs. "But there's such beauty in the chaos."

Her core team at Shangri-La today, whom she smilingly describes as "all on the spectrum in some way", thrive in this environment. "We can talk about 50 projects at once and just move on to the next," she smiles. "Not everyone can cope with that, but it works for us."

Indeed, for Kaye, the process is as important as the outcome. "It's about taking a risk. Who's to say what makes good art anyway?" In short, she encourages her collaborators to care less about the result and more about the journey. This fosters a culture where experimentation and failure are not just tolerated but celebrated.

How to manage creative people

Managing large, diverse creative teams is notoriously difficult, but Kaye's lack of ego is key to making it possible at Shangri-La. "If people think they're collaborating with you, it's a two-way thing," she explains. When a project veers off course, she gently steers it back, always leaving room for others' ideas to flourish.

Delegation comes naturally to her, although she prefers to think of it as a collaborative approach. That's partly because she has had extensive experience living with and collaborating with large numbers of people. It's also partly because she's done every job herself—from set-building to performing to running bars—so she knows what she's talking about and what people are going through.

She has never had the luxury of abundant resources, so she has learned to see constraints as opportunities. "If you lack money, make it yourself or find another way," she believes. This DIY ethos is woven into every aspect of Shangri-La, from the hand-built sets (made with materials that are largely recycled year after year) to the collaborative programming.

Above all, though, Kaye is focused on the audience and making everyone feel included. Shangri-La is intentionally designed for everyone, including introverts, extroverts, and those in between. "I want every group, even a bunch of lads, to feel safe and respected," she says. "If they feel respected, maybe they'll be more respectful in turn."

And she never wants Shangri-La to stop evolving. "I need to always add something new to the mix," she says. "People come to Glastonbury for a show. It's not about the bands; it's about the entire experience. I want to make sure there's something for everyone and that it's as accessible as possible."

Living the work

Kaye's story is not one of overnight success or formal training but of relentless self-invention, community-building and creative risk. And it's clear that for her, the line between life and work is virtually non-existent.

"Shangri-La is not just an event that happens once a year," she stresses. "It's my whole life because it encompasses everybody I meet; anywhere I am, I'll bring them into it somehow. I have to put my entire heart and soul into it, or it won't be authentic.

"I also take the spirit of it with me into other projects," she adds. "I work quite differently from people who have trained in the commercial world, and bringing a new perspective can be transformational. I'm looking forward to doing more of that in the upcoming fallow year."

For creatives, Kaye's journey is a powerful reminder that the most transformative work often emerges from the margins, from those willing to embrace uncertainty, trust their collaborators, and find joy in the unpredictable.

As the lights of Shangri-La flicker into the early morning and festival-goers lose themselves in its maze of art and possibility, the spirit of Kaye Dunnings—her resilience, her openness, her radical creativity—shines brighter than ever.

In a world that craves certainty, she reminds us that there's often magic in the mayhem.

We meet the art director behind the bold new look for Round: the egg bun joint shaking up the French capital.

Paris isn't short of stylish eateries, but few are as punchy or irreverent as Round, a Californian-style egg bun restaurant founded by two passionate foodies with a flair for the unexpected.

Tucked near the hip Canal Saint-Martin, its minimalist interior features rough, exposed walls and a long, industrial counter, a gritty backdrop that gives the space its unmistakable skate-inspired edge. Customers rave about the friendly staff, the atmosphere, and its Instagram-worthy bites, with one review claiming: "Literally the best breakfast sandwich I've ever had".

It's the kind of spot that instantly speaks to the creatively inclined. Think graffiti-covered walls, custom sock merch, and an attitude that crackles with energy – like a kickflip captured mid-air.

Round first opened its doors on Rue Louis Blanc in 2021, quickly becoming a cult favourite in the 10th arrondissement. Fast-forward to 2025, and the founders were ready to open a second location on Rue Saint-Denis – and with it, give the brand a fresh new look. That’s when they called on Paris-based art director Pierre Rousteau.

With 14 years of experience in editorial and visual identity design – and a strong typographic sensibility – Pierre took a no-holds-barred approach to the brief. The mission? To build an entire universe around Round's irreverent spirit, channelling skate culture, tattoo art, and graffiti into something wholly original.

At the heart of the new brand is a hand-drawn logo built entirely from scratch. Its circular motion nods cleverly to three references: beaten eggs (the star ingredient of Round's buns), the smooth curves of a skateboarder in a halfpipe, and the whir of a jump rope — a subtle allusion to boxing, and a wink to the restaurant's name.

This freewheeling energy runs across every touchpoint, from wall-painted signage and hand-drawn titling to custom packaging and wearable merch such as tees and socks. The result is a unified yet unruly identity — one that makes Round stand out in a sea of minimal cafés and heritage bistros. And believe me, when you're opening a new joint in Paris, you want it to be memorable.

"I wanted the branding to feel alive – like something in motion," says Pierre. "It had to echo the energy of the place, the people, the food… nothing static or overly polished. Just raw, joyful, and full of attitude."

Looking through the stylish shots of the revamped eatery — beautifully captured by local photographer Jade Ambre — it's clear Pierre has bottled up exactly why people love Round. One Google review puts it best: "Absolutely loved this spot! The guys behind the counter were super cool, friendly, and clearly passionate about what they do. The vibes inside are spot on — great energy, slick design, and a killer soundtrack playing in the background that really set the mood."

So, can a brand match its reviews? "So good you'll get the T-shirt … Incredible egg buns … Super cool skater vibe." It looks like it can.

Whether you're biting into an egg bun or pulling on a piece of branded merch, Round doesn't play it safe. And its new look makes sure you won't forget it anytime soon.

With just 100 signed copies, the artist's book blends playful illustrations with bold typography and bespoke craft details, marking a new chapter in editorial design and creative collaboration.

In a project that fuses illustration, folklore, and high-impact editorial design, London studio HONDO has collaborated with artist Astrid Chesney to launch Facing Forward – a limited edition artist book that celebrates the spirit of masquerade and the power of the face as a storytelling motif.

Featuring more than 200 illustrations by Astrid, the book is a rich and imaginative exploration of expressive characters and forms. Limited to just 100 hand-signed and numbered copies, the project functions as both an artwork and a publication, designed with precision and flair by HONDO's Fran Mendez and Maria Vioque.

From the outset, the project aimed to be more than just a book. It was designed to feel like a complete visual object—something tactile, intimate, and full of surprises.

That idea of multiplicity is carried through every detail, beginning with the dust jacket. Folded in half to show two half-faces, it plays with perception and form, revealing different facial combinations depending on how the book is held. Each jacket unfolds into a full-sized poster, signed and numbered by Astrid, transforming the outer layer into a standalone art piece.

Every copy of Facing Forward features its own unique combination of illustrations: 100 different covers, 100 different back covers, and 100 spines, resulting in one hundred distinct visual pairings. This not only elevates the collectable value of the edition but reinforces the project's central theme of expression in all its diversity.

Typography also plays a crucial role in the book's design language. HONDO chose the striking Drullers typeface, known for its bold, characterful forms. Rather than using standard numerals, the studio created custom page numbers from Drullers' glyph set, which resemble abstract faces themselves.

The idea that typography participates in the masquerade adds another layer of joy and expression, and even the numbers have personality.

This sense of playfulness and intentional oddness aligns closely with Astrid's illustrative style. A Royal College of Art graduate, her work has a long-standing affinity with theatricality, folk tradition and cinematic staging.

Previous clients include Penguin, The Guardian, Pentagram, The New York Times, and Dazed, but Facing Forward gave her the opportunity to develop a personal, immersive body of work. The book was photographed in her East London studio, offering a glimpse into the environment that gave birth to the project's vivid world of faces and forms.

To mark the launch, HONDO and Astrid are hosting a week-long exhibition at Three Rooms Gallery in Walthamstow, running from now until Monday. Alongside a private view tomorrow (Friday 11 July), the exhibition will present original illustrations from the book and a curated selection of Astrid's other works. Visitors can expect a richly layered experience that's part gallery show, part behind-the-scenes insight.

For HONDO, the project reflects its broader approach to editorial design as a space for experimentation and narrative. The studio is known for its multilingual typography and culture-led visual storytelling across print and digital platforms. Facing Forward extends that ethos into the realm of collectable publishing, with a focus on material detail and emotional resonance.

The release comes at a time when demand for independent artist books and tactile print experiences is on the rise. With the publishing industry reimagining the role of the physical book, especially in the age of screen fatigue and AI-generated content, HONDO's latest work offers a timely reminder of what makes print personal.

The book invites you to look closely, play with the page, and embrace the eccentricities of design. It's a celebration of faces but also of the joy that comes with not taking things too seriously. We could all take a leaf out of this book.

The Female Leadership Academy is no more. Say hello to Dear Monday, a spirited rebrand by Arndt Benedikt that gives the women's leadership platform a fresh identity full of energy, community and purpose.

Dear Monday has a bold new identity, marking a fresh chapter for the popular coaching platform, which is on a mission to empower women in leadership. With a new name and vibrant look by Frankfurt-based studio Arndt Benedikt, the rebrand signals more than a makeover—it's a rallying cry for a fairer, more meaningful world of work.

Formerly known as the Female Leadership Academy, the platform was founded in 2018 by entrepreneur and podcast host Vera Strauch. Since then, it has helped thousands of women across Germany navigate the often-hostile world of leadership with confidence, purpose, and solidarity.

But while its mission was loud and clear, its visual identity wasn't exactly pulling punches.

So, Arndt Benedikt stepped in to help shape a new name and brand that could better reflect Dear Monday's growing ambitions. The result? A colourful, confident identity that beams with joy and purpose—something that feels more like a movement than a coaching brand. Which, in truth, it is.

Because Dear Monday isn't just a personal development platform. It's a collective effort to rewrite the rules of leadership. At a time when gender equity is under more pressure than it has been in decades, Dear Monday is helping women push beyond tokenism and glass ceilings. Through coaching, seminars, and a widely celebrated podcast, it equips women with not just skills but also the business language, confidence, and community they need to lead and disrupt on their own terms.

And if you're wondering about the name? It's a cheeky subversion of the Sunday Scaries—a love letter to a new kind of working week, one where women aren't just surviving Mondays but reshaping what they mean altogether.

Launched as the Female Leadership Academy, the platform had outgrown its original skin. It was no longer just about training individuals—it was about building a collective space where women could grow, be seen, and shape the future together. The founders needed a brand that matched that energy: emotionally intelligent, confident yet approachable, and flexible enough to work across everything from Instagram to international summits.

The Solution? Monday reimagined. Arndt Benedikt delivered a name that flips the script on the working week, along with a look that radiates energy and intent. The wordmark, set in a custom serif font with organically connected ligatures, nods to community and exchange. A punchy headline font brings movement and momentum, while a calm sans serif keeps things grounded and accessible.

The colour palette shifts between bright, chatty colours and grounded neutrals—a celebration of diversity in every shade. And then there are the Mondies—a suite of playful, inclusive illustrations that embody the platform's values of self-expression, joy, and connection. Real-world photography and the smart use of white space complete a system that's as cohesive as its character.

It's a brand that doesn't just represent women—it champions them. One that reflects not only who Dear Monday is but also who its community is becoming. And honestly? We might just look forward to Dear Monday more than dress-down Friday.

In this special essay for our Leadership theme, Jess McGuire, managing partner at ThoughtMatter, shares what it really means to lead as a woman in 2025 – beyond the job titles and headlines into the quiet, complicated, often unseen work of showing up with integrity.

I have a love-hate relationship with the topic of women's leadership. I've read books, articles, studies, and think pieces; if it's about women in leadership, I've probably highlighted it.

'Lean In' was the first one that really landed for me. I was a new mom in corporate America, highlighter in hand, convinced I could have it all. Before that, I just wanted to work hard and establish myself in the right design circles. I didn't want to be seen as anything other than a great designer. No pronouns, no qualifiers, just good work. Today, I don't want to lean in. Or lean out. "Back out" feels appropriate.

In 2025, I'm not even sure 'leadership' is the right word as it implies taking the lead. In my experience, no one really likes a woman who does. What people seem to want is for women to open doors, mentor, guide quietly, and support from the sidelines. Is that leadership? Maybe. But when you're running a company, making decisions that affect jobs, pushing clients to be bolder, answering to payroll, measuring growth, and assessing impact, it becomes something far more complicated. It becomes a mess of contradictions.

As a woman, I'm expected to be nurturing. As a mother, I'm expected to be maternal. As an agency partner, I'm expected to be decisive.

I am all of these things, and sometimes none of them. Depending on the room I walk into. The traits blend and blur into expectations that pull me in every direction. Most writing about women in leadership overlooks this in-between stage. We hear polished success stories. The power quotes. The glossy wins. What gets missed, though, is the low, quiet, often invisible cost of leading as a woman on any given Tuesday. Let me tell you about mine.

I'm on the subway into Manhattan. I've spent the ride preparing what I'll say to the team: another round of changes, another shift in structure. The decisions I've made will trigger disappointment, anxiety, and uncertainty. Yet I'll be the one who pushes them forward. This is a part of leadership that few people really discuss, especially for women. The aftermath. When you walk into the room, say what needs to be said, and then watch the energy shift. Watch people avoid eye contact. Feel the space between you and others grow cold. You can sense the disappointment, the frustration, the distance.

And even though it feels personal, you can't take it personally. You have to let them feel what they feel. You have to keep moving. Bravery doesn't always look like taking the stage. It looks like standing in front of your team, knowing they're angry, knowing you've made a hard call, and still choosing to hold steady because you believe in where you're going, even when it's hard, even when it hurts.

Over the last five years, I've kept the agency lights on through a global pandemic, a racial reckoning, remote-only work, The Great Resignation, the quiet dismantling of DEI, the return-to-office debate, and the looming threat of automation. And all while raising capital, managing payroll, delivering client work beyond expectation, and still showing up to career day at school. That's leadership. But it's also something more, especially for women. Because when you're a woman at the top, your decisions don't just carry weight; they carry perception. Everyone who's worked with me during this time probably has a different version of me in their head. That's not unusual. But when you're socialized to be liked, because being liked was the safest, smartest path through every room you've ever walked into, it adds another layer most people don't see.

It's said leaders should focus on being respected, not liked. I understand that logic. But as a girl, a teenager, a woman, a mother, and now a business partner, my ability to move through the world has always been defined by how I was received, not just what I achieved. Respect was never the starting point. Likability was the currency. It got me access. It kept me safe. It gave me space to grow. So when someone says, "Don't worry about being liked", I hear male privilege talking. Because most men don't have to worry that being disliked will make them a target.

For women, being dismissed isn't just a reputational issue; it can be deeply personal. It can be dangerous.

Nevertheless, I understand the privilege of sitting at the top. I know what it means to have power, responsibility and the intoxication of it, the ability to shape a business, shift a culture, or open a door that might've stayed closed. My appetite for risk and change has grown tenfold. And that's what we need more women to experience. That's what builds resilience, character, and clarity. That's when you see the world differently when you're not just fighting to get in but deciding how things should be done.

Some data suggests when women lead, companies perform better and communities thrive. Still, we're not where we should be. Even now, women are still measured by different standards: lead with strength but not seem threatening and be direct yet still likeable. The real cost of leadership isn't just the workload—it's the constant shape-shifting. The pressure to lead in a way that doesn't make anyone uncomfortable.

I've stopped trying to conform to that version of leadership. I'm more interested in building a different model, one that values presence, integrity, and the way we make space for others. I want the next woman in the room to spend less time managing perception and more time doing the work she's here to do. I have come to believe that leadership isn't about being right. It's about holding the weight. It's about making decisions despite knowing they will not be applauded. Leadership is about guiding with honesty, not performance. Leadership is about building systems that won't collapse when you're not in the room.

After 20 years in this industry and more than three as a partner in a creative studio, I've made mistakes. I've second-guessed myself. I've said the wrong thing, pushed too hard or not hard enough. Some people have walked away with admiration, while others with frustration. Some never want to see me again. That's the price of leadership, too.

We've been taught it's all about climbing, getting it right, and proving we belong at the top. As I have come to see it, leadership isn't a destination. It's a way of moving through the world. Sometimes, it's about making the call. Sometimes, it's about saying, I don't know. And most times, it's about standing there, flawed, visible, and real, hoping someone learns something from the way you showed up.

I wish someone had told me this: Lead messy. Lead vulnerably. Lead in the way your life demands. Whether that means guiding a team, a movement, or just a child through the chaos of a Tuesday morning.

Forget perfect. It's a trap. Just make sure you're all in and doing it your way.

The Manchester-based clothing brand reimagines its lookbook with an uplifting tribute to rescue dogs, proving that style and social impact can go hand in hand.

Clothing label Uskees has given its Spring/Summer collection a joyful twist this year, partnering with local charity Dogs 4 Rescue to showcase not just its garments but a cohort of four-legged models who are all in need of a loving home.

The playful campaign, titled Best in Show, reframes the traditional fashion photoshoot as a celebration of second chances, pairing adoptable dogs with Uskees' signature workwear-inspired designs.

According to Uskees brand lead Wayne Fearnley, the spark for the collaboration wasn't so much a lightning bolt as a slow-burning idea that had been waiting for its moment. "I've known Emma, who runs the rescue, for over 10 years now," Wayne explains. "For years, I've watched the work that Emma and the team have been doing, what they've been building over the last decade, and I've always wanted to chip in somehow."

That personal connection inspired Wayne to find a way to merge the brand's ethos, stitched into each garment with the words For a rich and fulfilling life, with his admiration for the rescue. "As we were building out scenarios and personas for this campaign, our pets are a very strong extension of who we are," Wayne says. "So to pair rescue dogs with looks meant, we could use our platform to promote these dogs in need and highlight the great work of local heroes."

