It’s a Tuesday morning in Brighton, and illustrator Leon Edler is sitting in his studio, looking back at seven years of spectacular mistakes. The kind of mistakes that cost money, mental health, and very nearly a business that people genuinely loved.
When Leon and his business partner Chris Clarke launched RoomFifty—an online shop selling limited edition prints by leading illustrators—they made £25,000 in their first three weeks. The business continued to be popular and widely acclaimed over the next seven years. And yet behind the scenes, the founders wrestled with huge blind spots and a seeming inability to handle the commercial side of running a business.
They never paid themselves, haemorrhaged money on tech they couldn’t fix, and stayed in what one of them described as “an abusive relationship” with their own business.
Then Leon shut the doors. Had a breakdown. Got diagnosed. And figured out what they’d been doing wrong all along.
Warning: This isn’t a redemption story wrapped in inspirational Instagram quotes. It’s a forensic examination of how two talented creatives built something people loved, then systematically destroyed it through a combination of naivety, mental health struggles, and the error of thinking that being good at making things means you’re good at running things.
The launch (and the first mistake)
October 2017. Six weeks from initial idea to launch. RoomFifty—an online shop selling limited edition prints by 50 of the world’s best illustrators and designers—opens its virtual doors. The response is immediate. £25,000 in three weeks. Illustrator Leon Edler and designer Chris Clarke are stunned.
“I realised that I didn’t want to run a shop full time,” Leon admits now. “I wanted to draw and write.” So they hired a shop manager. Then another. And stepped back from the day-to-day running of a business that desperately needed its founders’ attention.
RoomFifty was popular and well-respected, and was featured in publications such as The Observer and The Times. They even worked with the Design Museum. But once the fun, creative stuff was done—launching new seasons, collaborations, exciting projects—Leon and Chris would lose interest. They seemed to have a total inability to look at spreadsheets or talk to accountants. And that’s what makes a business viable.
“We’d get excited by big projects and completely ignore the day-to-day running of a business,” admits Leon. “Despite that, we were well respected by people in the industry—we were used as an unofficial illustration agency by art directors looking for the best artists. We were contacted by companies wanting to work with us for our ideas and curatorial skills. There are so many swanky design offices with RoomFifty on the walls.”
“By 2024, aside from the art being a lot better than most places, there was nothing unique about the business,” says Leon. “After we launched, a lot of similar companies sprang up and, honestly, aside from the art, they were doing it better.”
The shiny object (and the second mistake)
By 2020, they had money in the bank. Rather than consolidating what they’d built, they had an idea for a sister company: MakeRoom, a platform where artists could sell prints fulfilled by RoomFifty. Upload your files, embed a shop on your site, and they’d handle printing, packing and shipping. During a pandemic, when artists were struggling, it seemed perfect. Artists loved it. So Leon and Chris spent months developing the concept and paid a development company all their money to build it.
“We had this tech startup that had no money and no tech knowledge,” Leon says. Then, in July 2020, Leon was diagnosed with testicular cancer. Surgery on the Friday after a Wednesday diagnosis. No chemo needed, but the isolation of having cancer during a pandemic triggered severe anxiety.
“No one tells you how boring anxiety is,” he reflects. “It just doesn’t shut the fuck up, saying the same thing over and over again. And it’s all conspiracy theories about yourself.”
Meanwhile, RoomFifty was being neglected. Two businesses, two founders with day jobs, and an underpaid manager with no tech knowledge, trying to keep everything running. When things went wrong—and with tech, they always do—they couldn’t fix it quickly or cheaply.
“Customer service has always been really important to us,” says Leon. “Not providing the service you want and letting people down feels horrible.”
The departure (and the third mistake)
In 2022, their manager, Ellie, quit. She wanted a normal job that paid properly and wasn’t chaotic. Leon took over, but RoomFifty wasn’t bringing in the money it once had. Even when some things went well, they did things wrong. “Despite periods where we had money in the bank, we never paid ourselves,” reflects Leon. “It seems mad now. We didn’t even factor it into our costs.”
Part of this, he thinks, was a feeling that being artists running a business was somehow “a bit scummy”. They’d rather fund things like the Young Upstart Competition—free for illustrators to enter, with a cash prize for winners.
