Category Archive: Commissioned Work
A call from Esquire creative director David McKendrick late in the afternoon of Wednesday 7th August. Pure hundred percent Scot. Calls everybody ‘Big Man’, regardless of gender. Big man, wee man, the last time I saw him he was wearing a tartan pashmina.
“Big man, ah’ve got something nice I’d like ye to do. A wee film of Ralph Steadman but it’s quite complicated in terms of how we want ‘e do it. Can ye come in and meet the team for a wee chat.”
Sounds great. How about Friday, two days from now?
“Ach, no can do, Big Man. Friday is the day we need to actually shoot it.”
Right then. Tomorrow morning it is then.
Following morning, off I trundle to London. I live out in the country now. Trips to London aren’t difficult but they’re a day out. I need to take sandwiches. Well, not sandwiches per se, more like my phone charger and a book.
In the meeting it’s explained that Esquire is to launch a weekly iPad version of the magazine. Original content, top deck material. They want me to produce two films; one for the iPad edition and a separate one for the website. We are to drive down to Steadman’s place in Maidstone, Kent, the garden of England, bottom right hand corner of the country. Does he know we’re coming? He’s expecting us. It’s all set up. It. Is. All. Set. Up. Honestly, it really is.
We arrive at 11am on the Friday. There he is, pen in hand, still scratching a living with bottles of ink and nib dips after all these years. We’re guided in to the studio and the over riding vibe is one of slightly impatient tolerance, lets knock this off and get done with it. I need to have a glass of wine and a rest. Steadman’s wife, Anna, seems to dictate the pace. Thinking back on her now, she reminds me of Anna Massey. Precise, detailed, clipped, curt and circumspect.
The response to the film cameras (we have two) is not good. He goes along with my desire to film him but there is a light dusting of schoolboyish belligerence to his cooperation . He oozes a kind of quiet hostility and more or less refuses to do anything I suggest, no matter how benign. I’m starting to get the feeling that he is not into this at all. I don’t know, maybe my ideas were crap. However, I’m self aware enough, insecure enough and critical enough to know if something I think up is crap, but then again, just because you’re paranoid it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.
The reality of making a film is that it requires the attendance of lies to construct an idea of (subjective) truth. For instance, we see a man enter a room playing a ukelele. We see him come into the room through a door. We see the back of him walking away from the door further into the room. This is a falsity. We are seeing two opposing points of view almost simultaneously. In real life this is not possible. One viewer could not move fast enough from the first point of view to the second. We have but one pair of eyes and our feet have not yet evolved to make this notion a reality. So here is the beauty of storytelling with film. We can see all sorts of points of view in the same moment.
The practical reality is that the same moment needs to be filmed several times from several angles in order to cut together, in the editing room, this simultaneous moment. So when I ask the man playing the ukelele to do it all over again for me, he comes in perfectly once more, playing the same tune perfectly, only he’s not playing the tune on the uke. He’s playing it on a harmonica.
How exactly the fuck am I supposed to cut this moment together now? These few seconds in time? What’s this? I haven’t come here to make The Matrix. I’m working in linear time. Steadman’s running on lateral time.
And I realise, the bastard’s screwing me. I’ve only gone and brought a conventional army to fight an assymetric war.
It’s fast becoming a disaster. Nothing is going to come of this. Only yesterday the whole thing seemed so promising. What is going on? Why invite people in and then wilfully block them at every turn? We are here to produce good things. Good work, with soul. Nothing doing, we’ll have to fight back before this ship goes down with all our dreams on it. I manoeuvre my subject onto the stool by his desk, hit the record button on one camera, quickly check the focus then deliberately move away from it and start to talk to him. David, my sound man, twigs what’s going on and smoothly slides the boom in over Steadman’s head. Jonas, the DoP, finds a good angle with the second camera and we are up and running. Steadman softens sufdenly and opens up about his life, his mother, his father, Hunter S. Thompson, people in positions of power and a randomosity of other topics. I let him take it where he wants, occasionally pulling him back to something closer to my intended and hoped for direction. Once he gets going he barely pauses for breath. And boy, does he get going in the most wonderful way.
