spitzer – The Magazine for Illustration
From vignettes to murals, from magazine pages to children’s picture books, from comics to infographics – illustration helps, connects, complements, tells stories, explains, decorates, provokes, reinforces, initiates, and much more. Despite all this, it occupies a place (or several places) behind the written word in the communication mix. No reason to fret – we want to show what illustration does and can do in its many different forms. To this end, we talk to creators and clients and report on projects, campaigns, initiatives, and events.
p. 3 – INTRODUCTION
Better done than prfect
Some things are better tackled right away and not first considered all the imponderables and difficulties. Like the idea for a conference for children’s book illustration called „Bunte Hunte,“ which we
had in the summer of 2022.
We actually originally wanted to create a magazine about illustration. Dirk already had the name „spitzer.“ But while we were talking about it, we realized, among other things, that there hasn’t been a larger „class reunion“ of children’s book illustrators in Germany yet. A regular event where people can exchange ideas about their shared working world and further their education (and a welcome opportunity to perhaps launch an illustration magazine). So we spontaneously decided to organize such a meeting. To our delight, we quickly discovered that there is indeed a great need (for discussion) on this topic – this year, Bunte Hunte took place for the third time. More at www.bunte-hunte.de.
So now, in addition to our daily work, we also had to organize a conference. And thus, another reason to stop working on „spitzer.“ But the original wish has not left us.
Now it’s finished, – the first issue of „spitzer.“
In the two years since the initial ideas and the printed magazine, a lot has changed in the world of illustration. And so, some of the planned texts had to be scrapped or rewritten. One article, however, has remained in place: Tobi Dahmen talks about the creation and his work on the graphic novel „Columbusstraße“ (p. 24).
Hopefully, this first issue is one of many to come –
we’re excited to see where the journey takes us.
Dirk Uhlenbrock and Patrick Wirbeleit
P.S.: We’d love to take you along on the journey, so let us know what you like or dislike, and what topics you’d like to see in spitzer – just send an email to info@spitzer-magazin.de.
P.P.S.: And if you don’t want to miss anything, simply sign up for our newsletter at www.spitzer-magazin.de 😉
p. 4
Perception (The Paradox of Invisible Skill)
Illustration is ubiquitous and a significant means of communication in the 21st century. Yet, the craft of illustration is rarely recognized and appreciated.
Why?
A good illustration functions as a partner to a narrative. A powerful partner that not only repeats the content of a text on a visual level, but can interpret, elevate, and add new aspects to it. Or tell the narrative entirely without words.
However, as soon as the illustrator’s hand becomes visible to the reader in any way, a break in the flow of reading occurs. And the illustration has failed in its purpose. It should serve the story, the idea, the emotion, and not draw attention to itself.
Of course, one can consciously work with these breaks. But even in this case, they should serve the idea and not be an end in themselves.
When I watch a film in the cinema and suddenly think, „Wow! What a great special effect!“, my attention is momentarily drawn to the fact that special effects exist. And perhaps in that moment I realize that there are people whose profession it is to create special effects for films. But what I become aware of most in that moment is the fact that I am in a cinema and no longer in the story.
For children’s book illustration, this means: as long as image and text form a unit in the service of the story, no one will usually give a thought to their creators.
The profession of children’s book illustrator therefore entails remaining invisible within their work. If this succeeds, it is an indicator that the illustrators have done their job well. This, however, is not very helpful when it comes to gaining more recognition and appreciation.
Because appreciation is not only important for the self-esteem and mental health of illustrators. It’s equally important for finally putting the craft of illustration on a more financially stable footing.
So how do you solve this „paradox of invisible skills“?
I fear we still have to fight many, many small and large battles for this appreciation. Each of us individually and together.
I know that this generally doesn’t correspond to our mentality. Quite the opposite. As a rule, we illustrators are happy if we can get through life as unnoticed and conflict-free as possible.
Of all the creative professions I’ve come into contact with so far, illustrators are by far the ones with the least „elbow room.“ Children’s book illustrators, in particular, seem more inclined to let others move up the career ladder than to assert their position or even push others aside.
But every time illustrators don’t stand up for their rights, they make it harder for those who are willing to fight for them.
If all illustrators insist that their names be mentioned on the covers of the books they illustrate, this will surely become commonplace at some point. The same applies to illustrators‘ inclusion in publishers‘ program previews.
The fact that illustrators are often last in line behind authors in negotiations over royalties also urgently needs to change.
Why are the illustrators‘ names still hidden in the fold in many magazines?
Do the magazine’s designers follow the aforementioned principle of not distracting readers from the reading experience with the existence of the creators? And if so, why are the authors‘ names above the text and not in the fold?
Unfortunately, we have no final influence over many of these things. Not even as a collective. However, we do have full control over how we present ourselves. And I would like to encourage everyone to confidently step forward as the person behind their art. Even if it’s difficult for many of us.
It’s no longer enough to simply „let the art speak for itself.“
The craftsmanship of an illustration will become increasingly easy to replace with AI.
