By the time it reached its fourth season, Stranger Things had evolved far beyond a nostalgic TV favorite. It became a full-blown cultural milestone, captivating audiences with its thrilling sci-fi horror and deep affection for the 1980s. It wasn’t just reviving the past—it was reinventing it for a modern audience. That revival extended beyond the screen, touching everything from fashion to music, and even art. Among the many creatives inspired by the show's atmospheric throwback to VHS-era horror was Brazilian Pop Art maestro Butcher Billy, whose official artwork for Season 4 captured global attention.
Butcher Billy’s collection of nine episode-specific posters didn’t merely promote the show—they became viral hits across social platforms, reappearing as limited-edition merchandise, apparel, and even giant billboard installations across Los Angeles. Famed for his ability to reinterpret pop culture with a rebellious twist, Billy’s involvement in Netflix’s flagship series marked a new peak in his already impressive creative journey.
In an exclusive look behind the scenes, Butcher Billy shared how the opportunity unfolded, how he managed the psychological pressures of high-stakes creative work, and why he believes our love affair with the 1980s continues to endure.
From Fan Art to Official Collaboration with Netflix
For Butcher Billy, a Brazilian illustrator known for reimagining pop culture through an edgy, punk-inflected lens, the opportunity to work with Stranger Things wasn’t just another project—it was a deeply personal milestone. His career has long been defined by audacious, genre-blurring creations that blend pop icons, dark humor, and vintage aesthetics. So when a call came in from Ralph, a creative agency based in New York, it initially seemed like another interesting inquiry among many. The message was simple: a prominent streaming service was seeking artwork for an upcoming sci-fi campaign and had Billy in mind. What followed was anything but ordinary.
As it turned out, the campaign was for none other than Stranger Things Season 4, and the project wasn’t a random suggestion—it was hand-picked by the Duffer Brothers themselves. They had admired Billy’s earlier work and believed his aesthetic sensibility would align seamlessly with the tone of the series. The showrunners weren’t looking for the typical promotional art that splashes cast members across a frame. Instead, they wanted something raw, suggestive, and stylized—art that evoked a feeling rather than told a story.
For Billy, this was a rare kind of full-circle moment. Years of producing personal work that reinterpreted '80s horror, music, comics, and cinema had laid the groundwork for this very opportunity. It was validation not just from an industry giant, but from creators whose work had defined modern nostalgia-driven storytelling.
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. As the show dove deeper into its darkest themes yet, it needed artwork that reflected that shift. Billy, with his signature blend of horror nostalgia and visual punch, was the perfect choice. What followed was one of the most creatively liberating and publicly celebrated campaigns of his career.
Redefining the TV Poster: A New Visual Language
Television marketing has traditionally relied on a familiar visual formula—group shots of characters, dramatic lighting, and a tagline. But for this campaign, Netflix wanted to subvert that norm. They asked Billy to create one original artwork per episode—nine in total. Each piece needed to serve as a standalone teaser that hinted at the emotional weight and eerie undertones of the episode it represented. It wasn’t about highlighting faces or revealing plot points. The focus was on psychological suspense, symbolic storytelling, and vintage horror influences.
Billy was given almost unprecedented creative freedom. Early access to rough episode cuts—still incomplete in terms of visual effects—allowed him to immerse himself in each chapter of the story. Watching these raw episodes gave him an intuitive understanding of their emotional arcs. Instead of merely depicting events, Billy sought to distill the soul of each episode into a singular image. He used quotes, motifs, color palettes, and obscure references to build a sense of atmosphere that felt more like a forgotten horror paperback than a piece of modern promo art.
“They referenced VHS box art, obscure horror comics, and gritty pulp novels from the ‘70s and ‘80s,” Billy said. “It was about setting a tone, building suspense, making people feel something—without giving too much away.”
This freedom led to designs that were layered and haunting. Some included stylized typography echoing Stephen King novels or vintage movie posters, while others featured fragmented imagery, shadowy silhouettes, or graphic depictions of fear-inducing moments. Each poster was a visual breadcrumb, teasing viewers with just enough intrigue to stir curiosity without spoiling the journey ahead.
Billy started each piece with hand-drawn sketches to maintain a tactile, analog feel. From there, he transitioned into digital tools like Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop, refining every detail until the final compositions felt timeless and provocative. His ability to strike a balance between retro aesthetics and contemporary storytelling made each poster both a work of art and a marketing triumph.
Emotional Depth Through Symbolism and Style
What made Billy’s contributions so distinctive was his emphasis on emotional resonance rather than promotional clarity. His posters didn’t spell things out—they whispered them through subtle cues and cryptic design. This approach reflected the increasingly complex emotional landscape of Stranger Things Season 4, which dove deeper into trauma, memory, loss, and fear.