Soon after, Anna comes in and pulls me to one side. All becomes clear and what’s clear is the reason for the difficulties of earlier. Turns out the publisher of his new book, who had arranged this whole day, had emailed the Steadmans the night before to tell them of our desire to make the film(s). Mrs S. hadn’t read the email and had it that we were there to “do a quick snap of Ralph” and clear off. The sight of 5 guys in 3 vehicles had verily tipped her over the edge and for the first couple of hours thought we were tearing the back end out of the whole thing by imposing in such a heavy handed way. Ralph needs to rest. Gracefully, she apologised and from then on we were made to feel more than welcome, to the extent that, by the end of the day, there was barely enough room in the car for all the signed books and improvised pieces of art he gave me to take away. It truly was a game of two halves and a beautiful insight into the mind of a complex and brilliant man.
Now with a willing subject we could get on with it. He still wouldn’t do anything twice though, which makes for a tricky way to make a film. Still, with some clever editing and judicious use of voice over it all came together ok. The element that I am most happy with is the soundtrack. Each film has soundscapes made from the sounds in Steadman’s studio. His icy nib scratching ink on to the paper, the wind chimes by the door, the shutter of the camera fixed above his desk that he uses to snap pictures of his work with, the clink of ink bottles, him playing the ukelele and harmonica. We took all those elements and broke them down and looped them into a rhythm track, with the heavy dob of an ink splat on paper being turned into a repetitive bass drum part.
These two films are thin volumes, little companion pieces, sketches really. The best you can hope for from only a few hours in someone’s company. On the day I hardly got to know him at all. Beaten up and bashed around, in the editing room I got to know him inside out. A Friday afternoon in August, the dog days of summer, an old man in his winter, the face of benevolence with the mouth and mind of a still sometimes angry man who sees lots to be angry about, still scratching out a living.
A lovely commission from Anthropologie to make a two minute film on Gwyneth Leech, a New York based artist who draws intricate and beautiful things on paper coffee cups. Each day she reuses her morning coffee cup to draw or paint a scene. She then signs the bottom of the cup and writes the date and event that inspired it. Gwyneth has now done over 1000 cups and Anthropologie curator Wendy Wurtzburger asked her to allow them to reproduce eight of these pieces on ceramic versions of the cups for sale throughout the brand. As part of London Design Week the Regent Street store in London also asked Gwyneth to hang 365 of them in their window and all this week she has been sitting among them drawing on new cups, allowing passersby to watch her at work.
This film, ’365: A Year In Cups’, was shot in the window of the Regent Street store on Monday 16th September 2013 and the music on the film is by Kevin Cormack who makes up fifty percent of Half Cousin
We are in a prime piece of four storey Georgian Mayfair, on the first floor, the second floor if you are American. The place attracts a multinational crowd. It’s not an art gallery. It’s a fine art gallery. As I said, a multinational crowd. Cultured people with good legs and fine watches. I am here to photograph Ronald David Wood. He is the artist in residence at the gallery. Up on the top floor is his studio. It has all his paints, his brushes, his canvases, a snooker table, and although he’s not actually living here, a huge bed should he wish to take advantage of the resources and crash for a while. Later on I make a joke about how handy this must be if he doesn’t have enough money in his pockets for a cab back to Holland Park, especially after a big night out in the West End. It went right off the cliff. Sometimes I worry that I get too subtle at the key moments. I’ve been doing it for years.
Everybody who works here calls him Ronnie. They tell me what to expect. Ronnie likes to be involved in the creative process. Ronnie doesn’t like to dwell on things for too long, Ronnie does tend to get bored. That’s ok, I say, I get that a lot. Wherever I go in the building, on any of the four floors, the music of The Rolling Stones plays continuously. All the hits from the last half century.
We bring in our equipment from the car outside. It’s the hottest day of the year. Thirty six degrees centigrade. The lunchtime streets of Mayfair buckle under the weight of the heat but back inside the fine art gallery the cool air of wealth wafts over all of us from the air conditioning vents.
I set up two different shots simultaneously, so that we can wheel Ronnie from one seamlessly to the next, without losing him to boredom somewhere in between. The most important element is to not give them time to think. If you do that they will always choose to slip away, wander off, disappear. In summary, they will do one. Why? Because when you’ve been in The Rolling Stones for almost forty years you will have had your picture taken tens of thousands of times. There is nothing interesting about it, nothing new, nothing to cause you to think. Having your picture taken for a magazine cover is like what a Payment Protection Insurance cold call is to us. On the whole, you don’t want to be rude but if they go on past a certain point you’re just going to hang up and not feel guilty about it
Sight, target, engage. It’s a military situation. There’s no mirror, signal, manoeuvre here. Whatever it takes. As one gilded Stones hit fades away and a new one immerses us in it’s familiar scent, a thought comes into my head. A question for Ronnie. Yes, can I ask you something, Ronnie?