What matters is the human behind the images. Because people will continue to want to work with people. And people will continue to want to read stories created by people. But for that to happen, their creators must become more visible.
Because how can people regret that clients are replacing our creative work with computer-generated images when they previously had virtually no knowledge of our existence?
Patrick Wirbeleit
p. 17
Piatti striking
Celestino Piatti is known to most people – at least in Germany – primarily as the long-time art director of dtv paperbacks, whose various thematic series he developed and designed for over 30 years. Between 1961 and the early 1990s, he created over 6,000 book covers and countless posters, advertisements, and catalogs for the publisher.
Less well known is the equally vast volume of commercial art work he created since the early 1950s, primarily for Swiss manufacturers. At a time when it was still far too expensive to use photographs for advertising purposes, illustration was the medium of choice for bringing content and products to consumers in a striking way.
The vast majority of his sketches, interim studies, and printed proof copies (as well as freelance artistic works) are housed, at the family’s initiative, in an inconspicuous archive located just south of his former Basel workplace. There, they are gradually reviewed, cataloged, and compiled and prepared for various purposes. I’ve had the good fortune—and great pleasure—to dig into this vast collection three times already and have discovered many preliminary studies that clearly demonstrate Piatti’s working methods and the intensity of his engagement with a subject. Here are three examples (one could fill several books), featuring advertisements for brand manufacturers, that illustrate this very well.
Dirk Uhlenbrock
p. 25
Columbusstraße
+ + + We requested this text in mid-2023, and Tobi wrote it during the finalization phase, shortly before submitting the print data to the publisher. A lot has happened since then: „Columbusstraße“ received a lot of attention and is consistently well-reviewed in the arts and culture sections. The book has now been reprinted four times (there is also a French edition), and we asked Tobi to supplement his article with a recent review. + + +
As a comic book author, you’re always on the lookout for stories. You automatically evaluate everything you tell to see if it could make for an interesting story or whether it would work as a sequence in a comic. I’m not the type to invent adventurous tales set on spaceships or distant planets; I’m most interested in everyday stories, both big and small. And so, most of my stories were autobiographical or at least influenced by my own experiences.
One such story was my graphic novel „Fahrradmod,“ about my youth in the 80s and 90s in the small town of Wesel, under the influence of British subcultures like the Mods. The book was a minor success, but unfortunately, my father didn’t live to see it. He died in 2015, shortly before I sent my pages to the publisher. I think he would have been very pleased with the book’s success. Although he may have been, let’s just say, surprised by some passages.
As the dust settled some time after the release of „Fahrradmod,“ I naturally thought about what would come next. The second album. I certainly would have had a few more funny anecdotes from my life to tell, but I also thought a lot about my father and what he left me. His stories. I had already considered that some of them would certainly have been worth sharing. How his father, as a lawyer in Düsseldorf, represented opponents of the regime. The nights of the bombing in Düsseldorf. How he ended up in the evacuation camp for children in Villingen with an organist who spoke out openly against the Nazis. How his sister Marlies escaped from the labor service at Bayer and just barely made it home to Oberkassel, crossing the Oberkassel Bridge, which was already rigged with explosives.
In one of my few far-sighted moments, I listened to my father tell me his life story during a trip we took. I recorded these conversations on my iPod. A few years later, I also asked my mother about her childhood. What was your first memory? Do you still remember nights of bombing? Can you describe your apartment in Breslau?
Later, after I had transcribed these recordings, it provided a kind of framework for the story I wanted to tell. I created a timeline for the major and minor events in the two families and supplemented it with the important moments of the war years in general, but also the specific war events in their hometowns. And so I quickly realized that my family’s chronicle also reflected, in part, the events of the Second World War.
Through the small-scale fate of two middle-class families and their environments, I try to sketch the bigger picture: How did the Nazi state ultimately hold almost all of its citizens accountable, and how did the war and its consequences shape and traumatize these generations.
In addition to the photographs, I also incorporated other sources into the story. My family’s legacy is quite extensive, including handwritten biographies, memoir books, numerous letters from the Eastern Front, and a host of photographs. I also pored over extensive archives, consulted with memorial sites, and received help from historians. I also traveled to most of the places where the story took place, including with my mother to the places where she spent her childhood in Saxony.
I also use the original sources as part of the plot, using original quotations in dialogues, illustrating excerpts from letters, or using conversations with my parents as a commentary on what is unfolding before the reader. Sometimes I also incorporate original documents into the images to create an even more comprehensive documentation.
Furthermore, documenting the locations is important to me in order to create a degree of recognition for the reader. Despite all the destruction, fortunately, some of the buildings from that era still exist. In addition to bringing the voices of the past back to life, it’s important to me to also capture these stone witnesses. These, too, are traces of the past; they, too, remind us of what happened back then, making history tangible. Take, for example, my father’s birthplace on Columbusstrasse. To my great surprise, the house is still furnished almost as it was in the 1930s and 1940s, which naturally makes it easier for me to reconstruct life in the rooms.
