THE MAGAZINE OF THE MONTH CLUB
—
One of the things I’ve learned while hosting this podcast is that there are a lot of magazines out there. More than I imagined. Meaning there was never a “death of the magazine,” simply a realignment of dollars and attention. If anything, there are more magazines being published than ever. 
But, and it’s a big but, they are harder and harder to find. There are fewer magazine stores. There are almost no newsstands, at least in North America. And bookstores, well, ok, go to your local bookstore and good luck.
Which brings us to Steve Watson. He worked in the industry and he lived what was happening to it. And so he created Stack which is, essentially, a discovery system. Or a club. Call it The Magazine of the Month Club. Join it and you receive random independent magazines from around the world, chosen by Steve—or curated, let’s use the word—curated by Steve, and if you like the magazine, great, go out and subscribe to it, and you’ve just expanded your world. 
I asked Steve about the changes in the industry, how he builds community and what the future of magazines might be. He’s an optimist. And that makes me feel good about things.
—
This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.
A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

<description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE MAGAZINE OF THE MONTH CLUB&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One of the things I’ve learned while hosting this podcast is that there are a lot of magazines out there. More than I imagined. Meaning there was never a “death of the magazine,” simply a realignment of dollars and attention. If anything, there are more magazines being published than ever. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But, and it’s a big but, they are harder and harder to find. There are fewer magazine stores. There are almost no newsstands, at least in North America. And bookstores, well, ok, go to your local bookstore and good luck.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Which brings us to Steve Watson. He worked in the industry and he lived what was happening to it. And so he created Stack which is, essentially, a discovery system. Or a club. Call it The Magazine of the Month Club. Join it and you receive random independent magazines from around the world, chosen by Steve—or curated, let’s use the word—curated by Steve, and if you like the magazine, great, go out and subscribe to it, and you’ve just expanded your world. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I asked Steve about the changes in the industry, how he builds community and what the future of magazines might be. He’s an optimist. And that makes me feel good about things.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description>

A conversation with Steve Watson founder of Stack

Steve Watson (Founder: Stack)

Highbrow, Brilliant: The Adam Moss Approval Matrix
—
Adam Moss is probably painting today. He’s not ready to share it. He may never be ready to share it. You see, this ASME Hall of Famer unabashedly labels himself as “tenth rate” with the brush. And he’s okay with that.
As Moss explains, it’s not about the painting. After decades of creating some of the world’s great magazines, he is throttling down. He’s working with canvas, paint, and brush — and reveling in the thrill of making something, finally, for an audience of one.
 It hasn’t always been this way for Moss. Like most accomplished editors — like most serious creatives — Moss spent the better part of his career obsessed. Obsession is essential, he says, to the making of something great.
Growing up on Long Island, Moss became obsessed with Esquire and New York magazines. “My parents were subscribers,” he says. “I was in the suburbs. I’d open them and it was my invitation to New York City. And to cosmopolitan life. And to sophistication.” And knowing that it was all happening just a short subway ride away made it irresistible.
Moss’s publishing portfolio is rotten with blue-blood brands: Rolling Stone, Esquire, The New York Times, and New York magazine. He’s collaborated with editorial legends.
In 1987 Moss decided to create something of his own. Invited to pitch an idea for a new magazine to the owners of The Village Voice, Moss did his song and dance. The folks in the boardroom were … unmoved. Afterwards, Moss retreated to the men’s room to ponder his humiliation. Minutes later, Leonard Stern, the Voice’s owner, took a spot at the next urinal, where he turned to Moss and said, “Okay, we’ll do your magazine.”
What Moss pitched was a city magazine called 7 Days. It only lasted two years. But two weeks after ceasing publication, 7 Days was presented the National Magazine Award for general excellence.
The splash it created propelled Moss to The New York Times, where, in a few short years, he transformed the paper’s Sunday supplement into an editorial magnet for creative talent, the Esquire or New York magazine of the 1990s.
In 2004 Moss joined another venerable brand, New York magazine, where he not only completely reimagined the print magazine, he bear-hugged the encroaching internet menace, creating more than 20 new digital-only brands, five of which — Vulture, The Cut, Intelligencer, The Strategist, and Grub Street — remain heavyweights of modern online editorial.
In 2019, Adam Moss ended his 15-year run at New York, saying, “I want to see what else I can do.” So … painting.
—
This episode is made possible by our friends at <a href="https://commercialtype.com" rel="noopener noreferrer">Commercial Type</a> and <a rel="noopener noreferrer">Freeport Press</a>.
A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