Rather than simply photographing dogs alongside models, Uskees reimagined the concept through a playful nod to Crufts, the UK's most famous dog show. Led by James, the brand's communications and strategy lead, the team grouped the dogs and models into tongue-in-cheek categories inspired by the competition, creating a framework to showcase both style and canine personality.

"With Best in Show as the primary campaign message, every dog is celebrated – in an Uskees dog show, there are no losers," Wayne says.

The result is a set of images that feel true to Uskees' stripped-back, authentic aesthetic while giving centre stage to the rescue dogs. Shot against a simple, hand-painted backdrop created by Hollins, the campaign balances Uskees' familiar design language with heartfelt storytelling.

"There's no fancy camera trickery or over-the-top graphics," Wayne says. "This stripped-back approach means the dogs, and the connection between them and the people, always stay at the heart of the image."

Beyond its visual charm, the campaign sheds light on each dog's individual story. Wayne believes that, much like product stories or human stories, these narratives matter if you want people to care.

"With the goal of finding these dogs homes and the support they need, it wasn't enough to show pictures of dogs," he says. "We wanted to highlight what makes each dog special: their unique traits and quirks."

Rescue dogs often come from difficult backgrounds, yet the campaign celebrates their resilience, optimism and character. "They have so much to offer," Wayne adds, "all of which deserves to be celebrated."

Working with dogs on set brought its own surprises. "I prepared myself for the unexpected and for cleaning lots of poo off the backdrop," Wayne jokes, "but amazingly, it went incredibly smooth, which is a testament to the work of Emma and her team." Among the unexpected stars was Marly, a more reserved dog who blossomed under the studio lights and posed like a professional.

Best in Show also carries a quiet ambition to challenge public perceptions of rescue dogs, particularly those perceived as more challenging to rehome. Wayne hopes the campaign will show that "you can find a dog to match your vibe, whatever that vibe is – if it's peak treks or short walks, social butterflies or homebodies, there's a perfect rescue dog for you, they're just waiting."

The partnership with Dogs 4 Rescue ties seamlessly into Uskees' wider brand values around community and sustainability. "What gives us fulfilment as a team is working with great people, especially those from our home city," Wayne explains. "Whether they're in art, design or community work, being able to use our platform to connect and support them, that's what it's all about."

In many ways, the campaign embodies Uskees' ethos of enabling a rich and fulfilling life, not just for its customers but for animals as well. Wayne says: "For our wearers, their clothes aren't what's most important to them; it's the life they live in them… and what's a life without dogs, right?"

Early indicators of impact are still emerging, as the campaign has only just been launched, but Wayne remains hopeful. "If we get one dog a home, it's all been worth it," he says. "But we're aiming to get all of these dogs and the other dogs that aren't in the campaign homes and support."

Looking ahead, Uskees is already thinking about how to build on this partnership. Wayne is keen to explore future creative projects that support rescue causes.

"I like the idea of using the product as the vehicle," he says, "meaning people can get something really great that will last and help out something truly worthy. That's a sweet spot."

While brand campaigns can sometimes feel disconnected from real lives, Best in Show stands out as a feel-good reminder of what design, storytelling and community can do. And if it brings a few more wagging tails into happy homes, that's a win for everyone.

Award-winning foundry Pangram Pangram has launched a new online platform to elevate its type collection and foster a thriving community centred on design storytelling.

Pangram Pangram has unveiled a new website that aims to do more than simply sell fonts. The Montreal-based type foundry, known for its modern and meticulously crafted typefaces, has rebuilt its platform from the ground up, prioritising a smoother, more intuitive user experience while letting the fonts themselves take the spotlight.

While Pangram Pangram's previous site attracted awards and praise for its striking design, Matt Desjardins, founder of the foundry, explains it had outgrown its purpose. "Even though our old site had its moment – it won awards, people loved the look – it just didn't keep up with where the foundry was heading," Matt says.

As Pangram Pangram's library expanded, the community consistently raised feedback that, while the old site looked beautiful, it was tricky to navigate and test the growing range of styles. The redesigned website addresses this head-on, rethinking how people discover, test, and license fonts in a way that feels as premium and considered as the typefaces themselves.

"The goal was to completely rethink how people explore fonts, learn about them, test them, and ultimately license them," Matt explains. "It had to feel just as premium and crafted as the typefaces themselves."

At first glance, the site feels pared back and elegant, yet still distinctly Pangram Pangram. That balance was crucial to the design process. "The idea was: let the fonts speak," Matt says. "So the site needed to be minimal and unobtrusive, no clutter, no distractions, but still feel like us." Subtle moments of personality – from playful transitions to micro-animations – create just enough warmth without overshadowing the type.

Matt references Dieter Rams' philosophy of "as little design as possible" as an anchor for the creative approach. By reducing visual noise, the new site becomes a canvas that allows Pangram Pangram's fonts to shine, drawing users deeper into the foundry's world.

Interestingly, the redesign also draws from unexpected sources beyond pure digital design. Matt points to editorial influences as a key reference, blending modernist grid systems with a magazine-inspired sense of rhythm and hierarchy.

"There's a rhythm to the layout that reflects that," he says. The result feels sophisticated, borrowing from high-end branding and product storytelling to create a curated, almost gallery-like feel.

From a functionality perspective, Pangram Pangram has put a real emphasis on usability. The browsing experience is now more robust and scalable, with enhanced filters, search tools, view modes, and sorting capabilities to help users navigate the expanding library with greater ease. Font pages themselves have been fully reimagined, showcasing far more detailed specimens, alternate glyphs, features, and inspiring usage ideas.

Testing fonts has also become far more dynamic and interactive, thanks to upgraded previews and better live rendering – even for variable fonts – giving designers a much clearer sense of how type will perform in context. When it comes to licensing, Pangram Pangram has introduced simpler, clearer options alongside an expanded Font Starter Pack, offering a generous commercial licence for smaller projects and a bigger suite of fonts and mockups.

The evolution doesn't stop at functionality, though. The new site also strengthens Pangram Pangram's mission to nurture a wider design culture. Its growing Journal, now called the Academy, is positioned as a space for storytelling, inspiration, and education.

"Fonts are tools, yes, but they're also part of a much bigger conversation," Matt says. Through the Academy, Pangram Pangram can explore designer stories, behind-the-scenes processes, and wider cultural conversations around typography.

Alongside this, the expanded Fonts in Use section celebrates work from across the creative industry that leverages Pangram Pangram typefaces, serving up a fresh dose of community inspiration. As Matt puts it, the aim is to build a true platform, not just a shop window: "We want Pangram Pangram to be more than just a place to buy fonts. It should be a platform for education, inspiration, and community."

For a foundry whose typefaces already feel thoroughly contemporary and accessible, the new website feels like a natural next step: a place where creative minds can not only discover great type but also take part in a wider, evolving conversation about design. Pangram Pangram has set out to build a more meaningful bridge between its craft and its community, and with a platform as thoughtfully designed as its fonts, it's well on its way.

The vintage football shirt curator celebrates its first brand platform with a cinematic, tongue-in-cheek film that places shirts at the heart of culture, not just the pitch.

Cult Kits, the cult-favourite brand known for curating one of the world's most extensive collections of vintage football shirts, has stepped into the advertising arena for the very first time.

Teaming up with VCCP Blue and content studio Girl&Bear, the brand has unveiled The Shirt Matters, a new brand platform and creative campaign that challenges how we think about the humble football jersey.

For Cult Kits, this is a clear statement of intent. Launched globally across YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok, the campaign targets adults who love football, as well as those who see the sport as inseparable from the wider creative culture, encompassing music, fashion, and film. It's a recognition that football shirts aren't just merchandise; they're cultural artefacts deeply rooted in nostalgia, personal identity and collective memory.

At the centre of the campaign is a short film, Wiseguys, conceived by VCCP creative Paul Kocur, who also directed the piece. Produced by Girl&Bear Studios, with post-production handled in-house at Girl&Bear Post, the film is a playful homage to classic gangster showdowns. Instead of fighting over money, power or territory, these wise guys find themselves locked in a tension-filled standoff over something far more precious: a football shirt.

By placing a football shirt at the heart of a dramatic, tongue-in-cheek narrative, Wiseguys sets the tone for the entire platform. It invites viewers to consider how a shirt can serve as a badge of belonging, a time capsule, or a symbol of love for a club or an era. It's a conversation starter, not just an item of clothing.

Paul Kocur, associate creative director at VCCP, was excited to bring this vision to life. "As a creative, I've always wanted to direct," he says. "This was the perfect chance to collaborate with a brand I love, tell a smart story, and do it all on a shoestring.

"We wanted to create something that would stand out, entertain, and make people think differently about a football shirt. Cult Kits isn't just selling jerseys – they're curating culture. And we wanted the work to reflect that."

For Cult Kits founders David Jones and Robert Kocur, The Shirt Matters puts a stake in the ground about what makes their brand different. "We've always seen Cult Kits as more than just a place to buy football shirts," they explain. "We're about stories, style, and cultural crossover. This campaign shows how much a shirt can really mean — and does it in a way that's smart, funny, and distinctly us."

The collaboration was a dream fit for Girl&Bear, too, according to Olly Calverley, head of film and content and executive producer Ed Rosie. "This is one of those brilliant projects that comes along every now and then, and we just couldn't resist getting involved," they say.

"It's a great brand with a killer script, and with so much talent across Girl&Bear, we had everything we needed to make it happen — so we got stuck in and had a great time doing it."

In many ways, the launch of The Shirt Matters feels like a natural progression for Cult Kits. Over the years, the brand has built a loyal following of fans drawn not just to the shirts themselves but to the stories behind them. From tales of underdog triumphs and unforgettable tournaments to cult players and eras that defined football's golden moments, this campaign takes that storytelling to a wider, more mainstream audience.

The work also taps into a broader creative trend: reframing objects of fandom through the lens of design, narrative and emotional value. In an age of vintage drops, archival fashion and cultural nostalgia, Cult Kits' perspective feels more relevant than ever.

As the campaign rolls out across social and digital channels, Cult Kits hopes it will spark conversation and invite people to reconsider what football fashion truly means. Whether you're a lifelong collector or someone who just likes to wear the odd classic kit to the pub, The Shirt Matters makes a compelling case for the continued power of these garments to connect people to place, to time, and each other.

With its witty take on gangster tropes, cinematic style and an undeniable passion for football culture, Wiseguys sets a confident tone for what Cult Kits might do next in its brand storytelling journey.

From typography campaigns for climate refugees to soap that fosters body autonomy, this year's D&AD New Blood winners prove there's no shortage of fresh thinking or ambition among tomorrow's talent.

The D&AD New Blood Awards have long been a launchpad for emerging talent, and this year's cohort is no exception. At a time when the creative industry is wrestling with seismic shifts – from AI to changing audience behaviours – the 2025 winners offer a glimpse of the ingenuity, empathy and sharp thinking that the next generation is ready to deliver.

A total of 184 Pencils were awarded this year across White, Black, Yellow, Graphite and Wood levels, honouring standout responses to 18 real-world briefs set by top brands, including Google Cloud, Depop, HSBC, Xbox, Monotype and Giffgaff. In a fiercely competitive field, nearly 6,000 entries poured in from 65 countries, judged anonymously by a panel of over 150 creative experts. Paul Drake, foundations director at D&AD, summed it up neatly: "D&AD's New Blood Awards brings a burst of creativity, a powerful reminder that new talent is the lifeblood of our industry.

"At a time when graduating students are navigating uncertain first steps, the showcase of New Blood winners provides a chance to celebrate the creatives behind the work and for our industry to support their rise with opportunities and jobs."

The winning ideas addressed some of society's thorniest challenges, from sexual health education to climate migration, all while spanning disciplines such as UX, animation, typography, experiential campaigns, and advertising.

One of the most striking projects came from a team responding to a brief by 21 Grams, which invited emerging talent to support people with Down syndrome and Fragile X syndrome. Awarded a White Pencil, Consent Soap turned the everyday act of bathing into an educational moment about bodily autonomy.

Colour-coded soap bars – red for private areas, orange for trusted help only, green for safe to touch with consent – offered an accessible way to teach boundaries, a simple but powerful tool for communities with higher risks of sexual assault. As its creators put it, "We often overlook the bathroom as a learning space, but for individuals with Down syndrome and Fragile X syndrome, routine and repetition make it ideal."

Elsewhere, the Monotype brief led to Up to Our Necks, another White Pencil winner. By 2050, 1 in 7 Bangladeshis will be displaced by flooding, yet current refugee laws offer them no protection.

Using type as activism, this campaign transformed Linotype Bengali into a modular font where falling squares represented real-time climate displacement, urging world leaders to recognise climate-displaced individuals as refugees. The idea was to take the conversation all the way to COP 30, proving that typography can be more than letters on a page – it can be a catalyst for change.

The top Black Pencil winners showed equally fearless creativity. Ads for Rats flipped New York City's infamous rat problem into an opportunity, proving that even the most unloved spaces can become advertising goldmines.

Meanwhile, Silent Shake explored Parkinson's Disease through a typographic lens, drawing attention to early, subtle changes in handwriting captured in a custom typeface sourced from birthday cards written by individuals with Parkinson's disease. It aimed to make early detection the norm by preserving a piece of human identity before it fades.

Also earning a Black Pencil was Second Serve for Depop, which subverted the world of professional tennis sponsorships. When Australian Open player Destanee Aiava stepped onto the court without a sponsor, the team saw an opportunity to rewrite the rules.

The second-hand fashion marketplace stepped in, dressing Aiava in vintage tennis gear sourced from its community. In a world of glossy brand endorsements, the move stood out for its authenticity, positioning second-hand clothing as a legitimate and even aspirational choice at the highest level of sport.

Across the board, this year's work demonstrates how New Blood continues to push creative thinking beyond the obvious, tackling both commercial and cultural issues with a fresh perspective.

The awards ceremony took place at Leake Street Arches in London, marking the close of this year's New Blood Festival, which ran from 30 June to 2 July at Protein Studios in Shoreditch. Over three days, more than 40 university courses showcased graduate portfolios alongside talks, workshops and portfolio reviews designed to help students and emerging talent build confidence, contacts and skills.

Highlights included a panel exploring the rise of in-house creativity, featuring Debbie Dillon (BBC Creative), Emma Sexton (Inside Out® Community) and Nitya Thawani (Google), as well as a session on the evolution of phone photography with Mr Whisper (Balwinder Bhatla). A panel on the fusion of design and technology, led by D&AD President Kwame Taylor-Hayford alongside Adobe's Kladi Vergine and Monotype's Tom Foley, underscored how creative work increasingly straddles art, technology and culture.

Adobe returned as headline partner for 2025, bringing a playground of AI-powered tools, including a preview of Photoshop for mobile. BBH also continued its support for emerging talent, offering portfolio surgeries and insights from ECD Felipe Serradourada Guimaraes, while Little Black Book partnered with D&AD to provide student memberships for all participants.

The New Blood programme continues to stand out not just for celebrating ideas but for connecting graduates with genuine industry opportunities. Brands setting the briefs are able to take winning ideas forward into live projects, collaborating directly with the emerging creatives behind them. It's a rare and valuable opportunity for graduates to see their conceptual ideas become tangible work and to build professional experience from the outset.

In an industry often fixated on experienced voices, New Blood reminds us of the power of new perspectives. From type-led protests to sponsorship subversion, 2025's winners show that fresh talent isn't just thinking about the next campaign; it's thinking about the world and its place within it.

Things feel uncertain again—and the hits just keep coming for creatives. But before you throw in the towel, here's a rallying call to remind you why it's worth sticking around—and how you might adapt, rebuild, and even thrive.

We get it. You're tired. Tired of the ghosting. Tired of the unpaid pitches. Tired of the constant requests for free work. And tired of wondering whether AI will take your job—or worse, already has. We're exhausted—and the economic outlook isn't offering much hope, either.

I was sitting in Chania airport last week, waiting for our flight back to Manchester, when I decided to check my email and all my social platforms. The usual: a busy inbox, unread messages. But what stood out were the dozens of pleas for help.

One woman I hugely admire on LinkedIn sent me 25 mini voice messages. Twenty-five! I plugged in my headphones and listened. She was telling me how bad it was getting out there—and asking if we could do anything about it.

I sat back with a heavy sigh. How many times have we been here before?

The economic crisis of 2008. The global pandemic. A government seemingly doing everything in its power to destroy business confidence and growth—albeit with no clue that they're doing it. And now, the looming shadow of AI—enticing business owners who want to cut costs and delay hiring.

The result? Illustrators, photographers, retouchers, copywriters, designers, developers… all waiting. Work is paused. Projects frozen. Belts tightened. Everyone is holding their breath for the inevitable tax hikes this autumn.

But here's the thing—we've been through it all. And we've always come back fighting.

This time, though? Yes, budgets seem tighter. Opportunities feel scarcer. Algorithms have swallowed our reach. And we're all working harder than ever just to stay visible, relevant, and afloat.

We're knackered.

For those of us running independent businesses, many of us are burnt out. We kept going in 2020 when Boris told everyone to stay at home. There were no bailouts or handouts for us. We had no choice.

But before this becomes ever more depressing, here's the truth: The creative industry isn't dead; it's changing. Messily. Rapidly. And yes, sometimes painfully. But there are still good things happening—if you know where to look.

The shake-up was always coming

In some ways, we needed this big, fat reset. The past decade's gold rush of content creation, hyper-growth startups, and influencer-driven everything wasn't sustainable. Attention spans got shorter. Workloads got bigger. Fees got smaller. I guess it couldn't last.

Now we're in the messy middle. Things are shifting—not ending. The even better news is that change often brings opportunity. Yes, that means rolling up our sleeves again, but this is how we keep going.

