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the news of david lynch’s death came to me today through a text message from a friend. i didn’t believe it was true—after all it couldn’t actually be true—so i searched the internet to satisfy my doubts. at first there really was no mention of it, and i smiled. then, slowly, like a polaroid developing, obituary after obituary began to appear as i refreshed and refreshed. immediately, my face now wet with tears, i sent messages to those with whom i’ve shared a great delight in his work. immediately and sweetly each one of them responded.

i have just arrived back in new york for a brief trip. new york is a city i used to call home in a country i was fundamentally drawn to as a teenager. i was pulled here by the allure of artists like david lynch and trent reznor, who were making work (and at that time, together) that felt so unsafe that it excited my young mind. i am sitting at the kitchen table of my friend’s brooklyn apartment working on some film titles. i was sitting here when the news of lynch’s passing came in just hours ago. i was so consumed with tears in that moment that this scene from twin peaks started playing out in my mind. it’s a scene i’ve often thought of when crying, as in some ways it’s always helped me feel okay about crying as much as i do. the scene is from the pilot episode of the TV show. it depicts donna hayward, james hurley and audrey horne—sitting in their high school class room during a roll call—finding out that their classmate laura palmer is dead.

in the scene a policeman enters the class room and asks for a kid called bobby briggs. the cop then whispers words we can’t hear into the teacher’s ear whilst, simultaneously, an unidentified female student runs past the class room outside screaming in tears. then, as the teacher turns to the class and fearfully glances at laura’s empty desk chair, donna and james share a profound sense of what’s happened to their friend. donna then says “laura” out loud and starts to cry, and james uncontrollably snaps the pencil he’s holding as his right hand becomes a fist.

the crying isn’t the whole story here though. there are other reasons this scene returns to me so frequently. first of all: every beat of it exhibits a thing prevalent in lynch’s work; a thing that’s been so important to my work; a thing that has consequently lead me to the work of robert bresson, jean-luc godard and andrei tarkovsky. the scene delivers profoundly accessible feelings with barely a word of dialogue spoken. in fact gone too—just for this scene—is any of angelo badalamenti’s score or lynch’s trademark ambient soundscaping. sure, the policeman’s unintelligible whisperings to the teacher, the inarticulate knife-slash of the student screaming past outside, and donna exhaling “laura”, do of course lead those with eyes closed in a certain direction. however it’s the sequence of images used here that are invaluable to us the audience, as we find our own deeper way to relate to the action: there’s the look on everyone’s faces as the policeman enters the room and then whispers to the teacher. there’s the look on donna and james’ faces as the girl runs past outside and as the teacher glances in the direction of laura’s empty chair. then, finally, there’s the sense of loss expressed by the shot of laura’s empty chair itself, and donna and james’ consequent reactions to that. i have spent much of my life figuring out how to communicate the ineffable effectively with only one or two images, and so i’ve kept returning to this scene, and countless others in lynch’s work, in reassurance of the possibility.

second of all: there’s that eagerness david lynch possessed to let go of the handlebars and order each scene or act in his films such that they connect with those around them more because of a feeling than any clear rationale. he once said, “i don’t know why people expect art to make sense when they accept the fact that life doesn’t make sense,” in response to which the film critic (and champion of jean-luc godard’s work) richard brody excellently quipped: “that’s why.” both men are of course right in some sense, but for me it’s lynch’s view that feels closer to life as i experience it. at my most heartbroken a few years back, weeping alone in my apartment in berlin, a friend whispered to me on the phone: “i know it doesn’t make sense. don’t try to make sense of it. it’s never going to make sense.” it helped me profoundly to hear that, and again i found comfort in thinking of laura palmer’s empty chair in the class room, and the unidentified girl running by outside screaming in tears.

it’s not lost on me that i’m here trying to express with words a feeling that one cannot express with words; moreover a feeling that words are often superfluous in visual artwork. to that end i’ll stop now. in fact all discussion of the unique power of images aside, the following quote from the film critic matt mahler is perhaps a more adept description of why i’m writing any of these words in the first place:

“I understand how strange it might be for a stranger’s passing to have this much of an effect on someone, but that’s just it — when you love an artist’s work, they aren’t a stranger. Their memories become your memories, their best thoughts and days motivate yours. Their sadness is yours, and they share with you the shreds of beauty they’ve discovered.”