“Doing all that stuff is good, but I’ve realised that if you don’t pay yourself, or plan to, you eventually become resentful of the work you put into it, and so you don’t work as hard as you could, and so sales start to fall.”
After six months of Leon running everything alongside his own illustration work, they’d had enough. They looked for a partner to run both businesses. They found a London firm that did printing and development. But without going into details, the two companies weren’t a good fit for each other, and the partnership eventually ran into the ground.
The timing was awful. Chris had had a baby, and they were expecting another. Leon was going through a divorce. In September 2024, they closed RoomFifty. “I felt this huge relief,” says Leon. “I felt calm.”
Then the emails started arriving. Artists and customers said how sad they were. There was still enormous goodwill for what RoomFifty represented—even if the execution had struggled.
The relaunch, and the breakdown
Leon started planning a relaunch. Closing down RoomFifty had allowed him to see it objectively for the first time, and he could see again how it could be unique in 2025. How it should come back and how it could be different to all the other print shops that had sprung up in its wake.
“We would have more of a voice and a face,” Leon explains. “I feel like RoomFifty is curated and kind. We do sell the best work; we do have the best artists. We know them personally because we are working artists and designers. That means that we know what artists want and how to present that work. But we can also do more—more services, more content. But none of that has to be po-faced. It can be fun and interesting.”
His mind buzzed with ideas. He won back artists who’d left, found new ones, and secured dream collaborators. It was going brilliantly.
Then everything caught up with him. A breakdown in town. Couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t breathe. Suicidal thoughts. He moved in with his parents, went on antidepressants, and was referred for an ADHD assessment.
“I think it was only after the divorce that I really experienced the worst effects of it,” he explains. “My marriage kept my world small and simple—it was really just work and children. And while that alone can be unfulfilling—very little free time, hobbies or socialising—in some ways it suited my brain. There wasn’t much to ruminate over.”
Post-divorce, trying to manage two children, a freelance career, a writing career, a failing business, a house move and the trauma of the divorce process; “it was like opening the door on a plane. Everything just came rushing in and I couldn’t cope any more.”
The ADHD diagnosis changed everything. He stopped beating himself up about what he couldn’t do. He understood why RoomFifty had failed. He needed a business partner with a genuine stake, someone with all the abilities he lacked.
The solution (and the new beginning)
Instead of creating a polished pitch deck, Leon sent out a basic PDF. Here’s what I’m good at. Here’s what I’m terrible at. Here’s what I will and won’t do. Here’s the potential. The response was remarkable. More interest than any previous shiny presentation. And the perfect partner turned out to be sitting in the same Leeds studio where Leon had been working for a year: Chris Cox from Made By Bridge.
“He showed how much he loved the idea and the potential and what he would give to it,” says Leon. “We get on really well, he is really skilled, he loves and understands the business, and there is finally a situation where all aspects are taken care of. We have really learnt from all the mistakes we made, and it feels now, nearly eight years in, that RoomFifty could finally reach its potential. It’s got three people running it, who like each other, have completely different skills and totally respect each other for what they do.”
The new RoomFifty launches this month. Not just a print shop, but a business with services, resources and ambitions beyond selling beautiful things. “It will be personal and fun but professional and super high quality,” Leon promises. “There will be something for everyone and some really high-end stuff.”
What they learned
The lessons are brutally simple. Pay yourself from the start, or resentment will rot your motivation. Don’t build what you can’t maintain. Hire people who fill your gaps, not just people who are available. Understand your own brain before trying to understand business. And when something isn’t working, ask for help before it breaks you.
As for the revamped RoomFifty, “Chris and I said it had to be worthwhile, personal, not take itself seriously, unique, useful, very good work, and changeable,” Leon explains. “We are unique in that we are an artist and a designer. We really know these artists and appreciate this work. So we can make something that other people can’t.”
Seven years, two business failures, cancer, divorce, breakdowns and an ADHD diagnosis later, Leon is finally building the business he always imagined. But this time he knows what he’s doing—and more importantly, what he can’t do (and has found someone who can).
The relaunch happens this month. No bullshit press releases. No shiny Instagram posts pretending everything’s always been fine. Just honesty about what went wrong, and clarity about what comes next. Early launch for subscribers is this week, and it will be open to everyone on 21 November.
Sometimes you need to completely fall apart to understand how to put yourself back together properly.
