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Newspapers are in trouble and that’s not news to you. Print is expensive, the ads moved to Facebook and Google, the classifieds bled over to Craigslist. You know all this.

So, hats off to the newspapers that succeed today. And the ones that do, the big ones, the legacy media, have a surprising thing in common: magazines. The New York Times. The Times of London. Le Monde. Germany. Italy. All over Asia. A lot of them produce print magazines as editorial add ons, supplements, not just for reader loyalty and engagement, but as a way to expand inventory for advertisers and a way to diversify business and the brand.

That’s what The Guardian newspaper is doing and, being The Guardian, they are also doing it differently than their competitive set. How? By taking an existing feature of the newspaper, The Long Read, and reproducing their favorites in a stand alone magazine. A kind of greatest hits package if you will. Well designed. Very printy. Heavy stock. Debossed covers.

So why do it? Who benefits? What is the business rationale behind it? To answer those questions, I spoke to David Wolf, the editor of The Long Read, the section and the magazine, about these topics and, mostly, about the joys of immersive storytelling, the state of journalism today, and the absolute joy of long reads in a world of shortened attention spans and general slop.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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If you can count yourself among the lucky ones who’ve met Robert Priest in person, any chance you remember what you were wearing?

Well, fear not: He does. According to his business partner, the designer Grace Lee, Priest possesses a near-photographic memory of how people present themselves. And those first impressions last a lifetime. 

To hear him talk, though, it’s not at all about being judgy. Priest is just naturally consumed with all things visual. He has been since childhood. (He gets it from his mother). To him, design is everything.

Priest has dedicated his 50-plus-year career to the relentless pursuit of taste, style, and fashion. And it shows. He has led design teams at all of the big magazines: GQ, House & Garden, InStyle, Newsweek, and Esquire (Twice!)

But there’s another side to Robert Priest. He’s a huge sports fan. And designing magazines is his sport. Indeed, like a head coach, he’s hired to win. And the trophies in this case are readership, advertising, circulation, and buzz—and when that’s all taken care of, the design awards start to pile up—they certainly have for him.

We talked to Priest about his early days in London, when he—and The Beatles and the Rolling Stones—were just getting started, about why soccer is the real football, and the rise and fall of one of the biggest magazine launches in history, Condé Nast Portfolio.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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ArtBar is the perfect name for ArtBar magazine and that’s not always the case with the names of magazines. Founded by photographer and filmmaker Sarah Ingram in LA, ArtBar is like a dive bar for artists and their art. It’s democratic in its tastes, and wide in its scope. And fun.

Sarah wanted to hang with artists and so she created a space for them. Literally. From a recent editorial: "Art Bar is a hole in the wall where the graffiti artists, punks and poets, filmmakers, philosophers, painters, photographers, musicians, and wild-eyed creatures find themselves at the end of the day to tell our stories and share our work."

So. A dive bar. And that bar was going to be in print. And she wanted to get the magazine in your hands no matter where you lived. ArtBar is widely distributed, available on newsstands, and seeks more. Sarah wants to create a community, of course, all editors do, but she also wants to create a community of indie magazine folk. She wants to break things and rules and invite like-minds to her art bar and hang out and see some cool stuff and do some cool things. Think I’m taking the dive bar thing too far? Here’s that editorial again: "We wanted to foster a place to gather, a common ground to share the stories of our human experiences and how they shape our work. This is a place where we can break things, break rules, get our hands dirty."

I wasn’t joking. I may joke about a lot of things but not about a magazine set up like a dive bar for artists. Are you kidding? Doesn’t this sound like a place you might want to hang for a bit? Can you tell I love dive bars?

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Maggie Bullock: It’s 2016. Rachel and I are sitting at our desks on the 24th floor of the Hearst Tower working at Elle magazine when the glass double doors blow open—or at least that’s how I remember it—and a vision of white-blonde hair, metallic pants, and checkerboard platforms, breezes into the office speaking in a commanding British accent to two or three minions in her wake.

There are no cameras in sight, but it’s as if we’re watching a grand entrance and a reality TV show. You can almost feel the wind machines in the air, which is what it’s like pretty much any time you witness a Joanna Coles appearance in the corridors of Hearst. There’s just something cinematic about her.

Rachel Baker: Joanna started her career as a reporter in London, moving to New York in the late 1990s to be The Guardian’s New York bureau chief. Next, she shifted into editing. First, as an articles editor at New York magazine, then over to More magazine.

By 2006, she grabbed hold of the editor-in-chiefship at Marie Claire, part of Hearst, and in 2012 became the editor-in-chief of the company’s largest title, Cosmopolitan.

Maggie Bullock: By the time she strode into the Elle offices in 2016, she was much more than an editor. She was also a reality TV star, a television producer, an author, a public speaker, a driving force of the “girl boss” movement, besties with Sheryl Sandberg, and a celebrity in her own right, who famously ran meetings from the helm of a treadmill walking desk.

Rachel Baker: The Jo-Co who walked into our office in 2016 had been newly-crowned as Chief Content Officer of Hearst Magazines—the first to hold the title—and tasked with consolidating the creative side of the 100-year-old publishing giant in the new digital-first era.

Maggie and I are a longtime print editors, so you can imagine how that sounded to us. But even through our fear goggles, we could also see that Joanna was ready to do the necessary surgery that other print editors didn’t have the stomach for, so that legacy magazines might live to see another day.

Maggie Bullock: Joanna was certainly the most famous women’s magazine editor at Hearst at that time. But what wasn’t clear back then, and is undeniable now, is that she was the last of her breed. There was a rich history of iconic women’s magazine editors that came before Joanna, but can you think of an iconic, larger-than-life one that came after her?

Rachel Baker: Joanna left Hearst in 2018, roughly around the same time that both Maggie and I did, and today she’s a board member for major tech companies like Sonos and Snapchat and an executive producer for major Hollywood projects, including an upcoming Amazon series starring Priyanka Chopra.

And she is, as ever, a baller.

Setting up our interview, with what lesser individuals might call a “personal assistant,” but Joanna has anointed Chief Get-It-Done Officer, when we met JC via Zoom, she was without pretense or treadmill desk. She was disarmingly down to earth.

Maggie Bullock: And yet somehow she still emanated that chutzpah or moxie—or maybe we should bring back the word “pizazz” to describe it. The X-factor that, in a 44-floor media empire brimming with big egos and considerable talent, made her one of media’s biggest stars.ng.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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One of the things I’ve learned while hosting this podcast is that there are a lot of magazines out there. More than I imagined. Meaning there was never a “death of the magazine,” simply a realignment of dollars and attention. If anything, there are more magazines being published than ever. 

But, and it’s a big but, they are harder and harder to find. There are fewer magazine stores. There are almost no newsstands, at least in North America. And bookstores, well, ok, go to your local bookstore and good luck.

Which brings us to Steve Watson. He worked in the industry and he lived what was happening to it. And so he created Stack which is, essentially, a discovery system. Or a club. Call it The Magazine of the Month Club. Join it and you receive random independent magazines from around the world, chosen by Steve—or curated, let’s use the word—curated by Steve, and if you like the magazine, great, go out and subscribe to it, and you’ve just expanded your world. 

I asked Steve about the changes in the industry, how he builds community and what the future of magazines might be. He’s an optimist. And that makes me feel good about things.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Adam Moss is probably painting today. He’s not ready to share it. He may never be ready to share it. You see, this ASME Hall of Famer unabashedly labels himself as “tenth rate” with the brush. And he’s okay with that.

As Moss explains, it’s not about the painting. After decades of creating some of the world’s great magazines, he is throttling down. He’s working with canvas, paint, and brush — and reveling in the thrill of making something, finally, for an audience of one.

 It hasn’t always been this way for Moss. Like most accomplished editors — like most serious creatives — Moss spent the better part of his career obsessed. Obsession is essential, he says, to the making of something great.

Growing up on Long Island, Moss became obsessed with Esquire and New York magazines. “My parents were subscribers,” he says. “I was in the suburbs. I’d open them and it was my invitation to New York City. And to cosmopolitan life. And to sophistication.” And knowing that it was all happening just a short subway ride away made it irresistible.

Moss’s publishing portfolio is rotten with blue-blood brands: Rolling Stone, Esquire, The New York Times, and New York magazine. He’s collaborated with editorial legends.

In 1987 Moss decided to create something of his own. Invited to pitch an idea for a new magazine to the owners of The Village Voice, Moss did his song and dance. The folks in the boardroom were … unmoved. Afterwards, Moss retreated to the men’s room to ponder his humiliation. Minutes later, Leonard Stern, the Voice’s owner, took a spot at the next urinal, where he turned to Moss and said, “Okay, we’ll do your magazine.”

What Moss pitched was a city magazine called 7 Days. It only lasted two years. But two weeks after ceasing publication, 7 Days was presented the National Magazine Award for general excellence.

The splash it created propelled Moss to The New York Times, where, in a few short years, he transformed the paper’s Sunday supplement into an editorial magnet for creative talent, the Esquire or New York magazine of the 1990s.

In 2004 Moss joined another venerable brand, New York magazine, where he not only completely reimagined the print magazine, he bear-hugged the encroaching internet menace, creating more than 20 new digital-only brands, five of which — Vulture, The Cut, Intelligencer, The Strategist, and Grub Street — remain heavyweights of modern online editorial.

In 2019, Adam Moss ended his 15-year run at New York, saying, “I want to see what else I can do.” So … painting.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Welcome to a new season of The Full Bleed. This year, we’re going to be talking to makers and creators, of course, but also more about the business of magazines. Because, let’s face it, making a magazine is not easy. It never has been. But we’re seeing more and more magazines—in print—out in the world and there’s a reason for that. At a time where the digital world is a messy place, and that’s being polite, magazines are perfectly positioned as a part of an “analog” wave that is going to become more and more important in the media and in marketing. 

We open the season with Nathan Thornburgh from Roads & Kingdoms, a media brand that started out as a media brand—stay with me here—with the support of Anthony Bourdain, yes, that one, and then pivoted to becoming a kind of gastronomic tour company with loads of content on their website, and has now published their first magazine. And it won’t be their last.

Travel, especially these days, is pure analog, a completely human experience. It touches the senses in a way not many things can. Think about Anthony Bourdain’s work and you think of how immersed he was everywhere he went. Whether he was writing about the reality of a kitchen or filming a meal of noodles at a roadside stand in Thailand, he was all in. His was a very human-centered media, full of sights and smells and sounds and people. And that’s what Roads & Kingdoms will try and replicate. On the page. On every page.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Despite its name, Direction of Travel is not a travel magazine. Sure, it’s a celebration of a certain kind of travel, but this is not a publication that takes you somewhere. Unless you think of Air World as a destination. Which I do.

Founder Christian Nolle is an AvGeek. Which is not an insult. More an acknowledgement of a state of mind. Christian loves all things aviation. And mostly he loves how it looks and feels and, perhaps more importantly, how it looked and felt.

Direction of Travel is a loving homage to route maps, in-flight entertainment, ticket offices, and airports. It is a magazine about the culture of flight and the aesthetics one finds in Air World. And for anyone with even the slightest interest in flight, it is a glorious—and loving—celebration of that world.