“Yeah man, as long as it’s not about The Faces”
I gesticulate to the speakers, to the music.
“Well, when you go somewhere, a bar, a pub, a restaurant, a shop, a cab and you hear a Stones song on the stereo, the radio, well, what do you hear? What do you hear that we don’t hear?”
The opening bars of ‘Gimme Shelter’ are washing down over us. Ronald David Wood cocks an ear, his body comes up on it’s haunches as he searches the spectrum for the signal. The only thing missing from this familiar posture is a guitar. The apocalyptic, heart of darkness groove of my favourite ever Stones song cascades down in a torrent over us:
“Oh, a storm is threat’ning
My very life today…”
Ronald David Wood finds the signal or, more correctly, the signal finds him and his arm starts to move, followed quickly by his hips. He loses himself in it for five, maybe six seconds, locked inside. Then his head slowly comes up, he pulls his Ray Bans down his nose an inch and his black, black eyes look at me for a second before his nineteen fifties, post war, Hillingdon ration boy face breaks into the slyest little smirk you’ve ever seen, and he says:
“Yeah…….I like it.”
This was commissioned by Henny Manley at British Esquire and is the second time I’ve photographed Natalie Dormer. The first was in 2007, just as her role in ‘The Tudors’ as Ann Boleyn was about to go out. Now she is here to promote her role as Margaery Tyrell in HBO’s ‘Game of Thrones’. She’s a dream to work with. Collaborative, funny, self aware, a fabulous actress and the kind of woman you would rather be in a room with than not be in a room with. A week before the shoot, trawling location company websites for somewhere good to photograph her, I came across a huge house in Barnes, south west London that had a hammock in the garden. I’m not sure why but Issac Newton’s name popped into my head and I started to think about apples and gravity. It was an easy thought to have.
The idea for a short 2 minute film took shape almost immediately and I called my friend Max Olesker, one half of the genuinely genius comedy duo Max and Ivan, to ask him if he could write me a short script on the theme of Issac Newton, gravity and Newton’s famous third law which, formally stated, says that ‘For every action, there is always an equal and opposite reaction.’
As well as the scientific meaning of this there is also the karmic implication. You get back what you give. You get out what you put in. Et cetera, et cetera.
A day later Max sent me this script:
“In 1666 Sir Isaac Newton formulated the theory of gravity, when an apple dropped on his head.
At least, that’s the legend.
What actually happened was this; Sir Isaac was strolling through a Lincolnshire garden, with a friend, and they drank tea beneath the shade of an apple tree. As he looked on, Sir Isaac realised that, no matter what side of the world a tree might grow, it’s falling apple will always tumble towards the earth. Never sideways, never upwards – there must be a power, drawing the apple inexorably towards the earth’s centre.
He published his findings in 1687, in a book called The Principia, which defined the laws for bodies in motion.
Perhaps the most famous is Newton’s third law: when one body exerts a force on a second body, the second body simultaneously exerts a force equal in magnitude and opposite in direction to that of the first body. Or, put simply, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
When Natalie arrived on the day of the shoot I asked her if she would be willing to do the film if we had enough time left. After glancing an eye across the script she agreed. My original idea was to have her speaking the dialogue to camera but she quite rightly pointed out that there was no way she would be able to learn it well enough in the time we had, so we recorded it as a voiceover with a couple of line ommissions and one line delivered to camera to jolt the viewer from the reverie of her filmic thoughts. After we finished the voiceover I spent a long time recording the sound of the hammock swinging and creaking. Barnes is right under the flight path to Heathrow airport so the longest period of pure silence I got was about 45 seconds before another plane’s screaming engines came roaring into the soundscape to screw up my celluloid dreams. That was clean enough though, and we looped it in the edit to provide a continuous metronomic rhythm to match the image of the girl idly swinging her life away on a lethargic summer’s day.
My favourite moment in the film is the way we see her in the hammock swinging from side to side and gazing upwards at the sky just as we hear her say the line “Never sideways, never upwards…..” the image matching the script.
I must also credit the beautiful work done by my team on the day: Styling by Jane Taylor-Hayhurst; Make Up by Arabella Preston; Hair by Ayo Laguda and my assistants Sarah Brimley and Andras Bartok.
I’m thrilled to have had my portrait of writer Charlie Brooker selected for the 2013 Taylor Wessing portrait prize show at the National Portrait Gallery in London. Of 5,410 photographs entered only 60 were chosen by the judges. The show will run at the NPG from 14 November 2013 until 9 February 2014.
