Hi Paul. How are you doing?
Alright, Liam, good to see you. How would you like to start?
Can we begin with an introduction and an overview of your journey to date?
Sure, let’s do it. Firstly, I think it’s important to say I believe I’m a reflection of the time I grew up in, which was the 1980s. I was raised in a little town called Kenworth, just outside of Coventry. Everything good and bad about that time has had an impact on me, the things I’m interested in and how I approach my work.
I went to school in the late 1970s, and music was such a monumental part of life back then. It permeated British culture and influenced every aspect of our lives, from fashion to film, magazines to football, and everything in between. We had TV shows like Top of the Pops on a Thursday, which was the staple showcase of everything that was happening at the time. I remember discussing with friends what we’d seen the night before. It was one of those moments in time where you could pick things up, and it had the potential to change your world. Music was often tribal, and it was an opportunity to find yourself. Part of that experience was walking around with records under your arm — other kids would recognise the album and strike up a conversation. In many ways, that was my earliest introduction to the world of visual language and the raw, connective power it can hold when done right.
That wasn’t my only exposure to ‘design’, as we’d probably call it now. My Grandfather was a newspaper journalist and editor, and my mum was also into calligraphy, so I had some vague understanding of typography, letterforms and how they worked. But I was mainly inspired and slightly perplexed by record covers and what they meant to people. I guess I was lucky, as I got into the right bands with beautifully designed covers. New Order and Joy Division.
I then moved on to reading things like The Face. I remember reading an interview with Malcolm Garrett, purely because I knew that he’d designed lots of the covers for the bands I was into. He talked about things like Bauhaus and the societal impact of movements like that — I thought he was talking about the band at first! So that opened my eyes to the broader cultural movements, and something clicked with me. I thought to myself, I want to get involved in that. I couldn’t play any instruments or sing well enough to be in a band, but I knew I wanted to be involved in the visual side of things. The two go hand-in-hand.
I also grew up in a small town, and I vividly remember thinking ‘design’ was something that happened elsewhere. Is that something you experienced?
When you grow up in a provincial town like Coventry, you always think there’s another world out there — somewhere more exotic. It’s sometimes a state of mind, rather than a physical place. As I learned more about it, I realised that the design industry could be my way of getting there. I started by covering my rough books at school with band logos and copies of record sleeves. I didn’t know about Peter Saville yet, but he was probably my first major influence. From there, I began intuitively creating these rudimentary graphic expressions. I’d sit for hours, playing with gouache, drawing experimental letterforms, and just enjoying myself. I was fortunate in that I had a very sympathetic art teacher, who encouraged me to lean into that. My dad, who taught at the Lancaster Polytechnic, took me into the art and design library, where I found the section on graphic design and typography, and I fell in love right there and then.
I was then encouraged by Roger Smith — a tutor that I met there — to look into the Typography course at the University of Reading, which is precisely what I did from 1988 to 1992. Letterpress still existed, so we’d spend hours experimenting with the old presses, the Monotype machine, foundry type, as well as current technology like lithographic printing and Linotype typesetting systems. We also had access to an Apple Mac, which was mind-blowing. I was lucky to have studied at a time when we experienced the past, present and future. That period of learning helped me hone my process as it forces you to take your time. You can design something in seconds now.
It was an interesting course, and I’m slightly dismayed that it isn’t taught in many places any more. It feels like it has been relegated or pushed off to one side of the curriculum. I spent four brilliant years learning about typography. I learned a great deal about print techniques and how type would perform in various scenarios or under different processes. While there, I began picking up real jobs for the University — all kinds of things, from film posters to books and other materials.
One of the most interesting aspects of Reading was that it was pretty academic. We had to write a dissertation, and we were encouraged to approach our work with a particular discipline and rigour. That brought a level of professionalism to my learning that I hadn’t expected. We were taken on various field trips to Europe, exploring places like The Hague, Mainz, where Gutenberg first printed, and Rome to see all the inscriptions. It was just incredible.
I still feel I was too young to appreciate it fully, but can you imagine that happening in today’s financial climate?
Definitely not. We had similar college trips to Manhattan and London, but I don’t think that kind of ‘educational trip’ happens much anymore. How did you make the leap into industry?
I attended a design conference in 1990 and met Roger Black, a renowned American magazine designer. I started talking to him and we immediately hit it off. He was a fascinating guy; he’d designed publications like Rolling Stone, Newsweek, the New York Times Magazine, and more. He turned to me and said, ‘Do you want to come to New York and work for me?’ — I didn’t know what to say, being a respectable young man, thinking that my parents would kill me if I accepted. Fast forward to my third year; I wrote him a letter to apply for a summer job, and then a month later, he called me up and asked me over, which was incredible, thinking back. So, I went over to America over the summer and worked on magazines, which was a real eye-opener because it was a real, working studio with top-end Macs. Cutting-edge technology, working in Quark Express and with colour printers.