<description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Highbrow, Brilliant: The Adam Moss Approval Matrix&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Adam Moss is probably painting today. He’s not ready to share it. He may never be ready to share it. You see, this ASME Hall of Famer unabashedly labels himself as “tenth rate” with the brush. And he’s okay with that.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;As Moss explains, it’s not about the painting. After decades of creating some of the world’s great magazines, he is throttling down. He’s working with canvas, paint, and brush — and reveling in the thrill of making something, finally, for an audience of one.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt; It hasn’t always been this way for Moss. Like most accomplished editors — like most serious creatives — Moss spent the better part of his career obsessed. Obsession is essential, he says, to the making of something great.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Growing up on Long Island, Moss became obsessed with &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Esquire&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; and &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;New York&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; magazines. “My parents were subscribers,” he says. “I was in the suburbs. I’d open them and it was my invitation to New York City. And to cosmopolitan life. And to sophistication.” And knowing that it was all happening just a short subway ride away made it irresistible.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Moss’s publishing portfolio is rotten with blue-blood brands: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rolling Stone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Esquire&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The New York Times&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, and &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;New York&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; magazine. He’s collaborated with editorial legends.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In 1987 Moss decided to create something of his own. Invited to pitch an idea for a new magazine to the owners of &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Village Voice&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, Moss did his song and dance. The folks in the boardroom were … unmoved. Afterwards, Moss retreated to the men’s room to ponder his humiliation. Minutes later, Leonard Stern, the &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Voice&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;’s owner, took a spot at the next urinal, where he turned to Moss and said, “Okay, we’ll do your magazine.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What Moss pitched was a city magazine called &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7 Days&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. It only lasted two years. But two weeks after ceasing publication, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7 Days&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; was presented the National Magazine Award for general excellence.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The splash it created propelled Moss to &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The New York Times&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, where, in a few short years, he transformed the paper’s Sunday supplement into an editorial magnet for creative talent, the &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Esquire&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; or &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;New York&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; magazine of the 1990s.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In 2004 Moss joined another venerable brand, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;New York&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; magazine, where he not only completely reimagined the print magazine, he bear-hugged the encroaching internet menace, creating more than 20 new digital-only brands, five of which — &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vulture&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Cut&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Intelligencer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Strategist&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, and &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grub Street&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; — remain heavyweights of modern online editorial.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In 2019, Adam Moss ended his 15-year run at &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;New York&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, saying, “I want to see what else I can do.” So … painting.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This episode is made possible by our friends at &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="https://commercialtype.com" rel="noopener noreferrer"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Commercial Type&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; and &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Freeport Press&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description>

A conversation with editor Adam Moss (New York, The New York Times Magazine, 7 Days, more)

Best of PID: Adam Moss (Editor: New York, The New York Times Magazine, more)

NO RESERVATIONS
—
Welcome to a new season of The Full Bleed. This year, we’re going to be talking to makers and creators, of course, but also more about the business of magazines. Because, let’s face it, making a magazine is not easy. It never has been. But we’re seeing more and more magazines—in print—out in the world and there’s a reason for that. At a time where the digital world is a messy place, and that’s being polite, magazines are perfectly positioned as a part of an “analog” wave that is going to become more and more important in the media and in marketing. 
We open the season with Nathan Thornburgh from Roads & Kingdoms, a media brand that started out as a media brand—stay with me here—with the support of Anthony Bourdain, yes, that one, and then pivoted to becoming a kind of gastronomic tour company with loads of content on their website, and has now published their first magazine. And it won’t be their last.
Travel, especially these days, is pure analog, a completely human experience. It touches the senses in a way not many things can. Think about Anthony Bourdain’s work and you think of how immersed he was everywhere he went. Whether he was writing about the reality of a kitchen or filming a meal of noodles at a roadside stand in Thailand, he was all in. His was a very human-centered media, full of sights and smells and sounds and people. And that’s what Roads & Kingdoms will try and replicate. On the page. On every page.
—
This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.
A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