If you’d like to read the wider story behind the picture then here is a blog post I wrote about it last year.
From: jon rubin
Subject: Inquiry: Shoot in Oxford Circus tube
Date: 2 July 2013 19:28:24 GMT+01:00
I am an American artist who is doing a project for The Thing Quarterly and Levis and I am looking to hire a photographer in London for a shoot.
I got your info from Geoff Chadsey who is a photo editor for Time Inc.
Basically, I need to have photos shot of one man waiting for a train in the Oxford Circus tube station. The photos from that shoot will go into ad spaces throughout the station (without any branding on them). Each weekday during rush hour, for the duration of the images display (late August), the actual man depicted in the photo (in the same clothes as he wears in the photo) will be in the Oxford Circus underground waiting for a train that he never boards.
As people arrive at the platform they will see the photos of the man in the ad space(s) and might recognize him waiting on the platform. As everyone boards the train and empties the platform, the man would be left standing there alone (much as in the picture). By destabilizing the viewers perception of both the image of the man and the man himself this project creates an uncanny simultaneity between the space of advertising and the space of life, what is past and present.
I saw your website and love the work you do. The project is on a really fast track and needs to be shot late this week, early next. Let me know if this might be of any interest to you.
I can be available via Skype or email to give you more details if you’d like.
From: Chris Floyd
Subject: Re: Inquiry: Shoot in Oxford Circus tube
Date: 2 July 2013 19:54:54 GMT+01:00
To: jon rubin
I love this idea!
It’s good that you wrote when you did. I had a few different jobs come in today and I’m in the process of getting them scheduled but I would so love to do this that I can bend everything else around it.
Do you have ‘The Man’ cast yet? Do London Underground know about it? They are very strict on shooting anywhere on the tube. If we have permission then that is great but it’s always possible to guerilla it.
Would we see the man from the back? From the front? With the track behind him or would our POV be from the track looking towards him?
Would he be the only man in the picture or would there be many other people?
I have so many questions though it might be easier to talk on the phone. It’s no hassle for me to call you. If you’d like to talk then send me your number.
So, here’s the bigger picture:
San Francisco-based publication THE THING Quarterly has partnered with Levi’s® Made and Crafted™ to produce Moment to Moment, a magazine (of sorts) that happens in real time throughout the summer, across a broad spectrum of mediums and geographic locations. Through a series of independent but related contributions—all built around the central theme, ’Good Things Take Time’, Moment to Moment reminds us about the good things that happen when we slow down and experience the details around us.
Moment to Moment is based on visual artist Dan Graham’s interventions from the 1960’s in which he purchased advertising space in magazines such as Harper’s Bazaar and Arts Magazine in order to create art pieces. The title comes from 19th century French poet Stéphane Mallarmé, who envisioned a three-dimensional book entitled Moment to Moment. He saw it as something that would be performed, rather than read.
The project will consist of over 15 different commissions including online videos, text pieces, paintings, animated gifs, photography, and essays. Some of these pieces will appear on billboards, bus shelters, subway stations and other outdoor advertising spaces in cities around the world. These public interventions propose a more pleasing visual alternative within the urban landscape and prompt viewers to take time for the good things around them. Some pieces will be inserted into the paid advertising space of magazines as standalone works of art. They will be pages from the Moment to Moment project, extracted and repositioned as pages in other likeminded publications. The remainder of the publication will be featured online at www.goodthingstaketime.com and in the free printed newspaper which, like the official website, will document and share the entire project.
The man on the platform is London based artist, Michael Crowe, who is doing a great project of his own called Mysterious Letters. In order to get far enough away and realistically photograph him on the platform of the southbound Bakerloo line platform at Oxford Circus required permission to go into the station at night, after 1am, when it had closed, the power had been switched off on the track and position the camera there. An underground station is an eerie place when it’s closed. All I could think of was ‘An American Werewolf in London’.
Jon Rubin has created a site for the project here.
This is his statement:
Dates: July 29th through August 12, 2013
Part One: Multiple advertising spaces in the Oxford Circus Underground will show a photograph of a man seemingly waiting for a train. The photo will be stark and beautiful, the man’s face filled with gravitas. No one else will be in the photo but the man.