It was a brilliant experience. When it comes to advice for young people, I would encourage designers to take opportunities while they’re young. Do something unexpected or different to what you think you want to do. In part to confirm that you don’t want to do it. Challenge yourself and see what the experience presents you with.
Am I right in thinking you moved to New York to work with Roger after college?
That’s right. For a few years, I lived in New York, met my wife, and spent my time redesigning magazines. At the time, in the early 1990s, magazines were highly successful, selling millions of copies in the United States and commanding huge budgets. I was fortunate to work on redesigns of Esquire, Newsweek, and various other publications. It was a creatively intoxicating environment, as we collaborated with top photographers, writers, and editors to create this weekly or monthly product. It was a process of continual improvement — a true design evolution. We’d try to make every edition slightly better, and I think we achieved that. My strongest memory of that time is working with people who were really smart and interesting. Roger really taught me the importance not just of how something looks, but how it reads; to always think of the reader.
When I moved back to the UK with my wife, I quickly realised that I wasn’t a magazine designer per se, but rather the systems of magazines. But here’s where things really changed for me. One day, I was out for coffee with a friend when I saw this guy walking towards me. I immediately recognised him, but I couldn’t place him. I walked over and said hello, not really thinking about it. We had a pleasant conversation, and when he walked away, I realised, oh. That was Peter Saville! That’s how I met him, a complete chance encounter. Peter is probably the most visually literate person I’ve ever met. From there, I’ve done various things with him on a freelance basis.
Would you count Peter as a mentor?
I would. He has helped me immensely over the years. I’ve worked with him since 1996, so that’s almost 30 years. At some point, you sit back and think, I’ve known this person for most of my adult life. Peter is just incredibly inspirational on every level — from the first time I saw his work on a record sleeve to now, when he phones me up asking if I can help him with something. He’s an essential part of British graphic design history.
Whenever I’ve worked with him, there has always been a unique and creative juxtaposition. Working with him was a hugely fun process because most of the hard work was at the beginning. He’d discuss it, rearrange some things, and ultimately direct it, and we’d end up with something much better because of his vision. I did a lot of logos with him, books, and I also met brilliant people like Nick Knight through him. We’d work from 17:00 to midnight, or whenever we got the job done. It was tiring but completely brilliant. I suppose that creating logos for Peter was one of my ways into designing typefaces.
Did the move into type design come naturally?
I suppose it did, yes. I started gradually teaching myself about type design, and I was fortunate to know lots of people in the industry who could offer guidance.
A few years — and two children later — I had the opportunity to collaborate with Mark Porter, the design director of The Guardian newspaper. I’d done some consultancy work for The Guardian and the Observer over the years, and Mark invited me to lunch one day and said, ‘We’re going to redesign the Guardian. Can you give me some advice on the typography? We are changing the format, how can we evolve the design?’.
They were still using the classic Hillman Helvetica design, so I said, ‘Let’s not change it, let’s make it better’ So we commissioned Christian Schwartz to make a new cut of Helvetica for them in record time, working at a pace that gives me chills thinking about it. There were some changes in direction, so Christian and I decided to collaborate on a typeface, which became Guardian Egyptian, and it was a big success. We retained the right to face, and that’s how Commercial Type was formed.
What’s the most challenging part about being a type designer?
It’s funny because type design is a bit like being a marathon runner. The process is lengthy, requiring considerable energy, planning, and preparation. A typeface takes a certain amount of time to make, so you hope by the time it’s finished, it’s still going to be relevant.
It’s also not a profession that most people encounter. Put it this way, when the people at the passport control desk ask about my job, it takes a bit of explanation, but they generally get the idea once I’ve had a chance to explain what I do.
Then there’s balancing the creative side of the work with running the business.
Where do you find your inspiration?
At Commercial Type, we do two things very well. Firstly, we do retail typefaces. Secondly, we create bespoke, custom typefaces. For example, we made the V&A’s typeface a couple of years ago, drawing inspiration from the V&A itself. Just walking around the place fills you with wonder. I think it’s essential to get out and see things.
The Guardian was the same. You get inspired by immersing yourself in your client’s world. If the content is good, you’ll get a knock-on effect, and it helps elevate everything around it. I’m fortunate to have worked with some immeasurably inspirational people and clients over the years, and that’s a constant source of happiness. One day, I’m designing a typeface for the National Trust, and the next, I’m working with Puma to draw numbers on the back of their shirts. You can’t help but be inspired by that kind of work.
People have been making letters for thousands of years, and a big part of typeface design is being able to have conversations with the past. To understand the history of a typeface or know where certain character styles originated motivates me to recontextualise that knowledge for today’s use. I’m particularly interested in historical typefaces and bringing them back to life, but I’m not interested in bringing back the graphic communication of the past. How can you use them in a modern way? What’s the future going to look like? That’s what keeps me going creatively. I enjoy the variety. So sometimes it’s really serious. For example, we’re currently designing a typeface for a newspaper, and it needs to feel hard-working and appropriate to the content, which is quite heavy. It needs to be economical so that it works with the page grid while solving functional challenges.