First, I write the story as pure text, into which I then integrate the numerous quotations. Unfortunately, I need considerable solitude for this, and I’ve retreated to small holiday homes far from all distractions. I’ve always envied authors who write their texts at the kitchen table. I then roughly divide the script into individual pages and draft a rough storyboard in my sketchbook.
The research took quite a bit of time overall; I spent a few years on it. In order to get closer to the characters in my story through drawing, I created two digital sketches during the Inktober days. I created portraits of the protagonists, but also tried to translate specific scenes that had been handed down to me into a drawing.
Unlike with „Fahrradmod,“ I now draw the pages digitally, on my iPad. This allows me to still be a little involved in family life when my loved ones are sitting in front of the TV in the evening. To still make good progress, however, I’ve set myself the obligation of creating at least three pages per week. This has always worked well so far; during the Corona pandemic, I’ve often managed five. During the day, however, I’m always busy with my commissioned and illustration work. I then do the coloring with grayscale either on the iPad Pro or on my Cintiq in my studio.
I work with Photoshop or Adobe Fresco on the iPad, especially because I can work with many layers and also really appreciate Kyle Webster’s brushes. I can even work in A2 format with the app, and even if I want to make large-format prints afterwards, they’re still of excellent quality.
I create my drawings with rough strokes and in shades of gray; I think that suits this story best.
The period of war and National Socialism is incredibly complex. Nevertheless, we tend to talk about it in black and white, which is understandable; we want to make things simple. But that doesn’t go far enough. If I’ve learned anything from my research, it’s that this period consists of many, mostly very dark, shades of gray.
It’s actually a paradox: how can someone be a victim when, at the same time—willingly or unwillingly—they belong to the group of perpetrators. Nowadays, we tend (again) to divide the world into good and evil. Right and wrong. As if there had only been the majority of perpetrators and collaborators, and the small, upright group of resistance fighters.
In reality, it probably wasn’t that simple. My grandfather is a good example of this; as a staunch Catholic, he opposed the Nazis and, as a lawyer, represented opponents of the regime. At the same time, he had reservations about his Jewish fellow citizens, like the majority of the German population at the time. It’s naturally painful to read such things as a grandchild. But if we want to learn something from history, it means dealing honestly with our own family history. And naming the injustices. The example of my grandfathers alone shows that you can’t paint a picture of this time with just two colors, black and white. As I said, it consists of an incredible number of shades of gray.
Just judging the time at all, of course, presents us with dilemmas. What do we know, those of us born in relatively safe latitudes? Of course, we always judge this time from our position, from a democratic society. Without being exposed to the dangers and reprisals of the Nazi dictatorship. We always ask ourselves how all this horror could have happened? To do this, we need to take a closer look and understand how the system worked.
And to draw conclusions from this for our decisions today. On the one hand, to look in the rearview mirror and understand what we have achieved since then. But on the other hand, to evaluate our current politics and our current everyday decisions. Without wanting to directly compare the events, of course, there is unimaginable suffering today, and we have become accustomed to looking the other way. The Mediterranean is just one symbol of this. Another sentence that stuck in my mind while researching the structures of the Wehrmacht: „Most soldiers in World War II did not vote before 1933“ (C. Hartmann, Wehrmacht im Ostkrieg 1941-1942, R. Oldenburg Verlag 2010). The year with the most victims, almost 30 percent of all fallen soldiers, was born in 1921. They were about 12 years old in 1933. We should keep such figures in mind, because, of course, we still have a say in the future of our children today.
My father’s death made me painfully aware of how many stories died with him. Because he told them to me, I feel obligated to preserve them for my family and beyond. I consider these legacies a gift; in conversations with friends or at readings, I realize how rare it is that so much has been preserved. On the one hand, because, of course, much was destroyed in the war and by flight, and on the other hand, because, of course, much was also destroyed in order to be forgotten.
We should beware of the latter. Unfortunately, there are again many actors on the scene who are trying to sweep the terrible era of National Socialism under the carpet of history. The injustice that occurred back then still resonates today; we must therefore keep the memory alive to prevent a similar descent into darker times.
Recounting individual fates, true events of real people, can perhaps help keep memory and remembrance alive.
So, I’m far from finished with my work. But in the meantime, a comprehensive story has emerged that will keep me busy for a while.
The first part is almost complete, except for proofreading and coloring with grayscale, and contains over 500 pages. The second part, which deals with the postwar period and the consequences of the war, will be of a similar length; I’ve already started on that.
If nothing else comes up, the first part will be published by Carlsen Verlag next year. The second part will follow in the not-too-distant future.
p. 34 recent review:
The book was published in May 2024, after grueling weeks and months until it reached the printers. To the 500 pages of history, we added an appendix, a glossary, in which we explained numerous terms and background information.