Rethink how you market yourself

Businesses might sit on budgets for a while until they remember that marketing during a downturn can be hugely beneficial—especially when competitors have gone quiet.

And while AI might be changing how some work is done, it can't replicate you—your taste, your judgment, and your ability to create with empathy, intuition and soul. What it can do is act like a mini brainstorming team—helping you work faster, pitch better, or test new ideas. It's a chance to level up. To become a creative generalist and embrace new services.

All this change might feel like a threat, but there are plenty of ways creatives can use this era to their advantage. For example, clients might not know what they need right now. That's where we come in.

Pitch new solutions to old clients

As creatives, it's our job to guide, spark ideas, and propose new paths. Take social media... If you've been struggling with Instagram or X lately, chances are your clients have, too. They still want to reach their audiences.

Maybe it's time to go back to more traditional marketing methods, such as printed materials, local activations, and in-person experiences.

Clients are likely too busy to figure this out on their own. So pitch fresh ideas. Show them GEO (Generative Engine Optimisation) and why they need to pivot. Explain that algorithms are dead, and print might be a smarter move. (Take a look at Shangri-La's approach to marketing itself at Glastonbury this year, and you'll see how things are shifting.)

In 2025, there are so many ways to diversify your services. You've just got to consider what pain points you can solve.

Network in a post-social, post-search world

Social media's golden age is over. Algorithms have flattened reach and turned once-thriving platforms into pay-to-play deserts. Search isn't much better—AI summaries are eating clicks, and SEO efforts aren't working like they used to.

But that doesn't mean connection is dead—it's just moved elsewhere.

Now's the time to rediscover more meaningful ways to network: newsletters, small group meetups, events, or even one-to-one voice notes and DMs. (Yes, even if you're an introvert.)

Focus on building trust, not chasing likes. Get in touch with old contacts. Comment on someone's work because you genuinely admire it. Invite a few peers to a virtual coffee or lunch in the real world. That is real marketing now.

Find strength in your community

That woman on LinkedIn? She's not the only one. We've been hearing from countless creatives, all feeling the pinch.

But here's what's powerful: they're reaching out. They're starting conversations. They're forming collectives, testing new platforms, and rethinking everything—from pricing to purpose.

There's solidarity in this damn shitstorm. The more we talk, share, and support each other, the stronger we'll all be.

Take Creative Boom's new community, The Studio. With nearly 5,000 members in under five months, the demand for support, connection, and hope is evident. Don't suffer in silence. Having a network isn't just about emotional backup; you might end up sharing clients and work, too.

Redefine success for this season

It's OK to rest. To feel stuck. To mourn what once was. But don't walk away from the thing you love without asking: What might it look like in a different shape?

Maybe it's a side hustle for now. Maybe it's smaller, slower, and more meaningful. Maybe it's not about chasing virality or industry awards but about reconnecting with why you started in the first place.

Perhaps it's even a part-time job to tide you over. There's absolutely no shame in that. Pausing might just bring the answers.

This isn't the end. It's the rebuild.

What if this is the moment to reinvent? Not just your career, but the industry itself? Can we move to something more sustainable? Less burnout and more boundaries? Less gatekeeping, more generosity? Less chasing trends, more truth?

We've survived far worse. We're still here. And creativity—real, human, brave creativity—still matters. So no, don't give up just yet. There's a lot more to come in this incredible creative industry, which I've been proud to support over the last 16 years. We've just got to do what we've always done so well: assess, adapt, and survive the storm. Maybe we'll come out the other side even stronger.

The storm will pass. The industry will change. But creativity? That's what survives. So keep making. Keep showing up. And reach out—we're right here with you.

From graffiti walls in Hull to the drawing table at OurCreative, Chris Charlton's unconventional, creative path is a lesson in resilience, adaptability, and a love of illustration that refused to be shut down.

Chris Charlton's story isn't the kind you'd see on a neat careers diagram at a design school open day. In fact, it's anything but.

From scribbling comics as a child and fanzine layouts to Hull's graffiti underworld and leading illustrations for brands at OurCreative, Chris has built a life around drawing – even when the world around him seemed determined to push him elsewhere.

Today, Chris is the in-house illustrator at OurCreative, where he's been for the last 20 years. That's twenty years of adaptability, technical skill and instinctive creativity to an agency best known for its brand and packaging work. Yet behind his steady hand lies a story that zigzags through working-class pragmatism, a later-life autism diagnosis, and a relentless focus on illustration that never loosened its grip.

"I've drawn since I can remember," he says. As a child, his interests poured straight onto the page, whether it was comic heroes or just the things that fascinated him. "Everything else was just dead to me, really," he explains. "All I wanted to do was draw."

That singular drive didn't fit easily with the environment Chris grew up in. Family and teachers appreciated his artistic leanings but advised him to take a more stable route, nudging him away from pursuing art exams.

As a result, he left school without qualifications, barely engaging with subjects that felt irrelevant to his passion. Instead, he bunked off to public libraries, devouring books on art, design, and surrealism. "It was because all I wanted to do was draw," he says.

With no clear path to a creative career, Chris ended up glazing for the council as a teenager, but creativity would not leave him alone. At 16, he moved to Salford, fell in with the local rave scene, and found his way into graffiti, which was when Subway Art (the graffiti bible) blew his mind. "That was it – I was all about graffiti from there on," he laughs. Spray paint became a way to share images publicly, a craft which he took back to Hull to a new local audience.

Yet even that couldn't last forever. "You can only run away from police for so long," he jokes. From graffiti, Chris drifted into fanzines, exploring collage and handmade graphics with glue, scissors, and photocopiers. It was an early taste of what would become a lifelong ability to adapt and remix, turning influences into new forms.

If there's a thread through all of this, it's an intensity of focus that's hard to shake. In adulthood, that intensity finally had a name when Chris was diagnosed with autism. "I've always been a bit of an oddball anyway," he says. "It was no surprise." That "one-track mind" – to draw, to make, to express – became both refuge and compass.

A friend eventually encouraged him to try college despite his lack of formal qualifications. He arrived for his first interview with nothing more than a pencil drawing of his girlfriend's dirty pots in the sink, but that was enough. The tutors saw his potential, offered him a place, and he threw himself in. He aced his HND, topped his degree classes in graphic design, and launched, finally, into a creative career in his early thirties.

Though illustration would have been his preferred degree, graphic design was a strategic choice. "I could see there was a better chance of getting my foot in the door," Chris says. It provided him with a working knowledge of layouts, typography, and commercial processes, building a foundation for working in brand and packaging illustration. Still, drawing was always his anchor, whatever the label on his degree.

After a stint at a branding and packaging agency, Chris joined the studio that would later become OurCreative and has remained there for two decades.

In a world that often celebrates freelance illustrators as personal brands, with their signatures neatly stamped across a portfolio, Chris stands for a quieter kind of creative power. The in-house illustrator, after all, is a creative chameleon. Chris might be asked to deliver a playful line drawing one day and a complex digital collage the next. The point is not having a style but having the skills and curiosity to respond to every brief.

"I haven't really got a style of my own," Chris says. "For me, it's about the process of creating the images." It might sound counterintuitive, but his approach is one of method and rigour.

Faced with a brief, he dissects the reference images, identifying key components – line, shape, colour, mood – then recreates them from scratch, starting with pen or pencil before scanning and refining digitally. "The fun is actually figuring out how to recreate it, how to turn an idea into a tangible illustration," he explains.

His process usually starts with receiving a scribble, a note, or a photo reference from the design team, and then he gets to work. Working files are always editable for tweaks, but revisions are rare. That self-sufficiency is hard-won and the product of years of learning to think like a designer and draw like an illustrator, blending both mindsets.

Chris's reflections on AI-generated imagery also reveal a balanced and grounded view. "Design and illustration deserve democratising in a way," he says. "But people also like to see people with talent showing off their craft." Much as desktop publishing put power in people's hands in the '90s, AI is just another tool, he reasons – it might change the landscape, but the fundamentals of human craft still matter.

"I mean, I can remember a time when everybody in the music industry was getting a bit hot under the collar about synthesisers and stuff like that," Chris recalls. "This was forty-odd years ago, and you had people saying machines are gonna take over and all this – but here we are forty years later, and you've got thousands of people going to watch Oasis, which is just some guitar band."

Back in the day, Chris spent some time in a band that secured a record deal before he returned to drawing, so he knows his stuff.

"Every project feels special," he says. "For me to actually have a job like I've got is… I do count my blessings."

In some ways, his story is a poignant demonstration that there is no such thing as a straightforward path into the creative industries. "I left school with absolutely bugger all to my name," he says. It was a singular focus – drawing, illustrating, always making – that guided him through everything from graffiti and band gigs to higher education and a twenty-year design career.

If you think a safe, in-house creative role means less excitement, think again. Chris has had to move through decades of shifting client tastes, trends, and technologies, adapting at speed while keeping illustration at the heart of his work. Unlike some illustrators known for a singular voice, Chris flexes with every new challenge behind the scenes but never on autopilot.

For him, the job is a constant puzzle, pieced together line by line, shape by shape. That curiosity and the willingness to break apart a reference and rebuild it in his own hands is what has kept Chris not just employable but essential. In a world obsessed with personal brands, that might be the ultimate superpower.

His advice, whether spoken outright or read between the lines of his story, is simple: keep drawing. No matter where you start, no matter how many times you get nudged off course, if the need to create is there, follow it.

"It could have been completely different," Chris says. But it wasn't... because he never stopped.

Otherway has rebranded Naked Paper, formerly known as Naked Sprout, to embrace its natural brown colour, challenge industry norms, and make sustainability genuinely desirable.

For decades, the toilet paper aisle has been dominated by soft, white rolls promising purity and luxury, even if the reality is anything but. Naked Paper, the challenger brand once known as Naked Sprout, is out to flip those assumptions, proving that sustainability can be beautiful, honest, and even a little bit cheeky.

Working with creative studio Otherway, Naked Paper has unveiled a bold rebrand that repositions its unbleached, brown toilet paper as a premium, purpose-driven product in a category that has long relied on bleaching, fluff, and marketing spin. It's a move that feels both radical and refreshingly straightforward.

Jono Holt, partner at Otherway, explains that the rebrand was rooted in acknowledging a clear shift in Naked Paper's future ambitions. "Naked Sprout is a great business already, and they have a really loyal following, but their ambitions are huge, and it was clear to us the name was holding them back," he says.

As the brand plans to pivot from bamboo to recycled paper, including repurposing sources like Amazon parcels, the word 'sprout' started to feel limiting and even a bit too festive.

Beyond the name, Otherway took on a challenge many would shy away from. How to make brown toilet paper, a product that instinctively jars against what shoppers expect, feel desirable?

"We thought we have to deal with the elephant in the room," says Jono. "There's no point ignoring it as it will never go away."

By reframing brown as a symbol of honesty and quality, Otherway helped shift the perception of unbleached paper from an aesthetic compromise to a sustainable statement. Jono draws parallels with high-end brands that have celebrated earthy, natural tones.

"When we started to think about the colour brown, you actually see really beautiful brands such as Aesop and LeLabo," he explains. In truth, white toilet paper is far from natural as it's a product of industrial bleaching. "The traditional category has spent years convincing us that white is better, but the truth is it's not," he adds.

Visually, the new identity is as stripped-back as its name suggests. Minimal typography, restrained use of colour, and a no-nonsense aesthetic stand out in a market saturated with "marketing nonsense," as Jono puts it. That minimalism isn't just about looking cool, though, as it supports the sustainability mission by reducing printing impact.

Softness was another critical consideration, given the product's raw, unbleached character. "People's first reaction to brown toilet paper is that it must be hard, so the typography was specifically created to imply softness and comfort," Jono says. While the packaging is consciously pared back, its choices prioritise environmental credentials above all.

In parallel, the tone of voice strikes a confident balance between being playful and sharply credible. Bathroom talk can be awkward, but Naked Paper embraces it with wit and intelligence, never slipping into greenwashing or empty virtue-signalling.

"We wanted the brand to feel intelligent and smart," Jono notes. "There's a huge amount of thinking and innovation that goes into making toilet paper that has a very small carbon footprint, so it was essential our brand personality and tone reflected this."

Clear, factual copy is another pillar of Naked Paper's fresh identity. In a category where eco claims can often feel murky, Otherway knew honesty would be the only way to earn trust. "Data and facts. That's all you have. The more data you can share with people, the better," says Jono. It's a stance that resonates deeply with the brand's new name, keeping it stripped-back with nothing to hide.

At its heart, this project is about encouraging a fundamental rethink of how people view a daily essential. By leaning into the natural colour and telling the unvarnished truth about why toilet paper is usually white, Naked Paper invites people to change their own habits and embrace a product that is, quite literally, unbleached and unfiltered.

Otherway's thoughtful, honest design makes Naked Paper feel more like a lifestyle choice than a compromise, elevating a humble roll of brown toilet paper into a symbol of transparency and progressive sustainability. In a sector obsessed with pristine white promises, it's a refreshingly down-to-earth approach that might just clean up.

As Tripadvisor expands into a new era of AI-enabled planning and direct booking, Koto has crafted a fresh identity rooted in authentic, community-driven travel stories, proving the power of real voices in a world of polished, influencer-led feeds.

For millions of travellers, Tripadvisor has long been a byword for trustworthy advice. It's synonymous with real people, real reviews, and no glossing over the dodgy breakfasts or the wobbly pool tiles.

As the platform evolved from a review site to a full-fledged global trip planning and booking powerhouse, it needed a brand that could keep pace and turned to global creative studio Koto to redefine its identity for its next chapter.

The result is a warm, human-centred brand transformation that leans into what Tripadvisor has always done best: sharing authentic experiences, unfiltered and unapologetic.

Arthur Foliard, executive creative director at Koto, says: "As Tripadvisor is entering a new chapter of its growth, the brand had to meet that moment. That meant putting the heart of Tripadvisor – its global community of travellers – front and centre. We built the entire strategy and identity around real people: their words, their photos, their stories."

At the core of this new identity is a focus on Tripadvisor's most powerful asset: its enormous community of reviewers. Koto immersed itself in the ways people actually use Tripadvisor today, working closely with the company's internal teams across brand and product.

They anchored the redesign around a simple yet potent truth: people want advice from other travellers who reflect their values and lived experiences. No generic stock images or algorithmic nonsense – just honest, relatable insight.

That principle set the tone for the entire project, driving not just the visual refresh but also Tripadvisor's verbal identity. The voice is warmer, friendlier, and easier to connect with, flexing confidently between product and brand without losing its character.

Koto designed it to balance editorial clarity with the wisdom of its community, ensuring that the traveller's voice never gets lost in corporate messaging. Giselle Childs, senior strategist at Koto, explains: "We wrote like a well-travelled friend: simple, warm, thoughtful, and fun in the right moments. At the same time, we had to leave room for the traveller voice to shine."

Of course, you can't talk about Tripadvisor without mentioning Ollie, the owl mascot that's quietly watched over its brand for years, and he's had a glow-up, too. Once ornamental and static, he's now freed from his circular perch, becoming a more curious and dynamic companion whose gaze follows the traveller's content.

"We freed Ollie from the circle and gave it more personality, more flexibility, more play," Arthur says. "Now Ollie can peek, point, wink, and travel with you in a way it never could before."

Tripadvisor's signature green also received a thoughtful rethink. Originally inspired by "green means go", it's now warmer and more vibrant, complemented by new shades such as Trip Pine and Trip White to build depth, reassurance, and clarity.

A secondary palette, drawn directly from thousands of real traveller photographs, adds personality. Whether it's the blush of a sunset, a splash of sea foam, or the deep blue of a city night, these hues are designed to feel personal and lived-in — a tribute to the platform's true storytellers.

Tripadvisor's new custom typeface, Trip Sans, takes inspiration from its iconic bubble rating system, echoing its circular forms to create a sense of cohesion and warmth. Graphic devices borrow from the world of travel ephemera – rounded corners, green dots, and postcard-like frames – to gently structure content without overwhelming it.

Crucially, photography remains the emotional heartbeat of the brand. Sourced exclusively from real user content, the imagery is unfiltered, narrative-led, and dynamic, giving people an honest sense of what they might actually experience. Koto even developed a preset suite to unify tone and texture across this rich, user-generated pool of photos, preserving a sense of place and story.

Motion adds an extra flourish, but never in a showy way. Ollie's eyes subtly track content, interface elements glide with intent, and transitions are calm and measured. The overall impression is one of exploration and a kind of gentle, guided movement that mirrors the travel experience itself.

There's a risk, with so many layers, from typography and motion to graphic elements and photography, that things could feel cluttered or overly designed. However, Arthur and the team kept their north star clear.

"We built the system with the traveller in mind, not the designer," he says. That meant letting typography remain clean and editorial, allowing imagery to shine, and ensuring motion supports rather than distracts.

It's a subtle but confident shift that made Tripadvisor's brand feel more generous, more open, and crucially, more human. It shows that design systems don't have to flatten or sanitise a brand's personality, even at scale. Instead, they can amplify the quirks, stories, and wisdom of real people, which is exactly what Tripadvisor set out to champion when it first began 25 years ago.

Arthur sums it up neatly: "In a time when everything's being optimised or AI-generated, Tripadvisor's advantage is that it's real. And we made sure the brand wears that proudly."

It's a lesson for other travel or platform brands wrestling with authenticity. You can incorporate AI tools, a slick UX, and a seamless booking flow, but if your brand voice feels robotic or disconnected, people will see right through it.

With Koto's help, Tripadvisor has chosen to trust in the power of lived experience and to celebrate the beauty, humour, and occasional chaos of the road just as it comes. At the end of the day, the best trips are the ones you can't fully predict, and that's something no algorithm (no matter how clever) can ever truly replicate.

In the heart of Osaka, Derailleur Brew Works is crafting beers with bespoke, illustrated labels and creating jobs in one of Japan's most deprived neighbourhoods.