What advice would you give to someone entering the industry now?
Try to gather as much information as possible about the industry. Even the things you don’t think will be essential. Be curious about what each workshop or process does. Learn about history and old technology, because you might never get that opportunity again once you leave the education system.
Experience things first-hand, not through someone else’s lens. Don’t fall into the trap of believing what the device in front of you says is good. Get out there and learn things for yourself. Context is everything.
I agree. You can’t beat holding an original, physical design in your hands and experiencing it yourself. So much of the content you see online isn’t even real. It has probably never made it to print or gone beyond the designer’s screen. It’s so important, actually, to experience these things and learn from the process.
Here’s a question for you. If you were 18 now, would you still want to become a graphic designer?
Yes, I would. It is utterly exhausting at times, but what job isn’t? It’s given me a great life, and ultimately, I still find design fulfilling. Ask me in another 15 years…
The reason I ask is that I’ve been thinking a lot about the cyclical nature of our industry’s future. In the 1950s and 60s, lots of creative people wanted to get into magazines because it was a happening industry. In the 1990s, being a designer was considered the cool thing to be. So, I often wonder if graphic design is an industry destined to shift and fall out of vogue. So much can be ‘done’ now just with technology. What do you think?
You’re probably right. I discussed this in my recent conversations with Justin Hobson and Alan Kitching, and I feel there has been a steady increase in the number of people working in design. I don’t think the current landscape is sustainable, and I think it will shrink pretty rapidly, partly accelerated by the emergence of generative AI. People are openly discussing the skills shortage and the pay disparity between agency owners and the creatives who work in their studios, so that divide needs to close for our industry to balance itself out again. But, I believe there will always be a place for it. You’ll always have your superstar design visionaries, and they need teams to help them bring their work to life. Will there still be a place for the 50-100 person agencies that churn out the same kind of work each week? I’m not convinced.
That brings me back to the start of this chat, where I mentioned Top of the Pops. I come from a time when there was one place to see new music on TV and a handful of radio stations. You had to go out and find things for yourself. The consumption of culture is inextricably linked with the consumption of design. There’s just so much of it now that it’s hard to keep up, and that devalues it from a client’s perspective. It’s an entirely different kind of world that we inhabit, but there’s still a tremendous opportunity to collaborate with people and do good things together. But you need to have people together, in the same room, not over Zoom. It has to be real. Authentic. Human. Otherwise, what’s the point?
Going back to advice for young designers, that all stems from a place of curiosity. If you’re curious, you’ll find the world around you fascinating, be forever inspired, and your work will be original. Go out there and ask questions of people.
If you’re a designer and you’re offered the opportunity to learn how to set type manually, take it. Just seeing for yourself what 60pt type looks like is so enlightening. Learn how to calculate kerning and leading properly, and you’ll see it if you look closely enough. It’s easy to miss that stuff on a screen. Commit it to paper, learn how different techniques have a different effect on the paper, on the letterforms themselves. It’s physical and it’s real. Your computer can’t replicate that experience. You’ll learn so much doing things that way, even if you never get to set type manually in your paid job.
What advice do you wish you’d been given?
Enjoy your experiences as they happen. Try to take it all in while it’s in front of you, as life moves quickly, especially when you’re young. Enjoy the learning curve, even when it’s steep. Yes, you need to get your head down, but come up for air now and again to see where you are. Take all the opportunities you can.
Do you have any strong views on AI and its potential impact on type design?
It’s undoubtedly going to do something at some point, but I have no idea what form that will take. I do hope that AI will make certain tasks within graphic and type design more efficient. I don’t know many people who enjoy typesetting, so that would be a helpful innovation.
What’s next for you?
I think I’m entering my folk music period — maybe I’ll grow my beard, and take up the ukulele.
I enjoy a bit of teaching, talking about what I do and guiding young designers as best I can. But the brilliant thing about our industry is that you never know who’s going to walk through the door. The next job can quite literally be anything. People always ask me what my dream job would be, and I’d have said The Guardian, the National Trust or the England football team numbers. I’ve completed those projects and numerous others that bring me immense joy when I reflect on them. To answer your question, I’m not sure what project comes next, but I’m sure it will be fun, whatever it is!
I’m a big Villa fan, as you know, so the Aston Villa numbers would be a good one.
What brings you joy?
The truly amazing thing about type design is you never know where your work is going to turn up. It brings me so much joy to be innocently going about my day, then encountering one of my typefaces. For example, I was on a website last week and a Hermès advert popped up using one of our fonts. I love those moments as they catch you off guard. Another time, I was in a bookstore in Japan, and I came across a Japanese magazine — I couldn’t understand a word of it — but the logo was set in one of my typefaces. It’s just great.
Thank you so much for this, Paul. It was so good to catch up with you.
No problem, Liam — let me know if you have any other questions.
