According to artist Ben Stevenson, a short stretch of independent shops on Abbeydale Road is the closest thing to a gallery show he’s ever likely to get. If you make your way past the sensory assault of the JBM Mart store — perhaps popping in for some American candy or a vape on your way — and all the way down to the golden taxi perched on the roof of Mr Compensator, you’ll probably be able to sense where his influence begins. While the bespoke signs he paints are always unique for each business that hires him, once you know what you’re looking for, it becomes easier to recognise his expert touch.
You can find Stevenson’s work behind the bar at Dead Donkey, on the enormous mirror in Best Boy Bagels and on the storefronts for Gravel Pit and the Italian cafe YAMM. Or, if you’d rather admire him closer to home, his signs appear in other corners of the city — from Porter Brook Deli in Sharrow Vale and Blue Collar Tattoos on Glossop Road, to Vulgar Vintage Mini Mart on Division Street and The Victoria in Neepsend. How many signs of yours are there in Sheffield, I wonder aloud at one point. “I lost count a long time ago,” he says, with a laugh.
We’re chatting in his studio, a tight two-roomed affair tucked away among the tangle of student accommodation and old warehouses just off London Road. Dressed for the weather in shorts and a T-shirt, the most noticeable thing about him is his tattoos, which cover every inch of his arms and legs. He even has one on the top of his head, of the Buddhist deity Fudo Myoo, which is slowly fading as his hair lengthens to match his beard. A pair of stylish clear-rimmed glasses complete his unique look.
The place looks pretty much as you’d expect. Countless prints, paintings and examples of his work cover the walls. A Jackson Pollock here, a painting of Bart Simpson there. Tibetan prayer flags hang from the ceiling, while in the other room sit two beautiful A-boards he recently made for the Sardinian restaurant Domo; one for their place in Kelham Island and another for their new outlet in Leeds.
Becoming a traditional signwriter was not part of Stevenson’s original plan, although he’s happy to have ended up here. Some readers may remember his previous venture, the NIIICE shop in The Forum on Division Street, back when he believed his future lay in clothing design. When the shop shuttered in 2019, he knew he wanted to carry on making art, but wasn’t sure how to ensure it paid his bills. “I was really struggling with illustration commissions because everyone was doing them,” he says. “But no one was doing this.”
His first signage gig was for the former Division Street restaurant Lucky Fox, followed by Terrace Goods and Cheap Dates in Orchard Square. But his big break came when he got on a course run by legendary signwriter Joby Carter. I confess I’d never heard of Carter but Stevenson informs me that, in the signwriting world, he is the man. “When I came back from that course I thought: ‘Right, I’m a signwriter now’,” he says. Something that particularly appealed to him was how the vocation straddled the line between art and trade. “It’s artistic but not pretentious,” he says. “It’s a really accessible art form.”
It’s also an art form that seems to be in high demand these days. Despite the popularity of Stevenson’s business, PMA Signs, there is still enough work going around for several other local artists to make a living this way. Every morning, when I arrive at The Tribune office in Leah’s Yard, I pass under the handiwork of local signwriter Chum. And, if Abbeydale Road can be considered Stevenson’s solo exhibition, then Sharrow Vale Road is akin to a group show — a “communal tag team of Sheffield sign writers”, as Stevenson puts it — including work by himself, Mia Warner and Molly Jones.
When I ask Stevenson what he thinks has prompted this signwriting renaissance, he seems to find it fairly obvious. In his view, the distinction between a hand-painted sign that you can “feel and smell” and the “meaninglessness” of a more generic storefront speaks for itself. “It’s seen as authentic, he says. “It kind of shows they [the business] care.”
At Dead Donkey, one of many independents on Abbeydale Road to feature his work, bar supervisor Christy Stanley tells me they never even considered an alternative to bespoke, hand-painted artwork. Their main sign was painted by staff member Jack Bendall (a graphic designer) but Stevenson’s work appears on chalkboards behind the bar. “We’re an independent bar so we always wanted to use independent artists,” he says. “It's something we’re really passionate about.”