i’ve shared a love of david lynch’s work with some of my closest friends, and even my family. earlier today in sharing with him the news, i told my brother that i had been crying. he said, “yeah, of course. it feels like a door has closed.”

again i cried.

and again, as my brother made clear, another image without words sufficed.

caspar

the film stage and MUBI have kindly included our family portrait and april posters in their best movie posters of 2024 lists. whilst MUBI placed dea kulumbegashvili’s april poster in their 2024 runners up, the film stage went as far as to consider our poster for lucy kerr’s family portrait their 7th best poster of the year.

here’s what jared mobarek at the film stage had to say about the family portrait poster:

Much like the film’s commentary on absence versus presence, Caspar Newbolt’s poster for Family Portrait hinges upon the dynamic shared by those two states. Whether the hunt for a mother to take the Christmas card photo she enlisted them to take or pointed words read by the daughter searching for her so she can fly back home (“Where did my mother go when she would leave her empty gaze fixed on me?”), there arrives a shift from opposition to coexistence––we still have presence through absence and can be absent despite our presence. Thus Newbolt cuts the eyes out of Joshua Johnson’s The Westwood Children and places them upon a textured wash of color that thematically erases the bodies while simultaneously promising they’ll exit the fog next. It’s an illusion. Just like the photo. Because a finished product was never the goal; the portrait was simply an excuse to physically reunite one more time… just in case next year proves too late.

a huge thank you again to jared, adrian curry and both of their institutions for the continued support of our work.

anyone who has been to a protomen show will know that the line for the band’s merch booth is often as long as the line for the show itself. over the years we’ve enjoyed experimenting with different ways to convert the band’s complex record sleeve artwork into a set of simpler graphic treatments more suited for clothing.

every so often we put our human heads together with their robot heads and make something particularly great. case in point: the original, 2009, charcoal, “act II: the father of death” t-shirt—whilst almost in absolute pieces—caspar still wears. other shirts of note include the original “keep quiet” and “breaking out” shirts.

the new “the fight” sweatshirt you see above, however, is our favourite piece of protomen merch to date. the image on the shirt being in part the work of the undeniable john delucca. we picked one up at the protomen’s 20th anniversary show in nashville back in april, and even the folks here in berlin keep asking how to get one. the clincher being that aside from the graphics on the front, it’s remarkably soft and comfortable. the band found a sweatshirt fabric for this one that kinda defies belief.

to that end we wanted to post a photograph of it here to raise further awareness of its tacit excellence. should you want to get one at any point, you can do so here.

jared mobarek over at the film stage included our poster for lucy kerr’s debut feature film, family portrait, in his june film poster round-up. he had the following to say about the work:

(version_industries) and Caspar Newbolt also go the painted route for Family Portrait (limited, June 28), but from a wholly different angle. Rather than create something from scratch, they have gone back in time to reappropriate an old master painting: Joshua Johnson’s The Westwood Children. That canvas becomes the source of these three sets of eyes, cutout and repositioned for the shift from landscape to portrait as their bodies become lost within the void of a highly textured field of muddied color.

It’s a memorable piece that alludes to the film’s disappearance of a character while trying to take a photo of the group. There’s mystery in that absence of form and horror in the fact that these eyes stare at us unperturbed, as though they know what happened and might in fact be the cause. And there’s a symbolic read of Shakespeare’s quote that “the eyes are a window to our soul” included as well. What more do we need to immortalize ourselves than them?

thank you to jared and the film stage for their continued appreciation and support of out work.

posteritati and the film stage have kindly included our joyland and falcon lake posters in their best movie posters of 2023 lists. the film stage went as far as to consider our poster for saim sadiq’s joyland their number 1 poster of the year.

here’s what jared mobarek at the film stage had to say about the joyland poster:

There’s so much to talk about with (version_industries) and Caspar Newbolt’s Joyland. The ornately hand-drawn floor tiles (their website always generously explains their process) doubling as a window upon the main characters. The whole’s off-center nature pushing everything into the top-left corner to provide room for text on the outside without sterilizing the composition via more symmetry. The way the three actors feel as though they exist in one scene despite a handful of lotus flowers overlapping their images to prove each has been meticulously layered atop the others. The grain, subdued colors, and blood-smeared title. It’s truly a work of art all its own and a testament to the field’s ability to sell itself as much as the product being sold.