Regular listeners of this podcast may have noticed that I’ve been speaking to quite a few people from travel magazines recently, and there are reasons for that. One could argue that no other type of magazine has had to weather such a variety of competition from the digital space. And travel itself is subject to forces that have nothing to do with travel itself. But it remains aspirational even to those lucky enough to travel often.

So whether you’re a frequent flying business person, or someone who might fly once in a while, the magic of lift off—and touch down—remains.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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 I first met Françoise Mouly at The New Yorker’s old Times Square offices. This was way back when artists used to deliver illustrations in person. I had stopped by to turn in a spot drawing and was introduced to Françoise, their newly-minted cover art editor.

I should have been intimidated, but I was fresh off the boat from Canada and deeply ensconced in my own bubble—hockey, baseball, Leonard Cohen—and so not yet aware of her groundbreaking work at Raw magazine.

Much time has passed since that fortuitous day and I’ve thankfully caught up with her ouevre—gonna get as many French words into this as I can—through back issues of Raw and TOON Books. But mostly with The New Yorker, where we have worked together for over 30 years and I’ve been afforded a front-row seat to witness her mode du travail, her nonpareil mélange of visual storytelling skills.

Speaking just from my own experience, I can’t tell you how many times at the end of a harsh deadline I’ve handed in a desperate, incoherent mess of watercolor and ink, only to see the published product a day later magically made whole, readable, and aesthetically pleasing.

Because Françoise prefers her artists to get the credit, I assume she won’t want me mentioning the many times she rescued my images from floundering. I can remember apologetically submitting caricatures with poor likenesses, which she somehow managed to fix with a little digital manipulation—a hairline move forward here, a nose sharpened there. Or ideas that mostly worked turned on their head—with the artist's permission, of course—to suddenly drive the point all the way home.

For Françoise, “the point” is always the point. Beautiful pictures are fine, but what does the image say? Françoise maintains a wide circle of devoted contributing artists—from renowned gallery painters to scribbling cartoonists, and all gradations between—from whom she regularly coaxes their best work. I thank my étoiles chanceuses to be part of that group.

And now, an interview with Françoise. Apparently. 

—Barry Blitt

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Orlando is the magazine as hotel, quite literally—we’ll explain what that means in a bit—a magazine that one can inhabit and live in, a love letter to culture in the most expansive use of the word. It’s also very Italian. Maybe because it comes from Italy. More specifically, from the mind of Antonella Dellepiane Pescetto, who is Italian. But more importantly, she is someone with exquisite taste.

And, yes, the magazine is set up as a hotel. Just go to the table of contents and you start to see how this concept works. Or visit the website, it’s obvious there, too Ad the concept structures all various—and sometime disparate—ideas that go into the making of Orlando.

And if you visit the website, again, you’ll find courses and tours and podcasts and a Spotify playlist to accompany each story in each issue as well as a boutique, and you can sense the publishing plans as well. But mostly you’ll find yourself in a charming confection of a magazine, kind of like something Wes Anderson might have come up with had he been Italian, which might work for you, or not—not everyone loves Wes Anderson, sure—but just like you know a Wes Anderson movie when you see or hear one, once you enter the hotel that is Orlando, you know. You just do. And it’s the kind of place you can get comfortable in very easily.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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There are two kinds of travelers. The first group are those that need to see as many attractions as they can. The second are those that would rather wander around, get a feel for the place they’re visiting, and live as much like a local as possible. Neither is better. There’s no judgement here. But the people who are behind the bi-annual Fare Magazine are definitely of the latter group.

Founded almost ten years ago, each issue of Fare explores a single city, using food as an entry point to talk to locals and tell stories that you won’t find in your typical guidebook. You do not read Fare to find lists of must try restaurants. You read it to meet the people that make a city worth living in and worth visiting. You will learn something. And, maybe, this city will go on your list of places to visit. 

Going from city to city is, of course, not the easiest way to make a magazine, but ten years in, Fare is still going strong, and the business is growing to include new titles and new offers. It’s a big world. And I get the sense Fare is going to keep wandering it, meeting the people who make every city taste better.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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In the media storm that is 2025, the person you want captaining your ship is smart, decisive, and cool, calm, and collected—in other words, she’s Nikki Ogunnaike.

The editor-in-chief of Marie Claire, whom we got to know when we worked together at Elle, is the very model of a modern magazine editor, in that—unlike the lifers of old—she hopscotched through a ton of jobs, accruing skills as a writer, a fashion editor, a digital editor and a print editor, and, oh yeah, a social-media savvy multi-platform operator—to become what she is now: someone uniquely equipped to lead a new era of Marie Claire.

We talked to Nikki about what it’s like to run a modern media brand in a post-magazine world—what does the job of “magazine editor” even mean now? Also: how is the post-Hearst Marie Claire evolving to meet a new reader, or should we say “follower,” and which parts of its original DNA Nikki is working to preserve. Also: Is the “girlboss” back?

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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The world is adrift in travel magazines that tell you to go here and stay there, to order certain foods at “of-the-moment” restaurants. And when you go to these places you find yourself surrounded by other travelers like you, and the only locals you interact with are, maybe, the waiter, or your Airbnb host, or the tour guide taking you on a generic definitely-not-what-the-locals-do tour of the trendiest neighborhood in town. 

Or you might not even meet a local. Or ever stop looking at the screen on your phone.

You will have ticked items off your travel bucket list, but will you have actually traveled? Travel becomes consumption and as with all manner of consumption, you are never quite sated, and hey, there’s a media ecosystem out there to help you along.

And then there’s Ori. Founded by journalist Kade Krichko, Ori bills itself as a “travel, art and education platform” that allows local storytellers to tell their stories on a global scale. It is a magazine that understands travel is an experience first and foremost, and that traveling well means an immersion into people and places, an opportunity to grow and to heal.

It’s a magazine that assumes you should think about and experience the world around you, and that if you think about it and experience it enough, the world becomes a more interconnected and better place; it becomes a place of wonder.

And isn’t that why we travel?

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Susan Casey has won National Magazine Awards for editing, writing, and design—a feat that may well be unprecedented in the industry’s history.

In her native Canada, they call people like this “Wayne Gretzky.”

She has worked—under various titles—for the following magazines: The Globe & Mail, Outside, Time, Esquire, eCompany, Business 2.0, Sports Illustrated Women, National Geographic, Fortune, and O, The Oprah Magazine. She also worked for the iconic 1990s fashion brand Esprit. 

These days—literally on any given day—you’re likely to find Casey in the water, where she spent much of her childhood, later with the swim team at the University of Arizona, and, as an adult, as the author of four immersive books—all best sellers—about the ocean: The Wave: In Pursuit of the Rogues, Freaks, and Giants of the Ocean; The Devil’s Teeth: A True Story of Obsession and Survival Among America’s Great White Sharks; Voices in the Ocean: A Journey Into the Wild and Haunting World of Dolphins; and her most recent, The Underworld: Journeys to the Depths of the Ocean.

A self-proclaimed “outspoken designer” early in her career, she refused to accept the career path limits others imposed and instead laid the groundwork for a rich creative life.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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That meal your grandmother always cooked. Or your mother. Or your father, for that matter. The odors that permeated a kitchen or the entire house. The first taste. The idea of comfort food.

So much of who we are and what we remember are about food, sure, but also about place, and most definitely about the person doing the cooking.

While many food magazines go beyond food to create the context about the recipes they print, writer and editor Kyle Yoshioka felt they lacked the backstories that make food about more than taste or trends or wine accompaniments. And with no experience in the form, he was part of a team in Portland, Oregon that decided to launch Provecho, a magazine all about the backstories, and especially the culture and communities, behind each and every ingredient that goes into each and every lovingly created dish. And without a single recipe.

Provecho, then, is not really a food magazine at all, but a cultural review that uses food as a focal point. It’s anthropology that tastes good. One that is, in its own way, creating a community all its own.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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There are more than 7,000 languages in the world and there’s a good chance that you don’t speak or read most of them. Being an English-language speaker is, among other things, a huge privilege in this multilingual world because while it may not be the most widely spoken first language, English is the language that is most widely spoken.

There’s a chance that you can get by in English almost everywhere. And so English speakers tend not to learn other languages. To their detriment. (And to the resentment of others. But that’s another story.)

Not all of the world’s 7,000 languages are robust enough to support their own media. But guess what—there’s a lot of media in this world that isn’t created in English. Enter Translator, a magazine of translated journalism and reportage from around the world for, “the open-minded and the language-curious.”

And in a world where much of our media is controlled by fewer and fewer people, this kind of wider view of what others are saying and thinking is, perhaps, more necessary than ever. 

Maybe the only surprising thing about Translator is that it wasn’t created … sooner.”

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Michael Grynbaum is a correspondent for The New York Times, where he has covered media, politics, and culture for 18 years. He’s reported on three presidential campaigns, two New York City mayors—they're always so boring—and the transformation of the media world in the Trump era. He lives in Manhattan and he’s a graduate of Harvard.

His first book, Empire of the Elite: Inside Condé Nast, the Media Dynasty that Reshaped America, was published by Simon & Schuster in June, 2025. In the book, Michael chronicles the origins of the company, its go-go boom days in the eighties and nineties, and its more recent post-print transformation into whatever Condé Nast is these days. We’ll figure that out later.

Michael’s bestseller captured a lot of attention when it was published—it’s a bestseller and it’s the latest in the line of books by and about Condé Nast magazine makers—full of great anecdotes and good stories. The kind of stuff we love here on Print Is Dead (Long Live Print!), and it’s extremely readable.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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“Today, creativity feels like it’s being squeezed into smaller and smaller boxes. Content is designed to chase likes, rack up views, serve a clear function—a purpose….we’re here—to celebrate creativity for creativity’s sake, no strings attached. Analog isn’t dead; it’s the new rebellion.”

This manifesto is a part of a striking editorial in the first issue of Playground, a new magazine created out of Singapore by Pop Mart, the maker of the Labubu. I honestly never thought I would a) write that kind of sentence in my life, and b) understand it, but here we are. It’s 2025! If  you’re unfamiliar with PopMart you are unfamiliar with one of the largest creative companies in the world, one valued almost as much as Disney or Nintendo. 

Playground is an extraordinary editorial project, championed by creatives and executives in a company that claims its mission is to “light up passion” so that its brand can promote a “galaxy of creative possibilities.” Got all that? 

So by now you might be asking yourself a fundamental question: Why? Why this thing? And why print? Well, that same editorial anticipates this exact question:

“So, why print? Because print makes you pause. You can’t swipe past a paragraph in a magazine. You can’t multitask while turning a page. Print demands your attention and invites you to linger, to savor, to think…So here it is: our first issue. Take your time with it. Flip through the pages, spill some coffee on it if you must. Just don’t try to scroll.” 

Amen

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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The word ‘unicorn’ gets thrown around a lot these days. But in our book, Sarah Ball is the Real Deal. The editor of WSJ. Magazine is a student of old-guard, in-the-trenches, work-on-a-story-for-years magazine making, which has earned her cred among the Jim Nelsons and David Grangers of the biz.