One of his techniques was incorporating carefully chosen dialogue quotes into the artwork. These lines weren’t generic catchphrases—they were emotionally loaded moments pulled directly from each episode, adding a layer of psychological context to the visuals. For instance, in the “Dear Billy” poster, the quote used served as a chilling reminder of the emotional weight of Max’s storyline, paired with a design that felt both mournful and terrifying.
Another distinguishing factor was Billy’s decision to avoid directly depicting actor likenesses, unless absolutely necessary. This artistic choice not only bypassed complex legal and creative approvals but also allowed the posters to remain more evocative than literal. The focus on mood and metaphor gave the collection a timeless quality that promotional materials often lack. In the few posters where a character’s face did appear, the process was more complex and required additional revision rounds—but the impact remained intact.
Billy’s style thrives on contrasts—clean shapes against messy textures, sharp silhouettes beside hazy backgrounds, bold colors interrupted by monochrome shadows. This dynamic energy, combined with his deep understanding of the pop-horror lexicon, created visuals that didn’t just speak to longtime fans of the show but introduced an entire generation to the visual language of analog-era horror.
Turning Personal Passion into Pop Culture Legacy
What began as a personal love for 1980s media has now positioned Butcher Billy as one of the most recognizable names in contemporary illustration. His work on Stranger Things didn't just enhance the show’s cultural impact—it expanded it. The posters quickly exploded across Instagram and Twitter, racking up millions of impressions and resharing by fan accounts, art blogs, and even the cast. Netflix capitalized on this momentum, transforming the images into apparel, posters, and other merchandise sold through their online store.
But the campaign’s visibility didn’t stop online. Billy was soon asked to reformat each vertical piece into horizontal compositions suitable for billboard displays. These redesigns were more than just resizing—they required reimagining layouts to work at massive scale. Eventually, the revised posters adorned Sunset Boulevard and other key areas in Los Angeles, catching the attention of locals and tourists alike.
Seeing his work displayed at such an iconic scale was a career highlight. “It was overwhelming in the best way possible,” Billy shared. “You work alone on a digital screen, and then one day it’s 40 feet tall on a building in LA. That’s when it hits you—this is real.”
Billy’s trajectory offers a rare success story in today’s hyper-competitive creative industry. By staying authentic to his vision and not compromising on style, he’s built a career where clients seek him for what he naturally does best. From a side hustle to international acclaim, his path reminds other creatives that staying weird, honest, and inspired often leads to the most remarkable opportunities.
Creative Freedom in a Controlled Industry
Within the entertainment world, particularly in projects involving globally recognized franchises, creative work is often tightly overseen. Artists may receive rigid briefs, lengthy feedback chains, and restrictive brand guidelines that leave little room for personal interpretation. But for Butcher Billy, working with Netflix on Stranger Things Season 4 was a striking deviation from the norm. Rather than adhering to the usual rigid formula of promotional art, Billy was given something invaluable—trust.
Netflix offered him access to early, work-in-progress versions of each episode, allowing him to experience the raw narrative and emotional arcs long before audiences would see the polished results. These episodes, still in various stages of post-production with incomplete visual effects and unfinished audio, weren’t just reference points—they were emotional landscapes. Billy wasn’t told what to draw or which scenes to highlight. Instead, he was empowered to extract themes, moments, symbols, and moods on his own terms.
This level of creative autonomy is rare, especially in high-stakes streaming productions. Yet it paid off. Billy began with traditional hand sketches, tapping into his instinctive sense of composition, tension, and visual rhythm. From there, he moved into digital territory, using Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop to bring each concept to life. This transition from analog to digital didn’t erase the handmade quality of his work—it preserved and elevated it. The final results were textured, layered, and evocative of the aged, tactile posters from 1980s horror films and pulp fiction novels.
Each poster became a standalone visual story. Quotes lifted directly from each episode gave them narrative weight, anchoring the haunting imagery in specific emotional moments. These weren’t just teaser posters—they felt like mysterious artifacts, fragments of a long-lost cinematic universe unearthed from a dusty video store shelf.
In many corporate-led creative campaigns, artists are seen as executors of someone else’s vision. Here, Billy was treated as a creative partner. The freedom to shape visual storytelling through his personal lens not only enhanced the project’s authenticity but made each poster resonate on a deeper emotional level with fans. Rather than simply reflect Stranger Things, the artwork extended its world.
Navigating Insecurity in the Face of Success
Despite achieving notable recognition for his distinct pop art style and having an enviable client list that includes Black Mirror, The Queen’s Gambit, and Cobra Kai, Butcher Billy is candid about his internal struggles. Creative success doesn’t shield artists from self-doubt. In fact, the more visible and prestigious the project, the more intense the anxiety can become.