The presentation took place at the International Comic Salon in Erlangen. At first, I was a little worried whether this would be the right place. After all, visitors there stuff their bags full of books. Isn’t such a heavy book on top of everything a bit too much? But I was wrong. On the penultimate day of the Salon, the book was already sold out, a whole pallet was gone, and I had to reorder from elsewhere. The signing lines were long, and I received a lot of positive feedback. All this attention was certainly also due to the large exhibition that Jörg Stauvermann conceived for the book on behalf of Carlsen Verlag. Jörg decided not to display pages on the wall, but rather the draft of the story itself. The main elements were a family tree, juxtaposing the protagonists‘ drawings with original photographs, as well as a large map connecting the locations of the plots, events, and documents. A partition wall provided an introduction to the book and an overview of the creative process. Facsimiles of photos, letters, and documents were also displayed in display cases.
The exhibition was very well attended, and I witnessed some visitors leaving the exhibition in tears. I hope the exhibition will be shown elsewhere. If there’s any interest, please contact me or Carlsen.
I also conducted many interviews with press representatives at the salon, but even before I traveled to Erlangen, I had my first press interviews. WDR filmed a short piece about the intention of my book and my research. And afterward, there was a kind of flood of reports that is very unusual for comics reporting. Three factors likely play a role here: the elections in three eastern regions shortly after the book’s publication, the general rise of the New Right everywhere, and, at the same time, the many questions that many families are still grappling with: What did Grandpa and Grandma do? The silence that covered everything before and during the war caused a great deal of damage and stifled any confrontation with guilt and responsibility in many families. I experience it often: in the emails people write me, or in conversations after book signings and readings: the need to talk. To exchange ideas, to compare family histories, in the hope of gaining some more insight. Because there’s so little left these days. Or too little. Even I, who has this extensive legacy at my disposal, still have so many questions.
The book has been a huge success, Carlsen’s second-bestselling comic book last year, featured on numerous 2024 bestseller lists, and is now in its fourth edition. And there’s already interest from abroad, too. I’m very grateful for this and never would have expected it to have such a big impact. I also hope that perhaps a few more important conversations will be held within the families before it’s too late.
For myself, work on Columbusstrasse will soon continue, after first creating an anthology for the Haus der Geschichte NRW together with Jakob Hoffmann and Philip Abresch, „Imagine! – Stories about the Postwar Period,“ which will be published by Avant Verlag in March. I’m also currently working on „Al Fazia – the Horror,“ a story about a Syrian refugee and the horror of Assad’s military prisons.
Once I’ve completed this project, I’ll return to Columbusstrasse in the second half of the year, focusing on my mother’s family. What was life like in the postwar period, and what was it like under Soviet occupation? There are already a hundred pages, but there will be a few more. This period is also part of it. Accordingly, my work isn’t over yet.
Tobi Dahmen
p. 37
Madlen or the Search for Old Treasures
The charming story of Madlen, her eleven friends, Mrs. Clavel, and the exciting appendectomy first appeared – in a slightly slimmed-down version – on September 4, 1939, in the American issue of „LIFE Magazine.“
Ludwig Bemelmans,
author and illustrator of „Madlen,“ described to the magazine how he came across the subject: The previous summer, while vacationing on a French Atlantic island, he was hit by the island’s only car. He shared his hospital room with a little girl who, after an appendectomy, was almost bursting with joy and pride over the scar. While still in his hospital bed, Bemelmans decided to write a book about his roommate – which promptly appeared one day after the „LIFE“ preprint, on September 5, 1939, from the renowned New York publisher „Simon & Schuster.“ According to Bemelmans, Madlen’s cheeky character was inspired by his then three-year-old daughter Barbara – but also by himself. Ludwig Bemelmans, born in Austria in 1898 and died in the USA in 1962, was what was called „difficult to educate“ in his youth. No wonder: Just six years after Ludwig’s birth, his father left the family to elope with another woman, while both Ludwig’s mother and Ludwig’s French governess were expecting a child. The governess, whom little Ludwig affectionately called „Gazell“ because he couldn’t pronounce the French word for „young lady,“ „Mademoiselle,“ committed suicide shortly afterwards. At 16, after a brief stay at boarding school in Rothenburg, Bavaria, and an aborted hotel apprenticeship in Tyrol, during which he shot a bullying superior, Ludwig faced a decision: either join a naval ship or emigrate to America. Bemelmans chose America.
Armed with two pistols and expecting to encounter Apaches upon arrival, he began the arduous journey to the land of opportunity. His father, who had since moved to New York City and worked as a jeweler, simply forgot to pick up his son upon arrival in his new home. Bemelmans celebrated his first Christmas on American soil at Ellis Island, the arrival point for immigrants. In New York, he worked his way up in hotels and restaurants, from errand boy to assistant manager at the famous Ritz-Carlton Hotel. He became a US citizen in 1918. In 1926, he fulfilled a long-held dream and became a comic book artist. However, his strip „The Thrilling Adventures of Count Bric a Brac“ was published by too few newspapers to continue his career, and so, six months later, Bemelmans, disillusioned, returned to work at the Ritz Hotel.