She’s also a digital native with a flare for experimentation and a new media scrappiness. Sarah spent her career bridging those divides predominantly at Vanity Fair and GQ where she helped those titles join the digital revolution—much more stylishly and convincingly than many of her competitors.

Arguably more than any other editor of her generation, she brings print-era rigor, and also the romance of the whole magazine-making endeavor to digital-era reality. That's why when the Vanity Fair editor-in-chief job came open last spring, Sarah was right at the top of The Spread’s list for who should get the gig.

The wind blew a different way, as we all know by now, and she’s happy at WSJ. But when you listen to our chat, we think you'll get why our money is on her.

There’s a lot of pessimism in journalism these days for good reason, but we challenge you to listen to this conversation without getting just as swept up as we did in Sarah’s passion for magazines. It's almost enough to make us believe that print is not in fact dead. Not yet, at least..

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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You may think a magazine called Famous for My Dinner Parties would be about food or entertaining—and I wouldn’t blame you if you did. You wouldn’t be wrong, but you also wouldn’t be right.

Taking its name from Robert Altman’s film, 3 Women, Famous for My Dinner Parties started as a pandemic-inspired digital project among three friends (Junshen Wu, Sandra von Mayer-Myrtenheim and Yannic Moeken) in Berlin and has evolved into a proper magazine and media brand, and along the way has won an engaged and broad audience far beyond Berlin. Something that continues to surprise the founders.

The magazine is slightly odd, if I’m being honest, idiosyncratic, thoroughly compelling, and undeniably beautiful. It’s also almost entirely done in house, including all the design, photography and writing. And despite this, or maybe because of it, the thing works. Whether or not this method—or lack of one—is sustainable is another question.

And just to be clear, there is not a single recipe in the magazine. Just a whole lot of ideas. This is a magazine then, editorially and conceptually, built around vibes. Fuel for a discussion, perhaps, at your next really great dinner party. Whether or not you aspire to any sort of fame.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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This episode is a special one for us here at Magazeum. We even gave it its own code name: “Project Rosebud” (IYKYK). But if you only know our guest as the grandson of the man who inspired the lead character in the film classic Citizen Kane and the founder of one of the largest publishing empires in the world, you are missing out. 

Will Hearst could have done the easy thing, but he chose not to. As the current chairman of the Hearst Corporation, Will balances stewardship of a sprawling media empire with a commitment to community and lasting value. Unlike the new breed of media moguls, his leadership is less about compliance and more about the continuing importance of fostering quality journalism rooted in place and purpose.

But aside from his role as a suit at the Hearst Corporation, Will’s labor of love is Alta—an indie quarterly that champions a distinct West Coast voice, providing a vital counterpoint to the East Coast lens that still dominates the national discourse.

Alta is crafted to be held and savored—he thinks of its subscribers as members more than a mailing list. In an age dominated by volume, speed, and algorithms, Will Hearst would like to remind us to slow down, listen deeply, and consume wisely. 

In times like these, his vision seems almost Quixotic—to see media as craft, culture as inheritance, and storytelling as something lasting. Nevertheless, he continues to charge, shaping a legacy both ancient and urgently new.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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While it’s not true that kids don’t read, it may be true that adults aren’t teaching kids to read. It’s also true that today’s children face issues that those of the past didn’t. And the pandemic—there’s that word again—impacted everyone in ways we’re still figuring out, including kids. Perhaps especially kids.

There are, amazingly, and encouragingly, many new magazines for children of all ages now. One of them is Anyway, a magazine for tweens founded by two mothers—and long-time friends—who grew up loving magazines and, yes, were worried about their kids’ screen time. They also knew that tween issues weren’t being addressed properly and that a root cause of some of them was a media landscape that pushed consumers, no matter the age, into silos—or communities—where they could go through life unchallenged.

Go to the Anyway website and you are confronted with the slogan: “Growing up is hard. You can do it Anyway.“ This speaks to both kids and parents, another reality of a kids magazine that most magazines don’t have to face: you have two very specific markets—kids and their parents—and your readership will eventually age out. Meaning the marketing challenges never end even while reader loyalty does. What does that mean for a media brand?

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Name the five photographers who, more than any others, defined the dramatic shift in the approach to magazine photography in the late eighties and early nineties. There’s Herb Ritts, Bruce Weber, Steven Meisel. Richard Avedon, of course. 

Who’s missing? I’m getting to that.

Today’s guest was discovered while still a student at ArtCenter College of Design in Los Angeles, by Andy Warhol no less, whose upstart (and budget-deficient) team at "Interview" couldn’t afford to send a crew to LA for a shoot. His first subject, newbie director Steven Spielberg, launched his photography career, and soon he was shooting for every magazine you could imagine.

We’re talking, of course, about Matthew Rolston. He, and his fellow rebels, changed everything by bringing both a sensuality and a sexuality to newsstands that big publishing hadn’t seen before. Readers ate it up. Ask him to explain this transformation and you’ll get a hot take that will completely change how you think about media and celebrity:

“I think glamour—and glamour photography—is a substitute for god and goddess worship. The altar is the photo studio. So the goddess comes to the dressing room like she would’ve come to the preparation chamber of a temple. She’s anointed with oils and potions—that would be the hair and makeup team. She’s dressed in symbolic raiment—that would be the styling. And she’s led to the altar where the adherents kneel before her—that would be me on the floor with my camera. It is really the same thing. It’s just a modern, twisted version of the same impulses that we have to idolize people and worship them.” 

Just this year ArtCenter, his alma mater, presented the photographer, director, author, artist, and educator with its prestigious Lifetime Achievement Award, honoring both his creative legacy and his role as a mentor to the next generation. It’s the perfect moment to look back on his remarkable career, and to hear directly from Rolston himself.

Our Anne Quito caught up with Matthew in the lead up to the premiere of an evocative new body of work, "Vanitas: The Palermo Portraits," a site-specific installation at ArtCenter, which premieres this weekend.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Josh Jones has done a lot of things when it comes to magazines: Editor. Writer. Maker. Custom publisher. Mentor. Evangelist. All of the above. 

Has Josh helped write a book about hip hop in Mongolia? Yes. Has he sat back and watched Gordon Ramsey mash his face into a sandwich? Indeed. Has he written an instructive how to book that reminds the reader to always lift a box of magazines by bending one’s knees? Yes, again. 

For more than 20 years, Josh has been creating magazines, both for resolutely indie concerns and reasons, but also custom publications for the likes of The North Face, Red Bull, Interscope and Nike. And while he has no illusions about the challenges the industry faces, he’s also resolutely optimistic about a world that he loves, so much so that his “field guide to publishing an indie magazine” Just Make Your Magazine is, true to its subhead, the “fastest selling self help book.” OK, I don’t know if that’s true. It probably isn’t if I’m being honest. 

But still. You speak to him and you become an optimist. And this is not just because, as he says in the book, “indie magazine making has never been more popular.”

It’s also because, and perhaps caught up in the same optimism, I suggest that it’s possible we are over the Print Panic of the mid aughts and the industry, as a whole, is now back on a sustained kind of upswing. That’s an idea we’re going to explore on the show this season. Because there has to be some things that are right in the world, damnit.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Today’s guest has become almost synonymous with graphic design and editorial publishing. His career began in the defiant New York “sex press” of the late 1960s, where not-actually-that-surprisingly, as a teenager he was already art-directing magazines like Screw and The New York Review of Sex. That unlikely starting point gave him a rare education in the power of design to command attention and shape meaning.

We’re talking about designer, author, editor, educator, and true legend, Steven Heller.

Heller went on to spend more than three decades at The New York Times, most memorably as art director of The New York Times Book Review. There, he transformed the visual life of the section, commissioning bold, original illustration and making the case—over and over again—that design is not ornamental but integral to editorial voice. Through his advocacy, he helped elevate the status of designers in publishing offices, giving visual thinkers a seat at the table alongside editors and writers.

Beyond the newsroom, Heller has been prolific almost to the point of obsession. He has written, edited, or co-authored more than two hundred books on design, creating an extraordinary record of the field’s history, ideas, and influences. And most recently, he turned that critical eye inward with his memoir, Growing Up Underground, a candid account of his early years in New York’s counterculture publishing scene.

Steve is a practitioner, a chronicler, and an advocate for design—and he’s also part of the team here at Magazeum. We are thrilled to turn the mic on him for this special conversation.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Most people in the world live in what we in the west sometimes dismissively call the “rest of the world.” Depending on where you live, “the rest” probably includes parts, if not all, of Latin America, Africa, and the vast majority of Asia. Much like the tendency of Americans to call the champions of their sports leagues “world champions,” the word “world” is never what it seems.

Except when it is.

Founded as a non-profit by Sophie Schmidt in 2020, Rest of World is meant to challenge the “expectations about whose experiences with technology matter,” as its mission states. With a global editorial team led by today’s guest Anup Kaphle, Rest of World’s emphasis on the technological transformation of the daily lives of billions of people is eye-opening, educational, entertaining, and fills in the gaps in our general understanding of how technology is used everywhere. When it won a National Magazine Award last year, one sensed that it had finally arrived to a broader audience.

The rest of the world is a big place, perhaps too big for a paper magazine. That’s why Rest of World is digital.

Those in the “west” would be better served by understanding it. Because everything and everyone is, ultimately, connected.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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The pandemic hit New York first and harder and longer than most places. And as a New Yorker, Joshua Glass was appalled by the eerily quiet and empty city that resulted. He wanted to connect with people, any people, but he wanted quality gatherings, as opposed to quantity. 

When restrictions on gatherings began to ease up, he started curating a series of dinner parties around town. And these get-togethers led to the creation of Family Style, a media brand that brought all his interests under a single, and perhaps singular, cultural umbrella. 

The result is, finally, what the people at those highly-curated, and probably well-dressed, dinner parties talked about—and the magazine is the core of a growing brand that encompasses production, events, digital, and social. 

Family Style is a magazine at the intersection of food and culture—an interesting magazine about interesting people interested in interesting things, all united by a kind of global glossy aesthetic. 

So is Family Style a fashion magazine, a culture magazine, a food magazine, or an arts journal? The answer is “yes.”

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Much of travel media comes with a kind of sheen to it. A gloss. Whether you are traveling Italy with a hungry celebrity or cruising Alaska in the pages of a magazine, the photos are big and Photoshopped, the text kind of breathless. And while Afar has plenty of both, it just feels a bit different. It is not a magazine that puts a focus on consumption but on feeling. On the experience of travel.

Julia Cosgrove has been atop Afar’s masthead from the beginning. She comes from a magazine and journalism family. And despite their warnings about the industry, she joined the family business anyway because what kid listens to their parents? When the founders of Afar Media plucked her out of ReadyMade magazine and told her that no other travel magazine felt experiential to them, she understood and joined the team.

Travel media has changed a lot over the years. One has to ask what moves a media consumer more: a magazine article about a beach in Croatia or the TikToks of numerous influencers on that same beach, extolling its virtues, reaching their millions of fans?