Every new commission triggers a familiar wave of internal questioning for Billy. Am I good enough? Can I really deliver? Will this be the time I finally fall short? This recurring mental loop is something many creatives face but rarely discuss openly. For Billy, it’s a form of imposter syndrome—a psychological phenomenon where high-achieving individuals remain convinced they’re frauds, fearing eventual exposure despite evidence of their competence and talent.
His coping strategy is refreshingly grounded. When anxiety starts to cloud his focus, he doesn’t try to power through blindly. Instead, he takes a pause—literally. He steps away from the screen. He grabs a coffee. Watch a movie. Going for a walk. Anything to disconnect from the pressure cooker of his thoughts and reconnect with the reason he became an artist in the first place: the joy of creating.
“I think nerves are a good sign,” Billy reflected. “They show that I’m not complacent. That I still care. That there’s something at stake.”
That sense of emotional vulnerability, rather than being a weakness, becomes a source of creative depth. It’s what allows his artwork to feel so human, even when the subject matter leans into the supernatural or surreal. It’s also why so many fans respond so strongly to his work—it’s infused with real emotion, not just visual flair.
The Artistic Value of Restraint
Another notable element in Billy’s process was his deliberate choice to avoid character likenesses wherever possible. In the world of promotional design, this is almost unheard of—big productions typically center the cast’s faces to guarantee immediate recognition. But Billy knew that real visual storytelling didn’t require literal interpretation. His approach focused on evoking tone, symbolism, and narrative ambiguity rather than relying on celebrity-driven familiarity.
Avoiding the use of actor likenesses gave him more creative elasticity. It also kept the posters from aging too quickly or feeling like disposable marketing tools. Instead, they became timeless—more akin to collector’s prints than promotional handouts. The few times where he did include faces, such as in the episodes where emotional stakes were closely tied to specific characters, the process was more complex and involved additional layers of feedback and revision. But the guiding principle always remained the same: less was more, and suggestion was more powerful than exposition.
This level of restraint is increasingly rare in an industry obsessed with overexposure and immediacy. Billy’s posters stood out because they trusted the viewer to engage, interpret, and imagine. They functioned more like narrative puzzles than straightforward advertisements—each one inviting closer inspection, deeper emotional connection, and even fan speculation.
Emotional Authenticity in Commercial Design
What truly sets Billy’s Stranger Things poster series apart is its emotional authenticity. Too often, commercial design is reduced to functionality—something that communicates quickly, clearly, and inoffensively. But Billy’s work defied that trend. His posters were emotionally charged, visually aggressive, and rich with subtext. They didn’t just speak to fans; they challenged them to feel something, to enter the eerie, nostalgic world of Hawkins with their guard down.
This approach aligns closely with the thematic DNA of Stranger Things itself—a show that uses supernatural horror as a metaphor for trauma, adolescence, and memory. Billy’s art mirrored this duality. On the surface, each piece was a visually arresting homage to retro horror. But beneath that surface, they conveyed grief, fear, confusion, and hope—echoing the show's emotional core.
By trusting his instincts and leaning into his own emotional reactions to the raw episodes, Billy ensured that each poster carried a part of himself. That personal investment didn’t go unnoticed. Fans across the globe connected with the designs not just for their visual style but for the feelings they stirred. These posters weren’t just content—they became part of the Stranger Things mythos, woven into the way people experienced the season as a whole.
In a world where design is often dictated by analytics, trends, and data-driven briefs, Butcher Billy’s collaboration with Netflix is a testament to what can happen when an artist is trusted with genuine creative freedom. It’s a reminder that even within the most controlled, commercial environments, there’s still space for art that’s honest, emotionally nuanced, and unmistakably human.
The Art of Allusion: Avoiding Literal Interpretation
In a creative landscape that often prizes recognizability and directness, Butcher Billy’s approach to his Stranger Things Season 4 poster series was markedly different. While it would have been easy—and even expected—to create designs focused on the actors' likenesses, Billy made a conscious decision to steer away from that route. This choice wasn't born out of limitation but from a desire to cultivate timeless, evocative visuals that transcended fleeting celebrity imagery.
Rather than rely on the faces of familiar characters to generate excitement, Billy zeroed in on the symbolic and thematic core of each episode. By avoiding literal representations, he allowed his designs to breathe and encouraged viewers to engage with them on a more abstract and emotional level. This methodology elevated the artwork from standard promotional content to fine art collectibles—objects of narrative interpretation rather than visual explanation.
“There’s so much bureaucracy involved in using character likenesses,” Billy explained. “Legal approvals, actor sign-offs, production constraints—it can stifle the creative flow. I didn’t want that to define the process. I wanted to focus on metaphor, tension, and mood.”
Of the nine posters created for the season, only two feature direct character imagery, and even then, the portraits are stylized, filtered through his unique graphic language. These two designs naturally involved more oversight and back-and-forth discussions, yet the final pieces still maintained his core vision: emotionally resonant storytelling told through the language of visual symbolism.