All of Stevenson's clients share this kind of attention to detail, he says, adding that his work is the result of a collaborative process with each businesses that hires him. “It’s rare I get a job where someone just wants their logo on a big board with an outline,” he says. “Normally it's: here are some ideas, you throw some ideas at me and the work ends up having roots and a bit of a story.”
A case in point is his work for Gravel Pit, the duo of plant/art/music/curios shops based on Abbeydale Road and, more recently, in Leah’s Yard. Owner Danny Mager's original brief was for something “fun and cool” to match the shop’s esoteric offering and, over the course of several years, he and Stevenson have ended up creating a unique typographic style together, which has developed and evolved as the shop has.
While now considered an artisan skill, back in the 19th century Sheffield would have boasted scores of signwriters like Stevenson, with the trade exploding in tandem with the rise of literacy among the general public. As England began to become a “nation of shopkeepers,” flooded with independent retailers of various stripes, businesses found they needed a way to stand out and attract passers-by. A hand-painted sign was an obvious solution. Stevenson tells me he particularly enjoys a sign on Neill Road advertising the Victorian slate merchants and tilers Staniforth & Lee, which a local resident lovingly restored two years ago. “It’s a marvel,” he says. “Like, you think: ‘How did they do that?’”.
But while sign painting might once again be a growing industry, it’s still not the most lucrative. Individual commissions can pay well, Stevenson says, but buying high-quality tools and materials means that the layouts he needs to make can often eat into his profits. (He declines to reveal how much an average sign costs.) As with his experience at NIIICE, where he loved designing the clothes but found running a shop more difficult, he admits the business side of things is something he struggles with. “I’m an artist not a businessman, as I’m finding out every month,” he says.
Does he ever think about taking an easier way out, like some other local artists who lean heavily into simplistic Sheffield tropes and the “fetishisation” of northern identity (mentioning no names), I wonder. He jokes that one day he might abandon his principles and just churn out stuff for money but that, at least for now, keeping his integrity is important for him. “Some people say ‘Just paint an EY UP’ or ‘If you did ‘Mardy Bum’ in circus font, you’d sell a load at Christmas’,” he says. “But as someone who was born and raised here, I find it really icky.”
I'm not too surprised the lure of bigger profits hasn't moved him so far. As the prayer flags suggest, he has what he calls an interest in Buddhism. (While we chat, a cute Pomeranian lies at his feet, named Bodhi after the Sanskrit word for enlightenment). “I would describe myself as a closeted Buddhist,” he laughs. As such, he’s just trying to find a “happy medium” between doing what he enjoys and making enough money to live.
In a way, it makes sense that someone flirting with Buddhism would end up a signwriter; there’s something about the trade that seems uniquely meditative. While perusing Stevenson’s portfolio along Abbeydale Road, I pop into the cafe Tea with Percie, which has a handcrafted sign that turns out to have been created by the owner’s husband, Henk Littlewood.
Henk tells me he used to know a sign painter who would practise individual letters “for weeks” until he was confident he had mastered them. “What I liked was the sheer amount of time required to get to the point where he could say he could do Ds," he adds. “What you end up with is something that retains that human element and yet it’s crisp and lovely.”
For more information about Ben Stevenson and PMA Signs, click here. You will be able to see lots of his work at the Abbeydale Road Beer Festival, which will take place across 20 venues from Thursday, 30 July to Sunday, 2 August.
Hi, Dan here. One of the best things about my job is getting to meet really interesting and talented people. Amid all the stories about dodgy landlords and disgraced politicians, talking to people like Ben Stevenson of PMA Signs is an absolute joy. When I set up The Tribune in 2021, I didn’t just want to highlight all the bad things happening in Sheffield, I also wanted to celebrate all the good stuff that takes place here too. Doing regular good news editions was one of our five pledges to Sheffield that we will be fulfilling over the next year. If you think news should be more than just the bad stuff, become a member of The Tribune today.
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