"Their commitment to unconventional brewing inspires me," says the Japanese illustrator and designer Ryo Okamoto. "They constantly create new beer styles, allowing for lots of creative freedom and experimental designs."

Okomoto san is one of the many artists commissioned by the Japanese brewery Derailleur Brew Works, a company that's doing things differently in the world of beer. And we do mean differently. Derailleur is unique not just in terms of the beers and flavours it comes up with but also in the role it plays in its local community and in how it values local artists and illustrators.

So far, the company has concocted over 220 beers, and at its current pace, Derailleur releases four new beers a month, along with four refinements of existing brews. Each new edition creates an opportunity for an illustrator to create the label. Going into one of their five outlets in Osaka is like stepping into a gallery of contemporary Japanese art and design.

"Each project comes with a unique theme, pushing me to explore new creative avenues. It's always challenging, immensely enjoyable, and helps me grow as an artist," adds Hisae Sasaki, a designer whose career Derailleur helped kickstart when they first commissioned her. Since then, she's gone global with client briefs and her Room brand.

Nishinari Riot Ale is Derailleur's signature tipple, paying homage to the district's difficult past. Between the 1960s and 2008, suffering high unemployment and homelessness, the Nishinari ward was regularly the scene of alcohol-fuelled riots. Created by Okomoto-san, the label depicts a small, eclectic scattering of buildings sandwiched between Osaka's high-rise concrete office blocks.

The menu includes standards such as a Hazy IPA and a Pilsner, as well as more adventurous offerings like Mix Juiced IPA, Mari0net IDoL, and the award-winning fruit ale 396 #002. Or try Shinksekai New Romancer, another flagship of the company.

"With its cyberpunk, Nishi-Nari slum vibe and Tsutenkaku Tower imagery, Shinksekai New Romancer embodies our terroir," says Derailleur founder Akinori Yamazaki. "It's a fruit beer inspired by Osaka's iconic mixed fruit juice. Another pride is DB-69, a hazy, sake-inspired beer brewed annually in collaboration with sake producers using sake yeast. Its artwork and unique flavour, inspired by unfiltered, rustic Doburoku sake – 69 reads as 'Roku' in Japanese – are standout."

In addition to creating label illustrations, Okomoto-san is a longtime friend of Yamazaki-san and takes on an art direction role with Derailleur. His futuristic, cyberpunk and anime stylings fit well with an organisation committed to its against-the-odd setting. "Drawing from Osaka's role in the film Black Rain, I incorporate elements of Ridley Scott's early chaotic Asian aesthetic, retro cyberpunk, or anime-inspired touches. The name Derailleur guides me toward non-conventional graphics in a positive sense," he explains.

Growing from around 70 employees to 500 today, Derailleur Brew Works is helping change the fortunes of the Nishinari ward and its residents. From the start, it has employed the so-called unemployable – addicts as well as those with physical and mental disabilities. Hours and tasks are flexible, allowing employees to do what they're able to do. This social impact makes the collaboration all the more rewarding for the artists involved.

As well as its five outlets in Osaka, Derailleur operates three in Kyoto, one in Fukuoka, and one in Tokyo, with another location scheduled to open soon. Watch out for special imported editions of Derailleur Brew Works beers at Japanese Film Club screenings in London cinemas, which include bespoke artwork.

Big thanks to Will Stewart of MadeGood Films, who helped us source and translate the material for this story.

Fed up with bloated processes and predictable design, Mischief Maker launches with a mission to revive brand storytelling through bold, thoughtful mischief. We talked with co-founders Natalie Prout and Vini Vieira to explore how the fledgling studio plans to shake up the system.

In an industry all too often weighed down by deck overload and endless layers of sign-off, a new creative studio is out to make a clean break. Mischief Maker, founded by Natalie Prout and Vini Vieira, is on a mission to reignite the spark in branding with one dose of carefully honed mischief at a time.

Officially launched this month, Mischief Maker is the product of what both Natalie and Vini describe as a year of transition and questioning. "2024 was a year of real transition for both of us. We were each asking, 'Where to next?'—still wanting to make meaningful, impactful work, but not finding places with the appetite to support what that really takes," Vini explains.

When a mutual contact spotted their shared frustrations and connected them, the chemistry was immediate. "Too many brands today have lost what made them matter. We built Mischief Maker to change that – a studio where we could challenge the system, stay close to the work, and do things differently."

Mischief with meaning

The clue is in the name: Mischief Maker wants to inject nerve back into branding, not just noise. Vini describes it as finding the right friction, a moment where a brand can choose bravery over caution and truly stand apart.

He says: "Mischief means showing there's life behind the logo. Not chaos, but conviction. The real risk isn't trying something unproven. It's doing nothing new and becoming forgettable."

Rethinking the agency model

Forget about long agency hierarchies or hourly billing that strangles ambition, too. Natalie and Vini have built Mischief Maker's model around outcomes, not hours spent. Their approach is rooted in ambition-led scoping, bringing in trusted collaborators only when the brief demands it.

"We scope based on ambition, not timesheets (sorry, procurement)," Vini adds with a wry smile. "Sometimes it's just our team. Sometimes, we pull in additional collaborators who share our mindset. It's lean and focused, with lots of client collaboration. No filler. Just real partnership with a bias for impact."

That focus on lean, senior-led creative is a direct reaction to their agency backgrounds, where climbing the ladder often pulled talented leaders away from the craft. "We're both senior enough to know better – but bold enough to make it happen," Vini reflects.

"Too often in this industry, the further you rise, the further you drift from the work. We didn't want that. Not just because we love it, but because staying close benefits everyone, especially younger talent."

Natalie shares that sentiment, highlighting the importance of visibility. For Mischief Maker, keeping senior talent engaged is as much about mentorship as it is about quality. Post-pandemic restructures have left many juniors without daily exposure to creative leadership, a gap that Mischief Maker aims to actively address.

Balancing craft and conviction

Of course, you might wonder how mischief balances with the meticulous craft that great branding requires. Vini sees it as a creative tension that can spark results. "Mischief shakes things up. Maker makes it stick," he says. "One brings the imagination, the other delivers the craft. Mischief is how we push ideas further, but always with clear intention, not chaos. Coherence matters. Detail matters. We don't separate strategy from execution – we fuse them."

It's a philosophy both founders have refined after years of working inside larger agencies. While grateful for those experiences, they are clear-eyed about what they left behind.

"Big agencies taught us a lot, and we'll forever be thankful to them," Vini says. "But they also taught us what we want to avoid: politics, a pyramid structure, spending all day in meetings, turning down creatively brilliant projects because they didn't 'fit the model.' We wanted to build something leaner and sharper where ambition doesn't get slowed down by process. Where great ideas always win. And where honesty is met with respect."

Escaping design sameness

The stakes for brands today couldn't be higher. In a world saturated with "meh" design, standing out is more important than ever. "There's a lot of sameness in brand design right now," Vini observes. "A lot of people are pulling from the same sources most of the time. Pinterest, we're looking at you," he jokes. That endless scroll of familiar references can quickly become a creative trap.

Instead, Natalie and Vini encourage their teams and their clients to look beyond the screen. "Take a stroll down Cecil Court near Covent Garden," says Vini, "and you'll find secondhand bookshops full of forgotten gems – stamps, music scores, typography, old packaging. That's the kind of reference you won't serendipitously find online."

This principle of fresh, sometimes unexpected inspiration feeds directly into Mischief Maker's process. Early ideas start with sketches, not polished digital mocks, keeping the focus on thinking rather than surface styling. "That's what keeps the work from falling into pattern," Vini explains.

Built for brave brands

Strategically, Natalie stresses the value of clear boundaries. Mischief Maker is upfront about what it will not do, which helps shape stronger briefs and avoid brand dilution. Honesty is also key in relationships with clients. "Our best clients are visionary, gutsy, and don't want to be wallpaper," Vini says. "They know their brand matters, but also that it could matter more. We help them shake things up with intention and turn ambition into action. If you're trying to fit in, we're probably not your people."

Encouraging bravery is baked into their model, but not for show. Mischief Maker aims to build long-term partnerships that empower clients to make bolder moves with confidence. "Bravery is an overused word, but for us, it's simply the courage to try something unproven," Vini explains. "We support that by showing both sides: the upside of boldness and the cost of staying still. We bring optimism, but we also bring honesty. If a decision's going to dilute the work or defeat the purpose, we'll say so."

The road ahead

Looking ahead, Natalie and Vini are clear-eyed about their ambitions. The studio wants to grow a team that challenges its thinking and pushes creativity, strategy, and culture further with every new project.

"We want to build a team that doesn't just share our values — they stretch them," Vini says. There are even plans to open a workshop to produce Mischief Maker's own outputs, physically embodying their creative philosophy. "Big dreams – but that's the joy of going your own way!"

It's a joy but also a challenge. Mischief Maker enters a branding landscape where words like "disruptive" are too often used as hollow slogans and where standing apart can quickly become a surface-level exercise. Natalie and Vini know the real test will be keeping the work intentional, impactful, and rooted in craft.

If they can hold onto that balance, Mischief Maker is well-placed to live up to its name. By fusing strategic thinking with imaginative mischief and refusing to compromise on the quality of the craft, they might just help brands remember what it feels like to truly matter again.

For those who feel branding has grown too safe, too predictable, or too lifeless, Mischief Maker could be exactly the jolt the industry needs. After all, a bit of mischief – done with conviction – might be the only way to make branding bold again.

Rooted in multicultural experience and rigorous design philosophy, the Los Angeles-based Design Dept is proving that minimalism and emotion can go hand in hand.

It really takes something special to stand out in the creative industries these days, and Design Dept, founded by Ali Martín Filsoof, may have just found that something. The Los Angeles-based studio has quietly carved a space for brand identities that balance radical simplicity with cultural depth, drawing on Ali's own richly layered upbringing and global mindset.

Ali's journey began far from LA. Born in Tehran and raised partly in Lima, he moved to California as a child, growing up at the intersection of worlds. "My upbringing across Tehran, Lima, and Los Angeles taught me that great design lives at the intersection of contrast and convergence," he explains.

Tehran instilled in him a respect for precision and symbolism rooted in centuries of calligraphy and geometric ornament. In Lima, he found boldness in vibrant street murals, hand-painted signs, and a layered aesthetic that celebrated improvisation and emotional resonance. Los Angeles offered yet another layer, being a city of creative synthesis, where the grit of converted warehouses and the soft light of mid-century design exist side by side, feeding a culture of openness and collaboration.

"These three cities, each radically distinct, shaped a design sensibility grounded not in aesthetic but in the tension between structure and spontaneity," Ali reflects. That philosophy is woven through everything Design Dept takes on – from biotech to Baroque music ensembles – underpinned by what he calls "clarity, intentionality, emotional resonance, and craft."

A department by name, an extension by nature

The name Design Dept comes from Ali's vision of a studio that would act as an in-house design partner rather than an external vendor, working within clients' cultures, processes, and ambitions.

"We embed ourselves in our clients' worlds and engage with their team culture, so our presence and work feels internal, not external," he says. That means adapting to client workflows, collaborating on equal footing, and co-creating design systems that are not only beautiful but genuinely useful.

That "department" mentality has helped Design Dept work with a wide and eclectic roster of clients. There's FanDuel, where sports passion meets mainstream audiences; Central Pacific Bank, which blends mid-century design with Hawaiian tradition; St. Jane Hotel in Chicago, a celebration of architecture and city lore; and Fatty15, a science-backed supplement brand that challenges perceptions of wellness branding.

Fatty15, in particular, showcases the studio's deft balancing act. "The biggest challenge was conveying complex science in a way that was emotionally resonant without compromising credibility," Ali explains.

The studio designed a reusable glass bottle with bamboo caps, chose algae-based inks, and stripped away excess packaging to avoid contributing to the waste problem in the wellness sector. They also created an education-driven newsletter that quickly grew to over 200,000 subscribers. "For us, design is more than what something looks like. It's how it works, how it educates, and how it earns trust in the community over time."

Strategy meets soul

Ali's worldview and sense of place shine particularly brightly in projects like Central Pacific Bank. Rather than default to tired Hawaiian clichés, the team took an ethnographic approach, exploring the bank's heritage and cultural context in depth.

"We unpack questions like: Where and why did the company begin? What tropes should we avoid? What unique brand truth can we claim as our own?" Ali explains. The final identity used colour palettes inspired by local nature, animal motifs, and Japanese design influences, reflecting Hawaii's layered cultural stories with honesty rather than tokenism.

That method of deep cultural listening also applies to Design Dept's own team. Ali has intentionally built an international network of collaborators in Spain, the UK, China, the Netherlands, Costa Rica, and Poland.

"The best creative ideas know no borders," he says. "Global collaboration expands our perspective beyond the local or familiar, helping us avoid the echo chamber of regional thinking and shape brands with broader relevance."

Minimalism, redefined

Minimalism is at the heart of Design Dept's aesthetic, but it is far from cold or clinical. Ali is influenced by Japanese and Swiss design masters, drawn to the power of negative space, refined typography, and structured grids. Josef Müller-Brockmann's teachings are a particular foundation, inspiring a rigour Ali describes as "the art of subtraction."

"Minimalism doesn't mean monotony," he insists. "We introduce tension where it's needed, bending the grid to let personality surface. It's a constant calibration between clarity and character, stillness and expression that gives the work its quiet power."

Projects like the rebrand for the St. Jane Hotel in Chicago exemplify this approach. The project paid homage to the building's historic architecture while introducing contemporary cues that connected with modern travellers. Awards from Condé Nast Traveller and Communication Arts followed, which serve as a testament to how well-judged minimalism can resonate when executed with soul.

Designing for trust

It's clear that Ali doesn't see branding as surface-deep. In his eyes, design is a tool to foster trust and connect people to ideas and each other.

"Design can't just be decoration. It has to serve something bigger," he says. That sense of responsibility is deeply ingrained in his international experiences and the conviction that design should be a bridge rather than a wall.

That's why, whether it's a biotech supplement brand or a baroque music ensemble, Design Dept begins with research and builds upward from what is true and relevant. "Our clients might change, but our point of view doesn't," Ali says. "It's rooted in research, rigour, and craft."

Beyond the screen

Ali's dreams for the future of Design Dept extend beyond brand guidelines and packaging. One of his ambitions is to design a boutique hotel inspired by his travels, a place that combines influences from Parisian bookshops, the vibrancy of Roma Norte, the island quiet of Naoshima, and the creative energy of LA's Fairfax District.

"A scent custom-formulated with notes of sandalwood and sun-faded textiles," he muses. "Ten curated street food stalls in the restaurant. A hidden ramen bar leading to a speakeasy co-designed by Lenny Kravitz." You can hear the enthusiasm crackle in his voice. "It would be a brand you don't just see – you touch it, taste it, sleep in it. A living, breathing identity."

That expansive, sensory ambition underscores why Design Dept feels so refreshing in today's branding landscape. Its principles are structured and rigorous but never cold. The work carries warmth, personality and humanity. Ali's multicultural lens, honed through years of living and working in creative capitals, anchors each project in empathy and genuine curiosity.

Building for tomorrow

Design Dept has proven it can move fluidly across industries without losing its signature point of view, staying true to an approach that is as strategic as it is soulful. For Ali, that's the future of branding.

"Brands are under so much pressure to perform these days, but if you don't take the time to get the fundamentals right, you're just adding more noise," he says. "Our role is to ask the hard questions, build a system that works, and leave enough space for something genuinely human to come through."

It's a philosophy that seems to resonate, as evidenced by the awards shelf. Fatty15 alone took home accolades from The One Show, Pentawards, and Dieline, while other projects have earned recognition from the Art Directors Club, Communication Arts, and more.

Awards aside, though, Ali still measures success more quietly. He describes walking through a bank branch in Hawaii after its rebrand, seeing customers interacting more comfortably and feeling more at home, or hearing from Fatty15 customers who appreciated the transparency and purpose behind the design.

"Design, at its best, should make people feel something," he says. "Seen, included, considered. That's what we try to do."

For a studio called Design Dept, the name couldn't be more apt. It's a place built on collaboration, depth, and thoughtful simplicity, acting as a genuine design department for anyone who wants to build something with meaning.

Sometimes, the best ideas come when you're off the clock. Here's why rest is your secret weapon in hard times.

In a culture obsessed with productivity, doing nothing can feel like failure. But if your creativity's running on empty, stepping back might be the most powerful move you make all summer. In this article, I'm going to explain why purposeful rest matters and how to give yourself permission to embrace it.

Let's start with a heretical truth: you are not a content farm with a pulse. And yet, if you're a designer, illustrator, photographer or any other creative human, you've probably been sold the myth that your worth is measured by how much you churn out. More posts. More pitches. More side hustles. More, more, more.

But creativity doesn't work that way. It's not a tap you wrench open when the economy tanks or the client pipeline runs dry. It's more like a moody cat, affectionate one day, hiding under the sofa the next. And no amount of all-nighters or productivity apps will change that.

Creative cycles: they ebb and flow

Although it might feel like it during deadlines, your mind isn't actually a 24/7 production line; it's a living ecosystem with seasons of blossoming and dormancy. Just think about it: history is littered with brilliant artists and thinkers who did nothing spectacular for weeks.

Einstein famously daydreamed at his patent office desk before formulating his theory of relativity. J.K. Rowling dreamed up Harry Potter while stuck on a delayed train. Archimedes had his "Eureka!" moment lounging in a bath. Beethoven often took long, aimless walks through the countryside when wrestling with new symphonies… and then suddenly had a thunderclap moment that changed everything.

This is normal. Ideas need time to percolate under the surface, like strong coffee. So, if you're in a creative slump, it doesn't mean you're broken or lazy; it simply means you're human.