Afar doesn’t care. Because it believes in its mission and marches on, now in its 15th year, inviting its readers to experience the world, by diving in.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Troublemakers is a magazine about society’s misfits. At least from the Japanese point of view. A bilingual, English/Japanese magazine, Troublemakers came about as a way to showcase people who were different, who stayed true to themselves, or about the long road those people had taken to self-acceptance.

The founders, editor Yuto Miyamoto and art director Manami Inoue, were inspired by a notion that Japanese culture perhaps did not value those who strayed too far from the herd.

The magazine has been a success not just in Japan but globally, and perhaps mirrors a trend we see in streaming, for example, of a general public acceptance of universal stories from different places—gengo nanté kinishee ni. Think, especially, of the success of Japanese television and movies like Shogun or Tokyo Vice or Godzilla Minus One. Of Japanese Pop and anime and food. It’s an endless list.

But Troublemakers is more than just a cultural document. It is proof of something shared, a commonality of human experience that exists everywhere. Speaking to Yuto and Manami, you sense a desire—and an invitation—to connect. With everyone. And that’s, ultimately, what Troublemakers tries to do.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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What happens when a pastry chef meets a magazine editor in Brooklyn? No, this isn’t the setup for a joke that perhaps three people might ever find funny. But…what do you get when a pastry chef meets a magazine editor in Brooklyn?

You get the start of a media brand and a movement and a community. In other words, you get Cake Zine.

Started as a post-pandemic stab at reconnecting with the world, Cake Zine is the result of that meet-cute. Tanya Bush, the pastry chef, and Aliza Abarbanel, a magazine editor, took their love of sweets and have created a magazine that is kind of like what you might get if a literary magazine developed a sweet tooth.

And threw great parties.

Not just in Brooklyn, but in LA, and London, and Paris. And that might become, who knows, not just a new sort of literary salon, but an actual salon. Or cake shop/wine bar. Or a publisher.

Tanya and Aliza have plans—perhaps too many—but for now, they are content with creating a smart and tasty magazine that blends fiction, essays, and recipes in a lovingly-blended, skillfully-layered cake.

And. They. Have. Plans.

But they are also realists and wise enough to know that you can’t rush a soufflé. Lest it collapse. Much like these tortured, yeasty metaphors.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Viscose Journal calls itself “a journal for fashion criticism” which sounds like a simple enough—and niche enough—premise for a magazine. Founded by Jeppe Ugelvig in Copenhagen and New York in 2021, Viscose has quickly become a vital touchpoint in the fashion world. And it has evolved into something far more complicated than what it still calls itself.

In many ways, Ugelvig and his team have created a magazine that is a pure distillation of what a magazine can be. Because every issue of the publication is different—in form and shape and style. In other words, this is a magazine without a literal template. 

The first issue was called a “bagazine” and came in the form of a crocodile skin handbag. Another issue featured a garment label. And the current issue comes with a cover in the form of a cut-out of a perfume box. 

The magazine feels like “an ongoing thought process,” not just with the subject of fashion but with the idea of making a magazine itself. And in this sense, it is a mirror not just to the disciplined anarchy of the fashion industry but also into the making of an independent magazine in the 21st century. And that means thinking about the brand, about events, about audience, about the future as a media hub. And that’s a lot of thinking.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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I’m a writer and the former deputy editor of Vanity Fair. Now if you know anything about me, which statistically you don't, unless—shameless plug—you read my memoir, Dilettante, about my time at Vanity Fair and the golden age of the magazine business. Which, statistically, you didn’t.

The only reason I have a career at all is because of today’s guest on Print Is Dead (Long Live Print). He hired me in the mid-nineties to be his assistant. Or as he likes to say, “rescued me off the scrap heap” and then, like gum on the bottom of his shoe, he could never seem to get rid of me.

I’m talking of course about Graydon Carter, former editor of Vanity Fair, Spy, The New York Observer, and now co-editor and co-founder of Air Mail.

He’s here to talk about his memoir When the Going was Good—a title that, with signature understatement, suggests things were once better than they are now, which feels correct. But his book isn’t just about magazines. It’s about a time when media was glamorous and powerful and vital. When New York was still New York. When the world he had a hand in shaping still existed.

It’s not nostalgia, it’s a public service, because Graydon didn’t just edit and create magazines. He built worlds. He predicted the cultural weather. He made journalism feel essential, and more importantly, cool. 

I was lucky enough to work for him at Vanity Fair for almost 25 years, back when magazines mattered, when people still returned phone calls, and parties had seating charts instead of hashtags, when the media wasn’t just people making videos about sandwiches, and when style wasn’t a “brand CoLab,” and when you could still smoke indoors without a visit from HR.

You know what? Hold on one second. “Hey! You kids get off my lawn!”

Sorry. Graydon began as my boss, but quickly became a mentor, then a friend, and it’s a friendship that continues to this day. So enjoy this conversation with Graydon Carter as he looks back on the chaos, the glamour, and the thrill of a better time. Back when, yes, the going was very, very good.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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When a company publishes a magazine, or at least an “editorial” product, for whatever reason, it is called custom publishing. I have a long editorial background in custom. And custom has a surprisingly long history itself.

How long?

John Deere started publishing The Furrow in 1895. The Michelin Star started as a form of custom content: what better way to sell tires to monied Parisians than by enticing them to take a drive to the countryside to try a great restaurant?

Amex Publishing famously published Travel + Leisure among other titles for decades. That in-flight magazine you once enjoyed on your flight overseas? That, too, is custom publishing.

Now, after some down years, custom publishing is leaning waaaaay into print again. Henrybuilt is an industry leader in designing and constructing well-built products and furnishings for the home. Henrybuilt is not, however, a company that you would think is screaming for a magazine.

But the qualities that make a great magazine—attention to detail and craft, the curation of ideas, hard work—are the very qualities that have made Untapped, a “design journal that looks back to look forward.” 

Led by editor-in-chief Tiffany Jow, Untapped is a smart, well-designed magazine that avoids the pitfalls of most design journals in being free of jargon and thus accessible.

With an enviable level of editorial freedom, Jow has created an editorial product that richly explores livable spaces and champions “ideas-driven work.” The result is a growing media entity across platforms independent of Henrybuilt while hewing closely to its brand. It’s good stuff.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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When I decided to launch this podcast back in 2019, it didn’t take me long to realize that I didn’t want to do it alone. The first person I called? Today’s guest, Debra Bishop.

I’ve known Deb a little bit for a long time, but well enough to know her insight, humor, and world view would elevate every conversation we’d have. But also, and more importantly, she is without question one of the most consequential editorial designers working today. 

Deb has helped define the visual and structural DNA of some of the most iconic media brands of the last few decades, from Martha Stewart’s Blueprint, to More Magazine, and now, to The New York Times for Kids.

What sets Deb apart is not just her eye, but her mind. She’s a master of creating editorial systems—cohesive, flexible frameworks that hold entire magazines together, giving them both structure and soul. Her designs guide readers effortlessly, creating rhythm, clarity, and a sense of trust.

Deb never overdesigns or distracts—she amplifies. Her layouts are confident, elegant, quietly powerful, and often these days, lots of fun. And as a leader and mentor, she’s shaped not just magazines but careers. She’s helped raise the standard for what editorial design can be, and what a creative partnership should look like.

Deb makes everything better: the work, the process, the people around her. Her influence is everywhere—including on this podcast—and I feel incredibly lucky to call her a friend and colleague.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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When a company publishes a magazine, or at least an “editorial” product, for whatever reason, it is called custom publishing. I have a long editorial background in custom. And custom has a surprisingly long history itself.

How long?

John Deere started publishing The Furrow in 1895. The Michelin Star started as a form of custom content: what better way to sell tires to monied Parisians than by enticing them to take a drive to the countryside to try a great restaurant?

Amex Publishing famously published Travel + Leisure among other titles for decades. That in-flight magazine you once enjoyed on your flight overseas? That, too, is custom publishing.

Now, after some down years, custom publishing is leaning waaaaay into print again. Henrybuilt is an industry leader in designing and constructing well-built products and furnishings for the home. Henrybuilt is not, however, a company that you would think is screaming for a magazine.

But the qualities that make a great magazine—attention to detail and craft, the curation of ideas, hard work—are the very qualities that have made Untapped, a “design journal that looks back to look forward.” 

Led by editor-in-chief Tiffany Jow, Untapped is a smart, well-designed magazine that avoids the pitfalls of most design journals in being free of jargon and thus accessible.

With an enviable level of editorial freedom, Jow has created an editorial product that richly explores livable spaces and champions “ideas-driven work.” The result is a growing media entity across platforms independent of Henrybuilt while hewing closely to its brand. It’s good stuff.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Close your eyes and picture a classic Rolling Stone cover. Dozens probably come to mind—portraits of music legends, movie stars, political icons, cultural rebels. Bruce. Bono. Madonna. 

These images are etched into our cultural memory as more than mere photographs. They’re statements.

But when we remember the cover, and maybe even the photographer, how often do we remember the person who made it all happen? The one who dreamed up the concept, found the right photographer, navigated the logistics, managed the personalities, and ultimately brought that unforgettable image to life?

It’s the photo editor. But who thinks about the photo editor?

Photo editors are essential—especially at a magazine like Rolling Stone—for decades its covers defined our visual culture. Behind every iconic cover is a photo director making hundreds of invisible decisions under pressure and facing tight budgets, unpredictable talent, and shifting editorial winds. They’re the ones keeping shoots on track when the talent shows up two hours late. They’re the ones coaxing photographers into greatness—the person behind the people behind the camera. 

Photo editors are expected to be tastemakers, producers, diplomats, caterers, and art directors all at once. Although their work is everywhere, their names are not. They’re under-thanked. Underseen. Too often unknown. This is the paradox of their work: When a shoot goes well, it looks effortless. When it doesn’t, they take the bullet.

Laurie Kratochvil, Rolling Stone’s visionary director of photography from 1982 to 1994, knows this all too well.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Name a major newspaper—anywhere in the world—and you will find a magazine. Or two. Or three. The New York Times is the obvious example of this. The Times of London is another obvious example. And now more and more legacy newspapers from around the world are publishing their magazines in English.

La Repubblica in Italy publishes D. And now France’s venerable Le Monde is out with M International, a glossy biannual that distills their weekly M magazine for an English-speaking audience.

Long called “the newspaper of reference” in France, Le Monde occupies an oversized space in the French media. When the Olympics returned to Paris, Le Monde decided to create an english version of their newspaper for the web. Then they decided to create the magazine—in English—something that not just added an extra piece of land to their media ecosystem, but one that pleased their advertisers as well. 

We spoke to Louis Dreyfus, the CEO of Le Monde about the business case for English, how the magazines attract new readers to the newspaper, the power of print, and how AI is one of the reasons Le Monde can create in english in the first place.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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 Philip Burke’s portraits don’t just look like the people he paints—they actually vibrate. Just look at them. With wild color, skewed proportions, and emotional clarity, his illustrations have lit up the pages of Rolling Stone, The New Yorker, Time, and Vanity Fair, capturing cultural icons in a way that feels both chaotic and essential.

But behind that explosive style is a steady, spiritual core.

