Holy Shit!

Telling someone else to draw the shit in your head is a pretty tall order.

And when that telling goes through Marketing and Editorial before it even gets to the Artist – well, you almost dread the result.

The anticipation is weird – there’s a huge elation that it’s all really happening, and a fusion of massive excitement and white-cold terror. What if it’s wrong – what happens if the artist can’t actually see what’s in your head?

It’s a huge moment – a crystallised fraction of time where you’ve trusted someone else to draw your dreams. It’s like the surrender of control that comes with your edit – all packed down into a sharp, visual punch that makes you stagger.

I can’t show the concepts here, I wish I could. Not only has artist Martin Stiff done an absolutely phenomenal job of understanding what’s in my head, but the fact that Chris and his team, and Cath, have all been there too means one thing…

They get it.

For the first time, this shit is real…

…and I have no shame in admitting that it made me burst into tears.

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