Inspired by LBTY: Adelphi Sun by Isabella Cotier
The artist and illustrator turns her energetic, experimental eye to Liberty LBTY.’s verdant, botanical scent.
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Inspired by LBTY: Adelphi Sun by Isabella Cotier
The artist and illustrator turns her energetic, experimental eye to Liberty LBTY.’s verdant, botanical scent.
A deep-rooted passion for artistic expression lies at the heart of Liberty, from the Tudor foundations of our store upwards and outwards. The exquisite world of Liberty’s LBTY. Fragrance is no exception, guided by a passion for creativity and collaboration, celebrating history and heritage with an eye to the future.
And what better way to explore the intricacies of the Liberty’s LBTY. Fragrance collection than by continuing our close collaboration with the creative world? This year, we’re tasking a series of contemporary creatives with reimagining each scent through their unique artistic media as part of our Inspired by LBTY. series.
Born in London but raised in Florence, artist and illustrator Isabella Cotier describes herself as a modern day flaneur. Crafting detailed, energetic drawings that chronical her observations and interactions with the world around her, her creations are equal-parts reflective, insightful and, at times, humorous.
Her impulsive, honest sketches often focus on “normal” people and city-dwellers, and her observational illustrations have accompanied stories in magazines and newspapers including The New York Times and Bloomberg. “I want people to engage with the image rather than avoid it,” she says of her more journalistic works: as a conduit for processing the stories she shares.
Here, she turns her hand to Liberty LBTY. Fragrance’s Adelphi Sun as inspiration, turning her fluid style to this botanical, verdant and luscious scent creation.
Inspired by LBTY: Adelphi Sun by Isabella Cotier
Can you describe your work and your style? Why do you do what you do?
I find it quite difficult to describe my own work. If anything, I try to achieve an unrestricted line and a sense of looseness. I want my work to reflect that the person creating it had fun, ensuring it never feels too serious. The themes that interest me are often unusual human behaviour or odd moments in culture. I like oddness.
In your work for The New York Times, you cover some difficult topics. How do you want people to feel when they look at your work?
I want my images to be accessible. I don’t respond well to shock imagery—it tends to make me shut down and disengage. I want people to feel that they can engage with the subject without feeling threatened.
I’m often given challenging subjects to illustrate. For example, when I worked on a piece about the LA fires, I aimed to create imagery that was accessible rather than shocking. I want people to engage with the image rather than avoid it.
How important is making art to you?
I don’t really know what it would be like not to make art. It’s part of my daily routine. Tapping into the subconscious and allowing drawings to develop into ideas helps me process things—whether cultural or personal issues. Sometimes I don’t even realise I’m drawing ideas related to something that has affected me until I step back and see the connection. For example, I once listened to an Ezra Klein podcast about burnout, and I began picturing people as melting candles. That imagery stayed with me, and I later turned it into an illustration.
So it’s almost like therapy —how you organise your thoughts?
Yes, absolutely. I think that’s true for a lot of people. It’s a way of processing and understanding things.
Where do you find your inspiration?
I’m always accumulating ideas, so it’s difficult to pinpoint specific influences. At the moment, I��m drawn to conceptual art—Robert Gober’s absurdity fascinates me. The recent Vincent van Gogh exhibition at the Royal Academy was incredible. Living in a city, I appreciate beautiful depictions of nature as a form of escapism. And then there’s Dr Seuss, whose political undertones I find quite fun.
When I was younger, I mainly looked at art for references. Now, I do the opposite—I love reading random articles. I once read about iguanas falling out of banana trees because they were falling asleep, and it was so rich with imagery. I’m dyslexic, so the way I process information can be quite random, which influences how I put together my illustrations. It results in representations that can be quite unusual.
Did this way of working come naturally to you, or did it develop through working with briefs from Bloomberg or The New York Times?
It’s something I’ve developed relatively recently, though I was probably doing it unconsciously before. I constantly accumulate references—whether visuals, writing, podcasts, or music videos. Even a performance by a dancer can inspire me simply through the energy they project. So, in a way, I’ve always worked like this, but I now approach it more intentionally.
Your work is very instinctive and raw. Do you spend a lot of time planning, or do you go with the flow?
My life is quite scheduled, so with my work, I prefer to remove the planning and just let things happen organically. For example, when I heard the podcast about burnout and imagined melting candles, I revisited the idea when I had time. It’s important for me to have that space to create without rigid structures.
Can you tell us about the artwork you created inspired by Adelphi Sun?
With Adelphi Sun, I immediately envisioned the outdoors—plant life and nature. I wanted to explore the idea of plants with their own characters. The drawings evolved into plants bursting out of glasshouses, knocking over pots, and crawling out as if reclaiming their space. It’s a way of questioning how we treat nature and whether it might push back against us.
How have you found working with Liberty?
Working with Liberty has been brilliant. Any time a brand gives you creative freedom and trusts your vision without excessive editing, great things can happen. That trust allows beautiful work to emerge.