However, he would retain the comic narrative style from then on: The combination of text and image became his trademark, and when he left the hotel again three years later to become a freelance artist, he earned his first money illustrating articles for „Vogue“ and „The New Yorker.“ Nowhere, however, would he come closer to comics again than in the „Madlen“ series, of which Bemelmans published a total of five volumes and sold approximately 15 million copies worldwide. The fusion of picture book and comic makes the work practically predestined for Péridot Publishing, which specializes in the outer reaches of comics and its interfaces with other forms of expression.
Bemelmans borrowed the name of his heroine, whose original name was Madeline (pronounced „girl“), from his second wife, Madeleine (pronounced „Madlähn“). While writing the verses, however, he noticed that Madeline in English allows for significantly more rhymes than Madeleine, which is why he ultimately opted for this English variant of the well-known French name (and pastry). In all five translations of the book published in German to date, which unfortunately never enjoyed a wider readership, this peculiarly Anglo-French name has been retained. For this new translation, however, we have decided to name the main character Madlen. This is not only easier to pronounce (Madlen is pronounced „Madlen“), but also logical: While Bemelmans, addressing an English-speaking audience, gave his main character living in Paris (with no discernible connection to America) the English version of a French name, for a German-speaking audience, this character logically requires a German version of this very French name – Madlen.
In other respects as well, Nadia Budde’s excellent new translation is significantly closer to the original than previous German versions: The book’s almost iconic opening lines in English-speaking countries („In an old house in Paris, that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.“), with their vine-covered house and the girls always running around in two rows, only find a German equivalent in Budde’s work. Previously, for example, the 1999 Carlsen edition read: „There was an old house in Paris, there twelve girls went in and out.“ No vines, no rows. Even the ending regains its calming, conciliatory poetry in German only through Budde’s translation.
Not only linguistically are we now closer to the original. Visually, this edition also does justice to the original drawings for the first time. Bemelmans was plagued by notorious financial worries throughout his life. „My best inspiration,“ the highly prolific artist admitted, „is a low bank balance.“ And so he usually sold the original drawings of a newly published book immediately. According to the New York „Hammer Gallery,“ collectors of his drawings included illustrious personalities such as director Alfred Hitchcock and the Ecuadorian president. In the absence of those originals scattered everywhere, Bemelmans‘ drawings were thus always reproduced based on previously reproduced drawings. This visual „Chinese whispers“ led to the aforementioned vines, executed in delicate gray on the very first page of the story, almost fading over the course of editions (for example, in the 1980 „Diogenes“ edition). Other images showed only black areas where previously fine grayish shading had been. For this edition, the best reproduction of each individual image was always tracked down and carefully restored. Never before, neither in English nor in German, have the illustrations been printed with such clarity and sharpness.
A worthwhile effort. Even 85 years after their publication, the verses about Madlen remain a source of joy for children and adults alike. They celebrate stepping out of step and overcoming life’s small and large events with lightheartedness and perfect form, placing a fearless, strong girl at the center of the story—something that can’t happen often enough then, as it does now.
At the same time, little secrets surround the story, making it all the more interesting, even suggesting a serious core beneath the friendly surface: Where are we actually in this vine-covered house? In a boarding school? When does the story take place? Doesn’t the wounded soldier hint at war? Remember, the story was published in 1939, just a few days after the start of World War II. Four pages after the first printing of „Madlen,“ the September 4th issue of „LIFE Magazine“ offers a richly illustrated depiction of Germany’s invasion of Poland. Is Mrs. Clavell a nun or even a nurse? Didn’t nurses in France dress similarly during World War I? Why does Dr. Cohn arrive so quickly – does he even live in the house? Is the vine-covered house perhaps a sanatorium? Who is the mysterious figure in a fez who wanders through the background four times? And: Where is Madlen’s absent father?
One mystery can be solved here and now – namely, why on page 42, twelve children are miraculously sitting at the table again, when Madlen is actually still in the hospital, recovering from her surgery. This inconsistency appears to be rooted in Bemelman’s chaotic and nervous work process, about which he wrote: „A drawing must land on the paper as if whipped cream had been slapped onto a plate.“ Bemelman’s daughter Barbara also recalls: „My father couldn’t handle numbers. When parents wrote that their children had noticed this mistake, my mother would reply and congratulate them on their clever children.“ At the request of the heirs, we have therefore left this minor error unchanged.
Ferdinand Lutz
p. 43
Of Running Fish, Silverfish, and Cockroaches
In Arnhem’s creative district, within walking distance of the main train station, lies a shop that’s just my style. There you’ll find the headquarters of the Dutch publishing house LOOPVIS: a store, office, shipping department, café, gallery, and workshop space all in one, filled with books, posters, postcards, and other stationery. Marije Sietsma is the founder, mastermind, and driving force behind the „uitgeverij van rijk geillustreerde boeken“ (a rich and diverse range of books) – an entrepreneur who, in many ways, has set out to do things differently and correctly, but more on that later…
I have to go back a few months – I was on vacation in South Holland, and while out shopping, I noticed a rotating rack in a store containing many colorful magazines. Up close, they were all different titles, each illustrated and designed by someone else. And even though they initially seemed like children’s books, the themes, which were categorized into different categories such as Love & Friendship, Comfort, You Can Do It, Nature, Condolences, Thank You, Art, etc., puzzled me. Yes, there were titles for children too, but many more for other age groups: Little Comforters, Life Advice, Cookbooks, Poems, etc. They were sold with an envelope, and although I only understand 60-70% of Dutch, it quickly dawned on me that they must be something like „extended greeting cards.“ All beautifully designed, printed on open-faced paper, and thread-stitched—great idea, great product! Kakkerlakjes—great name! I want to know more about them and meet the makers.
