In March 2009, my agent Lisa Davies called to sound me out about a potential portrait commission in Sydney. “Really?” I said, my heart sinking at the idea of a 22-hour flight. “It’s for Vogue Australia and it’s a cover with Cate Blanchett,” she said. “I’m packing,” I replied.
Vogue was a century old in 2009, and for its first thirty years, before photography became commercially viable and creatively desirable, artists held sway. They produced covers in a dazzling array of styles, from the graphic brilliance of Georges Lepape (whose modernist portrait of Lee Miller in 1927 must count as one of the first ‘celebrity’ covers) to the acute, observational eye of the great Carl Erickson. He and a roster of unique talents, Bérard, Keogh, Bouché and Vertès among them, continued designing covers of wit and originality until Bouché’s death in 1963, after which drawing all but disappeared from the magazine
An illustrated Vogue cover in the 21st century, then, was rare to the point of extinction. And the fact that it would be of Cate Blanchett, Oscar winning actress, transcendent beauty, movie star in an anti movie-star age, felt like a moment in history.
In the event, Cate needed to be in London for work and the location switched to the Dorchester hotel, on Park Lane. I was lavishly accommodated and gleefully invited friends over the night before the sitting to show off my wood panelled suite and views of Hyde Park. Kirstie Clements, the magazine’s editor, had also come from Sydney and the following morning we met for breakfast along with Cate’s manager. “I’ve never known her to agree to anything so quickly,” she said fanning both my ego and my anxiety.
It was soon clear that for Vogue this was to all intents and purposes a ‘shoot’. Extra lighting was installed. The great Sam Mcknight was brought in to do Cate’s hair, Dotti her make up. There were clothes by McQueen, Balenciaga and Armani. Jewellery arrived from Cartier and Tiffany with its own security detail. I counted 11 people in the room and progress was glacial. When a manicurist arrived, I panicked, ”I’m not going to draw chipped nails,” I said, more or less under my breath, all too aware that my allotted time was slipping away.
Finally, Cate was ready and we were alone. She was confident and easygoing and, unsurprisingly, had an acute sense of theatre and a genuine feel for clothes. Used to scrutiny she held my gaze allowing me to follow the editor’s directive for all –important ‘eye contact’. The commission had grown to encompass four different covers celebrating the magazine’s 50th Anniversary and four looks would be needed. Unharried and unhurried, we worked all afternoon. At the end of the sitting I sheepishly asked for a selfie.
Back in my studio, I pored over dozens of sketches and photographs and began to piece things together cinematically, a close-up, a long shot and two 3/4 shots. On the full-length drawing featuring a sweeping Madame X dress designed by Martin Grant, I scribbled the word Vogue to indicate where it would run and was surprised when the art director, Ella Munro, decided to keep my loose interpretation of the famous masthead. Beset by doubts and fearful of over thinking and over drawing, I worked and fretted right up to the deadline, after which there was an inevitable wait. I assumed that Cate had approval, but couldn’t assuage my nerves, “they’re going to kill this project,” I said to Lisa, convinced that the old adage that illustrated covers ‘weren’t sexy and didn’t sell’ would come back to haunt me. I was wrong. The 50th anniversary issues sold faster than any in Vogue Australia’s history and would collectively win a magazine cover of the year award. It felt like a vindication.
A year or so later, I was in Sydney promoting my book, Masters Of Fashion Illustration and Vogue hosted a dinner for me at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the harbour. It was a glamorous affair. My friend Dita Von Teese, who was performing in Australia, arrived in the middle of a thunderstorm looking ravishing in a purple dress. “It still has Beyonce’s tit tape in it,” she announced delightedly.
When I returned to the UK, I went to see Alex Schulman, the editor of British Vogue. I took the covers with me. “Oh, I would never do anything like that,” she said, “not when I can photograph somebody.” And she never did.
I love Her, her (your) portraits and your story. Thanks for sharing David
You are without a doubt, a unique modern master..!