a huge thank you to both institutions for their continued support of our work.

photograph by zsuzsanna kiràly.

the staatliche museen zu berlin (state museum in berlin) wrote and printed a 280 page catalog for their großes kino exhibition. the catalog was beautifully designed by sandstein verlag and it details every aspect of the exhibition. included within its pages is a full page colour reproduction of the poster we made for alexandra stergiou’s short film the act of coming out, and an interview with german graphic designer christiane feneberg, MUBI germany’s director of distribution lysann windisch, and caspar.

the interview, titled “between paper and pixel: film posters today”, was conducted live on zoom by christina thompson, and then later edited for clarity. here are a few excerpts:

CT: In your professions – as designers and distributor – you are dealing with advertising and communicating films on a daily basis. In this, the film poster is only one aspect of many. How important would you say it is in what you do?

CF: The word “poster” is perhaps a little restrictive. 50 years ago, the printed poster may have been the main piece of publicity for a film, but nowadays, the scope is much broader. Contemporary designers create artwork that gets used for many different purposes, from mega prints to small website banners. So what we do is more like a corporate design for the movie than just a poster. Today, everyone is used to getting information visually – images are what attracts us, what makes us stop and think. That means: designers have the most powerful tools to communicate films. I mainly work with distributors in Germany, both creating fresh artwork and adapting existing designs. Hence, I look at the topic more from the marketing side, less from the art side.

LW: At MUBI, we also never talk about the “poster” but about the “key artwork” for a film. The key art is a central element of a campaign: it defines the look by being customised to each communication channel, whether this is a small digital banner or a large scale out of home promotion. As to the ratio, I’d say at least 50% of our communication output is centred around the film’s artwork. The rest of the campaign is built on moving images such as the trailer.

CN: I agree, but things look different from my perspective. I spend much of my time making physical posters for films. Generally, I am approached by film directors who have a powerful emotional attachment to their work. They are less interested in website advertising or such like. What they want is something beautiful to go on their wall, a poetic image that emotionally captures the piece of cinema they have spent years of their life making. For them, the film poster is like an album cover – you know, in the music industry album covers rarely ever change. I will make a film poster for them, but only the poster, as most of the best images cannot just be reformatted to fit any shaped hole.

CT: So the perfect film poster for you is one that remains unaltered?

CN: In a way, yes. The film poster, in its traditional format, has a great power. It is faster than a trailer, faster than reading a review. It captures the film in a glance, and it grabs your attention, whether someone is scrolling on their phone or walking down the street. If you make this glimpse unique and interesting enough, they’ll stop and wonder: why does it look like that? – and perhaps consider seeing the film.

CT: So is the film poster indeed one of the most restrictive fields of graphic design?

CN: Many of my contemporaries in the field are traumatised and underpaid. They are constantly coerced into making their work worse. They spend endless hours diluting the work with pointless revisions, and are left with pieces they’d never willingly put in their portfolio. As a result, they lose trust in themselves and struggle to get the jobs they want– they have effectively become someone else’s photoshop hands. I have fought hard to reverse this situation: I present several ideas to a client as text and reference image only and after some discussion ask them to choose just one. I then make the poster and what I come up with is effectively what we must work with. This way, I am free to produce what I believe to be the greatest possible poster. As a result, I hold myself to a much higher standard than they would or could, and I can really experiment. Plus: I sidestep the suffering.

CF: Occasionally, I have been tortured, too. Having worked with distributors for many years, I understand their needs well. But sometimes it just doesn’t go smoothly.

CN: I have been fired several times by distributors. For me the quality of the work comes first, and the money second. I’m of course not rich, but I can’t sleep at night if I’ve done bad work. They quickly forget that they couldn’t do it without us and it’s only when that understanding is established and respected, really beautiful things can happen. Then there’s a conversation rather than a bullet point list from them of changes to be made, like bullet holes in the work.

CT: Lysann, how does this look from a marketing point of view?

LW: I am speaking from a luxurious position, as MUBI has a whole creative team inhouse to create campaigns. All designers are employed. I hope that our gifted creative director, Pablo Mantin, is not suffering like Caspar and other designers. As a global platform, we work across territories, building international campaigns for our films – quite unlike the situation dealt with by most distributors in Germany or other countries. Ours is a complex process that needs a lot of listening and understanding, because online design and distribution have different needs and expectations. And some filmmakers also have a strong opinion on how a film should be communicated.