What 'doing nothing' really means

So how do you, well, do nothing? Before you grab your phone and sink into three hours of algorithmic cat videos, let's get clear: doing nothing doesn't mean numbing your brain with dopamine hits. In fact, mindless scrolling is the opposite of true rest. It floods your mind with noise, leaving no quiet corner for new connections to spark.

In contrast, doing nothing is an intentional pause. It's stepping away from screens, expectations and the relentless dopamine drip. So your brain can wander, wonder and knit half-formed thoughts into fresh ideas.

True rest means stillness, space and disconnection.

Picture the last time you had a big idea. Chances are it didn't arrive when you were hunched over a laptop at 1am, desperately refreshing your inbox. It probably popped up when you were in the shower, staring out of a train window, or lying in bed listening to the rain.

These moments of stillness and disconnection allow your brain's 'default mode network' to light up—the bit responsible for daydreaming, mulling over memories, and making unlikely connections. It's here, in this background hum, that innovation often bubbles up.

Why your brain needs the downtime

Neuroscientists call this process creative incubation. When you switch off from active problem-solving, your subconscious gets to play. It rummages around your mental attic, dusting off old ideas and combining them in new ways.

Boredom, that thing Silicon Valley has taught you to avoid, is rocket fuel for this process. Studies show that people who are bored come up with more original ideas than those who are perpetually entertained. So the next time you feel restless doing 'nothing', congratulate yourself. You're literally rewiring your brain for better ideas.

Let's be honest: this is a radical idea, especially if you're self-employed. Freelancers, artists and small business owners live with the low hum of anxiety that if you're not hustling, you're failing. In an economic downturn, the pressure doubles. Add AI's looming presence, and it's easy to feel like you must prove your human worth by working even harder.

But overwork is not a badge of honour; it's a fast track to burnout and stale ideas. Choosing rest is quietly rebellious. It says that my value isn't measured in billable hours or LinkedIn updates. It's measured in the originality, quality and depth of what I create... and for that, I need time to breathe.

How to rest

So, how do you actually do nothing when your to-do list hovers over your shoulder like a Dickensian ghost? Start by following these tips.

Take micro-breaks: Set a timer every hour to step away from your desk and take a brief break. Make tea. Stretch. Stare out the window like a Victorian poet.

Go on pointless walks: No destination, no podcasts, no guilt. Let your mind wander as your feet do.

Try a digital detox: Set aside one evening a week to turn off your phone. See what your brain does when it's not being fed a constant stream of novelty.

Block out recovery time: You might think you should only do this in busy periods. However, it's especially important in quiet months because when work is slow, we all feel the urge to panic and hustle. Instead, use the downtime to nap, read or simply potter about. Trust that you're refuelling.

Remember: doing nothing is not the enemy of progress. It's the fertile soil that makes growth possible. And in a world that runs on 'always on', choosing to switch off is an act of quiet power.

So, this summer, dare to be idle. Give your mind the space it's begging for. Because sometimes, the most productive thing you can do for your creative work, and your weary soul, is absolutely nothing at all.

Mr Bump. Little Miss Sunshine. Mr Tickle. Little Miss Brave. They're all back thanks to a new animated series created by Maga, an animation studio in Italy.

Since 1971, the Mr Men and Little Miss characters created by Roger and Adam Hargreaves have entertained children and inspired creatives worldwide. While we think of them as a quintessentially English creation, they're an international phenomenon. When rights owner Sanrio decided to create a new YouTube series featuring 12 of the Mr Men and Little Misses, Maga Animation Studio in Monza, Italy, stepped up to the task.

Bringing characters designed over 50 years ago to life in 2025 meant some updating would be necessary. The creative team at Maga wanted to preserve the spirit of the original Hargreaves creations while attracting a new generation. The graphic qualities of the books – which have inspired everyone from graffiti artists to logo designers – formed the starting point for the look.

"The idea was to keep the simplicity of the elements and the originality of the shapes," says art director and production designer Alessia Garofalo. "In the books, there is a lot of breathing space, so we chose not to overload the backgrounds with too many elements to not lose this lightness. We initially experimented with different possibilities, like adding textures and shades, but the use of flat colours was the best choice to preserve the authenticity of the brand and the original design."

However, whereas in the books, you'll notice that the heavy linework of the characters is often replicated in the background, for the animated series, a lighter approach was chosen. This decision was taken in consultation with Sanrio's UK team. "We also worked together to enhance the colour palettes, making them more lively and vibrant," says Alessia.

These creative decisions set the stage for putting the Mr Men and Little Miss characters in motion, which was the domain of director and animation supervisor Francesca Peitrobelli. The in-print characters were studied in detail to ensure the animators wouldn't miss a single nuance or trait. The focus was on creating motion that was fluid, simple, theatrical and charming, with a touch of humour.

"The pose-to-pose style was perfect for these animated shorts that are meant to resemble an illustrated book coming to life and to keep the characters consistently aligned with their original models," explains Francesca. "For the same reason, in each episode, there are scenography transitions with elements entering and exiting from all directions, similar to a theatrical set changing as the characters perform."

The characterisation of each Mr Man and Little Miss was planned before animation began, taking into account their visual forms as well as their dialogue and the expressions and emotions they'd need to convey.

"For example, Little Miss Princess needs to have sweet and shy poses, and when she laughs or cries, it needs to be more restrained. On the other hand, Little Miss Surprise and Little Miss Sunshine express their enthusiasm in everything they do with open poses and a constant smile. On the contrary, Mr Grumpy has more closed-off poses and a sad or angry mouth, except when he explodes with anger," says Francesca.

A traditional, paperless 2D animation process was followed, utilising Toon Boom Harmony, with pose-to-pose animation rigs supported by a custom-built library to achieve consistency and efficiency. Compositing was also carried out in Harmony.

"I became very fond of Little Miss Princess because she's a bit clumsy and awkward," says Francesca.

"While working on this series, I grew very fond of Little Miss Sunshine, who really inspired me with her positive energy and optimist view of life, even though I think it's totally fine to relate more to Mr Grumpy sometimes," adds Alessia.

Social impact brand Ocean Bottle has unveiled a striking new identity and strategy designed to reconnect with its roots, inspire global action, and drive systems-level change.

Ocean Bottle, the social impact business fighting ocean plastic, has unveiled a fresh brand identity designed to match its ambitious mission and ever-expanding reach.

The London-based company, known for its reusable bottles that fund the collection of ocean-bound plastic, partnered with Made Thought and Tokyo Calm to rebuild its brand from the ground up, with results that feel both powerful and purpose-driven.

At its heart, the brand refresh is far more than a visual overhaul. It represents what co-founder Will Pearson calls "a strategic, creative and operational shift that really fine tunes how we show up in the world."

As Ocean Bottle continues to scale – especially in the U.S. market, where its products are now stocked in REI and Nordstrom – the company needed a system that could keep pace with its growth. "More focused, consistent, and emotionally connected to our DNA and why we started in the first place," as Will describes it.

Since launching in 2018, Ocean Bottle has turned the humble water bottle into a powerful catalyst for change. Each purchase funds the equivalent of 1,000 plastic bottles in collection weight, with local collectors earning not only fair wages but also access to vital social services, such as education, healthcare, and financial security.

Projects across Indonesia, the Philippines, Kenya, Brazil, Egypt, and India have all benefited from Ocean Bottle's mission. To date, it has stopped over 20 million kilograms of plastic – equivalent to 1.8 billion bottles – from reaching the sea.

Yet, as its ambitions grew, so did the need for a brand identity that could communicate its story clearly, credibly, and consistently. Made Thought stepped in to conduct a thorough brand audit, helping Ocean Bottle define new creative pillars and a refreshed tone of voice rooted in honesty and emotional connection.

According to Millie Allen, head of marketing, "This refresh reconnects us with the emotion and urgency behind our mission and gives us the tools to communicate it clearly, boldly, and consistently."

From there, Tokyo Calm built a future-proof digital design system engineered for a growing global audience. The new identity feels bold and adaptable, making it easy to scale and share across the full spectrum of channels, which was a vital step for a company whose audience now spans the globe. Internally, Ocean Bottle's own team led the charge of refining every last element, ensuring the brand felt coherent and true to its purpose.

There's a deliberate sense of transparency in how the brand shows up that extends beyond the surface. At a time when greenwashing remains a concern in the sustainability space, Ocean Bottle wants its message to be as authentic and data-driven as possible.

Through its impact platform, Ocean Co, customers can precisely trace where their money makes a difference, seeing how their purchase supports local collectors and coastal communities. This unflinching commitment to evidence and openness is reflected in the brand's new tone of voice and its visual expression.

With updated guidelines, flexible templates, and streamlined assets, Ocean Bottle is well-positioned for its next phase of growth. Beyond its core product, the brand continues to explore ways to scale systems-level impact, aiming to prevent a staggering 7 billion ocean-bound plastic bottles from entering the ocean by 2025. It's an ambitious target, but one that feels more achievable with a brand identity that matches its scale and urgency.

It's hard to overstate just how emotionally resonant Ocean Bottle's mission remains. The new look and language celebrate the people behind the impact: local communities, passionate employees, and engaged customers who want to play a part in solving one of the planet's most pressing challenges. It feels like a brand built to invite everyone in, removing barriers and sparking change through something as familiar and every day as a water bottle.

By balancing strategic clarity with an unshakable sense of purpose, Ocean Bottle's latest brand evolution proves that sustainability doesn't have to be worthy or joyless. It can be dynamic, design-led, and even hopeful.

As the oceans face unprecedented pressures, it's precisely this blend of creativity, credibility and optimism that could turn the tide.

We speak with Brian Collins, renowned designer and co-founder of COLLINS agency, about championing the possibilities of design and wanting to create a space for young talent to network.

Catching the effervescent Brian Collins for a few words at COLLINS House started to feel like Mission Impossible. He was very much the star of the show, with talent from across the industry clamouring to chat with him.

It says a lot about who he is that, when he finally had a free moment, he came to find us for a chat. This is only the second year that COLLINS House has been at Cannes Lions, but this is far from Brian's first rodeo.

Together with his co-founder, Leland Maschmeyer, he launched their acclaimed agency in 2008 with a mission that still holds true today: "Design is not what we make. Design is what we make possible".

Part of his ongoing work is challenging the reductive view that all designers do is make things look good.

Reflecting on his early Cannes experience, he doesn't mince his words: "When design was made a new category at Cannes years ago, I was thrilled. But those early conversations became embalmed in marketing jargon. Starved of originality.

"Designers were cast not as thinkers or makers of meaning, but as exotic menials—handmaidens to advertising's much louder machinery. Design was praised not for making things work better but for making things just look better. As if our vocation was meant only to seduce rather than reveal.

"Few were thinking about design as a distinct intellectual or business practice with a powerful legacy and philosophy.

"Yet, three years ago, we were invited by the good people at Cannes Lions to speak about our work. We accepted. The conversation had evolved for the better. So we've returned ever since. Because sometimes, the best way to change a story is to help push a better one into being."

And when he stepped onto the Croisette?

"Oh my. The dazzling coastline is now all roped off. Shrink-wrapped. Covered. The beach is temporarily replaced by loud, corporate strip malls. The grand old French hotels stand here stunned—dolled up to pitch crypto platforms. Billboards and LED screens smother their glorious facades. Techno blares everywhere.

"Yes. There is a place for all that. Fine. But we thought this great city could also have an alternative place for creative people."

This disconnect sparked the idea of creating something different. A Cannes experience — their way.

"My first experience of Cannes Lions was of a ridiculously beautiful, inviting place for grown-ups with good jobs. The Carlton Hotel was an always open, giant, crumbling Beaux-Arts stage where people with taste and brains held court from breakfast through a hangover. I would meet Sir John Hegarty, Susan Credle of FCB, Rick Boyko of Ogilvy, Cindy Gallop of BBH, Bob Greenberg, and Nick Law of R/GA there. Designers, writers, artists, directors, musicians, founders—drifted in and out of conversations that didn't include words like 'brandscape'.

"You could think. You could talk. You could sit on the Carlton Hotel beach without a wristband.

"But all of the big, powerful players now go and hide out at Hotel du Cap in Antibes instead. That's miles and miles away.

"And today, the Carlton Hotel is insanely expensive. That's good for rich folk, but what about all of the new, young, creative people who don't have that kind of money but who still want to get into the conversation as I used to do?

"So, my team and I set out to recreate a place like that – where you can bump into all sorts of amazing people. Leaders. Novices. Easily. For free. Where guests are not forced to wear plastic lanyards. Where your identity is not reduced to your resume."

COLLINS House had a strict no-lanyard policy. It's intentionally designed as a refreshing, non-hierarchical space.

Big names like Sir John Hegarty, Will.i.am, Scott Galloway, Cindy Gallop, Liz Taylor of Ogilvy, Oscar-winning director Taiki Waititi, and Gap, Inc. CEO Richard Dickson have all visited and mingled with everyone from first-time studio owners and freelance illustrators to CMOs and CEOs of global agencies.

It's refreshing to see someone of Brian's calibre think beyond his own agenda and genuinely want to support other independent and emerging players.

He recognises how difficult it can be for brilliant creatives who don't play the social media game to get noticed.

COLLINS House is a response to that as a place for enormously gifted people who may not be as social and find navigating the Croisette overwhelming.

He's charming, affable, and inspiring, so naturally, we wanted to know what advice he'd give to someone trying to emulate his success.

"That would be a mistake," he said. "A terrible, grave mistake. I'm no model. I'm not a guru. I can barely program my own coffee machine. But what you should do is work absurdly hard—like a squirrel on a double espresso hard—and become so good they can't ignore you, no matter how much they want to."

Brian, along with his team and partners, has put in years of hard work and advocates chasing mastery of craft over fame.

Although he isn't against promotion, in fact, he encourages creating a bit of 'hullabaloo'. He asks, "Why not learn to create a little noise about yourself—and your point of view? So your own voice is heard out in the world?"

He's quick to credit the work of his team and partners, dropping names not for clout but in gratitude. Our conversation ends with an anecdote from his business partner, Leland.

"In the middle of a client meeting, Lee suddenly wrote down two words about who we are when we are at our best. 'BE. VERY.' Be very intense, very focused, very quiet, very flamboyant, very funny, very cerebral, very musical. Very people are the ones who help us make better sense of the life around us."

'Be.Very'. is the perfect takeaway from not just Brian and COLLINS House but from Cannes Lions at its best.

Look out for more nuggets of gold from Brian on The Creative Boom Podcast in September.

Client vanished into thin air? Here's your survival guide for staying sane and professional when clients go quiet and disappear.

The email thread goes quiet. The WhatsApp ticks go blue. The invoice? Unpaid. Your heart-rate? Through the roof.

When clients disappear without warning, it's not just frustrating; it can knock your confidence, disrupt your cash flow, and leave you wondering what you did wrong. But you're not alone, and it's not always personal.

Read on to discover how to stay calm, protect your business, and move forward with your head held high.

First, breathe

Before you spiral into a vortex of self-doubt, let's get one thing straight: client ghosting is rarely a reflection of your work quality, personality, or professional worth. It's usually about them, not you.

Maybe their budget got slashed overnight. Perhaps they're drowning in a corporate restructure. Their internal champion might have left, taking your project approval with them. Or (and this happens more often than you might think), perhaps they're simply overwhelmed and avoiding difficult conversations. Some people find it easier to disappear than to say, "We've changed direction" or "We can't afford this right now".

Even the most successful creatives get ghosted. That award-winning designer whose Instagram makes you feel inadequate? They've been left hanging, too. Is the copywriter charging premium rates? Yep, them as well. It's not a sign you're doing something wrong; it's a hazard of running a creative business in an unpredictable world.

And always remember: you're running a business, not auditioning for approval. Your worth isn't determined by how quickly clients respond to your emails, and your success isn't measured by having a 100% retention rate.

Sometimes, projects fall through, budgets evaporate, and priorities shift. That's commerce, not character assassination. Reframe it as such, and it becomes a lot easier to deal with.

Follow up (but like a pro, not a pest)

So what next? Well, when silence stretches beyond reasonable response times, it's time for strategic follow-up. The key is maintaining professionalism while protecting your dignity. Think less "desperate ex-partner" and more "savvy business owner".

Here are some scripts that strike the right balance:

For overdue responses: "Hi [Name], I wanted to check in on the [project name] as I haven't heard back since my last email on [date]. I understand priorities can shift, so if you need to pause or reschedule, just let me know. Otherwise, I'm ready to move forward whenever works for you."

For unpaid invoices: "Hi [Name], I'm following up on invoice #[number], which was due on [date]. I'm sure it's just slipped through the cracks – could you let me know when I can expect payment? Thanks in advance."

For projects in limbo: "Hi [Name], I know things can get busy, but I wanted to touch base about [project]. If you need more time to make decisions or if circumstances have changed, I'd appreciate a quick update so I can plan accordingly."

Notice what these scripts have in common? They're polite but not apologetic, direct but not demanding, and they provide the client with an easy exit while maintaining your boundaries.

One more thing: timing matters. Don't wait weeks to follow up; that signals you're not taking your business seriously. But don't pester daily, either. A good rule is to follow up after one week of silence, then again after two weeks, and then consider your options.

Protect yourself next time

Ultimately, the best cure for ghosting anxiety is prevention. Because while you can't control client behaviour, you can make disappearing acts much harder and less damaging to your business. Here are some pointers.

Make deposits non-negotiable. If they can't commit to paying 25-50% upfront, they're not ready to hire you. This isn't just about cash flow; it's about distinguishing between serious clients and time-wasters. People who have invested money are infinitely less likely to disappear.

Spend time on the contract. A good contract outlines what happens if projects are delayed, cancelled, or changed. So, make sure to detail kill fees, payment terms, and communication expectations. When clients know there are consequences for ghosting, they're more likely to actually communicate.

