BACK IN MAGS

In (indirect) Conversation with Richard Turley

The graphic designer took to the stage at this year’s MagCulture Live event at London’s Vistoe store to discuss his career, how he got here, the zine industry, and the return of Civilisation mag.

November 7th, 2024, 5:30 AM.

A truly unwelcome start to the day - early mornings are nothing new to me, but this is excessive.

I haul myself out of bed, stumble toward the radiator to grab the clothes I laid out the night before and shuffle out of the house—half-blurry-eyed, half-zombified.

I’m on my way to Vitseo, where MagCulture Live ‘24 is taking place.

It’s my first day as an intern in the glossy world of magazines—a world I’ve only ever seen in episodes of Ab Fab and The Devil Wears Prada.

But today, I’m not dressed in a bobbly cerulean blue sweater. I’m not clutching a designer handbag stuffed with Bollinger, a pack of Marlboro Lights, and the latest copy of Vogue.

Instead, I’m armed with a Filofax, a pen, and some tissues (I’ve got a cold).

By 7:36 AM, I’m on a train.

By 8:50 AM, I’m at Paddington.

By 9:12 AM, I’ve arrived at my destination…three coffees down and more wired than I’d like to admit. But I’m here, and there’s no going back now.

The talks began at midday after a few hours of setting up—laying out rows of chairs and packing tote bags with brightly bound books and zines for guests to take away.

The room hummed with anticipation as the first speakers took the stage. We hear from speakers across the world, their words engaging, thought-provoking rich in insight.

Then, when the final speaker walked out onto the podium. He’s wearing a pullover that’s somewhere between grey and blue, jeans, and scuffed-up trainers.

He’s an exceptional talent in the fiercely competitive world of graphic design, but here—with all due respect—he’s dressed like my dad.

I already recognise the covers of his magazines before his name even clicks. He’s worked with the likes of Mulberry, MTV, and Businessweek. He’s launched and co-launched groundbreaking magazines like Civilisation and NUTTS.

His CV is the stuff of envy. He’s probably—no, he is—one of the reasons I decided to pursue journalism in the first place.

It’s Richard Turley.

“I like it when things are a bit off.”

Inspired by underground publications of the '60s and '70s like Oz, Turley’s design philosophy challenges the norm. He rejected the sterile perfection of minimalist grid layouts early on, and instead embraced a bold, almost chaotic typography that demands attention from its readers.

His work isn't about fitting in with what's expected—it’s about pushing boundaries, breaking conventions, and challenging himself at every single level—from when he first started to his now comeback.

He demonstrated it perfectly and somewhat ironically at one point during his talk.

Mid-sentence, the room (including Turley) fell into stunned silence as a video began playing automatically on the slide show of a sticker machine churning out copies of Turley’s face in black and white, with the accompanying sound of a piercing, unrelenting whirr of the contraption.

Turley, looking slightly embarrassed but pleased with himself nonetheless, gave an apologetic wince as it played out.

“Sorry,” he said, with a charming shrug of confidence and Peep Show-esk awkwardness.

His embracing of the messy and the surprising is a reminder that perfection isn’t the goal—expression and impact are. Even if the result is unexpected.

He talked about the importance of using the raw materials available—sometimes even things as humble as Microsoft Paint or graphic elements that others might consider ‘amateurish.’

Indeed, these are my favourite works of his. The raw almost rushed, rough-and-ready style harks back to a time of dank memes and zesty internet content.

Personally, I yearn for the mid-2010s—I feel the bass of a Two Door Cinema Club song and taste apple sours on a cold November evening in a park. And people say you can’t hear photographs.

More importantly for Turley, these tools aren’t just to create a sense of nostalgia for me, nor do they only create limitations; they’re valuable accessible tools for creative freedom. And it works.

“I needed to rip the rug out from underneath myself, go back, and restart.”

Leaving The Guardian in 2010 to join Businessweek marked a pivotal moment in his career—he dared overhaul the magazine's entire design, transforming it into something new, irreverent, and visually arresting.

With Josh Tyrangiel as editor, they completely reimagined the publication, producing what was hailed as “the best consistent set of covers in 40 years” by the late great, legendary designer George Lois.

It was a bold move that paid off.

In 2014, Turley left Businessweek, in fact he left the magazine scene altogether, going on to serve as MTV’s first senior vice president of Visual Storytelling and Deputy Editorial Director (that's a mouthful of a job title - imagine doing it, where do you start?!).

At the time, Turley made the move from magazines to TV as he was thinking, “[This] road’s closing. We’re running out of road” and openly admitted, “I’m still shocked in some ways I’m still doing magazines, honestly. “

During his time there, Turley created MTV No Chill - a multi-platform project which ran on the channel until 2017, creating and commissioning content that showcased short-form videos, sketches, and graphics - incorporating social media and internet culture on a mainstream platform.

The look was described by critics and supported as “being eyef****d by bulls***.”

I believe this was said under the guise of critique, however one could see it as a serious compliment. Regardless, he wasn’t deterred.

His adaptability and keenness for storytelling through both language and visual mediums make it impossible to overlook his drive and work ethic - even in the face of uncertainty.

Starting over is never easy, but Turley’s career shows that reinvention is often the key to being innovative. Sometimes, you have to let go of what you know, tear down your own work, and rebuild it from the ground up.

"I cannot work on my own—everything I do is a collaboration. My practice is about working collaboratively.”

Throughout the presentation was the self-expression and pride in his achievements. Anyone who displays their university sketchbook on a slide show in front of an audience of press, professionals, and up-and-coming designers and magazine editors must feel some pride in their professional journey—and rightly so. He’s done a lot and worked hard for it, but he’s never been afraid to ask people for their advice, insight and help.

Turley then made reference to the luck he had in his career and thanked people for the opportunities they gave to him, but also how he believes that the younger generation has just as much to bring to the table as experienced hands in the zine industry.

“I think young people are brilliant, and there’s a lot to be said for getting non-experienced people in the room with experienced people—they contribute just as much, if not more, to a discussion and they’re not stuck in their ways. I think it’s so valuable.”

The idea that even someone as accomplished as Turley doesn’t do it alone is a reminder that asking for help and seeking advice isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s a sign of strength.

Creative work thrives in environments where ideas are exchanged, challenged, and nurtured by others.

By 6.30 PM, the event is quickly winding down. I’m almost out the door when I see Turley hovering by a magazine stand, and after the free microbrewery pint — classic — I know I have to say something (I’ll kick myself if I don’t).

I only managed to speak a couple of words to him (to be exact, it was seven: “That was great, thank you so much”—a generic sentence if ever there was one).

He nodded, thanked me, and quietly headed out for dinner with the event organiser team. Walking away from Richard Turley’s talk, I felt a sense of creative urgency that I hadn’t felt in a while.

Throughout the talk, Turley repeatedly stressed the importance of reinvention. His philosophy is rooted in the idea that creative growth often requires a level of discomfort. It got me thinking.

About the state of the modern career - about what it takes to build, rebuild and keep a career in an unsteady, fast-paced environment. The sense of unease I have in starting out again after leaving the world of theatre. The need for change and reinvention.

I came to the event hoping to have all my questions answered about the landscape of magazines. I didn’t. I still don’t. But strangely, it all feels a little less daunting.

I’m surprised. And I felt better for it. Maybe that’s naive.

Probably is.

But I quite like it.