Contact was quickly made, and a few weeks later, I was driving toward the Dutch border.
Now we’re back on Coehoornstraat, and Marieje Sietsma opens the door for me shortly before the store opens, puts away the vacuum cleaner she had just used to quickly whizz through the shop, makes us a coffee, and we sit down to chat in the back area with the three small wooden houses where the workshops take place (one of the houses is equipped with a bed so guest artists can stay overnight).
After a short time, it becomes clear to me that Loopvis is essentially a one-woman show—Marije publishes, does acquisitions, thinks up new products, organizes her staff, and also regularly bakes cakes for the small café area at Loopvis.
But how did the publishing business come about?
She has always loved books and illustrations, and after some time as a journalist, she and a colleague developed and self-published their first illustrated cookbook in 2008. The book won several awards after her first publication. Others followed, which were also well-received and won awards. However, despite these notable successes, financial success was lacking. Financing the projects was still difficult, and she couldn’t make a living from the work. The production costs of the elaborately produced cookbooks were not well-balanced with the sales revenue – and the Dutch book market isn’t that large.
In 2019, she decided to either try again with a new concept or give up publishing. She and a few friends retreated for a weekend to a workshop, and the result was Kakkerlakjes: These are booklets measuring 12 x 17 cm, with 16 pages, and are thread-stitched. She worked out the format together with her in-house printer to maximize the use of printed sheets (minimizing waste). All Loopvis publications are printed with eco-friendly inks on certified paper. The primary target group is adults; she seeks the right author and illustrator for each topic, and everyone involved receives a fixed salary for their work, regardless of reputation and name recognition.
The Kakkerlakjes series launched with 32 titles. Marije had special rotating stands made in two sizes and self-distributed them across the Netherlands. For a whole summer, she traveled from bookstore to bookstore, from lifestyle shop to lifestyle shop, with a fully packed camper van to present her product. The strategy worked; two new titles in the series have been published every month since then (now over 140!), and matching bamboo slipcases were produced in 2023. Many people, of course, also buy the small booklets for themselves, not necessarily to send them to others. This year, the cockroaches will make it across the border and, translated into German, will be available here starting in October.
Back to the in-house printer: The collaboration has also resulted in other products through discussions about sustainable production. For example, what was supposedly offcuts, or rather paper waste, is being developed into useful items and the material is being upcycled.
The paper goods collection that has evolved from this over time has been given the lovely name ZILVERVIS (Silverfish). And speaking of lovely names – there’s also a subscription service called VISSERPOST (Fishing Post): a cardboard box filled with activity materials for children on a particular theme.
In addition to the cockroaches, books are also published from time to time, most recently a volume of poetry called „Zeeboerin.“ The employees who help with assembly (many book titles require elements to be glued or colored by hand), packaging, and shipping are, for various reasons, difficult to employ in the „normal job market.“ These are people who, for example, can only cope for a few hours due to mental health issues, men and women undergoing rehabilitation after incarceration, etc. Marije pursues a holistic approach to everything she does – what I described at the beginning of the article as „different and right.“
Inspired by her motivation and strength, I leave the shop after a good two and a half hours of conversation and look forward to more good news from Arnhem.
Dirk Uhlenbrock
p. 51
BIG ON IN A SMALL FORMAT – SOLO MATCHES
Approximately 12 square centimeters are a challenge from a design perspective:
How do you communicate content in this format in a way that is legible and recognizable? What can be displayed? How much text works, and above all, what needs to be omitted?
I don’t remember exactly when I first got my hands on the matchstick motifs, only that the colors, the simple, concise motifs, and the printing on inexpensive paper immediately captivated me – ultimately, every single motif was a vintage poster in miniature format. My passion for collecting took over (thank goodness, collecting doesn’t take up much space ;-)), and in no time, a stamp folder filled with a wide variety of motifs, most of them from the Czech manufacturer SOLO. Individual and series labels were found on various online portals, many of which are unused – meaning they’ve never seen a box – and sometimes there were even entire printed sheets with 24 individual motifs. The collection often serves as a source of inspiration for me when it comes to choosing a suitable color palette or reducing motifs.
In addition to the standard labels for match brands, there are a whole range of thematic areas: Naturally, products and services are advertised – trade fairs, restaurants, hotels, zoos, cities, and vacation destinations highlight their advantages. And then there are a multitude of motif series commissioned by institutions or the government, focusing on culture, health, accident prevention, nature conservation, sustainability, and recycling. Some of these can be found on these pages: Factual representations alternate with entertaining cartoon characters – what they all have in common is a reduction to the essentials at a very high design level. Always with the goal of quickly grasping the information being conveyed.
