George Underwood: the designer who gave Bowie’s albums their iconic look

From schoolyard friends to legendary album covers, we chat with David Bowie’s lifelong collaborator about his artistic journey and a new exhibition of work inspired by the much-missed singer.

George Underwood may not be a household name, but his artistic vision helped shape the visual identity of one of rock music’s most iconic figures. As David Bowie’s childhood friend and the artist behind some of his most memorable album covers, George played a crucial role in defining the aesthetic of an era.

For those who grew up during the digital music revolution, it’s hard to understand how important album art was back in the 1960s and ’70s. There was no internet or MTV, and pop stars rarely appeared on the few TV channels that existed. So unless you got to see your favourite musician live, the album cover was your main visual connection with them and their world.

When someone bought a major new album, friends would come around their house and listen to it; it would be a real special occasion. Scouring the cover for information and commenting on the artwork would be an integral part of the experience. From both an emotional and cultural perspective, then, the album art could almost be as important as the songs themselves.

Now, as he prepares to participate in a charity exhibition honouring Bowie’s legacy, we chat to George to look back on how he created these iconic covers and reflect on a lifetime of creativity, friendship, and the evolving intersection of music and visual art.

Cultural revolution

Born Richard Michael George but known simply as George since before birth, his connection to David Bowie (then David Jones) began in their pre-teen years. “We met when we were nine years old,” George recalls. “We were enrolling for the 18th Bromley Cubs and Scouts.” This early friendship would blossom into a creative partnership that would span decades and leave an indelible mark on popular culture.

As teenagers in the 1960s, George and Bowie found themselves at the forefront of a cultural revolution. “The world was open to us,” George reminisces. “The ’60s was just around the corner. Music was changing beyond belief; rock and roll was born. We were embracing all those things and were very lucky to have been born in that period.”

For a short time, the two were even in a band called George and the Dragons. However, their musical partnership was short-lived when George punched Bowie in a fight over a girl. It was the fight that gave Bowie his unmistakable mismatched eyes.

The pair soon made up, though, and later recorded together as Davie Jones & The King Bees. George also made a solo record under the name Calvin James. But ultimately, while David’s heart was in music and performance, George found his calling in visual arts.

“Songwriting really was David’s forte,” he explains. “He really mastered that one. Whereas I was scribbling away with a pencil and paper on drawing or painting.”

From Bowie to Bolan

After deciding that the music business was not for him, Underwood returned to art studies and worked in design studios as an illustrator. He went on to become a freelance artist, making hundreds of book covers, LP and CD covers, advertisements, portraits, and drawings. Today, he’s best remembered for his artwork for musicians such as T. Rex, The Fixx, Mott the Hoople, and David Bowie.

The latter included illustrations for the back cover of Bowie’s self-titled 1969 album, now commonly known as Space Oddity. This work showcased George’s unique artistic style, which would later catch the attention of other musicians.

George also worked on the designs for legendary Bowie albums Hunky Dory and The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, although he’s keen to give credit where credit’s due. “They gave me the black and white photographs to colour up,” he explains. “Brian Ward was the maestro behind those. His photographs were iconic.” George’s role here was more that of an art director, making crucial decisions about the colouring and presentation of the photos.

Perhaps George’s most significant cover design was for Marc Bolan’s band Tyrannosaurus Rex (later known as T. Rex). The album, with its lengthy title My People Were Fair and Had Sky in Their Hair… But Now They’re Content to Wear Stars on Their Brows featured George’s intricate, fantastical artwork.

“That was a great creative process for me,” George recalls. “Mark was very cosmic in his outlook on everything.” Inspired by Gustav Doré’s engravings of Dante’s Inferno and Milton’s Paradise Lost – “all these amazing engravings about Dante’s Inferno, Milton’s Paradise Lost, angels and devils and all sorts of things – George created a densely detailed, otherworldly scene that perfectly captured the band’s mystical aesthetic.

At the time, hallucinogenic drugs such as LSD and psilocybin were rife in the music and arts scenes after American psychologist Timothy Leary encouraged their use for creative inspiration, famously telling students to “Turn on, tune in, drop out”. And that coloured the reaction to George’s artwork from many.

“Everyone said: ‘Hey man, what were you on when you did that?’,” he recalls. “I wasn’t on anything, actually. I was on my mother’s carpet in the front room. I used to paint on the floor. I don’t know how I did that, but I did in those days. Anyway, it went down well.”