Burke begins each day by chanting. It sounds like this: “Nam Myōhō Renge Kyō. Nam Myōhō Renge Kyō. Nam Myōhō Renge Kyō.” It means “devotion to the mystic law of cause and effect through sound,” he says. The chant grounds Burke and opens a space where true connection—on the canvas and in life—can happen.

This daily practice is more than a ritual—it’s a source of creative clarity. 

Burke’s rise was rapid and raw. Emerging from Buffalo, New York, he made his name in the punk-charged art scene of the 1980s with a fearless, high-voltage style. But it was through his spiritual journey that the work began to transform—less about distortion for shock, and more about essence, empathy, and insight. Less funhouse mirror, more human.

Our Anne Quito spoke to Burke about how Buddhism reshaped his approach to portraiture, what it means to truly see a subject, and why staying present—both on the page and in life—is his greatest creative discipline.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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On today’s show we’re creating a storm in a coffee cup about everyone’s cup of joe. We’re spilling the beans about your morning brew. You’re going to hear a latte puns about your cuppa, your high-octane dirt, your jitter juice, your elixir, and by the time we’re done you will have both woken up and smelled the coffee.

Luke Adams is the editor in chief of Standart, a magazine about a bean that was first cultivated in Ethiopia in the 9th century and within a few hundred years had many of us hooked. It is a subject obviously and extravagantly rich in history, lore, and possibility. 

What it is not, however, is a paean to what Luke calls “cutting-edge coffee-making geekery.” 

Rather, Standart is about growers and roasters. It is about cafes and third spaces. It is about culture. It is, in other words, about you, the coffee drinker. It attempts to bring together a disparate potential readership around a singular subject, one that not too many actually talk about. Because while cafes encourage conversation, that conversation is rarely about what we’re drinking. Even when it’s a “damn fine cup of coffee.”

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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I was a reporter and editor in newspapers, including Chicago Today—which had no tomorrow—the Chicago Tribune, and the San Francisco Examiner. I made a shift to magazines becoming TV critic for People, where I came up with the idea for Entertainment Weekly, launching in 1990.

After a rocky launch—a story I tell in my new book, Magazine—I jumped ship for the Daily News, then TV Guide, and finally the internet at Advanced Publications. I left to teach and write books about the fall of mass media in 2006. My name is Jeff Jarvis, and this is The Next Page.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Psychedelia has an image problem. At least that’s what editor and journalist Hillary Brenhouse realized after she saw through the haze.

Both in art and literature, psychedelia was way more than tie-dye t-shirts and magic mushrooms. Instead of letting that idea fade into the mist, she kept thinking about it. And the more she looked, the more she realized maybe she should create a magazine to address this. And so she did.

Elastic is a magazine of psychedelic art and literature. It says so right there on the cover of the beautiful first issue that just launched. So this is not your standard issue lit or art mag. After all, this is one backed by … Harvard, and UC Berkeley, and a couple of major foundations. 

Hillary Brenhouse has learned a lot about the craft and the business of making and selling magazines this past year. Lucky for us, she and her team are quick studies. You can see it on every page of Elastic. And she also may have redefined the literary magazine. Without a single tie-dyed t-shirt or magic mushroom in the lot, man.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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 I first met Françoise Mouly at The New Yorker’s old Times Square offices. This was way back when artists used to deliver illustrations in person. I had stopped by to turn in a spot drawing and was introduced to Françoise, their newly-minted cover art editor.

I should have been intimidated, but I was fresh off the boat from Canada and deeply ensconced in my own bubble—hockey, baseball, Leonard Cohen—and so not yet aware of her groundbreaking work at Raw magazine.

Much time has passed since that fortuitous day and I’ve thankfully caught up with her ouevre—gonna get as many French words into this as I can—through back issues of Raw and TOON Books. But mostly with The New Yorker, where we have worked together for over 30 years and I’ve been afforded a front-row seat to witness her mode du travail, her nonpareil mélange of visual storytelling skills.

Speaking just from my own experience, I can’t tell you how many times at the end of a harsh deadline I’ve handed in a desperate, incoherent mess of watercolor and ink, only to see the published product a day later magically made whole, readable, and aesthetically pleasing.

Because Françoise prefers her artists to get the credit, I assume she won’t want me mentioning the many times she rescued my images from floundering. I can remember apologetically submitting caricatures with poor likenesses, which she somehow managed to fix with a little digital manipulation—a hairline move forward here, a nose sharpened there. Or ideas that mostly worked turned on their head—with the artist's permission, of course—to suddenly drive the point all the way home.

For Françoise, “the point” is always the point. Beautiful pictures are fine, but what does the image say? Françoise maintains a wide circle of devoted contributing artists—from renowned gallery painters to scribbling cartoonists, and all gradations between—from whom she regularly coaxes their best work. I thank my étoiles chanceuses to be part of that group.

And now, an interview with Françoise. Apparently. 

—Barry Blitt

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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A monochromator is an optical device that separates light, like sunlight or the light from a lamp, into a range of individual wavelengths and then allows …

… Sorry. I failed physics the last time I took it and I would fail it again. I’m not telling you about my shortcomings for any reason, because a podcast about my shortcomings would be endless.

But I thought I’d look up the word when confronted with Monochromator magazine, which aims to “deconstruct selected films under a shared monochrome to reconstruct them for social relevance.” Look, that’s what it says on the website.

But when you read the magazine, you get it. This is politics and social issues filtered through big movies. How big? The first issue uses Barbie and Oppenheimer to examine the rise of American power (hard and soft).

Having said that, it’s very interesting reading and not heavy. And editor Alex Heeyeon Kil is not even sure she’s editing a film magazine. She sees Monochromator as a discussion about the real world using fictional stories, in this case movies. And her team, divided between South Korea and Germany, publish this annual magazine knowing they might step on more than a few landmines.

Strap in. Or turn on a lamp and take a look at the light and maybe you’ll understand what you’re seeing better than I ever will.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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While several interesting themes have surfaced in this podcast, one of the more unexpected threads is this: Nearly all magazine-inclined men dream of one day working at Esquire. Some women, too.

Turns out that’s also true for today’s guest, which is a good thing because that’s exactly what David Granger did.

“But all this time I’d been thinking about Esquire, longing for Esquire. It'd been my first magazine as a man, and I'd kept a very close eye on it.”

Unless you’re old enough to remember the days of Harold Hayes and George Lois, for all intents and purposes, David Granger IS Esquire. And in his nearly 20 years atop the masthead, the magazine won an astounding 17 ASME National Magazine Awards. It’s been a finalist 72 times. And, in 2020, Granger became a card-carrying member of the ASME Editors Hall of Fame.

When he arrived at Hearst, he took over a magazine that was running on the fumes of past glory. But he couldn’t completely ignore history. Here, he pays homage to his fellow Tennessean, who ran Esquire when Granger first discovered it in college.

“What Phillip Moffitt did was this magical thing that very few magazine editors actually succeed at, which is to show their readers how to make their lives better. And while he's doing that, while he is providing tangible benefit, he also coaxes his readers to stay around for just amazing pieces of storytelling—or amazing photo displays or whatever it is—all the stuff that you do because it's ambitious and because it's art.”

Upon taking over at Esquire, Granger’s instinct was to innovate—almost compulsively. Over the years, he’s introduced some of print’s most ambitious (and imitated) packaging conceits: What I’ve Learned, Funny Joke from a Beautiful Woman, The Genius Issue, What It Feels Like, and Drug of the Month, as well as radical innovations like an augmented reality issue, and the first print magazine with a digital cover.

Over and over, those who’ve worked with Granger stress his sense of loyalty. Ask any of his colleagues and you’ll hear a similar response: “David Granger is one of the finest editors America has ever produced. He also happens to be an exceptionally decent human being.”

At his star-studded going-away party after being let go by Hearst in 2016, Granger closed the evening with a toast that said it all: “This job made my life, as much as any job can make anybody’s life. It had almost nothing to do with me. It had everything to do with what you guys did under my watch. I’ve done exactly what I wanted to do—the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do—for the last 19 years. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

We talked to Granger about retiring some of Esquire‘s aging classics (Dubious Achievements, Sexiest Woman Alive), his surprising and life-changing Martha Stewart Moment, and what really went wrong with the magazine business.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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If The Full Bleed’s second season had a theme, it just might be “We Made A New Magazine During the Pandemic.”  Listen to past episodes and you’ll see that our collective and unprecedented existential crisis ended up producing a lot of magazines.

Melissa Goldstein and Natalia Rachlin met as coworkers at the lifestyle brand Nowness in the UK. Later, with Melissa in LA and Natalia in Houston, they bonded over their new status as mothers: they had given birth a day apart. 

And they both found that magazines aimed at mothers were deficient. These titles spoke of babies and parenting and the decor of the baby’s room, but they rarely spoke of the moms as… people. 

So they created Mother Tongue, a fresh look at womanhood and motherhood, and a kind of reclamation of both terms. The magazine functions as a conversation between like-minded moms from everywhere. Plus, like all modern media brands, Mother Tongue has great merch. 

The election looms large, of course, over the magazine and our discussion—we spoke a week after it and let’s just say both Melissa and Natalia were still processing the results. But Mother Tongue is not going to shy away from talking about that either.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Simon Esterson is one of the most influential figures in British magazine design shaping the field for decades with his distinctive approach to editorial work.

Unlike many designers who built their careers within major publishing houses, Esterson chose a different path, gravitating toward independent publishing where his influence could be greater and his contributions more impactful. This decision allowed him to play a key role in fostering a rich culture of design-led publications.

His early work at Blueprint, the legendary British design and architecture magazine, set the stage for a career that would lead him to The Guardian, The Sunday Times of London and the Italian architecture magazine, Domus, before establishing his own London based studio, Esterson Associates.

Today, Esterson’s most visible project is Eye, the internationally-renowned journal of graphic design. As its art director and co-owner, he has been instrumental in maintaining its reputation as one of the most essential platforms for design professionals.

Thanks to his nonstop editorial work, Esterson is widely considered to be a mentor and role model for generations of British designers proving that great editorial design does not require vast resources, but rather a clear vision and an understanding of how design can elevate content.

That’s what great designers do.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Anja Charbonneau would be the first to admit she didn’t have a strategy in mind when she launched her dreamy celebration of all things marijuana, Broccoli magazine, back in 2016. Having worked as a freelance photographer and writer, and then as Creative Director of lifestyle favorite Kinfolk, she started Broccoli with the simple idea to explore Portland’s then burgeoning cannabis scene and its culture.

Fast forward to today: Anja Charbonneau oversees a publishing conglomerate that produces a number of magazines, books, and something called “oracle cards”—while also spearheading an advocacy group, and a whole lot more. 

If anything has changed, ironically, it’s that the last edition of Broccoli was the last edition of Broccoli. Yes, there are new magazines on the way, and new books, and new ideas to explore, because Anja Charbonneau does not sit still, even while sitting atop her nascent empire.

From cats to mushrooms to artful snails to all things celestial, Broccoli publishes stuff that tastes great and that’s good for you and your soul.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Nearly 40 years after its launch, Spin magazine has returned to print—and at the helm, once again, is its founding editor and today’s guest, Bob Guccione Jr. 

