Ten Years of
The Private View

We just hosted our annual art exhibition – The Private View. What began as a passing idea (“What if we just… showed everyone’s personal projects?”) has somehow grown into a much-loved tradition and one of the truest reflections of our studio culture.

The concept has always been simple: anyone at forpeople can take part, no matter their role or level of experience. And ‘art’ is defined as loosely as you like – the only rule is that it has to fit through the door.

Fast forward a decade, and we’ve just celebrated our biggest Private View yet: 60 exhibitors from across our London and Amsterdam studios, filling every available wall, corridor, corner and even the landlord’s laundry room.

The work was as varied and brilliant as ever: photography, textiles, ceramics, paintings, poems, prints, signage, flags – even a scent station. Every piece had its own story and showed off the personality behind the work.

It was one of those evenings where everything felt alive. Friends, collaborators, old faces and new, all crammed together in a warm, slightly chaotic celebration of creativity in all its forms.

We Ran Out of Walls (Again)

This year we extended the gallery space even further. If there’s a wall, we’ll hang something on it. That’s my motto.

The basement, for the record, now has quite a reputation. Between the clatter of pipes and the faint smell of damp, guests are always surprised by what’s in store.

And because no Private View would be complete without a few curveballs, we had live performances too. A sound bath led by one of our people team, which calmed the room into a meditative sea of crystal singing bowls; an amusingly inaccurate fortune-telling booth, which made more than one person rethink their life choices; and an immersive UFO experience called Sector 10, in which three aliens wandered the basement searching for their next leader. (They found several contenders.)

It was surreal, funny, soulful and occasionally baffling – in other words, the perfect Private View.

The Joy of the Unexpected

Over the years, the show has exhibited everything from an entire teenage bedroom (complete with love letters) to whale music, agony aunts and a quest to find the fragrance that summed up the building called Eau d’Offley.

But the beauty of The Private View isn’t the eccentricity itself – it’s what it represents. It’s proof that creativity doesn’t just belong to ‘the creative team’. It’s everywhere. In finance, the people team, strategy, operations, client services – quietly waiting for a moment to show their talents.

Every year, someone surprises us. Someone who’s never shown anything before puts their work forward. Someone nervous pins their work to the wall. And when people gather around to see it, to talk, to smile, to ask questions – something shifts. You can feel it. That’s how culture builds itself: in those small moments.

Lessons from Ten Years

If ten years of The Private View has taught us anything, it’s this:

1. Creativity needs freedom, not permission.

There’s no brief, no approval round, no client decks. Just a space and a deadline. That’s why the work feels unexpected and joyful. Whatever someone’s passion – we’ll give it a plinth or a frame.

2. Culture grows in the gaps.

You can’t design culture in a PowerPoint. It grows in the in-between moments – in the conversations over a glass or two, in the laughter about where to hang a print, in the collective pride when someone finally shows their work.

3. Vulnerability is powerful.

Every artist, no matter how confident, feels that pang of “what if no one likes it?” And yet, every year, people do it anyway. That courage and support is what gives this event its heart.

Why It Matters

At its core, The Private View is about people seeing (and being seen) differently. It reminds us that every member of our studio is someone with ideas, passions, curiosities and stories to tell.

So yes, this year was bigger, louder, and slightly more surreal than usual. But it was also exactly what it’s always been: a celebration of the studio at its best — open, curious, generous and full of surprises.

To everyone who’s ever shown, helped, hung, sung, poured, swept, or simply turned up: thank you. You’ve made these ten shows what they are.

And as for what happens next… who knows? But if the last ten years are anything to go by, it’ll be surprising, artful and probably involve glitter in places it shouldn’t.