Divide payments up into milestones. Instead of waiting until the end for payment, break larger projects into manageable chunks with payments at each stage. This keeps both parties engaged and reduces your financial exposure if things go sideways.

Trust your gut on red flags. The client who is vague about budgets, pushes back on basic terms or seems reluctant to commit to timelines is waving a warning flag. The client who haggles over your deposit is the same one who'll disappear when the invoice arrives.

Fill the gap

While you're waiting for responses, don't let the lack of activity derail your entire week. This is prime time for business development activities that actually move your career forward.

So… update your portfolio with recent work. Write that case study you've been postponing. Reach out to past clients who may have new projects in the works. Apply to that opportunity you bookmarked weeks ago. Send a friendly check-in to contacts who've gone quiet; they might have work they forgot to mention.

Don't sit around refreshing your inbox, building resentment, and letting anxiety eat away at you. Channel that nervous energy into activities that generate actual opportunities. You'll feel more in control, and you might just land something better while you wait.

In other words, one ghosted client shouldn't derail your whole business rhythm. If you're constantly checking your phone for responses or feeling sick every time you see their name, you're giving them too much power over your mental state. Set specific times to check emails, then close the inbox and get back to work that matters.

When to let go (and how to reframe it)

Sometimes, despite your best efforts, you need to accept that a client has genuinely disappeared. How do you know when to stop trying?

Well, if you've sent three well-spaced, professional follow-ups without any response, it's probably time to move on. Any more, and you risk looking desperate or unprofessional. So send a final, polite email stating that you'll assume the project is on hold unless you hear otherwise, then redirect your energy elsewhere.

And don't get mad, either with yourself or the client. Not every project reaches completion. This isn't failure; it's the natural rhythm of running a creative business. Rather than losing confidence, use the experience to refine your process. Maybe you need stronger contracts. Perhaps your communication could be clearer. Or, possibly, you need to trust your instincts about red flags earlier in the process.

Either way, don't let it make you smaller, cheaper, or more desperate. The right clients, the ones who respect your work, pay on time and communicate like professionals, they're still out there. Sometimes, you simply have to clear out the time-wasters to make room for the real opportunities.

Ghosting stings because it feels personal, but it's usually just business being messy. The clients worth having don't disappear without explanation. The projects worth pursuing don't require you to chase and beg for basic communication.

So keep showing up professionally, maintain your standards, and remember: every ghost makes room for a client who actually values what you bring to the table. Your next great project is probably one email away. Maybe go write it now.

We had a chat with Fieldwork Facility about designing the wayfinding and interpretation for a space that wants to be decoded, not dictated.

It's hard to explain the V&A East Storehouse without sounding a bit sci-fi. It's not quite a museum, not just a warehouse, and definitely not your typical day out in East London.

Located in the former Olympic Park broadcast centre, this new public building is a hybrid: part industrial storage facility, part immersive cultural playground, and part design experiment. At the heart of its visitor experience is a quiet design feat by Fieldwork Facility, the Hackney-based studio responsible for making sense of it all.

The studio was tasked with designing all the wayfinding and interpretation for V&A East Storehouse – a project that posed an unusual challenge. How do you guide visitors through a space that doesn't behave like a museum at all?

For Robin Howie, founder and creative director of Fieldwork Facility, the answer was to rethink what a museum could be all together. "We landed on the concept to approach V&A East Storehouse as an operating system," he explains.

"Treating the entire building as if it's software opened up ways to give agency within this space and speak with a younger and more diverse audience from the outset."

A new interface for cultural access

Storehouse is the first of two major openings from V&A East, designed by Diller Scofidio + Renfro and shaped with extensive input from local communities and the V&A Youth Collective. The radical vision is to open up the museum's vast stored collections to the public, not just visually but also interactively, through a groundbreaking initiative called 'Order an Object'.

Anyone at all (no credentials required) can request to view up to five pieces from the collection of over 2.3 million objects. No glass cases and no hierarchies. It's this ethos of access and transparency that Fieldwork Facility built into every aspect of the wayfinding and interpretation system.

"Wayfinding and interpretation become an interface to help visitors search, discover, decode and hack the experience," says Robin. "Everyone is welcome to explore, define their own experience, make connections and have agency within a national institution."

Onboarding, not educating

From the moment visitors step inside, the space begins to guide them softly and without assumption. Instead of the traditional wall text and directional arrows, Storehouse begins with an Onboarding Text, which is a mixed-media introduction that borrows from app design rather than academia. Alongside it, a colour-coded Welcome Directory encourages free-form exploration, inviting people to find their own path through the building.

The design language carries this theme throughout. When the onboarding panel highlights the role of conservation in green, that same green appears again at the Conservation Overlook. When it mentions access in pink, visitors may later notice that pink appears again at the Study Centre and in the 'Order an Object' experience. It's a system of visual breadcrumbs designed to make sense rather than shout.

QR codes and 'museum numbers' accompany many of the interpretation panels, encouraging visitors to dive deeper online if they wish, but just as important as what's included is what's left out. "Typically, museums present themselves as having a singular voice," says Robin. "At Storehouse, we included each individual author along with their role at the museum. We're trying to demystify how a museum works."

Built for change

The wayfinding isn't just a slick user experience – it's also a sustainability statement. In line with the V&A's circular design goals, Fieldwork Facility approached the signage and interpretation systems with modularity, longevity and recovery in mind. Every component has been designed for disassembly and reuse.

The material palette is a bricolage of recycled paper composites, tiles, aluminium cases, and letterforms made from post-consumer plastic. Even the jewel-like lava stone roundels – while admittedly the most carbon-intensive element – are small flourishes chosen for durability and impact.

The studio also rejected single-use vinyl in favour of screenprinting and painted graphics. The result is a system that looks industrial but feels human. Something tactile, coded, and deliberately flexible.

Spiller gets a reboot

One of the more unusual design decisions involved type. The V&A's existing brand typeface, Spiller, wasn't fit for the modular setting Storehouse demanded.

Fieldwork Facility commissioned a custom monospace version, Spiller Mono, developed by Commercial Type. The decision wasn't just aesthetic as monospace fonts – long used in coding environments – reinforce the "operating system" metaphor at the heart of the Storehouse concept. It's a subtle nudge that this space is programmable, hackable, and far from traditional.

Visitors as co-authors

Beyond signage, Fieldwork Facility introduced a series of Visitor Expression Points (VEPs), which are interactive touchpoints where guests can respond to questions, leave thoughts, or simply vote with custom-designed coins. These tactile interventions provide a lighter, more playful approach to engaging with the museum's collections and their purpose.

"The coins are a nod to the V&A East brand's plus mark," says Robin, "but also a little reference to internet speak – adding a '+1' to something you agree with."

One VEP near the Frank Lloyd Wright Kaufmann Office invites visitors to write or stamp their reactions, while another lets them cast a simple vote. The responses don't vanish into the ether, either – they're bound into volumes and added to the space's growing archive of public opinion.

Designed with – not just for – communities

Throughout the project, Fieldwork Facility worked closely with the V&A East Youth Collective and accessibility consultants Direct Access.

"We tested a lot of our work with the Youth Collective, who was a great sounding board – they told us when things were exciting, when they made sense… and when they felt a bit Black Mirror," says Robin.

Alongside more than 60 site visits and 30 stakeholder interviews, the team also collaborated with sustainability specialists Urge Collective to assess carbon impact at key stages. The result is a system that balances design ambition with material realism – clever without being overengineered.

Back-of-house meets the public

Storehouse's most unusual feature is its dual nature: it serves as both a public destination and a working storage facility. That means forklift trucks, climate-controlled zones, and objects constantly in motion.

Fieldwork Facility's wayfinding had to account for this, crafting a bespoke Health & Safety code system and signage for areas typically off-limits to visitors. Even the paddles used in the Order an Object experience double up as safety markers, ensuring staff know when visitors are present in shared spaces.

A museum with version control

One of the more practical challenges the team encountered was the fluidity of the space itself. Rather than creating static placards, the studio developed editable label templates using Adobe Forms, allowing staff to update object information without waiting months for approval or print runs. It's a low-tech but brilliantly agile solution.

Interpretation panels are mounted using a modular system designed by Fieldwork Facility in collaboration with IDK and Solved Workshop that clips onto crates, pallets, and the adaptable racking systems used to store the collection. Again, flexibility isn't just a feature. It's the foundation.

Looking forward

V&A East Storehouse opened its doors to the public on 31 May 2025, and the early response has been enthusiastic. Over 1,000 objects have already been ordered through the new system, and among the most-requested? A pink silk Balenciaga evening dress from 1954 – proof, if any were needed, that curiosity doesn't need a curatorial brief.

As a design project, Storehouse might just be a quiet revolution since it's less about spectacle and more about systems that work for people.

"We're trying to create a space that people can make their own," says Robin. "Something that's open, intuitive, and genuinely accessible."

In other words, it is a cultural OS that doesn't crash.

The studio set out to reframe one of Cambridge's oldest colleges for a generation shaped by activism, algorithms, and ambition, blending centuries of heritage with a clear, contemporary voice.

Rebranding a place as storied as St John's College, Cambridge, is no small task. Founded in 1511 by Lady Margaret Beaufort, mother of Henry VII, the College has long been a centre of academic excellence and a magnet for some of the brightest minds in the world.

But with a global reputation to uphold and a new generation of restless, critically minded students to attract, the College's brand was struggling to keep pace. Its existing visual identity and website simply didn't portray St John's as a place brimming with curiosity, ambition, and progressive thinking.

London-based studio SomeOne was tasked with creating a new strategic and creative system that would preserve the College's legendary past while making it more meaningful, engaging, and authentic to those encountering it for the first time. Simon Manchipp, founding partner of SomeOne, says: "The previous work did not speak to the restless, curious, critically-minded students of today. St John's didn't need a new coat of paint; it needed a new position."

That new position centres around one bold but accurate idea: St John's is the home of big ideas. It's a place where seismic thoughts are debated over lunch, tested in labs, and shaped in seminars, and the College's brand needed to clearly show that.

For SomeOne, the journey began with a rigorous research phase involving site visits, deep dives into the College archives, and hours of conversation with students, fellows, and staff. They walked the grounds of St John's, documenting unique carvings, architectural details, and typographic inscriptions – evidence of a living tradition.

Beyond the imposing heritage, what struck the team was a sense of unexpected modernity woven into the College. "Parts of the College felt contemporary, open, and warm in a way we didn't expect," says Simon. That introduced a collegiate spirit we wanted to capture."

The studio also gained privileged access to historical materials rarely seen beyond the archives, ensuring the new visual language would honour centuries of heritage while confidently stepping into the future.

One of the most striking aspects of the project was reworking the College's crest. Loaded with centuries of symbolism, the original crest features mythical creatures known as Yales, whose antelope bodies, swivelling horns, and elephant-like tails may appear eccentric to modern eyes but remain an important anchor to the College's history.

Instead of ignoring these complex elements, SomeOne embraced them. "Heraldry isn't a constraint; it's a code," says Simon. "We chose to understand it before we altered it." Working with illustrator Anthony Millard, the team carefully recut each detail without removing its soul. t They focused on clarifying it, giving it cleaner lines, stronger posture, and better proportions for today's channels.

The team also produced multiple versions of the crest, ranging from detailed applications to simplified marks that retain clarity on everything from academic certificates to social media posts.

Typography plays a pivotal role in how a brand speaks. For St John's, SomeOne selected GT Ultra, a typeface that subtly bridges calligraphic and structured forms. It echoes the historical letterforms etched across the College but conveys a modern confidence.

"GT Ultra's alternate glyphs recall the court markings and carved signage we saw around campus," explains James Bell, senior designer at SomeOne. "It bridges worlds: heritage and contemporary, tradition and innovation."

Paired with a confident black-and-white palette, the typography brings a sophisticated clarity that supports full-colour photography and film, allowing St John's to feel proudly individual while also future-facing.

One of the project's most compelling innovations is the 'Court Grid', a layout system inspired by the plan of Second Court, one of St John's most iconic physical spaces. This grid unites the College's physical architecture with its digital presence, providing a flexible but recognisable framework for everything from printed brochures to interactive online experiences.

The Court Grid acts almost like a stage: a flexible canvas to showcase big ideas, current students, and the dynamic conversations taking place at St John's. It can hold video, photography, headlines, and interactive content, creating a cohesive ecosystem that supports the College's identity wherever it appears.

In an increasingly digital-first world, SomeOne recognised that St John's needed to communicate with emotional resonance, not just visual coherence. Motion graphics and interactive elements became crucial.

The rebrand uses subtle but meaningful animation to reflect the sense of progress and transformation inherent in big ideas. "Motion was used not as decoration, but as metaphor," Simon explains. "Ideas in motion, minds in progress."

This approach is mirrored in the revamped website, which shifts from dry administrative content to a layered, story-driven platform. Drone photography provides cinematic views of the College, while interactive menus enable current students to quickly access timetables, events, and services. For prospective students, the website presents a compelling and authentic portrait of the College as a place to belong, grow, and shape the future.

For a place that is 500 years old, respect for history is essential. SomeOne's redesign ensures tradition is treated not as a relic but as a living, breathing part of the College's ongoing story.

Simon describes this as working "with scalpels, not sledgehammers". Rather than stripping away details, they clarified and modernised them. The Yales are still there but drawn with more confidence. The typography is fresh but deeply rooted in the College's story. The grid is modern but echoes the spaces where students meet, argue, and learn.

This balance is crucial because today's audiences – raised on activism, AI and global networks – want places that feel both meaningful and progressive. As Simon says, "The world's best minds don't want more of the same – they want a place that's brave enough to think differently."

A striking principle in the project was SomeOne's insistence on keeping the work human-made. In an era when generative AI is often used to create hundreds of design variations, St John's identity was crafted with purpose and precision.

"AI is great at going fast," Simon reflects, "but this wasn't about speed. It was about substance. You can't outsource intuition." For a College built on original thought, the team felt that authenticity mattered more than automation. Every motion graphic, every illustration, and every typographic choice was shaped by human hands.

A fresh editorial approach was also crucial. St John's needed a tone of voice as intelligent and confident as its students. SomeOne delivered clean, adaptable layouts with a modern zine-like feel, giving the College's printed materials a new sense of pride and collectability.

From prospectuses to research journals, the new system ensures consistency while celebrating the stories of current students and staff. The aim is to help prospective students picture themselves within the College, not as passive recipients of tradition but as active contributors to its future.

Above all, the new identity is designed to encourage curiosity and engagement. It breaks with the often static, traditional branding seen in higher education and instead invites participation.

Instead of empty images of grand halls, the rebrand highlights people, ideas, and the lived experience of studying at St John's. The Court Grid frames conversations and stories, while a bold black-and-white colour system creates a sense of clarity and confidence.

It is a brand system made to move, not sit still, reflecting how education itself should work in a fast-changing world.

"If you've got something big in mind, this is where to build it," says Simon.

For future generations of students, the new identity sends a clear message: you belong here, not because of what you already know, but because of what you could go on to shape.

That idea that progress is built on fresh thinking, open debate, and a willingness to push boundaries feels as relevant today as it did in 1511. Now, thanks to SomeOne's meticulous, human-centred design, St John's can confidently share that message with the world.

Looking to add some colourful inspiration to your home or office? Don't go to the big retailers. Support your favourite creatives instead (and brighten your walls while you're at it).

The creative industry is in a quieter moment right now. Commissions are slower, clients are cautious—and yet, artists are still out there doing brilliant work. So, if you're in a position to support them, why not treat yourself (or someone else) to a print this summer?

Think about it. When you buy directly from independent artists, your money goes straight to the maker. No middlemen, no algorithms, just cash going into the pockets of fellow creatives.

It's also a way to own something genuinely special. The work you'll find in independent shops has a personality that mass-produced prints simply can't match. These pieces carry stories, techniques perfected over the years, and the distinct voice that only comes from an artist following their own vision.

So whether you're looking for something to transform a blank wall or searching for a meaningful gift, buying from independent artists means your home becomes a gallery of authentic voices. Here's a round-up of some of the best creators selling work directly online.

Maisy Summer

Bright, playful prints with charm to spare

Maisy Summer is an illustrator, animator, and educator who creates layers of delightful textures, bold colour combinations, and joyful compositions using everything from paper cutting and drawing with scissors to pastels, paints, and digital drawing programs. Her projects have been shortlisted in the V&A Illustration Awards and the AOI World Illustration Awards, and she has collaborated with clients such as Google Arts and Culture, the V&A, TOAST, and the Financial Times.

Maisy's prints feel like a summer holiday in itself: vibrant, full of character, and rooted in everyday magic. Her shop features risographs, postcards, and zines with a joyful twist that celebrates heritage, community, food, and culture.

Fancy one of her prints yourself? You might be interested to learn that they mostly come from Maisy's Drawing Diaries series: short videos that "serve as a canvas to capture my travels and experiences alongside the illustration process," as she puts it. We're talking London, Vietnam, Paris, and Greece. Now the only issue is: which one to buy?

Daniel Ryan

Bold, graphic energy from a true print-lover

Danial Ryan has gained a following for his distinct and often humorous art, which typically features cats in unusual or surreal situations. His work blends various influences to create a unique and recognisable aesthetic that plays on popular culture and memes.

These pieces frequently incorporate comedic elements with a touch of the bizarre, resonating with those who appreciate a playful, slightly offbeat artistic sensibility that brings character to any space. They're also full of impact: think vivid colours, strong lines, and a little bit of attitude. Perfect for anyone who wants their walls to make a statement.

Carla Llanos

Character-rich worlds that feel like animated daydreams

Carla brings stories to life with her lush, detailed illustrations. Her online shop includes prints, books and sketchbooks packed with personality. This Bristol-based Chilean artist draws inspiration from femininity, flowers, ceramics, and the simple things of everyday life.