Launched in 1985 as a scrappy, rebellious alternative to Rolling Stone, Spin became a defining voice in music journalism, championing emerging artists and underground movements that mainstream media often overlooked. 

Now, as it relaunches its print edition, Spin will attempt to find its place in a media landscape that looks completely different. But Spin’s origin story—and Guccione Jr.’s career—has been shaped by a complicated legacy. His father, Bob Guccione Sr., was the founder of Penthouse magazine, a publishing mogul who built an empire on provocation and controversy. 

Launched in 1965 as a scrappy, rebellious alternative to Playboy, Penthouse was more than just an explicit adult magazine. It was a cultural lightning rod, sparking debates on censorship, free expression, and morality. 

Though Penthouse funded Spin’s launch, the father/son dynamic was soon fraught with conflict over Spin’s editorial direction combined with Penthouse’s declining appeal. That tension led to a deep rift—the two were estranged for years. But Spin survived, thriving under Guccione Jr.’s leadership as it defined a new era of music journalism.

We talked to Guccione upon his return to the magazine he built, and offers a spin-free take on dad, the launch, and the comeback.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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The people behind The Bitter Southerner are many things but they are not, they will remind you, actually bitter. The tongue is planted quite firmly in the cheek here. But The Bitter Southerner is, for sure, like it says on the website, “a beacon for the American South and a bellwether for the nation.” 

Sure, why not.

But what started out as an ambitious e-newsletter has evolved now into a … project. Read The Bitter Southerner and you realize how ambitious and radical their business—and message—truly is. This is not just a brand but a movement, a way to talk about the South and Southern things, but through a lens many of us, through our own biases and ignorance, won’t quite see. 

And the world is listening. Stories from The Bitter Southerner have either won or been nominated for eight James Beard Awards. And now they are up for a National Magazine Award for General Excellence. 

We spoke to co-founder Kyle Tibbs Jones about the genesis of the magazine, about what it means, about the community it has found and spawned, and about the future, not just of the brand but, maybe, of the South, and where The Bitter Southerner fits into it all.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Paula Scher is not really a “magazine person.”

But if you ever needed evidence of the value of what we like to call “magazine thinking,” look no further than Pentagram, the world’s most influential design firm. The studio boasts a roster of partners whose work is rooted in magazine design: Colin Forbes, David Hillman, Kit Hinrichs, Luke Hayman, DJ Stout, Abbott Miller, Matt Willey, and, yes, today’s guest.

Paula has been a Pentagram partner since 1991. She’s an Art Director’s Club Hall of Famer—and AIGA Medalist. She has shaped the visual landscape for iconic brands—Coca-Cola, Citibank, Tiffany, and Shake Shack—always with her instinctive understanding of how typography, design, and storytelling come together.

In other words, she plays the same game we do.

In 1993, Paula collaborated with Janet Froelich on a redesign of The New York Times Magazine and built a platform for pioneering editorial innovation that continues to this day. In 1995, she helped me break down Fast Company’s editorial mission, in her own distinctively reductive way: “It’s about the ideas, not the people,” she said. It was a game-changer.

But Paula isn’t just a design legend—she’s also a complete badass.

Starting out at a time when the industry was still predominantly male, Paula carved out space for herself by fighting for it. Her work at CBS and Atlantic Records redefined album cover design. Later, her rebranding for cultural institutions like The Public Theater and the Museum of Modern Art helped cement the importance of an unforgettable identity system for any organization.

And, as a longtime educator at New York’s School of Visual Arts, Paula has molded generations of designers who have gone on to shape the industry in their own ways—including our very own Debra Bishop.

We spoke to Paula upon the launch of her new, 500-plus page monograph, Paula Scher: Works.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Feeld is a dating app “for the curious” and its users are an adventurous, thoughtful bunch. And Feeld is also a tech company that happens to be led by thoughtful long-term types who see the value in print as a cornerstone for their community of customers. Enter A Fucking Magazine.

Led by editors Maria Dimitrova and Haley Mlotek, AFM is a cultural magazine about sex that is also not about sex. Maybe it’s about everything. Or maybe my old lit prof in college was right and everything really is about sex. The first issue of the magazine is out and it demands attention because it is beautiful and smart and literate. And also because it feels like something new.

Discussions about AFM also lead to discussions about custom publishing: There is no hiding Feeld in the pages of AFM. All of the money behind the magazine is from Feeld, and half the contributors are also users of the app. Customers, in other words.

As someone who came out of the custom world, I have long said the best custom media were the products of brands that were confident and forward thinking; when a brand saw itself more as patron and less as custodian. Meaning they didn’t get overly involved.

Luckily, the higher ups at Feeld are relatively hands off, and allow Maria and Haley to do their thing. Which is very fucking smart.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Clang! Clink! Bang! Hear that? It’s the sound of all the hardware that Jake Silverstein’s New York Times Magazine has racked up in his almost eleven years at its helm: Pulitzers and ASMEs are heavy, people!

When we were preparing to speak to Jake, we reached out to a handful of editors who have loyally worked with him for years to find out what makes him tick. They describe an incredible and notably drama-free editor who fosters an amazing vibe and a lover of both literary essay and enterprise reporting who holds both an MA and an MFA. As one New York Times Mag story editor put it, Jake’s superpower is his “vigorous and institutionally-shrewd support of skilled reporters with strong voices pursuing projects that were just a little beyond the paper’s ordinary comfort zone.” 

Here’s a theory we set out to test in this interview—one that we’ve floated in our newsletter, The Spread, for years now: Is The New York Times Magazine the best women’s magazine out there? 

Yes, we’re talking about the stories they produce under Jake, like Susan Dominus’s ASME-winning, game-changing story about menopause and hormone replacement therapy, and Linda Villarosa’s feature shining a light on the Black maternal health crisis. 

But we’re also talking about the woman-loaded top of the Times Mag masthead, on which Gail Bichler, Jessica Lustig, Sasha Weiss, Ilena Silverman, and Adrienne Greene reign supreme—and seriously outnumber their male counterparts. 

And we could spend all day name checking favorite writers, like Dominus and Villarosa, but also Emily Bazelon, Danyel Smith, Taffy Brodesser-Akner, Irina Aleksander, Jordan Kisner, Azmat Khan, Pam Colloff, Nikole Hannah-Jones, J Wortham, Wesley Morris. We could go on and on—you get the idea! 

So, did Jake agree with our women’s mag theory? And what is it like to have the deep resources it takes to make these kinds of stories these days? You’ll have to listen to find out.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Commercial Type and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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There’s a saying about the Velvet Underground’s first album: it didn’t sell a lot of copies but everyone who bought it went on to form a band. Not everyone who read Creem went on to form a band, but almost everyone who ever wrote about rock music in a significant way has a connection to Creem. 

Founded in Detroit in 1969 by Barry Kramer, Creem was a finger in the eye to the more established Rolling Stone. Creem called itself “America’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll Magazine” and its cheeky irreverence matched its devotion to its infamous street cred. Punk, new wave, heavy metal, alternative, indie were all championed at Creem.

Writers and editors who worked for Creem read like a who’s who of industry legends: Lester Bangs. Dave Marsh. Robert Christgau. Greil Marcus. Patti Smith. Cameron Crowe. Jann Uhelszki. Penny Valentine. And on and on and on.

The magazine stopped publishing in 1989 a few years after Barry’s death. A documentary about Creem’s heyday in 2020 helped lead to a resurrected media brand, founded by JJ Kramer, Barry’s son, and launched in 2022. The copy on the first issue’s cover: “Rock is Dead. So is Print.”

Totally typical Creem-assed fuckery. And still totally rock n roll, man.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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The pandemic screwed a lot of businesses over, but it did a real number on the restaurant industry. Beset by low margins at the best of times, Covid was to the business what a neglected pot of boiling milk is to your stove top. But Max Meighen, a restaurant owner in Toronto decided to fill in his down time by … creating a magazine. Because of course he did.

And so he cooked up Serviette, a magazine about food that feels and looks and reads unlike any other food title around.

Nicola Hamilton came on as Creative Director soon thereafter. She had worked for a number of Canadian titles and during Covid, founded Issues Magazine Shop, one of Canada’s—if not the world’s—leading independent magazine shops. Because of course she did.

Food magazines, like all media, have gone through a lot recently, and the changes wrought by digital media have been amplified by Influencers, TikTokers, Instagram recipe makers, Substackers, bloggers, you name it. The food industry is ruthless and not for the weak. And I think you’ll find that both Max and Nicola are anything but. They are, quite simply, Master Chefs.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Most magazines are not political. Unless, that is, you create a bilingual Arabic-English language magazine about design out of Beirut. Or another bilingual magazine about women and gender—also out of Beirut. Then, perhaps, your intentions are a bit less opaque.

Maya Moumne is a Lebanese designer by training who now divides her time between Beirut and Montréal. She is the editor and co-creator of Journal Safar and Al Hayya, two magazines that attempt to capture the breadth and diversity of what we inaccurately—monolithically—call “the Arab World.” Both magazines are also examples of tremendous design and, frankly, bravery.

The subject-matter on display here means the magazines have limited distribution in the very region they cover—which is both ironic and the exact reason the magazines exist. That both have also been noticed and fêted by magazine insiders in the West is perhaps also something worth celebrating.

Maya Moumne is a designer. Of the possibilities for a better and more inclusive future for everyone, everywhere.

[Production note: This conversation was recorded prior to the violence in Lebanon. We send our best wishes to the staff of Journal Safar and Al Hayya and hope they are safe. And mostly we wish for a peaceful future for all.]

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Wired magazine feels like it’s been around forever. And perhaps these days any media that has been around for over 30 years qualifies as forever.

It has, certainly, been around during the entirety of the digital age. It has been witness to the birth of the internet, of social media, of cellphones, and of AI. It feels like an institution as well as an authority for a certain kind of subject. But what is that subject? Because Wired is not just a tech publication. It never was.

Katie Drummond is the editorial director of Wired, a position she has held for just over a year. This job is the closing of a circle in a sense, because her first job in media was as an intern at Wired. She has worked almost exclusively in digital media since, for a range of outfits—many of them shuttered—proof of the vagaries and the reality of media in the digital age.

At Wired Drummond oversees a robust digital presence, including video, the print publication, as well as Wired offices in places like Italy, Mexico, and Japan. She says that Wired “champions a better future” … meaning Wired seems like the publication of the moment, in many ways, at the intersection of tech, culture, politics, and the environment.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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In 1995, New York magazine declared Martha Stewart the “Definitive American Woman of Our Time.” And, as the saying goes (sort of), behind every Definitive American Woman of Our Time is another Definitive American Woman of Our Time. And that’s today’s guest, designer Gael Towey.

But let’s back up. It’s 1982, and Martha Stewart, then known as the “domestic goddess”—or some other dismissive moniker—published her first book, Entertaining. It was a blockbuster success that was soon followed by a torrent of food, decorating, and lifestyle bestsellers.

In 1990, after a few years making books with the likes of Jackie Onassis, Irving Penn, Arthur Miller, and, yes, Martha Stewart, Towey and her Clarkson Potter colleague, Isolde Motley, were lured away by Stewart, who had struck a deal with Time Inc. to conceive and launch a new magazine.

