When I joined The New York Review of Books in 2021, I was told that Matt Willey had been hired to do a “gentle design refresh” for the magazine. I braced myself for something drastic—slick and cool—but when I saw his proposal I momentarily wondered why they’d bothered to hire me in the first place. Willey’s work, begun when there were no plans for an art editor position, was clean, self-sufficient, text-based in the tradition of the Review’s covers, and beautiful. He paid tribute to what was great and idiosyncratic about the magazine while hospital-cornering what had been in place for decades.
When I started, I respected the new fonts and clean margins and columns that Willey had designed for the interior of the magazine, but I immediately messed up his template for all-text covers. I wanted each issue’s cover to have a bold, evocative image, with Willey’s type design superimposed onto works by living artists. However, in the hopes that we could still play with that focus on the text, I have long wanted him to make the cover for one of our four annual special issues. The opportunity finally presented itself with this year’s Fall Books Issue, for which Matt did go back, literally, to type: he composed the cover lines with a typewriter, with lettering at scale, amid six inky, autumnal trees. (There was a funny moment when an editor asked if the line above the logo could be larger, but I was happy to defend Matt’s purity of scale: “Typewriters only type in one size.”)
Willey was born in England and lives in Brooklyn. From 2015 to 2020 he was the art director at The New York Times Magazine, and he is now a partner at the design studio Pentagram. In 2021 he cofounded, with Dan Crowe, the literary magazine INQUE, where he serves as art director. Last month, I wrote to Willey to ask him about typewriters, ink, and trees.
Leanne Shapton: The title you gave your cover—Trees for Nick—is enigmatic. Who is Nick and why are the trees for him?
Matt Willey: Nick Willey, my dad. He was a poet. He died in 2011, and I miss him terribly.
I remember loving his desk; stacks of papers and notebooks, Quink bottles, pens, a hole punch, an old green Anglepoise lamp, a stapler, a typewriter, postcards and doodles and stripey paper clips.
There was always a large pile of The New York Review of Books sitting on the floor next to his desk. As a kid I used to try and copy David Levine portraits from the covers. He would have loved that I did a cover.
Nick used to do wonderful drawings using Rotring pens and inks. I have one on my wall, a park scene of people walking dogs, a football match, a bandstand, and some very beautiful trees. My trees, although a pale imitation, are entirely inspired by his trees.
It’s a gorgeous tribute to him. Could you tell us about your typewriter?
It’s a Smith-Corona Sterling 5-series. It smells musty and oily. The body and ribbon spool cover are painted in a pleasing crinkle-textured matte seafoam green, and most of the keys are a shiny dark green.
What was autumn like where you grew up?
I love autumn in the UK. That cold, crisp air that makes your eyes water so the world looks blurry and shiny. I like the mist in the mornings. I like the trees changing color; reds and oranges and yellows.
You redesigned the Review back in 2021. Looking back, is there anything you’d change about your redesign?
I’m happy with the redesign, I think we got a lot right.… There’s a much more detailed answer to this question that would bore everyone to tears.
Growing up, what did you see or look at that made you want to be a designer?
I went to college to do illustration, because I wasn’t brave enough to paint. Coming out the other side as a graphic designer felt a little accidental.
So, nothing and everything. Subliminally, I guess: Rauschenberg, Tintin, the Pixies’ album covers, Blue Note LPs, cigarette packets and book covers, Saul Steinberg, Hans Hillmann, Sight and Sound magazine, Ride magazine (which was for BMX enthusiasts), BIG magazine, 2000 AD…
What are you reading this fall?
I just started Minor Detail by Adania Shibli. I’m a slow and dyslexic reader; I buy books at a rate that far exceeds my ability to read them. On top of the ever-growing pile: Vehicle by Jen Calleja, Shy by Max Porter, Monsters by Claire Dederer, Men, Women, and Chainsaws by Carol J. Clover, Hangman by Maya Binyam, The Spectacle of Skill by Robert Hughes, and Off the Wall by Calvin Tomkins.
English (US) · 