Joyful, colourful, bright and bold are the best words to describe her artistic style, with rich colour palettes and vivid scenes that inspire a sense of aliveness and uplifting positivity. Carla works primarily in oil paint on canvas or paper, creating prints that make her work accessible to anyone who isn't able to collect her original paintings yet.

Little Black Cat

Whimsical, nature-inspired prints with a monochrome soul

Perfect for minimalists who love a touch of mystery, Little Black Cat specialises in moody, intricate artworks that explore folklore, flora and fauna. Sarah Wilson, the creative director behind the Manchester-based studio, draws inspiration from historical imagery of the circus, festival, costume and other archival curiosities, creating contemporary pieces that are bold and playful.

Her high-quality, unique illustrated goods include greeting cards and art prints designed to enrich any space. Sarah believes that black cats bring good luck and fortune and hopes her products will bring these qualities to the homes they find themselves in.

Jimmy Turrell

Retro textures meet pop art energy

Jimmy's signature collage style blends typography, punk, psychedelia and humour. His prints are loud in the best way: the kind of pieces that transform a space with their unapologetic energy.

A Central Saint Martins graduate, the artist combines a love of handmade collage, drawing, screen printing, and painting alongside digital techniques. Attracting clients such as Chanel, Nike, Apple, The Rolling Stones, The Chemical Brothers, Beck, The New York Times, and The Prodigy, this work embodies the rebellious spirit of counterculture in contemporary visual language. A great option for anyone wanting art that makes a bold statement.

Raum Für Illustration

Limited-edition prints from a Berlin-based collective

RFI's shop features work from a roster of talented illustrators, each with their own distinctive voice. Based in Berlin, they produce a fine selection of riso prints, riso postcards, textile stickers, shirts, zines, and art books, most of which are produced in-house.

Their risograph printing is environmentally friendly, with master films made from hemp or banana leaf fibres, printing ink based on soy and rice bran oil, and recyclable cartridges. It's similar to screen printing but significantly faster and more sustainable, creating that distinctive textured finish that makes each print feel special.

David Bailey

A celebration of people, pets and patterns

No, not that David Bailey... We're talking about the award-winning Manchester-based illustrator whose style is warm, welcoming, and full of gentle humour. This David Bailey specialises in branding, editorial, packaging and comics, bringing personality and fun to everything he touches.

Combining traditional hand-drawn techniques with contemporary subject matter, his prints evoke a sense of peace and will brighten any home office or hallway with their hand-drawn charm. You can also find his inspiring art over on Instagram @bathedailey.

Luis Mendo

Digital/analogue warmth from Tokyo's streets

Luis Mendo's illustration style is often described as "digital analogue", highlighting its tactile nature and warmth despite being created primarily on an iPad Pro. His work evokes positivity and serenity, capturing moments of calm with clever use of light and colour. Now based in Tokyo after 20 years as an editorial designer and creative director in Amsterdam, Luis frequently draws bustling urban scenes and everyday moments.

His four print series (Golden Series, Kissa by Kissa, Naked Series and Women Series) showcases his signature loose, fluid lines and a warm aesthetic that makes mundane things look special. You can purchase any of these via his own print shop, as Luis explains: "It's a family business and a way to keep drawing without worrying too much about production, always guaranteeing quality."

Luis also covers the shipping costs of everything he sells, so customers don't get a surprise at checkout. "Everything is done to minimise waste, and the prints are museum quality," he adds.

Nephthys Foster

Sophisticated joy in every print

Nephthys Foster's vibrant, bold prints celebrate life's small pleasures with a refined design sensibility. This self-taught London-based artist creates what she calls a "joy journal"; artwork that pays tribute to often-overlooked moments of happiness, from a cup of coffee to time spent with loved ones.

Nephthys incorporates playful typography and quirky quotes into her sophisticated compositions, encouraging viewers not to take life too seriously. Her work has appeared in Selfridges, John Lewis, and Oliver Bonas and is now available in independent retailers across the UK, France, Amsterdam, Portugal, the US, and Brazil.

Lakwena Maciver

Afrofuturist portals to utopia

Lakwena Maciver's art features vibrant colours, bold geometric patterns and powerful, uplifting textual messages that act as "painted prayers".

This London-based artist with Ugandan heritage creates what she calls "escape routes": large-scale works that challenge negative narratives and offer a sense of hope. She draws colour inspiration from her African heritage and the vibrant sunlight of East Africa, incorporating intricate geometric patterns that create an optical art effect.

Margo in Margate

Compelling portraits with quiet confidence

Margo McDaid creates simple, graphic paintings and drawings characterised by vibrant colour palettes and compelling female portraiture. Known as "Margo in Margate," this Irish artist has committed to painting every single day since 2014, building up an impressive collection that reflects her daily artistic journey.

Drawing inspiration from vintage fashion, children's book illustrations, folk art and pop art, her portraits often feature women with quiet confidence and knowing eyes.

Murugiah

A psychedelic fusion of East meets West

Murugiah is a multidisciplinary British-Sri Lankan artist whose colourfully surreal, joyful work explores the dichotomy of his Asian heritage and Western upbringing. Typically, this psychedelic, transcendent art offers escapism through vibrant, candy-coated dreams peppered with South Asian motifs.

Murugiah's detailed graphical compositions blend Eastern and Western philosophies and iconography, incorporating Sri Lankan Tamil typography with contemporary pop culture references. Originally trained as an architect, Murugiah's background influences his structured compositions and use of space. His current style solidified during the first COVID-19 lockdown, resulting in work that resonates with themes of kindness, authenticity, and compassion.

ByTilly

Watercolour magic in the mundane

ByTilly creates watercolour art prints from original, hand-painted illustrations that celebrate the magic in everyday moments. Her eclectic designs feature charming, expressive characters set in cheerful and imaginative environments, often with anthropomorphic elements that spark joy and wonder.

These illustrations are characterised by vibrant, inviting colour palettes and clean lines that provide a polished yet approachable feel. Her brand focuses on sustainability and ethical practices, using eco-friendly materials to create beautiful paper goods that enhance the simple pleasure of handwritten correspondence.

The Printed Peanut

Folk art meets contemporary charm

As a freelance illustrator, Louise Lockhart has worked on children's books for Nosy Crow and Bloomsbury's Harry Potter series, plus designs for Mini Boden, Anthropologie, Liberty and M&S. She creates The Printed Peanut's illustrated items from her South Wales farm studio, manufacturing everything in the UK with eco-friendly materials wherever possible.

She draws inspiration from vintage textiles, folk art, children's books, and old print ephemera, creating her work by cutting out shapes from paper with brass scissors, which lends a playful line and unintended wonkiness. This unique and recognisable work is infused with humour and joy, making her designs beloved by collectors.

Mr Bingo

Irreverent art from a reformed commercial artist

Mr Bingo decided in 2015 to never work for clients again and focus on being "some sort of artist", selling his irreverent work directly from his London studio shop. Previously a commercial illustrator for 15 years, working with The New Yorker, The Guardian, TIME, and The New York Times, he launched his artistic independence with a Kickstarter campaign for his Hate Mail project book.

Mr Bingo's studio at 46 Amwell Street opens as a physical shop every Friday, plus "by appointment" for efficient purchases on other days. Known for his uncompromising approach and dark humour, this is art for those who appreciate wit and rebellion over conventional pleasantries.

Alimo

Everyday moments transformed into universal dialogues

Alimo creates art that speaks to the shared human experience, focusing on relatable details that invite viewers to project themselves into his vibrant scenes. This US-based contemporary artist has developed a signature style that blends curvy post-pop imagery with highly saturated colours and expressive hand-drawn letters.

Working across acrylic painting, murals, NFTs, and daily sketch practices, Alimo draws inspiration from his outdoor adventures—whether he's snowboarding in Japan, surfing on the West Coast, or simply observing street corners and human expressions.

Temi Coker

Afrocentric compositions that redefine contemporary design

Temi Coker is a powerhouse of creativity whose vibrant work celebrates African diaspora culture with unprecedented boldness and sophistication. This Nigerian-American visual artist and graphic designer, based in Dallas, Texas, seamlessly blends photography, graphic design, and 3D graphics to create imagery that moves and challenges conventional beauty standards.

Each piece carries the weight of cultural celebration while maintaining the sophisticated aesthetic that has made his work instantly recognisable in the design world.

The Barcelona School of Arts and Design (LABASAD) is shaking up creative education. Here's why thousands of designers are choosing to level up their careers there.

Let's be honest—most online design courses aren't great. You're stuck watching pre-recorded videos, doing assignments in isolation, and crossing your fingers that what you're learning is actually relevant in today's market. Sound familiar?

That's exactly why LABASAD, Barcelona School of Arts and Design, decided to do things differently. With over 30 Online Master's programmes in design, creativity, communication and photography, they've cracked the code on what online creative education should actually look like.

Read on to discover eight compelling reasons to study at LABASAD, in either English or Spanish, wherever you are in the world.

1. Every class is live

Here's what makes LABASAD special: every single class is live. Not pre-recorded. Not "watch this video and hope for the best". Live, interactive sessions where you can ask questions, get feedback, and actually connect with your teachers and fellow students.

They call it their Onlive methodology, and it's brilliant in its simplicity. You get all the convenience of online learning—study from anywhere, fit it around your job, no commuting—but with the energy and engagement of being in a real classroom.

Can't make a live session? No worries. Everything's recorded, so you can catch up later. But trust us, you'll want to be there live if you can.

2. You learn from people actually doing the work

Want to know LABASAD's secret weapon? Their teachers aren't just academics—they're working professionals currently collaborating with brands you've definitely heard of. We're talking about designers who are out there right now, creating campaigns, building brands, and solving real problems for real clients.

This means you're not learning theory from a dusty textbook. You're getting the inside scoop on what actually works, what clients really want, and what's happening in the industry right now. It's like having a direct line to the creative directors and senior designers you aspire to become.

3. Students actually succeed

Don't just take our word for it. Zuzanna Wasążnik, who completed the Online Master in Graphic and Digital Design, puts it perfectly: "I'm grateful to LABASAD and my teachers for giving me the tools and freedom to express my ideas visually and find my own voice."

Similarly, Fleur Willems loved learning from active professionals: "Their insights and experiences brought a practical, real-world perspective to the coursework," she enthuses. And, Amador Artiga, who is studying the Online Master in Motion Graphics, also found the experience transformative. "I've strengthened my confidence in my own work," she says, "and feel capable of reaching goals I previously thought were unattainable."

In short, these aren't just technical skills courses; they're confidence-building, career-changing experiences.

4. It actually fits your life

Here's the thing about most creative professionals: you're already juggling work, life, and maybe some freelance projects on the side. The last thing you need is an inflexible course that demands you drop everything.

LABASAD gets this. Their programmes are designed so you can study at your own pace without giving up your job or personal life. Plus, every student is assigned an Academic Coordinator. Think of them as your personal guide, who's there to answer questions, offer support, and ensure you never feel lost in the process.

5. It's ahead of the AI curve

While other schools are still figuring out what AI means for design, LABASAD is already teaching it. They've launched the Online Master in Generative Artificial Intelligence for Creatives, and not only that, they're integrating AI training into all their programmes.

This isn't about replacing creativity with robots. It's about giving you the tools to work smarter, automate mundane tasks, and unlock entirely new creative possibilities. In a few years, AI literacy will be as essential as knowing how to use Photoshop. LABASAD is making sure you're ahead of the curve.

6. You'll build a portfolio that gets you hired

Every LABASAD programme centres around real projects. Not hypothetical exercises or academic theory: actual work that builds a professional portfolio. Whether you're developing brand identities, creating motion graphics, or designing digital experiences, you're constantly applying what you've learned.

By the time you graduate, you don't just have a certificate. You have a body of work that demonstrates your ability to do the job. And that's what gets you hired.

7. The standard is award-winning

The proof is in the pudding: LABASAD students and alumni regularly win international awards, including Pentawards, ADG-FAD LAUS, Motion Design Awards, and even Young Lions at Cannes. When your students are consistently performing at award-winning levels, you know you're doing something right.

8. It's a real community

Despite being online, LABASAD has managed to create something special: a genuine creative community. Through forums, live classes and constant interaction, you're not just taking a course; you're joining a global network of designers, creatives and industry professionals.

This community aspect is crucial because, as we recall, design isn't a solo sport. The best ideas come from collaboration, feedback, and bouncing concepts off other creative minds. LABASAD ensures you have that experience, even in a digital environment.

Why LABASAD works

That's a lot of information, so let's summarise it. LABASAD works because:

• Live classes mean real interaction and engagement
• Working professionals as teachers keep everything current and relevant
• Personal support ensures you never feel abandoned
• AI integration prepares you for the future of design
• Real projects build portfolios that actually get you work
• Flexible scheduling fits around your existing commitments
• Global community gives you networking opportunities worldwide

Apply for LABASAD today!

The creative industries are evolving fast. The designers who thrive are those who invest in staying current, building new skills, and connecting with the right community.

LABASAD isn't just offering courses; they're offering transformation. Whether you want to pivot your career, master new skills, or prepare for what's coming next in design, they've built something genuinely different in the online education space.

Applications are now open for the October/November 2025 intake. If you're serious about taking your design career to the next level, it's worth checking out what LABASAD has to offer.

The independent studio has cooked up a character-led brand world to support modern parents and delight little eaters.

Little Dish has long been a trusted name in the world of children's ready meals, but with modern parents facing more pressure than ever, the brand recognised that great food alone wasn't enough.

This is where their collaboration with Derek&Eric came in. Tasked with turning Little Dish from a fridge favourite into a full-blown family ally, the independent studio created a vibrant new identity grounded in a deceptively simple idea: turning trusted food into a trusted friend.

"Little Dish already had a great product and loyal following, but they wanted to go further," explains Adam Swan, creative director at Derek&Eric. "Our job was to translate that ambition into a powerful and practical design idea."

The driving idea behind the new identity is character, quite literally. The new Little Dish world revolves around a cast of fantastical animal characters, each brimming with personality and purpose.

Derek&Eric designed them to be more than mascots. They were intended to be playmates, problem-solvers and pint-sized champions of the brand's mission to make happy, healthy mealtimes easier.

From a storytelling perspective, it's a smart move. Each creature brings its own narrative thread, helping kids form emotional connections while reassuring parents that Little Dish is considered, not just convenient.

Props, poses, and playfulness are used to full effect, building a system that works across packaging, content, and communications without losing coherence.

It's a significant shift from the brand's previous identity, which, while charming and familiar, no longer had the impact needed to stand out on busy supermarket shelves.

"We didn't want to just redesign packaging," says Adam. "We wanted to give Little Dish a distinctive, ownable platform that lets them stand out, scale up, and show up with meaning – on shelves, in homes, and in hearts."

The new design introduces a literal 'little dish', described as a joyful, brimming bowl rendered in a bold purple hue that holds its own in the chiller aisle. It anchors the visual identity while allowing the characters to shine. The purple serves more than just an aesthetic punch; it also acts as a brand shortcut, instantly recognisable across all touchpoints.

Moreover, the update isn't just skin-deep. Derek&Eric worked with the Little Dish team to embed utility and joy at every level of the customer experience. That includes newly designed inner sleeves with games and activities to keep small hands busy while dinner heats up, plus collectable 'Every Eater Club' badges that reward adventurous palates.

These thoughtful touches are rooted in a deep understanding of today's parents. Rising food costs, childhood obesity concerns and the daily chaos of two-working-parent households mean that brands need to actively support. That's exactly where Little Dish wants to sit.

Sophie Giddings, marketing director at Little Dish, says the new look reflects this evolution.

"We have been blown away by the creativity, design expertise and desire to go above and beyond from the Derek&Eric team. They truly understood the consumer challenge and our vision from day one and brought it to life in a way that feels authentic, joyful, and truly memorable."

She adds: "The colourful new world they've created for Little Dish is one more step along our journey helping busy families – and we're already loving the response from customers and, of course, our very important little foodies!"

For Derek&Eric, the project offered the chance to craft something characterful with real-world impact and an opportunity to use brand design not just for cut-through but for care. The result is a narratively rich, emotionally resonant identity that feels just as at home on a supermarket shelf as it does at the dinner table.

When it comes to feeding kids well, the food matters, but the feeling matters, too.

As Birmingham celebrates World Craft City status, Unfound Studio taps into the city's industrious heritage and commercial clout to brand Kinrise's newest workspace.

This month, Birmingham became the first English city to be named a World Craft City – a prestigious title awarded by the World Crafts Council in recognition of its global contribution to traditional and contemporary craft.

It's a well-earned badge for a city long shaped by design and making, from the Jewellery Quarter's goldsmiths to the new generation of makers redefining the Midlands' creative economy. Just a 10-minute walk from the Jewellery Quarter, one new project offers a sharp, site-specific take on this legacy.

81 Colmore Row is a freshly reimagined heritage building by workspace developer Kinrise, sitting proudly at the intersection of commerce and creativity. To bring its brand to life, Kinrise enlisted Birmingham-born studio Unfound, whose identity work subtly balances modern elegance with the grit and graft the city is known for.

Kinrise, which specialises in converting historic buildings into vibrant workspaces, has a history of placing design at the heart of regeneration. For 81 Colmore Row, their ambitions were threefold: to play a role in Birmingham's renewal, inspire growing companies to establish a local presence and drive leasing for the space.

For Unfound, this brief called for more than a logo refresh. "We knew there were stories to uncover here," says Creative Director Jay Topham.

"We went to the Birmingham archives – a really cool way to start a project – and found old building plans, records, and even an architecture manual revealing the building was originally built for a silversmith."

That manual was a treasure trove, revealing that the building had also housed the Royal Bank of Scotland and once featured sculptures by two Italian goldsmiths. These discoveries became the conceptual backbone of the identity.