Part Two: Each weekday during rush hour, for the duration of the images’ display, the actual man depicted in the photo (in the same clothes as he wears in the photo) will be in the Oxford Circus Underground station waiting for a train. He will not board any train. As people arrive at the platform they will see the photos of the man in the ad spaces and might recognize him waiting on the platform. As everyone boards the train and empties the platform, the man will be left standing there alone (much as in the picture). As their train pulls away from the station people might recognize the lone figure as the lone figure they saw in the ad spaces.
Part Three: Each day the man will write in a notebook things that he hears other people on the platform saying, including any questions or statements directed at him. This writing will be presented on this blog.
“Everyone’s so scared. Don’t be scared.”
In this new short for Mr Porter, Hollywood talent agent, Andrew Weitz, takes pride in the fact that his more conservative colleagues make fun of his style and that this spurs him on to buy more of the things they are baffled by.
A lot of people have asked me if this is the house where Cameron wrecked his dad’s Ferrari in ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’. I wish it was, I truly do. Unfortunatlely, it is not.
Los Angeles, March 2013
“I’m interested in the classics, things that don’t go away and I’d say that extends to how I feel about music, how I feel about records and how I feel about books as well.”
Los Angeles based musician Nick Waterhouse begins this short film for MrPorter.com by laying out his philosophy in one simple sentence. Clean living under difficult circumstances indeed.
Nick’s album, ‘Time’s All Gone’ is a huge favourite of mine, a masterpiece of early 60s drenched R&B that has the feel, the sound and, above all, the vibe of that recording era. The record sounds like it was made by a bunch of real life human beings gathered in a room at the same time. A rare thing these days.
This is the fourth series of films I have made for Mr Porter, the menswear partner of online fashion innovator Net-a-Porter. It was also the first time we had shot any of them in Los Angeles. After three series in the often cramped and confined locations of London and New York, the wide open spaces and all encompassing light of southern California were a new muse to behold.
My DoP for the three films we shot there was Joseph Aguirre who as well as being a great friend is also a cinematographer with work that I love. We met because our wives grew up together, have become good friends and have often talked about all the film and photographic things that we have in common, so to finally work with Joe was a thrill.
All the previous films I made for Mr Porter I had shot myself. The crews on these films are usually me and 2 or 3 assistants. Not motion people but stills assistants who I have worked with a lot and who are as into working on and learning about motion as I much as I am but who are not massively experienced in that field. I have learned that stills and motion are like the two circles of a Venn diagram. There are areas where they converge but each has it’s things that have absolutely nothing in common and discovering what they are tends to come thick and fast when you are on the shoot.
In LA however, we had been given a better budget than before and this allowed us to hire some of Joe’s people. So finally I had the use of a gaffer (responsible for the operation and placing of lighting), a key grip (provides camera & lighting support) , a DIT (Digital Imaging Technician) who does the job that used to be done by a clapper loader in the days of film, a camera assistant and a sound recordist. Joe also scored us a set of fabulous 1970s Zeiss Super Speed prime lenses that flared beautifully when angled into the sun slightly.
Having these resources cleared a space in my head to think properly about the film, whereas with the older films I had to be a gaffer, a grip, a DIT, a location manager and a whole load of other jobs before I could even think about being a ‘director’. It’s also good to know that these films are not scripted in any way. I am making what is essentially a filmed portrait of someone each time. These guys aren’t actors. They turn up with no idea of what to do and I have to make them feel comfortable and relaxed enough to go through the dressing process, something that we may only ever do in front of someone we have a co-habitational relationship with, half a dozen times or more in order to collect enough footage with which to cut a two and a half minute film. Not having all the other paraphernalia to deal with was a relief of Mafeking proportions and allowed me to really just talk to the subject and get them feeling right.
I would explain to Joe how I saw it in big picture terms and then we would spend half an hour throwing ideas around regarding camera moves, angles, shooting through windows, where to come in and where to go wide. My general rule is that wide lenses are good for moving in and out and longer lenses are for side to side tracking movements. Even though I had a bigger budget than before it was still miniscule by any other professional standards. We had enough to splurge on one fancy piece of kit that could pull off some nice camera moves and Joe suggested we get a thing called a Dana dolly. A dolly is a way to allow the camera to move in a given direction. Traditionally, the most well known dolly is probably the one where the camera sits on a piece of railway track. There are dozens of versions of this though, and the Dana is like 2 pieces of scaffold pole that can be on the floor, balanced on sandbags that sit atop apple boxes, fixed to C-Stands that straddle furniture so you could make the camera move over the top of a sofa, for instance.. Over the course of the three LA films we had it doing every conceivable trick, all in the service of the films.