Towey’s modest assignment? Define and create the Martha Stewart brand. Put a face to the name. From scratch. And then, distill it across a rapidly-expanding media and retail empire.

In the process, Stewart, Motley, and Towey redefined everything about not only women’s magazines, but the media industry itself—and spawned imitators from Oprah, Rachael, and even Rosie.

By the turn of the millennium, Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia, as it was rebranded in 1997, included seven magazines, multiple TV projects, a paint collection with Sherwin-Williams, a mail-order catalog, Martha by Mail, massive deals with retailers Kmart, Home Depot, and Macy’s, a line of crafts for Michael’s, a custom furniture brand with Bernhardt, and even more bestselling books. And the responsibility for the visual identity of all of it fell to Towey and her incredibly talented team. It was a massive job.

We talk to Towey about her early years in New Jersey, about being torn between two men (“Pierre” and Stephen), eating frog legs with Condé Nast’s notorious editorial director, Alexander Liberman, and, about how, when all is said and done, life is about making beautiful things with extraordinary people.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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In the summer of 1995, I got an offer I couldn’t refuse. It came from my guests today, Alan Webber and Bill Taylor, the founding editors of Fast Company, widely acknowledged as one of the magazine industry’s great success stories. 

Their vision for the magazine was an exercise in thinking different. Nothing we did hewed to the conventional wisdom of magazine-making. Our founders came from politics and activism born in the ivy halls of Harvard. Our HQ was far from the center of the magazine world, in Boston’s North End—“leave the pages, take the cannolis.” And Fast Company was not a part of the five families of magazine publishing. It wouldn’t have worked if it was.  

I was one of the first people Alan and Bill hired, and as the magazine’s founding art director, I could tell Fast Company was going to be big. And it was big. Huge, in fact. Shortly after its launch, a typical issue of the magazine routinely topped out at almost 400 pages. We had to get up to speed, and fast.

Its mission was big, too. Bill and Alan’s plan sounded simple: to offer rules for radicals that would be inspiring and instructive; to encourage their audience to think bigger about what they might achieve for their companies and themselves, and to provide tools to help us all succeed in work … and in life. Their mantra: Work is personal. 

The effect, however, was even bigger. The magazine was a blockbuster hit, winning ASME awards for General Excellence and Design. It was Ad Age’s 1995 Launch of the Year. Bill and Alan were named Adweek’s editors of the year in 1999. It even spawned its own reader-generated social network, the Company of Friends, that counted over 40,000 members worldwide. And it brought together an extraordinary team of creatives who, to this day, carry on the mission in their own way—including the founders. 

Nearly thirty years after the launch of the magazine, Alan is currently serving his second term as the mayor of Santa Fe, New Mexico. Bill is the best-selling author of Mavericks at Work, among other books, and continues to lead the conversation on transforming business. 

We often said that Fast Company was the one that would ruin us for all future jobs. It was a moment in time that I and my colleagues will treasure forever. I am thrilled to be able to share that story with you today.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Jody Quon’s desk is immaculate. There’s a lot there, but she knows exactly where everything is. It’s like an image out of Things Organized Neatly.

She rarely swears. Or loses her temper. In fact she’s one of the most temperate people in the office. Maybe the most. She’s often been referred to as a “rock.”

She remembers every shoot and how much it cost to produce. She knows who needs work and who she can ask for favors.

She’s got the magazine schedule memorized and expects you to as well. She’s probably got your schedule memorized, too. 

She’s usually one of the first in the office and last to leave. In fact, on the day she was scheduled to give birth to her first child, she came to work and put in a full day. When her water broke at around 6pm, she called her husband to say, “It’s time.”

I don’t know if any of this is true. Except the baby thing. That is true. Kathy Ryan told me so.

I had a teacher in high school, Ms. Trice. She was tough. I didn’t much like her. She would often call me out for this or that. Forty years later, she’s the only one I remember, and I remember her very fondly. In my career, I’ve often thought that the best managing editors, production directors, and photography directors were just like Ms. Trice. These positions, more than any others, are what make magazines work. They’re hard on you because they expect you to be as professional as you can be. They make you better. (I see you, Claire, Jenn, Nate, Carol, and Sally.)

I suspect that a slew of Jody Quon’s coworkers and collaborators feel that same way about her. Actually, I don’t suspect. I know. I’ve heard it from all corners of the magazine business. I heard it again yesterday from her mentor and good friend, Kathy Ryan.

“She just has that work ethic,” Ryan says. “It’s just incredible when you think about it. The ambition of some of the things that they’ve done. And that has been happening right from the beginning. Ambition in the best sense. Thinking big. And she’s cool, always cool under pressure. We had a grand time working together. I still miss her.”

Jody Quon is one of those people who makes everybody around her better. That’s what I believe. And after this conversation, you probably will, too.

es.”

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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It’s a cliché because it’s true: in the fashion world, you’ve got your show ponies and you’ve got your workhorses. We mean it as a compliment when we say that Samira Nasr truly earned her place at the helm of the 156-year-old institution, Harper’s Bazaar. Don’t get us wrong; Samira is seriously glamorous—she’s the kind of woman who phrases like “effortless chic” were invented to describe. But she did not cruise to her current perch on connections and camera-readiness alone. Rather, she worked her way up, attending J-school at NYU, then making her way through the fashion closets of Vogue, Mirabella, Vanity Fair, InStyle, and Elle—where we met in the trenches, and got to see firsthand how she mixes old-school, roll-up-your-sleeves work ethic and her own fresh vision. 

When Samira got the big job at Bazaar in 2020, she became the title’s first-ever Black editor-in-chief. The Bazaar she has rebuilt is as close as a mainstream fashion magazine gets to a glossy art mag, but it is far from chilly. As she has long put it, “I just want to bring more people with me to the party.” Which, when you think about it, is a brilliant mantra for a rapidly shifting era in media and culture. How to keep a legacy fashion magazine going circa 2025? Drop the velvet rope.

The timing for this mantra could not have been better. After her first year in the role, Bazaar took home its first-ever National Magazine Award for General Excellence. 

In our interview, Samira talked about remaking one of fashion’s most legendary magazines — plus, jeans, budgets, and even the odd parenting tip. We had fun, and we hope you

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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“I was a publication designer for 20 years, making book covers at Knopf with Sonny Mehta, Carol Carson, and Chip Kidd. Later, in the early aughts, I made stories and books—and other things—at Martha Stewart Living. Then I took a brief adventure to graduate school—to learn a new trade. And finally I moved to The New York Times, where I helped create several of its legendary digital products, like NYT Cooking.

In December 2020, I bought a building on the Delaware River—and opened the Frenchtown Bookshop.

My name is Barbara deWilde … and this is The Next Page.”

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Like many of you, I was stunned by what happened on November 5th. It’s gonna take me some time to reckon with what this all says about the values of a large portion of this country. As part of that reckoning—and for some much-needed relief—I’ve opted to spend less time with media in general for a bit. 

But on “the morning after,” I couldn’t ignore an email I got from today’s guest, New York magazine editor-in-chief David Haskell. [You can find it on our website].

What struck me most about his note—which was sent to the magazine’s million-and-a-half subscribers—was what it didn’t say.

There were no recriminations. Nothing about how Kamala Harris had failed to “read the room.”  Not a word about Joe Biden’s unwillingness to step aside when he should have. No calls to “resist.” In fact, the hometown president-elect’s name went unspoken (as it is here).

What Haskell did say that left a mark on me was this:

“I consider our jobs as magazine journalists a privilege at times like this.” 

I was an editor at Clay Felker’s New York magazine, the editor-in-chief of Boston magazine, and I led the creative team at Inc. magazine. And it was there, at Inc. that I had a similar experience. It was 9/11.

I wrote my monthly column in the haze that immediately followed the attacks, though it wouldn’t appear in print until the December issue. It was titled, “Think Small. No Smaller.” In it, I urged our community of company builders to focus their attention on the things we can control. This is how it ended:

What we can say for certain is that the arena over which any of us has control has, for now, grown smaller. In these smaller arenas, the challenge is to build, or rebuild, in ourselves and our organizations the quiet confidence that we still have the ability to get the right things done.

For all the attention that gets paid to EICs, most of the work you do is done through the members of your team: writers, and editors, and designers, and so many others.

My friend, Dan Okrent, the former Life magazine editor and Print Is Dead guest, once said, “Magazines bring us together into real communities.”

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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When your boss tells you to track down an amusing Steve Brodner factoid to open the podcast with, and one of the first things you find is a, uh, a “dick army,” welp, that’s what you’re going to go with. 

Lest you judge me, I can explain. Brodner’s drawing of this army was inspired by a guy who was actually named Dick Armey (A-R-M-E-Y)! He was Newt Gingrich’s wingman back in the nineties. I thought to myself, the people need to know this.

However, with the election now a few days behind us, maybe the time for talking about men and their junk is over? 

What you really want to learn about is this Society of Illustrators hall of famer’s career. Brodner’s work, which has been called “unflinching, driven by a strong moral compass, and imbued with a powerful sense of compassion,” has been featured in Rolling Stone, The Washington Post Magazine, Esquire, The New Yorker, and many others.

In this episode, Brodner talks about how the death of print has led to the current misinformation crisis. As it gets harder and harder to tell what’s true, the future becomes increasingly uncertain. Even his most biting drawings are rooted in truth. 

“Satire doesn't work if you are irresponsibly unreasonably inventive. If satire doesn't have truth in it, it's not funny.”

A production note: This episode was recorded exactly one week before the election. As our conversation began, we took turns telling stories about memorable election night parties, and our plans for November 5th. Here’s Steve, talking about his  plans…

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Everybody knows that in May 2023, a jury found Donald Trump liable for defaming and abusing E. Jean Carroll, and awarded her $5 million. And everybody also knows that in January 2024, another jury found Trump liable for defamation against her to the tune of $83.3 million. P.S., with interest, his payout will now total over $100 million. 

But not everybody remembers—because we are guppies, and because, ahem, Print is Dead, y’all—that E. Jean is a goddamn swashbucking magazine-world legend: a writer of such style, wit, and sheer ballsy joie de vivre that she carved out a name for herself in the boys club of New Journalism, writing juicy and iconic stories in the ‘70s and ‘80s for Outside, Esquire, Playboy, and more—and then finally leapt over to women’s magazines, where she held down the role of advice columnist at Elle for, wait for it, 27 years. Elle is where we intersected with E.Jean and where we first saw up close her boundless enthusiasm and generosity for womankind. 

We’ll also never forget sitting at one of the magazine’s annual fancypants dinners honoring Women in Hollywood—these are real star-studded affairs, folks—when Jennifer Aniston stood up to receive her award and started her speech with a shoutout to her beloved "Auntie E.,” whose advice she and millions of other American women had devoured, and lived by, for decades. 

Here’s the truth: The woman that most of the world came to know through the most harrowing circumstances imaginable really is and has always been that fearless, that unsinkable. It’s not a persona—it’s the genuine article. And when you hear her stories about how hard she slogged away for decades to finally get her big break in publishing, listeners, you will have a whole new respect for her. 