CT: The film poster has a long history of being scalded for tastelessness and bad design. Today, too, you often hear it described as generic, unimaginative, formulaic. How much truth is in that?

CN: I’d say for every beautiful poster (whatever we believe that to be) there are around 50 terrible ones, made globally by people trying to very safely market certain kinds of films, be it comedies, horror or action films. We all know the poster types: movie-star heads, guns, 3D shattered typefaces, a backdrop of explosions etcetera. The companies producing them usually have a lot more money to put up their posters all over the world, while the interesting ones don’t tend to have much reach. So the public get the impression that film posters are generally bad – whereas in fact, it is just power by numbers.

CF: It is all about daring to do things differently. Yet the main enemy of design courage is money: if you produce or buy a film, you have to get your investment back – so you play it safe. The assumption is that if a thing has worked once, it can be used as a formula. In briefings, I often get such references. At the end of the day, however, going to the movies is still a special experience. So I remain hopeful that distributors will dare new paths and change the recipe a bit more often.

LW: Yes. Working internationally, I have learned that, to a certain extent, you have to trust people to understand what you want to communicate. Perhaps German distributors don’t do that enough.

CN: I brought a quote which I think sums up a lot of what we were discussing. The Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky said in 1984: “Cinema is an unhappy art, because it depends on money. Not only because a film is very expensive, but it is also then marketed like cigarettes. A film is good if it sells well. But if cinema is art, then such an approach is absurd. It would mean that art is only good if it sells well.” With film being such an incredibly expensive art form, it seems understandable that marketing wants to attract everybody – it just cannot afford risks. And that’s where, design-wise, things start to suffer.

CF: Then again, maybe not every not every film poster can be art, or has to be art. It is also simply publicity. People decide for themselves if they want see an arthouse film or a cineplex movie. Is every chain-produced Marvel production a piece of art? Or is it a commercial project? Personally, I consciously chose being a graphic designer, not an independent artist. I believe it is OK that both exists. Big blockbusters don’t have to be ashamed of their commercial artwork, but it’s also very nice and refreshing to have individual, even arty, independent film posters.

CT: To sum up, let’s briefly consider digitalisation. Would you say the printed film poster is dying out?

LW: I wouldn’t say that. We still produce many analogue and haptic things, such as the printed version of our film magazine, the Notebook. This experiments creatively with different designs, adding another layer to campaigns. And for me, thinking about the printed version of a poster is just as important as thinking about a digital version. Nevertheless, we need formats to be adaptable to different communication channels, standardised versions don’t really work.

CN: I regard this hyper-adaptability with some caution. Watching a film on the big screen, you see many more details than you would on your phone, for example. In the same way, a poster tells you so much more than a small display, and it creates different emotions. There’s a value to understanding the different formats and how they work. I am sure that one day, there will be digital screens everywhere. That will also herald animated film posters – which is a whole other dimension. But then I think fondly of vinyl records. Why are they still here? Because people like holding the artwork, they like tactile, haptic things. It’s the same with paper posters.

we’d once again like to thank christina thompson and christina dembny at kunstbibliothek for creating such an extraordinary, in-depth and thought provoking exhibition and catalog. if you have the means, do see the show before it closes march 3rd, 2024. in the meantime you can purchase a copy of the exhibition catalog here.

the art library of the staatliche museen zu berlin (state museum in berlin) have just informed us that their forthcoming großes kino (the big screen) show will now also include the poster we made for mareike wegener’s film, echo. we are delighted.

the echo poster will join the act of coming out poster alongside 298 other posters dating back to the year 1900 in a celebration of 120 years of film poster making.

here are some further details, translated into english, about the show:

THE BIG SCREEN — FILM POSTERS OF ALL TIME

Film posters are both advertising and art: they condense a film’s plot into a single concise image and spark curiosity. They translate cinema – and all the emotions it evokes – into graphic design. The exhibition presents 300 original posters from twelve decades – classics, cult films, and arthouse cinema.

PROS AND CELEBS: 26 posters were chosen by film industry experts – hear their voices in the exhibition.

OPENING CREDITS: Graphics meet moving images.