The SOLO match factory has played an important role in the history of the match industry and the economic development of Austria. It was founded in 1903 through the merger of several match manufacturers as SOLO Zündwaren- und Wichsefabriken AG. At its peak, SOLO was one of the market leaders in Central Europe, particularly in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The company produced a wide range of matches and supplied various markets in Central Europe, India, China, and the Ottoman Empire. During the interwar period, SOLO was split into an Austrian and a Czech company. Despite its importance, SOLO was eventually closed, although the SOLO brand continues to exist and matches are produced under that name.
Online resources:
designreviewed.com/format/matchbox-labels
matchbloc.com
czechoslovakian.ink
Dirk Uhlenbrock
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Where and what do you like to work with most?
At my desk with a 2B pencil – I love drawing and scribbled sketches. I often find them more beautiful than the finished illustrations.
I now realize many projects digitally on my iPad – which I really enjoy! That’s why I like to balance things out by drawing analogue in my sketchbook. After my Kaweco phase, I currently enjoy doodling with felt-tip pens and colored pencils. This is also a bit of a challenge for me, because using color analogue doesn’t always come easily to me.
When I’m bored in my workroom, I visit the shared office, Studio 44, and enjoy discussing projects (both personal and professional) and having lunch together.
What would you like to be known for?
Someone once said to me, „Aren’t you the one with your period?“ And I find that fitting in a few different ways. And otherwise, perhaps for making seemingly boring things exciting. That is, for drawing attention to small things and inspiring enthusiasm for them.
Who or what inspires you?
Everything that happens or exists around me.
Color combinations, snippets of conversation, birds 🙂
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Where and with what do you like to work most?
I love working in my studio with a pen and paper.
(It’s also true, though, that most of my work in recent years has been digital.)
What would you like to be known for?
For my lightness—but I don’t think I’ll succeed, as I’m my own biggest burden.
Who or what inspires you?
A mix of almost everything.
Music, stories, everyday life, the work of other artists. Sometimes even a blank sheet of paper that I just want to draw something on.
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Where and what do you like to work with most?
At home at my doodle table with colored pencils and a tablet.
What would you like to be known for?
Is it okay to say that I don’t want to be known, but rather that I’m simply super good at what I do, always remain curious, and bring joy to those close to me? If not, then maybe as the person who can read the minds of cats and bats.
Who or what inspires you?
Walks in the woods, the night, because then everything becomes magical: animals, insects, and mushrooms.
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Kurt Schmischke – the (un)known illustrator
In the late 1950s to the early 1970s, there was hardly a reading child in Germany who didn’t hold at least one book illustrated by Kurt Schmischke in their hands.
According to his own statements, the prolific illustrator illustrated approximately 2,000 books over the course of his 50-year career.
Certainly, sometimes he only created cover illustrations for a book. But especially at the height of his career, he designed hundreds of illustrated children’s books, which usually included around fifteen black-and-white interior illustrations in addition to the color cover.
One of the keys to this productivity was certainly his confidence in his own stroke. Whether due to time constraints or his technical skill, Kurt Schmischke almost exclusively dispensed with preliminary sketches when executing his ink drawings, instead capturing his expressive strokes directly on paper with a remarkable sense of composition and dynamics.
Yet he was by no means undemanding towards his own work. If he was dissatisfied, he would produce up to ten different versions of some drawings. This, however, was rather rare. As a rule, the first draft was also the one that was published.
The fact that many of the themes and genres that landed on his desk were repeated over time also helped him. This allowed him to fall back on familiar subjects and sometimes even repurpose discarded drafts for another book project. On the other hand, it must have been a challenge to find something new in these recurring themes.
There was one subject he never grew tired of, however: seafaring.
The first book he illustrated was the 1950 edition of „Mutiny on the Bounty.“ Many more children’s books with nautical themes were to follow, including a color-illustrated new edition of his first novel. His later work focused almost exclusively on sailing, addressing a more mature readership. For many years, he regularly illustrated for Yacht magazine, among other publications.
Like most illustrators, Kurt Schmischke didn’t die a rich man despite his extensive contribution to culture. But he left posterity a tremendous treasure trove of images that still deserves to be discovered.
Patrick Wirbeleit
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sputnic live animation cinema
Sputnic – that’s Malte Jehmlich, Nicolai Krahwinkel, and Nils Voges from Krefeld. An artist collective that has been working at the intersection of theater, animation, design, and media art since 2004. Their specialty: images that not only look beautiful, but also move – preferably live, in front of an audience, in the middle of the action.
With great attention to detail, clever technology, and plenty of crafting and drawing skills, they invent stage experiences never before seen: Live Animation Cinema is the name of their self-named genre – a blend of animation, performance, film set, and acting. A complete animated film is produced in real time on stage. The sets are drawn, the characters are given mechanics, the movements are played out live – and while the finished images flicker across the screen, you can see how everything is created on stage. Like an open animation studio – only more poetic, playful, and at the same time surprisingly touching.