However, this cover art, created at the tail end of the 1960s, marked a turning point in both music and visual presentation. “After that, everything went different,” George notes, referring to the shift as Bolan’s band transformed into T. Rex and glam rock took hold.

Enduring connection

George’s long friendship was marked by a shared sense of humour and adventure. He recounts when they pretended to be American musicians to impress girls. “We said we were backing singers for the Everly Brothers or something,” he chuckles. “We just made up this stuff as we went along. And, of course, we laughed all the way.”

Consequently, when Bowie found fame, George saw sides to him that the public rarely glimpsed. Notably, he accompanied the star on his 1972 US tour, providing a grounding presence amidst the whirlwind of fame. “I think he wanted someone around who wasn’t in the business, who he could talk to in a normal fashion without having to perform,” he reflects.

This close relationship endured throughout the rest of Bowie’s life. The singer would address George as “Michael” (his middle name), while George would call him “Robert” (Bowie’s middle name), a playful nod to their shared history. A memorable moment came after the death of late Bowie guitarist Mick Ronson in 1993. In response, George started making angel sculptures, and David was quoted as saying, “God, they made me cry!”

“I don’t do much sculpture,” George recalls. “When I did those angels, I was influenced a little bit by Umberto Boccioni, the Italian futurist artist. Gosh, that was such a long time ago. But I took some photographs of them and sent them to David. And he phoned me, and I was quite amazed at the emotions I brought out in him.”

Reflecting on Bowie’s enduring cultural impact today, George expresses a mix of awe and pride. “He’s become sort of a bit of an icon, much more than I had imagined he would be. I think he probably didn’t realise that he would be quite as praised as he is.”

New exhibition

Now, George is set to participate in Sound & Vision, a charity exhibition and auction benefiting War Child, an organisation dedicated to helping children affected by conflict. The show, which asks 33 leading artists to respond to the Bowie lyric “We like dancing, and we look divine,” holds special significance for George.

“It’s a fabulous cause, so I immediately said yes,” George says. He notes that Bowie himself was involved with War Child back in 1994, joining with Brian Eno and Athena Eno to curate Little Pieces from Big Stars, an exhibition raising funds for the charity. For his contribution, George is revisiting and adapting an earlier work titled Dancing with Giants, incorporating elements that reference Bowie’s 1980 Floor Show and the iconic Rainbow Theatre concert where Bowie introduced his alter ego Ziggy Stardust to the world.

“I haven’t done many paintings with dancing people in, but this one was one of my favourites,” he explains. “It was a landscape of all these sort of heads, Easter Island heads if you like, underwater. It was based on an idea of when the great flood came, and all these giants were submerged. I had these two figures dancing on ice or water with reflections in a see-through drape. And I thought I could use that and adapt it as a nod to that concert, which was one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen.”

Sound & Vision, which is curated by Art on a Postcard founder Gemma Peppé, also features new work from National Portrait Gallery BP Portrait Award-winning painter Ishbel Myerscough, Joseph Dupré, Stuart Semple, Andrew Piere Hart, Nettie Wakefield, and Harland Miller.

Making people think

Throughout his career, George has maintained a unique artistic voice that seeks to engage people on a deeper level. He aims to create narratives within his work, often through the expressions he gives to his subjects, leaving interpretation up to the viewer. “What I’m trying to do with my art is make people think,” he explains. “So you don’t just look at a painting and walk past it. There’s something else there.”

The process he follows has evolved over the years. “I don’t use much reference these days,” he says. “I just create these things from my imagination.” This approach allows him to tap into what he calls “that place which is a bit weird and quirky,” a creative space he enjoys exploring.

So what advice would he give young artists looking to make their mark? George emphasises the importance of authenticity and persistence. “Always paint for yourself,” he advises. “Don’t think that you’re trying to please someone all the time. Just be honest, be truthful to yourself, and break all the rules.”

And one final piece of advice is: stick at it. “I remember when I was at primary school, there was a young kid who went up to our art teacher, Miss Otto, and said, ‘Miss, how is it that George can draw and I can’t?’,” he says. “And she said, quite diplomatically, ‘Well, quite honestly, he does a lot more of it than you.’ And that’s what you do. The more you do it, the better you get.”