Berta Vallo sees the stories hiding inside your kitchen drawer

More is always more is a principle Berta Vallo likes to live by in her illustrations. That means: pack the frame, let it spill over the edges and give every character a personality. It's a commitment that results from exceptional skill and patience, for the colourful stage alone can take several days to complete. But one look at her work and you immediately understand why she spends hours doing what she does.

Berta grew up in Budapest, studied Graphic Communication Design at Central Saint Martins, and spent most of her 20s in London. She first interned at Kristjana S Williams Studio, then signed to illustration agency Pocko, and steadily built a client list that now includes Bloomberg, Rolling Stone, Little White Lies and Die Zeit. She returned to Budapest a few years ago, to a city she describes as "marked by political turmoil", and the tension of that particular move – leaving, returning, belonging nowhere and everywhere at once – runs like a thread through her portfolio.

"Spending the majority of my young adulthood as an immigrant in London, then returning to my hometown has been central to my journey as an illustrator," she says. "Creating work that reflects my experiences between these two cities remains fundamental to my practice – though I always approach it with a touch of humour."

Her inspirations read like one of the most eclectic mood boards, which she reels off as: "People watching, old storefront typography, Victorian engravings, bold colours, the graphic design and illustration of Eastern European state socialism, the material culture of 90s childhood nostalgia, social documentary photography, 60s American literature, British New Wave cinema, and anything shaped like an animal but not actually one." The last one comes up more than once, like in the animal-shaped trinkets lurking in nearly every corner of every composition, or other creatures watching the activities of her characters with all-seeing eyes. 

Berta's all-time favourite piece, Lunch, is a self-initiated work depicting a woman – presumably the artist herself in the thick of freelance life – surrounded by the objects she's accumulated. A Furby, leopard-print notepad, avocado stickers, a bubble cube candle, to name a few. She describes it as something that "examines childhood nostalgia and the construction of female identity in the throes of late-stage capitalism", as well as a reflection on being a freelance illustrator and the narratives these objects impose on our daily lives. The composition is gloriously overstuffed, with cats, packaging and pattern upon pattern. Yet it never feels like too much; instead, it gives off the aura of a lived-in kitchen on a Tuesday afternoon. Its companion piece, Still Life, has similar motives – "objects from past and present, shaped by childhood nostalgia and the hybrid aesthetics of a life lived between London and Budapest."

Meanwhile, for the Die Zeit series from 2025, she was briefed to depict topics ranging from Gen Z reshaping the workplace, the midweek cafe rush and the invisible domestic labour women perform in their relationships. "I immensely enjoyed immersing myself in these complex stories, written with sharp observation and wit, and translating them into layered visual compositions," she explains, "I always try to sneak in subtle details that add depth to my characters, and this series gave me the freedom to go wild." 

Other works feature sun-drenched coastal scenes brimming with bodies and chaos, and characters zipping through a busy city scene, fizzing with colour and energy. There's also a book on the horizon that will weave together mythological creatures of Hungarian and British folklore. What ties all of her work together is the belief that shared experience still matters. "I value human connection and real-life imperfections above all else. In our deeply flawed world, these moments of vulnerability and shared experience feel more important than ever." The work is clearly made by someone paying very close attention to the world and its people – and she's rooting for all of them.