To me, Iris Alba is a new name, a heretofore unknown book designer and illustrator. The Buenos Aires–born Alba (1935–1993) “shaped the editorial landscape in Argentina, Latin America and Spain with her electric book cover design,” as art director of Sudamericana, at the time the leading publishing house in the Spanish language, notes Lenandro Castelao, co-author of a forthcoming eponymous monograph on her, that was funded by Kickstater. I found her manner and style distinctive, while also decidedly influenced of Milton Glaser during the Push Pin years. I asked Castelao whether or not she was inspired or blinded by the whirling shapes and bright colors that echo the era’s decorative approaches.
How well-received was Iris Alba in Argentina?
The Vértice collection, which presents Iris’ style at its finest, sold like a charm. So, we can assume that a new generation of readers would choose the books by their covers, as if her aesthetics had been striking the right chord at the right time. This was accentuated by the fact that Iris herself made no special effort to impose her name on her work, modestly signing it only with the lowercase initials of her name.
Was she one of many women designers at the time, or did she have her own niche?
There were female designers in the country, yet in the graphic field and in the editorial medium, in particular, none worked on a scale as large as Iris’. She built a niche for herself at Sudamericana’s graphic department and developed her personal style while renovating the profile of the publishing house entirely, from illustration to collage and the use of photography.
How did you become aware of her work?
Answering this poses a bit of a challenge, as Argentina is not known for keeping solid records, at least on the graphic arts. Thus, many things needed to be done from scratch. After the book on Cotta—which, by the way, you prefaced—was released, Iris’ son, Emiliano, got in touch with us. We met at a small coffeeshop in Buenos Aires; he brought a few books designed by her, including some of the Vértice series that features vibrant illustrations on a white background.
With his help, we mapped Iris’ book cover art and started connecting the dots. Besides our visual and biographical research, the book will also feature a prologue by Ellen Lupton, plus an essay by Verónica Devalle and Carla Sarli, which will delve in-depth into the role of Iris in shaping the editorial landscape of South America. Penguin Random House designer Max Rompo is also helping us reconstruct her story. To look for Iris Alba’s book covers, and find them, is to recover pieces of the visual landscape of an era and a country that have disappeared.
You say she came to New York when she was young and studied with Stuart Davis at Art Students League, but her stylistic influence seems to be that of Milton Glaser (with a touch of Seymour Chwast); was she self-conscious of this mutation, or was it common to adapt the styles of others?
Milton Glaser was just six years older, so in all likelihood she learned from him and also from Chwast during her time in New York. If that’s the case, she must have admired them a great deal. Because of her background in art, she was a confessed admirer of the work of Klimt, Lucy Lippard and Fernand Léger, as well; you can see some of that in her use of color, form and photography. Many times the works of young creators bear tribute to their forerunners but her own is electric, vibrant, and many of her illustrations look unique and familiar at the same time. It’s quite a peculiar feeling.
She returned to Argentina. While there, what kind of work was she responsible for? Was she always known for her book jacket illustration?
Back in Buenos Aires, Iris became art director of Sudamericana, at the time the leading publishing house in the Spanish language. From there she would oversee the entire publisher’s production—from book covers to advertising, logos and graphics for book fairs during a span of 17 years. Still, much of her work is now lost because of its ephemeral nature; luckily for us, her covers and logos remain. Her work was exposed to the public, but her public persona remained elusive. That is why it is hardly surprising to confirm that many of her contemporaries who outlived her still don’t know who she was. Only on very close inspection can one find trace of her in her small, cursive signature on the covers.
How much longer before the book is ready?
The book will be ready next year; we’re a lot of moving pieces, from research to design, writing and translation, to mention but a few—and we like to be in control of every single part as much as possible. It takes time.