<description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NO RESERVATIONS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Welcome to a new season of &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Full Bleed&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. This year, we’re going to be talking to makers and creators, of course, but also more about the business of magazines. Because, let’s face it, making a magazine is not easy. It never has been. But we’re seeing more and more magazines—in print—out in the world and there’s a reason for that. At a time where the digital world is a messy place, and that’s being polite, magazines are perfectly positioned as a part of an “analog” wave that is going to become more and more important in the media and in marketing. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We open the season with Nathan Thornburgh from &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Roads &amp; Kingdoms&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, a media brand that started out as a media brand—stay with me here—with the support of Anthony Bourdain, yes, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;that&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; one, and then pivoted to becoming a kind of gastronomic tour company with loads of content on their website, and has now published their first magazine. And it won’t be their last.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Travel, especially these days, is pure analog, a completely human experience. It touches the senses in a way not many things can. Think about Anthony Bourdain’s work and you think of how immersed he was everywhere he went. Whether he was writing about the reality of a kitchen or filming a meal of noodles at a roadside stand in Thailand, he was all in. His was a very human-centered media, full of sights and smells and sounds and &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;people&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. And that’s what &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Roads &amp; Kingdoms&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; will try and replicate. On the page. On &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;every&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; page.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description>

A conversation with Direction of Travel founder and editor Christian Nolle

Nathan Thornburgh (Cofounder: Roads & Kingdoms)

THE VIEW FROM THE WINDOW SEAT—Despite its name, Direction of Travel is not a travel magazine. Sure, it’s a celebration of a certain kind of travel, but this is not a publication that takes you somewhere. Unless you think of Air World as a destination. Which I do.Founder Christian Nolle is an AvGeek. Which is not an insult. More an acknowledgement of a state of mind. Christian loves all things aviation. And mostly he loves how it looks and feels and, perhaps more importantly, how it looked and felt.Direction of Travel is a loving homage to route maps, in-flight entertainment, ticket offices, and airports. It is a magazine about the culture of flight and the aesthetics one finds in Air World. And for anyone with even the slightest interest in flight, it is a glorious—and loving—celebration of that world.Regular listeners of this podcast may have noticed that I’ve been speaking to quite a few people from travel magazines recently, and there are reasons for that. One could argue that no other type of magazine has had to weather such a variety of competition from the digital space. And travel itself is subject to forces that have nothing to do with travel itself. But it remains aspirational even to those lucky enough to travel often.So whether you’re a frequent flying business person, or someone who might fly once in a while, the magic of lift off—and touch down—remains.—This episode is made possible by our friends at <a href="www.freeportpress.com">Freeport Press</a>.
A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

<description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE VIEW FROM THE WINDOW SEAT&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Despite its name, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Direction of Travel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; is not a travel magazine. Sure, it’s a celebration of a certain kind of travel, but this is not a publication that takes you somewhere. Unless you think of Air World as a destination. Which I do.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Founder Christian Nolle is an AvGeek. Which is not an insult. More an acknowledgement of a state of mind. Christian loves all things aviation. And mostly he loves how it looks and feels and, perhaps more importantly, how it looked and felt.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Direction of Travel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; is a loving homage to route maps, in-flight entertainment, ticket offices, and airports. It is a magazine about the culture of flight and the aesthetics one finds in Air World. And for anyone with even the slightest interest in flight, it is a glorious—and loving—celebration of that world.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Regular listeners of this podcast may have noticed that I’ve been speaking to quite a few people from travel magazines recently, and there are reasons for that. One could argue that no other type of magazine has had to weather such a variety of competition from the digital space. And travel itself is subject to forces that have nothing to do with travel itself. But it remains aspirational even to those lucky enough to travel often.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So whether you’re a frequent flying business person, or someone who might fly once in a while, the magic of lift off—and touch down—remains.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This episode is made possible by our friends at &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="www.freeportpress.com"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Freeport Press&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description>