Additionally, I use the morning of the shoot to study the subject so that I know what direction to take the questions in when we sit down in a quiet area of the location to do the interview. I later cut this into a monologue for the film’s soundtrack. Typically, we talk for about half an hour. Initially I have my stalwart questions on matters of style that I begin with. When we have worked through those and the subject has begun to relax the conversation tends to become looser and more improvisational. That’s when the good stuff comes. The early part is the bones, the latter half is the meat. You need the bones on which to hang the meat.
For the Nick Waterhouse location we had the 1956 ‘Harpel’ house designed by John Lautner. The house had undergone major alterations by some previous owners who, to all intents and purposes, wrecked it by adding on a second floor that was out of keeping with the architect’s original construction. Fortunately, current owner Mark Haddawy has completely stripped back and restored the house to it’s original form. With it’s glass walled living area and pool, the house, high up in the Hollywood Hills is the epitome of the easy, breezy mid-century California lifestyle. And as I type this, John Coltrane’s ‘A Love Supreme’ has magically been shuffled to the front of my computer’s playlist to complete the visual and aural mid-century aesthetic perfection in which to bathe.
I have now made twenty of these films. I don’t know if we will do any more. I feel that, really, I need to move the plot on from the part where the guy gets dressed, perhaps go and find out what happens to him when he leaves the house. When I first had the idea for them it occurred that whenever we see someone dressing in a film it’s always there to act as a precursor to some yet to happen piece of anticipated action – I think of Richard Gere in ‘American Gigolo’ or any film in which our protagonist is going on a date and we need to see their nervousness/confidence before the big game. There must be some good John Cusack moments out there, surely?
My idea was to flip the whole thing upside down and make it all about the dressing process, to the extent that everything outside of that moment becomes extraneous. I wanted to go in on it, almost turn everything inside out and make some quiet, dignified studies of the way men prepare themselves for the day, much as Little Edie does in ‘Grey Gardens’.
“This is the best outfit for the day.”
As we have gone on, however, I have tried to bookend each film with something that tells us about these men. The two films that will follow this do that I think and I will post them as soon as Mr Porter releases them in the coming weeks.
For me though, this series, the first in simple photographic studios against plain backdrops, the last in some of the hippest houses ever built, has been an amazing and concentrated class in film making, story telling, moving a camera, understanding sound, delegating a crew and, most importantly, the art and craft of directing. It’s still early, there is lots here that I am unhappy with, but I now feel confident that with a proper script I would bring a visual style as well as a narrative technique to it. My biggest issue with these films was the sheer shortage of time in making them. No prep time at all, a quick location scout maybe and then a dive straight in to how to handle the subject and make an often monotonous process viewable.
I think the biggest problem photographers have in shifting from stills to motion is to stop themselves from making a series of beautifully composed and lit moving photographs. We must remember that films are for story telling, not for freezing in time the perfectly lit moment of formal perfection, etc etc. It is no secret to me why the best fashion films so far have been made by bona fide film directors, not photographers. As I said earlier when I brought up the Venn diagram thing, stills and motion are NOT the same. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that they are. The similarities end just after the light has passed through the lens.
As the public face of an iconic brand, Mr Santa Claus needs to send a consistent visual message to potential customers. In this exclusive interview he allows us a glimpse of the extraordinary wardrobe he keeps in his contemporary home, reveals that he believes he works in the creative industries, rather than the retail sector, and shows off a previously unseen tattoo.
Mr Claus made his name with his pioneering business model, which sees his organisation give away a vast number of children’s gifts each year, to publicise its bestselling range of Christmas merchandise. Between his ranges of cards, sweets, toys and decorations, not to mention the licensing of his image for adverts, and his employment agency, which supplies stores all over the world with look-a-likes, Mr Claus’ trademark appearance is big business. No wonder he puts so much time, and investment, into his remarkable visual identity.
Asked during filming about his plans for 2013 Mr Claus mentioned the fortnight he takes each January to recover from the Christmas rush – he likes the Amandari hotel in Bali – and the annual February awayday he organises for his team to brainstorm ideas for the year ahead. However, Mr Claus wouldn’t comment on recent speculation in the financial press that he’s considering taking on the confectionary industry with a new Easter project, although his reticence may be due to his recent run-in with the regulatory authorities over monopoly issues.
Directed by Chris Floyd
Art Direction by Jacopo ‘Jay’ Maria Cinti
Text by Mansel Fletcher