As E. Jean tells us herself in this interview, she does very, very little press. So we couldn’t be more honored that our friend and idol and The Spread’s most enthusiastic hype woman sat down after hours with us for this interview. We just hope we did her justice!

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Just about every magazine Richard Baker worked for has died. Even one called Life.

Also dead: The Washington Post Magazine, Vibe, Premiere, and Parade. Another, Saveur, also died, but has recently been resurrected. And Us Magazine? A mere shadow of its former self.

Sadly, Baker’s career narrative is not that uncommon. (That’s why you’re listening to a podcast called Print Is Dead). 

But Richard Baker is a survivor. He’s survived immigrating from Jamaica as a kid. He’s survived the sudden and premature loss of three influential and beloved mentors. And he survived a near-fatal medical emergency in the New York subway.

Yet, in the face of all that carnage, Richard Baker just keeps going. To this day, he’s living the magazine dream—“classic edition”—as a designer at a sturdy newsstand publication (Inc. magazine), in a brick-and-mortar office (7 World Trade Center), working with real people, and making something beautiful with ink and paper.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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In the past few weeks, Will Welch has taken a bit of flack for letting Beyoncé promote her new whiskey label on the cover of GQ’s October issue, with an interview that one X user described as “an intimate email exchange between GQ and several layers of Beyonce’s comms team.”

Whether that kind of thing rankles you or not—and yes, we asked him about it—in the five years since Welch took over, GQ seems to be doing as well or better than everybody else in the industry. Why? Ask around. He’s got a direct line to celebrities, who consider him a personal friend. He’s got real credibility with The Fashion People. And because of both of these things, advertisers love him.

Perhaps most importantly, his boss Anna Wintour loves him. 

The Atlanta-born Welch started his career at the alternative music and culture mag the Fader in the early aughts, and jumped to GQ in 2007. For a decade under EIC Jim Nelson, he operated as the magazine’s fashion-and-culture svengali, eventually becoming the creative director of the magazine and the editor of the brand’s fashion spinoff, GQ Style.

In 2019, Wintour tapped him for the big job: Editor-in-Chief of GQ—a title that in 2020 was recast in the current Condé Nast survival-mode as Global Editorial Director of GQ, overseeing 19 editions around the world.

After speaking with Welch only a few hours after the Beyonce cover dropped, we get what all the fuss is about. He is a great sport with good hair and just enough of a Southern accent who is confident-yet-never-cocky about his mission at GQ.

Let other people bemoan the “death of print.” Will Welch is having a blast at the Last Supper. 

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Dominique Browning jokes that after the interview for this episode, she might end up having PTSD. After more than 30 years writing and editing at some of the top magazines in the world, Browning has blocked a lot of it out.  

And after listening today, you’ll understand why.

At Esquire, where she worked early in her career, Browning says she cried nearly every day. There were men yelling and people quitting. Apartment keys being dropped off with mistresses. A flash, even, of a loaded gun in a desk drawer. 

At House & Garden, where she ended her magazine career in 2007 after 13 years as the editor-in-chief, the chaos was less Mad Men and more Devil Wears Prada. It was glitzy Manhattan lunches mixed with fierce competition and co-workers who complained that her wardrobe wasn’t “designer” enough. The day she took the job, she says she felt like she had walked into Grimm’s Fairy Tales. (Her friends had warned her that it was going to be a snake pit.) 

When the magazine unexpectedly folded on a Monday, she and her staff were told they had until Friday to clear out their offices. “Without warning,” she says, “our world collapsed.” 

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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There are many reasons for you to hate Fabien Baron (especially if you’re the jealous type).

Here are 7 of them:

• He’s French, which means, among other things, his accent is way sexier than yours.

• He’s spent an inordinate amount of time in the company of supermodels like Naomi Campbell, Christy Turlington, and Kate Moss.

• He gets all of his Calvin Klein undies for free.

• Ditto any swag from his other clients: Dior, Louis Vuitton, Burberry, or Armani.

• When he tired of just designing magazines, magazines went and made him their editor-in-chief.

• He was intimately involved in the making of Madonna’s notorious book, Sex. How intimately? We were afraid to ask.

• Also? Vanity Fair called him “The Most Sought-After Creative Director in the World.”

With our pity party concluded, we admit “hate” was probably the wrong word, because after spending time talking to him, it’s easy to see why Baron has been able to live the kind of life many magazine creatives dream of—and why he’s been so incredibly successful.

His enthusiasm is contagious. It’s actually his super power. And it’s a lesson for all of us. When you get next-level excited, as Baron does when he can see the possibilities in a project, his passion infects everybody in the room. 

And then, when you learn that Baron believes he’s doing what he was put on this earth to do, and claims that he would do it all for free. You’ve kind of got to believe him.

I never, ever worried about money. I never took a job because of the money. Because I think integrity is very important. I think, like believing that you have a path and that you’re going to follow that path and you’re going to stay on that path and that you’re going to stick to that. And that’s what I’m trying to do. 

Welcome to Season 5 of Print Is Dead (Long Live Print!)

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Freeport Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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You cannot overstate how much Tom Bodkin has changed the Times. In fact, you can say that there was the Times before Tom and the Times after Tom.

The Times before Tom threw as many words as possible at the page, with little regard for the reader. The Times before Tom thought tossing a couple of headshots on the page was all the visual journalism we needed. The Times before Tom held to a hierarchy where designers were the other, somehow not quite journalists.

Then there is The New York Times after Tom.

Tom taught us that design was not only integral to journalism, it was in fact integral to storytelling at its height. The front page that listed the COVID dead was more powerful than any one story could ever be.

Roy Peter Clark, the writing guru at the Poynter Institute, captured it best: 

“Nothing much on that front page looked like news as we understand it, that is, the transmission of information,” he wrote. “Instead it felt like a graphic representation of the tolling of bells. A litany of the dead.”

Personally, Tom taught me something that made it easier to lead the newsroom in the digital age: Design demands a level of open-mindedness to the possibilities of different types of storytelling. It also rewards collaboration, since the most perfect stories are told by different disciplines working together to convey the best version of the truth every day.

Those, in fact, are the qualities that mark the modern, digital New York Times. Qualities that honestly have made it the most successful news report of the day.

Hard to imagine we—certainly not I—would have been prepared for this new world without Tom’s leadership.

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This episode is made possible by our friends at Mountain Gazette, Commercial Type, and Lane Press.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Dutch-born, California-raised designer Hans Teensma began his magazine career working alongside editor Terry McDonell at Outside magazine, which Rolling Stone founder Jann Wenner launched in San Francisco in 1977.

When Wenner sold Outside two years later, Teensma and McDonell headed to Denver to launch a new regional, Rocky Mountain Magazine, which would earn them the first of several ASME National Magazine Awards. On the move again, Teensma’s next stop would be New England Monthly, another launch with another notable editor, Dan Okrent. The magazine was a huge hit, financially and critically, and won back-to-back ASME awards in 1986 and ’87.

Ready for a new challenge — and ready to call New England home — Teensma launched his own studio, Impress, in the tiny village of Williamsburg, Massachusetts. The studio has produced a wide range of projects, including startups and redesigns, as well as pursuing Teensma’s passion for designing books.

Since 1991, Teensma has been incredibly busy: He was part of a team that built a media empire for Disney, launching and producing Family Fun, Family PC, Wondertime, and Disney Magazine. He’s designed dozens of books and redesigned almost as many magazines. And he continues to lead the creative vision of the critically-acclaimed nature journal, Orion.

You might not know Teensma by name, but his network of deep friendships runs the gamut of media business royalty. Why? Because everybody loves Hans.

When they designed the ideal temperament for survival in the magazine business, they might as well have used his DNA. He’s survived a nearly 50-year career thanks to his wicked sense of humor, his deep well of decency, and above all, his unlimited reserves of grace.

You’re gonna love this guy.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Janet Froelich is one of the most influential and groundbreaking creative directors of all time. For over two decades, she lead the creative teams at The New York Times Magazine and its sister publication, T: The New York Times Style Magazine. In this episode, Froelich recalls her own personal 9/11 story, and what is was like to be in the newsroom on that awful day, as well as how she helped create the magazine cover that inspired and informed the memorial to the Twin Towers and those who lost their lives there. She talks about other Times magazine covers that left a mark, about her early years as an artist living in SoHo and hanging out at Max’s Kansas City, and why you should never be afraid to hire people better than you.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Photographers are gearheads. They’re always throwing around brand names, model numbers, product specs.

So when legendary photographer Eddie Adams asked today’s guest, Dan Winters, if he knew how to handle a JD-450, it was a no-brainer. He had grown up with a JD-350. So yeah, the 450 would be no problem.

But here’s the funny thing: the JD-450 is not made by Nikon. Or Canon. Or Fuji. Or Leica. Not even his beloved Hasselblad. Nope. The JD-450 isn’t made in Tokyo, Wetzlar, or Gothenburg.

The John Deere 450 bulldozer is made in Dubuque, Iowa, USA.

And what Eddie Adams urgently needed right at that moment, was someone to backfill, level, and compact a trench at his farm, which, coincidentally, was prepping to host the first-ever Eddie Adams Workshop, the world-renowned photojournalism seminar, at his farm in Sullivan County, New York, near the site of the 1969 Woodstock music festival.

Get to know Dan Winters a little bit, and none of this will come as a surprise to you. It also won’t surprise you that the bulldozer incident isn’t even the funniest part of the story of how Winters got to New York City in 1988 to launch what has become one of the most distinguished careers in the history of editorial photography. A career which began with his first job at the News-Record, a 35,000-circulation newspaper in Thousand Oaks, California.

The secret—spoiler alert—to his remarkable career, Winters will say, “is based in a belief that I’m being very thorough with my pursuits and being very realistic. I’m not lying to myself about the effort I’m putting into it. Because this is not a casual pursuit at all. This is 100 percent commitment.”

Well, that, and out-of-this-world talent and vision.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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In this episode, we talk to George Gendron, the long-time editor [Inc. Magazine] and educator who created one of the first liberal arts-based entrepreneurship programs in America. We talk about his first job working under legendary editor Clay Felker in the early days of New York magazine, how a third-grade book report set him up for a life in publishing, the near-fatal car accident that changed everything, why we should look to TV for the future of magazines, and how to build an economically-sustainable life around doing the work that you love.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

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Michele Outland has spent her career at some really beautiful magazines. Beautiful ... because she made them that way. Her resume includes stops at Martha Stewart’s Everyday Food, Domino, Nylon, and Bon Appétit, as well as the magazine she created and launched with her good friend, Fiorella Valdesolo: Gather Journal.

Gather, which only published 13 issues, made a powerful impact on the magazine business. In its five-year run, it won a James Beard Award for Visual Storytelling, an Art Director’s Club Award, and 20 medals from the Society of Publication Designers, including being named “Brand of the Year” in 2015.

Under her leadership, Bon Appétit won the ASME National Magazine Award for Design along with a slew of SPD awards.

We talked to Michele about:  the power of internships, her Korean mother’s influence on the way she thinks about food, about how to start a magazine in a post-print world — and when we can expect the return of Gather Journal, the strong female role models who shaped her career, and, of course, PIZZA.

A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025