Christian Nolle (Founder & Editor: Direction of Travel)

WHEN EUSTACE MET FRANÇOISE— I first met Françoise Mouly at The New Yorker’s old Times Square offices. This was way back when artists used to deliver illustrations in person. I had stopped by to turn in a spot drawing and was introduced to Françoise, their newly-minted cover art editor.I should have been intimidated, but I was fresh off the boat from Canada and deeply ensconced in my own bubble—hockey, baseball, Leonard Cohen—and so not yet aware of her groundbreaking work at Raw magazine.Much time has passed since that fortuitous day and I’ve thankfully caught up with her ouevre—gonna get as many French words into this as I can—through back issues of Raw and TOON Books. But mostly with The New Yorker, where we have worked together for over 30 years and I’ve been afforded a front-row seat to witness her mode du travail, her nonpareil mélange of visual storytelling skills.Speaking just from my own experience, I can’t tell you how many times at the end of a harsh deadline I’ve handed in a desperate, incoherent mess of watercolor and ink, only to see the published product a day later magically made whole, readable, and aesthetically pleasing.Because Françoise prefers her artists to get the credit, I assume she won’t want me mentioning the many times she rescued my images from floundering. I can remember apologetically submitting caricatures with poor likenesses, which she somehow managed to fix with a little digital manipulation—a hairline move forward here, a nose sharpened there. Or ideas that mostly worked turned on their head—with the artist's permission, of course—to suddenly drive the point all the way home.For Françoise, “the point” is always the point. Beautiful pictures are fine, but what does the image say? Françoise maintains a wide circle of devoted contributing artists—from renowned gallery painters to scribbling cartoonists, and all gradations between—from whom she regularly coaxes their best work. I thank my étoiles chanceuses to be part of that group.And now, an interview with Françoise. Apparently. —Barry Blitt—This episode is made possible by our friends at <a href="https://commercialtype.com">Commercial Type</a> and <a href="www.freeportpress.com">Freeport Press</a>.
A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

<description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WHEN EUSTACE MET FRANÇOISE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt; I first met Françoise Mouly at &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The New Yorker&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;’s old Times Square offices. This was way back when artists used to deliver illustrations in person. I had stopped by to turn in a spot drawing and was introduced to Françoise, their newly-minted cover art editor.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I should have been intimidated, but I was fresh off the boat from Canada and deeply ensconced in my own bubble—hockey, baseball, Leonard Cohen—and so not yet aware of her groundbreaking work at &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Raw&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; magazine.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Much time has passed since that fortuitous day and I’ve thankfully caught up with her &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ouevre&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—gonna get as many French words into this as I can—through back issues of &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Raw&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; and TOON Books. But mostly with &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The New Yorker&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, where we have worked together for over 30 years and I’ve been afforded a front-row seat to witness her &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mode du travail&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, her &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;nonpareil mélange&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; of visual storytelling skills.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Speaking just from my own experience, I can’t tell you how many times at the end of a harsh deadline I’ve handed in a desperate, incoherent mess of watercolor and ink, only to see the published product a day later magically made whole, readable, and aesthetically pleasing.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Because Françoise prefers her artists to get the credit, I assume she won’t want me mentioning the many times she rescued my images from floundering. I can remember apologetically submitting caricatures with poor likenesses, which she somehow managed to fix with a little digital manipulation—a hairline move forward here, a nose sharpened there. Or ideas that mostly worked turned on their head—with the artist's permission, of course—to suddenly drive the point all the way home.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;For Françoise, “the point” is &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;always&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; the point. Beautiful pictures are fine, but what does the image say? Françoise maintains a wide circle of devoted contributing artists—from renowned gallery painters to scribbling cartoonists, and all gradations between—from whom she regularly coaxes their best work. I thank my &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;étoiles chanceuses&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; to be part of that group.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And now, an interview with Françoise. Apparently. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—Barry Blitt&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This episode is made possible by our friends at &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="https://commercialtype.com"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Commercial Type&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; and &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="www.freeportpress.com"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Freeport Press&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description>

A conversation with The New Yorker art editor and Raw founder Françoise Mouly

Françoise Mouly (Art Editor: The New Yorker, more)

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