For each piece, they work with different illustrators, whose styles shape the stories – sometimes subtle, sometimes wild, sometimes playful. Illustration is not an accessory in Live Animation Cinema, but a central creative tool. And always part of the narrative.
Sputnic is primarily interested in the question of how stories can be told today – beyond classic dramaturgies and familiar images. Her pieces experiment with form and format, always searching for new narratives for a 21st-century society. Thus, her stories are often philosophical road movies or feminist visions of the future, sometimes essayistic, sometimes poetically condensed – but always impressive as performances.
Ten productions have been created in this way so far, including at the Volkstheater Wien, Schauspiel Essen, and Theater Münster. Their most recent production, AURORA, was nominated for the prestigious Heidelberger Stückemarkt – a true accolade.
Anyone who wants to see how illustration, theater, and film merge into something completely new should definitely keep Sputnic in mind. The productions AURORA (Theater Bremen, 2024) and SKALAR (Schauspiel Münster, 2023) are currently running.
An animated film live on stage – how can you imagine that?
Nils Voges: We work with so-called animation tables: for example, overhead projectors or specially built tables with cameras. With a specially developed buzzer system, performers can switch between the tables live. On each table lies one of many animation plates – each showing a scene or shot, drawn by illustrators and processed into moving tableaux in our papercraft workshop. Arms, mouths, or entire figures can be animated manually. By switching live between shots, a cinematic montage is created in real time. The actors speak the roles of the drawn figures, animate (and embody) them, change animation plates, and edit the film live.
The audience can see several levels simultaneously: on the screen, the finished „film“ – poetic and condensed – and simultaneously on stage, the creation process and the embodiment of the roles by the actors. Acting, animation, and the making-of merge into a fascinating whole, embedded in the plot of the narrated story, which sets the dramatic arc. It’s all like a magic show, where the tricks are revealed and yet—or perhaps precisely because of them—one is amazed.
Illustration seems to play a central role in your work—how did that come about?
Nils Voges: All three of us studied communication design, and illustration was, of course, part of our education. But the origin of the idea for Live Animation Cinema was our shared love of animated film. Early on, we experimented with cut-out animation and puppet animation—a complex but fascinating process. At the same time, I worked as a video artist for the theater, where a new and live story is brought to life with each performance. The idea of combining the two worlds almost came naturally. In the beginning, we experimented with silhouette figures in the style of Lotte Reiniger’s silhouette films. Her simple mechanics continue to inspire us today. But by collaborating with new illustrators, the spectrum has expanded considerably. I’ve even illustrated an episode in a Live Animation Cinema production myself, but I wouldn’t call myself an illustrator. For that, we prefer to seek out specialists depending on the piece.
How do you find the illustrators for your pieces?
Nils Voges: Often they are artist friends from our circle or recommendations from the illustration scene. Sometimes we discover talent through social media – for example, we found one illustrator through Instagram. For POST PARADISE (Junges Theater Bremen, 2021), the episodic piece about climate change mentioned above, we launched a public call – the ten different stories were each designed in a different style by a different illustrator.
How does the creative process work?
Nils Voges: As the author and director, I set the direction, but I deliberately leave plenty of room for all the artists involved. It’s important that everything remains feasible within the limited rehearsal time (usually 6-8 weeks). Especially with illustration, you have to make sure it’s functional and doesn’t get lost in details. After the initial style development and storyboarding, where I work closely with the illustration and papercraft workshops, we start with rough images, which are then presented on the rehearsal stage. We test with the performers whether they can tell the story. Images are often then revised, discarded, or added to. In parallel, the mechanics are developed and, of course, additional scenes are drawn. At the end, each animation table has a stack of animation boards with drawn backgrounds and animation-ready characters—for POST PARADISE, for example, there were over 500.
Does your visual language change due to the illustrators‘ different styles?
Nils Voges: Yes, quite significantly. From silhouette figures to graphic novels to manga, we’ve had some very different styles. These were also sometimes used differently. Sometimes more comic-like, for example, with panels or speech bubbles, to wide, more cinematic Cinemascope shots or collages. Infographics have also appeared, as well as abstract artistic images that depict soul images rather than places and characters. Ultimately, everything serves the story. In THE INCOMMENSURABLES (Volkstheater Wien, 2023), for example, the style disintegrated with each act, just as the world in the story continued to disintegrate the closer one got to the beginning of World War I: At first, the images looked like oil paintings in a museum, then they took on a look reminiscent of classic Belgian comics, until they finally became abstract drawings reminiscent of Käthe Kollwitz’s charcoal drawings.
What’s next for your projects?
Nils Voges: We’re currently planning to explore new territory again and tell (or sing) an opera using Live Animation Cinema—and also a short film in which we want to use our production method to ultimately create a preserved film. There’s still a lot to try out and explore.