At the heart of the new brand is a custom coin illustration that references both the silversmith and banking heritage. It's a nod to the building's past but also a bold symbol of its future.

"We used the coin to express the idea of 'coining legacy'," explains Jay. "It subverts the idea of collecting for the sake of it and reframes legacy as something you make, not just inherit."

This idea is further captured in a line of messaging that anchors the brand: "Futures aren't for collecting. They're for making." It's a sentiment that captures Birmingham's working-class ingenuity and its ambitions as a growing centre of enterprise.

Visually, the team worked to strike a balance between historic weight and contemporary clarity. The logotype employs a serif typeface with subtle cuts and marks within the glyphs, making a quiet nod to the carved stone lettering found on the building's façade. The identity is elegant but grounded, modern but never sterile.

"Kinrise is famous for beautiful, design-led spaces," says Jay. "But Birmingham is a proud, working-class city. Luxury means something different here. The biggest challenge was creating a duality — respecting the city but bringing a little bit of the Kinrise flare."

That sense of place is central to Unfound's broader approach to cultural and place-based storytelling. Unfound co-founder Tebo Mpanza says: "As a studio with roots in Birmingham, we've lived and worked through the city's evolution, and we know first-hand just how much potential it holds. Yes, it's gritty. But it's also home to some of the UK's most exciting enterprise stories." That duality is at the core of the 81 Colmore Row brand. Even the decision to use the address itself as the name was deliberate.

"We agreed with Kinrise to use the Colmore name rather than its previous name, 'Chatwin'," explains Jay. "Colmore is a premium postcode, the centre of commerce, and we wanted to celebrate that equity."

Birmingham Design Festival was in full swing as the identity launched, and the city's craft credentials are now globally recognised, so the timing of the rebrand couldn't be better. Unfound's work speaks directly to the identity Birmingham is forging, not just as the UK's second city but as a first-choice destination for creative and commercial talent.

"Birmingham often sits in a bit of a grey area – and I'm not talking about the weather," jokes Jay. "It's well connected, full of history and personality, and there's a real appetite for something new.

But as a city, it's humble. Its design reflects that. It's honest. It just needs a platform to tell its story."

With 81 Colmore Row, Unfound has built a platform not just for the building but for the city itself.

Through craft, context, and clarity, they've created a brand that honours the past while confidently looking ahead. In doing so, they've helped coin a new narrative for Birmingham that's proud, present, and ready to be made.

Forget the pressure to niche down. In 2025, versatility is the real flex.

For years, we've been told that, rather than try to be all things to all people, we should find a specific skill and focus on that. But in an industry shaken by budget cuts, AI disruption and shifting client needs, being multi-skilled in 2025 is no longer a compromise; it's an advantage. And those who prefer to (say) juggle illustration, web design, photography and a bit of copy on the side might just be built for this new era.

Founder of Clearcut Derby, Mike Hindle puts it succinctly: "For years, creatives were told to niche down, specialise, pick a lane. But in 2025 —with shrinking budgets, AI disruption, and a quieter economy (yelp)—it feels being good at lots of things is no longer a compromise; it's a competitive advantage."

Why? Because today, clients are asking more from fewer suppliers, timelines are compressed, and the creative industry itself is evolving faster than anyone anticipated. And when the entire motorway is under construction, lane discipline becomes less relevant than adaptability.

Designer, artist and creative director Kyle Wilkinson sees this shift as fundamental to the industry's evolution. "This industry is built upon evolution, which can be slower with a specialism," he reasons. "This is why I've always believed in—and practised—a more generalist approach. And so far, it's served me well."

Built for the gig economy

Multiple income streams aren't just smart business; right now, they're an essential survival strategy. When one area of work dries up, generalists can pivot to another. When a client needs both brand strategy and social content, they can deliver both.

There's a crucial distinction, though, between being genuinely multi-skilled and simply dabbling. The new generalist isn't someone who does everything poorly; they're someone who applies deep creative thinking across multiple disciplines with competence and confidence.

Web designer and developer Matthew Jackson draws a parallel with medicine. "Doctors don't specialise immediately. They get a good grounding in all kinds of things for years before potentially specialising. Equally, how could it EVER not be useful to understand both design and also business, development, print, marketing, behavioural science, and sales?"

Visual storyteller Fiifi Džansi agrees: "It's always a good thing to be a generalist first," he says. "That way, you enrich your perspective and refine your taste." He points to the famous designer Massimo Vignelli as an example of excellence across disciplines.

Steven Bonner, creative director at D8, adds that generalist skills make you better at everything "because you have an understanding of what the specialists you hire actually do".

Why clients love a one-stop shop

Budget constraints and tight timelines mean clients increasingly value efficiency. If you can handle brand identity, motion graphics and social content strategy, you're not just saving them money; you're saving them the coordination headache of managing multiple suppliers.

Jose Nava, co-founder and CEO at Levie, has seen this play out in practice. "As we've grown our practice and expertise, we've seen that niching down comes with its own caveats and limitations," he reveals. "Our range of work and capabilities are quite diverse, and that's been a strength. As the landscape evolves, we see a need to continue to become generalists."

Graphic designer Tony Clarkson takes this to its logical conclusion: "I've always been a generalist in that if a client asks, 'Can you do XYZ?', I'll say yes and then figure out how," he reveals. "Over the years, it hasn't just been design; it's included all sorts of things, from setting up email accounts on their various devices to building the wiring looms for their exhibition stands."

How to own it without burning out

The key to successful generalist practice isn't necessarily saying yes to everything, though. For many, it's being strategic about your range.

As creative director Mark Hutton Hutton Creative says: "I'm a great believer that as a creative you should be able to turn your hand to most areas of design but within reason. I can't do 3D design or detailed coding, but I have the knowledge of them that if I use someone with that expertise, I'll have an understanding of what's involved in the process."

Danie Stinchcombe, marketing director at co-working space Gather Round, has embraced this approach for decades: "I've worked in marketing for 25 years now but never specialised in anything in particular," she says. "I've just tried a bit of everything, and it's always been an advantage. "

Range creates resilience and can be good for your work-life balance too. Illustrator Annie McGee explains how being multi-disciplinary actually enables sustainability. "I'm a multi-passionate creative, a multi-disciplinary illustrator and workshop facilitator," she says. "And honestly, being a 'Jack of all trades' is what makes my creative life actually work. I'm disabled with fluctuating and unpredictable health issues, so my body doesn't always let me show up the same way every day. Having a mix of creative work gives me the flexibility to adapt without burning out."

In short, your breadth of skills is no longer a consolation prize for not being focused enough. It's preparation for an industry that demands creativity, adaptability and the ability to see the bigger picture.

In a world where AI can handle the technical execution, human generalists who can think strategically across disciplines aren't becoming obsolete; they're becoming indispensable.

The new Sector Plan pledges to nearly double business investment by 2035, promising skills programmes, research funding, and local support to ensure the UK's creative industries thrive across every region.

From grassroots music venues to world-class film studios, a new £380 million investment package is promising to fuel growth and resilience in the UK's creative industries. It sets out a decade-long vision for a sector that not only entertains and inspires but also drives the national economy.

The funding underpins the Creative Industries Sector Plan, an ambitious roadmap that aims to almost double business investment from £17 billion today to £31 billion by 2035. That's no small feat, but with creative industries already delivering £124 billion a year and supporting 2.4 million jobs, the sector's potential is clear.

Published alongside the government's broader Industrial Strategy, the plan signals a step change for creatives. It provides targeted backing for research and development, skills pipelines, new routes to finance, and a renewed focus on levelling up opportunities outside London.

Among the headline measures is a £150 million Creative Places Growth Fund, devolved to six mayoral strategic authorities, including the West Midlands, West Yorkshire, and Greater Manchester. This fund will empower local leaders to support creative businesses with mentoring, investment connections, and skills programmes designed to keep creative talent flourishing close to home.

Further bolstering regional powerhouses, the plan will allocate £50 million to expand the Creative Industries Clusters Programme nationwide. Focusing on collaboration between universities, businesses, and policymakers, these clusters aim to accelerate research and unlock innovation.

The plan also sets aside £25 million for five new CoSTAR R&D labs and two showcase spaces to explore emerging technologies in live entertainment, from the boundary-pushing visual wizardry of Abba Voyage to stagecraft inspired by The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Another significant pillar of the plan is the establishment of a Creative Content Exchange, a trusted marketplace where digitised cultural and creative assets can be sold, bought, licensed, or accessed under clear permissions. Culture Secretary Lisa Nandy described this as "opening up new revenue streams and allowing content owners to commercialise and financialise their assets while providing data users with ease of access." In practice, this could help fuel the next wave of creative innovation while also supporting the development of high-value AI models, with early adopter testing backed by UKRI's R&D Missions Accelerator Programme.

Speaking about the scale of this investment, Lisa described it as placing creative industries "at the heart of our Industrial Strategy", highlighting that it will "boost regional growth, stimulate private investment, and create thousands more high-quality jobs."

Sir Peter Bazalgette, co-chair of the Creative Industries Council, echoed that ambition, calling the plan "a coming of age for the creative sector" and particularly praising its focus on R&D and finance access for SMEs.

For the film and TV world, a dedicated £75 million Screen Growth Package will support UK content creation, expand the Global Screen Fund, and enhance the BFI Film Academy for young talent from underrepresented backgrounds. Meanwhile, music will see up to £30 million of targeted support to help emerging artists tour, record, and reach new audiences, with an uplift in funding for small venues. Even video games get a boost, with £30 million earmarked to grow start-up studios and attract global investment.

For many in the design sector, the announcement couldn't be timelier. Speaking to Creative Boom, Lisa explained that while product and service design can sometimes feel overlooked in policy circles, they are absolutely part of the plan.

"Design is a major contributor to the UK economy, and we're really good at this," she told me. "There's a huge amount of talent already across the country, but particularly in areas like fashion, there are major challenges for talented young designers to go from start-up to scale-up."

She highlighted support for initiatives like the British Fashion Council's NEWGEN programme and the upcoming World Design Congress in September, which the government will co-fund. Crucially, Lisa emphasised a commitment to expanding UK Research and Innovation's role, directing more support to design businesses that are currently underserved compared to tech sectors.

Beyond funding, the plan recognises the skills pipeline must be rebuilt from the ground up. A £10 million investment in the National Film and Television School is set to train 2,000 new apprentices and trainees, while a £9 million creative careers service will aim to inspire and inform young people.

Lisa reflected on why this matters, recalling a recent visit to Wakefield's Production Park, a world-class creative and manufacturing hub built on the site of a former mining village. "I met young people there who had never dreamt that they could do this," she said. "But because of the work that company's done, they've had those opportunities opened up to them. That's the future of our country and the future of our economy."

The question of protecting craft and traditional skills alongside technological change is also firmly on the agenda. As many creatives wrestle with the rapid advance of AI, Lisa was clear that "no robot or computer is going to replace human potential", stressing that the plan aims to safeguard what makes British creativity so unique.

Copyright frameworks, transparency around remuneration, and the voice of freelancers are all being considered as part of the wider Industrial Strategy. A new "freelancers champion" will sit on the Creative Industries Council to ensure independent creatives have a say in future policy decisions.

That should resonate with the thousands of freelancers and small agencies working across the UK, who often drive design and innovation but risk being overlooked. Lisa acknowledged this directly, calling out the creative freelance workforce as a priority and promising that its voice will be "heard loud and clear" when shaping the plan's next stages.

Critically, the Sector Plan also promises to report annually to Parliament, tracking metrics such as jobs created, business growth, exports, and workforce diversity, according to Lisa. It's a move designed to keep the vision on track and avoid creative communities feeling left behind.

For designers and creative entrepreneurs who have long felt that policy overlooks their contribution, the Sector Plan might just mark a new chapter. From support for local ecosystems to a focus on skills and a renewed respect for creative IP, there is reason to be cautiously optimistic, provided the momentum is maintained, and the right voices stay at the table.

As Lisa put it: "We are betting big on the creative industries as the future driver of growth in our economy. Not just in one part of the country but in every part of the country. We see enormous potential."

It's an optimistic note for a sector that has weathered enormous challenges in recent years. If delivered with care, this £380 million boost could help ensure the UK's creative industries remain not just a world-class export but a powerful local engine for opportunity – from Glasgow and Cornwall to Birmingham and Belfast.

London studio Ragged Edge has overhauled its own brand identity, swapping neon for earthier tones and a constantly shifting horizon motif. The refresh reiterates the agency's refusal to settle for average and invites like-minded clients to leap into what it calls a "different reality".

This week, London-based studio Ragged Edge has unveiled a full strategic and visual overhaul that doubles down on the principle it was founded on in 2007: a flat-out refusal to settle for average.

The relaunch – anchored by the rallying cry 'Never be the same again' – arrives at a moment when marketing efficiency often trumps distinctiveness, and generative tech can churn out safe but soulless identities with the click of a prompt. Ragged Edge's answer is to push harder, jump further and drag its clients over the ledge with it.

Co-founder Max Ottignon says the timing was non-negotiable. "We started Ragged Edge in 2007 with a founding principle. A refusal to settle for average," he explains. That mantra has informed everything from hiring policies to project selection for nearly two decades, but the team realised the outside world could no longer hear it over the white noise of sameness.

A pre-Covid brand tweak had long since lost its punch. Since then, the agency's remit has expanded - bigger clients, longer engagements, truly global remits - while the wider industry has drifted toward interchangeable logos and off-the-shelf colour palettes.

"We find ourselves in an era where efficiency is everything… Sameness is everywhere," Max warns. Enter a brand identity that literally shifts beneath your feet. The new system is built around a perpetually moving horizon: a graphic edge that morphs, stretches and occasionally disappears, capturing what associate creative director Andrew Kitchener calls "a precipice, a point of no return, a change of perspective".

Visually, it's a world away from the studio's previous neons. Organic ochres, clays and dusk blues now dominate, colours lifted straight from the reclaimed timber and brick of the firm's Hatton Garden workspace.

Colour changes aside, the refresh plays an intriguing game with materiality. Agency folklore holds that the founding team once bonded over an obsession with tactility and the satisfying feel of letter-pressed stock, as well as the smell of wet ink. That obsession re-emerges here.

Motion principles mimic a camera pulling focus, guiding the viewer toward that horizon before snapping back to reveal a wider scene.

Even the sound bed begins with a background hum before resolving into a crisp note of possibility. It's an identity designed to be felt, not just seen – and one that refuses to leave your peripheral vision idle.

Looks, of course, are only half the story. Ragged Edge has always treated words as design material, and the new tone of voice was chiselled with equal care.

Copy Director Fia Townshend politely shows the door to marketing jargon. "We're so bored of industry jargon," Fia says.

Instead of promising clients a vague 'future state', the site invites them to step into a different reality, one where commitment beats convenience and optionality is the enemy of progress. Throughout the copy, short, punchy lines challenge mediocrity, while longer passages lay out a no-nonsense framework for co-creating brands that behave as boldly as they appear.

That insistence on reality is no accident. Interim Director of Client Partnerships Emma London reminds would-be partners that bravery can still feel terrifying at board level.

"Even when being different is the least risky move, it still takes bravery, particularly at scale," Emma says. It's why the agency describes its clients as partners, not accounts, and why many relationships have lasted the full 18 years of Ragged Edge's existence.

The website backs up the rhetoric with hard numbers: Wise's rebrand coincided with a 58 per cent share-price lift; Marshmallow's makeover came just before the insurer cracked a US $2 billion valuation; Papier's fresh face helped the stationery disruptor onto 2,500 Target shelves.

Rebranding a company whose day job is, well, rebranding could have turned into a self-referential ouroboros. To avoid that, the team split into a 'working' crew and an internal 'client' crew, giving the project the outsider perspective it demanded.

The approach mirrors one of the studio's stated commitments: strong opinions loosely held. Early concepts pushed every dial into the red, but because internal stakeholders were designated 'clients', they could critique without defensive reflexes.

"It's hard," admits Max. "When we work with a partner, we have the outsider's advantage… We had to replicate that." The resulting identity feels confident but not precious – exactly the spirit the agency preaches.

The point, Max insists, is not self-congratulation. The new platform is designed to filter enquiries as much as attract them. Success will be measured by quality, not volume - more briefs that demand big thinking, more partners prepared to make seismic moves and fewer compromises along the way.

If the tagline works, prospects will turn up pre-warned that 'average' is not on the menu. Conversely, anyone hunting a quick logo swap should probably keep scrolling.

"We need to get away from this crazy idea that investing in creativity is a luxury or a nice-to-have," Max states. "The results speak for themselves."

Beyond the usual guideline PDFs, Ragged Edge went all in on expression. A new suite of films pans across the studio's skylights while voiceovers lay down the gauntlet; portrait photography treats staff like protagonists in an indie magazine shoot.

Illustration, motion and even a bespoke sonic logo extend the shifting horizon concept into every sense. It's the kind of attention to detail the team routinely insists on for clients, now turned inward. The move arrives as brand pundits wring their hands over an 'AI-generated beige wave'. With templated identities flooding feeds, being definitively different may be the most sustainable competitive advantage left.

Ragged Edge is betting that businesses will agree, especially as macroeconomic headwinds force brands to prove the ROI of every penny. By showcasing case studies that connect creativity to hard-edged metrics, the studio positions itself as an antidote to both bean-counter cynicism and creative complacency.

Whether the gamble pays off will become clear in the coming months, but the studio has already drawn its line—or rather, its horizon—in the sand. 'Never be the same again' is less prophecy and more contract: sign here if you're ready to leap.

As brand challenges grow more complex and markets become increasingly turbulent, Ragged Edge's renewed mandate feels refreshingly direct. Average, it turns out, is still the most dangerous place to stand.