PAULA POPCORN: Follow our mascot to family stations and listen, play, and draw!

CURIOUS? For details about our catalogue, symposium, and events programme, go to smb.museum/kb

An exhibition of the Kunstbibliothek, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

3.11.2023 – 3.3.2024
Tue–Sun 10am–6pm
Tickets 10 € / 5 €, ‹ 18 frei / free smb.museum/tickets

Kulturforum Matthäikirchplatz
10785 Berlin
Tel. +49 30 266 42 4242 service@smb.museum

the show will run through until march of 2024, which means it will be open during the 2024 berlinale. a huge thank you again to christina thompson and christina dembny at kunstbibliothek for finding and acquiring these posters.

see you at the show.

this year marks the 20th anniversary of the founding of version industries. we never imagined we’d last this long. to mark the occasion it feels fitting that the posters we made for tim sutton’s feature film taurus and alexandra stergiou’s short film the act of coming out have just been acquired by the kunstbibliothek (art library) of the staatliche museen zu berlin (state museum in berlin), germany. we will post a link to their digital record of the acquisitions the moment they appear.

there’s a chance also that one or other of the posters will be featured in their forthcoming großes kino: movie posters from twelve decades show. the show opens november 3rd of this year in berlin. here is what they say about it:

Großes Kino – we’re talking about cinema with a capital C, about motion pictures that leave you feeling overwhelmed or in awe. A good movie poster, too, is designed to be remembered: it captures the film’s mood, alludes to storylines, evokes feelings. The drama and narrative of a long film are condensed into a single image. The exhibition “Großes Kino” presents around 100 original movie posters from the 1900s through to the 2020s from the Kunstbibliothek’s collection of graphic design.

The twist is that the selection is not made by the inhouse curatorial team alone, but in collaboration with thirty people connected with the film industry – including actors, directors, cineasts, historians and designers. In the exhibition, an audio guide with the guest curators’ commentaries will inform visitors about the background to their poster selections. Thematic sections provide additional perspectives on the medium of the movie poster, such as its birth at the turn of the 20th century, Berlin as a city of cinema, and current graphic design trends for films. The exhibition will be accompanied by an education and outreach programme as well as a symposium that examines the topic from a critical perspective.

either way a huge thank you to christina thompson and christina dembny at kunstbibliothek for finding and acquiring these posters. we are greatly honoured to have our work in such a museum’s permanent collection; a collection that includes the work of one of our heroes, hans hillmann.

shortly before the cannes film festival last year we were asked to create the title sequence for a film called aftersun. caspar was headed home to england for a bit after having been robbed of his computer and camera in paris, when the email from pastel came in: would we be able to make titles for a film on its way to cannes in just four or five days? caspar picked up a new laptop in london and we asked to see the film. those who have seen the film can imagine what it must have been like to consider whether to work on it or not, even with very little time to do good work. the film is a remarkable thing by any stretch of the imagination, and one that touched caspar particularly for a number of reasons.

caspar sent the director, charlotte wells, some typeface ideas based on the film’s overall mood and his experiences of growing up in the 90s. charlotte picked the typeface—base mono—that you see here:

caspar then began work on customizing and animating the typeface in a fashion that charlotte and he felt appropriate to the tone of the film; dissolving the sharp edges of each letter and making them flicker in and out of focus as if light was coming at us from behind each word; all the while treating it as if our eyes could not quite focus on it because it was too bright. meanwhile caspar’s brother josiah got to work on creating the end crawl, and needless to say we made the deadline. caspar then headed to cannes to see the work on the big screen.

art of the title is a remarkable website run by lola landekić, that’s dedicated to celebrating film title sequence design and animation. in fact here’s director david fincher (se7en, fight club, zodiac, the social network) talking to lola on the subject:

“I love the site. It’s really beautiful. I would much rather have anything and everything about the title sequence be on Art of the Title than in USA Today or any publication like that. Your site is the proper context for this conversation.”

we’ve referenced title sequences in the extensive and beautifully presented art of the title archives many times in our work, and to see that yesterday the aftersun titles were posted to art of the title was incredibly moving, not to mention flattering.

thank you so much to adele romanski, charlotte wells, lola landekić and everyone else at pastel and a24 films. we remain endlessly thankful for these opportunities to work on such beautiful films.