Here’s a bold statement: In an industry where creative agencies often fade into obscurity, one illustrator-run agency has not only survived but thrived for three decades—and it’s all because they dared to do things differently. But here’s where it gets controversial: What if the secret to their success isn’t just their business model, but the deep, almost familial bonds they’ve cultivated among their artists? Let’s dive into the story of Heart, an agency that’s rewriting the rules of creative representation.
When Darrel Rees founded Heart (https://www.heartagency.com/) in the 1990s, he made an unconventional choice: he continued working as an illustrator while leading an artist agency. Fast forward three decades, and this decision remains at the core of Heart’s identity. It’s also likely why they’ve outlasted so many of their contemporaries—a feat that earned them a spot on our list of the UK’s best illustration agents (https://www.creativeboom.com/resources/20-best-illustration-agents-in-the-uk/).
To celebrate their 30th anniversary, Heart released What Happened, a 134-page hardcover book featuring 34 artists who illustrate pivotal moments from each year of the agency’s existence. And this is the part most people miss: It’s not just a collection of artwork; it’s a testament to a business model built on friendship, mutual respect, and artist autonomy.
Some artists chose to depict global events—elections, technological breakthroughs, or cultural shifts. Others focused on personal milestones, like the birth of a child or a move to a new city. Together, these illustrations create a unique timeline that reflects both the artists’ journeys and the broader history of the past three decades. But the book goes further. Interspersed with the artwork are candid photos from agency parties, studio gatherings, and exhibitions—a visual reminder of the culture Heart has intentionally nurtured since day one.
This isn’t mere nostalgia. It’s a deliberate documentation of how Heart operates: by prioritizing relationships over transactions. Here’s the controversial part: In an industry where representation often feels cold and impersonal, Heart’s approach feels almost radical. They believe artists should control how they’re presented to clients—a stark contrast to the gatekeeper model many agencies still follow.
Heart’s roots trace back to Big Orange, a 1990s studio collective where Rees worked alongside nine other illustrators. Known for their warehouse parties, exhibitions, and irreverent attitude toward illustration, Big Orange laid the groundwork for Heart’s philosophy. When Rees launched Heart, he brought seven of Big Orange’s ten members with him, determined to create an agency where artists could represent themselves on their own terms.
Today, Heart is led by four individuals with backgrounds in illustration or graphic design: Rees, Amanda Mason (New York office), Jenny Bull (London office), and Helen Osborne (overseeing both). Unlike traditional agents, they’re creative practitioners who understand the work because they’ve lived it. This insider perspective allows them to navigate the complexities of creative careers in ways others can’t.
What Happened is striking for what it doesn’t include. There’s no corporate mission statement, no glossy brand narrative. Instead, it’s a raw, unfiltered look at 34 artists’ responses to the question: What mattered over the past three decades? Some tackled global events like the fall of the Berlin Wall or climate protests, while others focused on deeply personal moments. The book doesn’t judge the scale of significance—it simply presents these experiences side by side, suggesting that both historical and personal events shape creative practice equally.
Each year is accompanied by three historical facts, a choice that reflects Heart’s optimistic yet grounded ethos. It’s a reminder that even in turbulent times, there’s always something worth celebrating. But here’s the question: Can this model scale? Or is Heart’s success tied to its small, tightly knit community?
In an industry where agencies frequently collapse and representation feels transactional, Heart’s longevity is remarkable. Some artists have been with them since 1994, while others joined recently. This retention rate suggests they’re doing something right. Part of it is structural: an agency run by practicing creatives inherently understands the ebb and flow of artistic work. They know when to say no to a job, even if the money is good, and they respect that artistic growth isn’t linear.
But structure alone isn’t enough. Heart’s real secret lies in the relationships they’ve built—not as a branding tactic, but as the foundation of their operations. They describe the bond between their artists as one of “friendship and respect,” a bold statement in an industry where competition often overshadows collaboration. Is this approach scalable? Or is it only possible in a small, niche agency?
What Happened makes one thing clear: trust is the cornerstone of Heart’s success. It’s a book that could only exist in an environment where artists trust each other enough to contribute without knowing the final outcome. That kind of trust takes decades to build and can’t be manufactured with clever marketing. For creative professionals, Heart’s story is a powerful reminder: sustainable businesses aren’t built on aggressive growth or slick branding. They’re built on mutual respect, honesty, and the belief that good work speaks for itself. Thirty years in, Heart’s approach feels less like a relic of the past and more like a blueprint for the future.
What do you think? Is Heart’s model the exception, or should more agencies adopt this approach? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation about the future of creative representation.
