@toddstjohn works in a lot of different media, including Illustration, animation, sculpture, graphic design, photography, furniture and industrial design. He is the definition of a polymath. But no matter the medium, there is always something ‘Todd St. John-ish’ about his work. His designs tend to be both playfully conceptual and seriously sculptural. Even when he’s working with in two dimensions, his images feel like they’re made of something you want to hold in your hand. Todd is the founder and creative director of HunterGatherer—aka @huganyc—whose clients include Nike, Google and the City of New York. He’s illustration work has appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times, Wired Magazine and more, and he is my guest on this brand new episode of Design Matters. Link to listen is in my bio or here: tinyurl.com/dmwtoddstjohn
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
My magnificent mother-in-law left the earth today. She leaves in her wake a magnificent husband, remarkable children (one of whom is my wife), phenomenal grandchildren and a boatload of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. Nicole Gay was a brilliant, beautiful bad-ass. She was the most put-together old-school glamour gal around. She was sharp, funny, saucy as hell and whip-smart. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. She didn’t sugarcoat. She didn’t smile when she didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t lie or flatter or fawn. She didn’t complain but if you asked how she was, she told you the truth. She was the most dignified person I’ve ever met. She ironed her impeccable outfits every day. She had her bedsheets pressed. She was a clean-freak. She walked faster than I did (and I walk fast). And when one part of my side of the family imploded, she comforted me as my mom: she held my hand, wiped my tears away and handed me a tissue. She made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes. She knew how much I love her daughter. I think she knew how much I loved her. I hope so—as I did—with all my heart. Rest in peace and power and your best Chanel suit, my darling mother, my friend, my family.
More “What Matters” interviews are here in celebration of FOUR years of this column! For those not familiar with my weekly post on @print_mag, here’s some details: In February of 2021, I started a new column for @print_mag wherein I ask some of the most creative people in the world 10 of the same questions about life, love, creativity, food, and my favorite: how long the feeling of accomplishing something lasts. The column is called “What Matters” and it is a bit of a Proustian questionnaire with a decidedly creative angle. To see over 200 interviews, you can go to the What Matters link in my bio. If you’d like to participate in the questionnaire please DM me!
More “What Matters” interviews are here in celebration of FOUR years of this column! For those not familiar with my weekly post on @print_mag, here’s some details: In February of 2021, I started a new column for @print_mag wherein I ask some of the most creative people in the world 10 of the same questions about life, love, creativity, food, and my favorite: how long the feeling of accomplishing something lasts. The column is called “What Matters” and it is a bit of a Proustian questionnaire with a decidedly creative angle. To see over 200 interviews, you can go to the What Matters link in my bio. If you’d like to participate in the questionnaire please DM me!
There have been a lot of famous New Yorker covers but one of my favorites depicts a young man and a young woman reading the same book on the subway. Their eyes meet, and you can feel that they feel that they’re made for each other. But they’re on different trains headed in opposite directions, separated by fate and the MTA. “Missed Connections” was Adrian Tomine’s first of many New Yorker covers. But really, all of his illustrations have a way of imprinting themselves in our brains. His unfussy panels with clean lines and muted pastels often have a poignant, memorable narrative embedded in them. That’s probably because @adriantomine is both a narrative artist and a comic artist. His 2018 book “Killing and Dying” became a New York Times bestseller, making him one of the few comic artists working today to gain a mainstream audience. That audience has questions, and Adrian enjoys answering them. His most recent book, Q&A, is compilation of questions he’s gotten from readers and fans, and we talk all about this and more on my brand new episode of Design Matters. Link to listen is in my bio.