This allusive strategy proved highly effective, setting his poster series apart from other promotional content that leans heavily on cast recognition. Billy’s designs didn’t just promote episodes—they encapsulated their soul, often revealing more through suggestion than literal representation could ever achieve.
Designing Through Emotion: Creating Impact Without Faces
The true power behind Butcher Billy’s Stranger Things posters lies in his ability to communicate complex narrative layers through iconography, texture, and carefully selected fragments of story. Stripping away character visuals didn’t limit the designs—it unlocked them. Viewers weren’t being told what to think or feel; they were being invited into a visual conversation.
This process began with watching early, unpolished edits of the episodes. Though these versions lacked final visual effects and polish, they revealed something more important: emotional clarity. Billy absorbed the essence of each chapter—the tension, the grief, the moments of catharsis—and translated that into imagery. Whether through haunting silhouettes, fragmented landscapes, or unsettling symbols, each poster was a microcosm of the episode it represented.
The posters weren’t just decorative—they functioned as cryptic narrative foreshadowing. Rather than serving as a recap of what happened, they worked like keys to unlock deeper emotional interpretations. This approach respects the intelligence and emotional engagement of the audience, encouraging deeper interaction and speculative interpretation.
Because the designs weren’t anchored in actor recognition, they became universally accessible. The psychological horror elements, vintage references, and dreamlike compositions resonated across cultures and languages. This is an often-overlooked strength in global marketing: art that transcends specificity and taps into archetypes, fears, and emotions shared across human experience.
By avoiding the obvious and leaning into visual abstraction, Billy made his posters feel like lost relics from the '80s horror section of a forgotten video store—objects that felt discovered, not manufactured. This nostalgic authenticity made the posters irresistible to both long-time fans of the show and design enthusiasts who appreciated their standalone aesthetic value.
Fan Favorites: Emotional Depth in “Dear Billy” and “The Piggyback”
Among the nine posters that made up the Season 4 campaign, two stood out for both the artist and the fans: Dear Billy and The Piggyback. These episodes are among the most emotionally charged in the series, tackling themes of personal trauma, existential dread, and sacrificial love. The poster designs for these entries needed to carry more than visual appeal—they needed to reflect the profound emotional stakes at the heart of each story.
“Dear Billy,” in particular, struck a deep chord with audiences due to Max’s haunting character arc. The accompanying poster captured that sense of inner turmoil and impending doom without ever showing her face. Instead, it featured motifs that hinted at memory, vulnerability, and psychological imprisonment. The decision to omit character likeness heightened the unease, leaving space for viewers to inject their own feelings into the interpretation.
Equally compelling was The Piggyback, an episode that brought multiple storylines to a dramatic crescendo. Its poster, charged with energy and metaphysical themes, mirrored the episode’s chaotic yet transformative narrative. Billy cited both posters as personal highlights from the series, noting that the combination of music, narrative tension, and visual storytelling made them uniquely rewarding to design.
“There was something electric about those scenes,” he said. “The synergy between the music, the characters’ internal struggles, and the show’s dark surrealism—it all came together so powerfully. I knew these episodes needed artwork that reflected their emotional magnitude.”
These posters weren’t just well-received; they became cultural moments in their own right. Shared millions of times on social media and later reproduced as merchandise, they helped redefine what official TV artwork could achieve emotionally and artistically.
Creating Lasting Art in a Fast-Moving Industry
In a world saturated with throwaway digital content, Billy’s Stranger Things posters stood out because they resisted the urge to be instantly digestible. They were not designed for quick clicks—they were meant to linger in the mind, to prompt reflection, and to inspire dialogue. This is particularly rare in entertainment marketing, where the goal is often instant recognition and rapid engagement.
By embracing ambiguity, Billy made his posters pieces of visual literature—each one layered with suggestion, metaphor, and a kind of eerie poetry. They rewarded second glances and slow interpretation, much like the best horror films and psychological thrillers from the 1980s. This was not marketing in the traditional sense—it was experiential storytelling through design.
Moreover, the campaign proved that when brands trust artists to do what they do best, the results can be extraordinary. Billy was not boxed in by templates or dictated by marketing teams. He was invited to explore, to interpret, and to respond emotionally. That trust translated into artwork that fans connected with on a much deeper level than typical promotional material ever achieves.
In the years to come, these posters will likely be remembered not just as part of a successful show’s marketing arsenal, but as examples of how pop culture and personal artistry can align to create something enduring. They weren’t just advertisements—they were emotional signposts for episodes that moved millions of people worldwide.
Billy’s ability to avoid the obvious and embrace the emotional landscape of Stranger Things gave the series a visual heartbeat beyond the screen. His approach to allusion over imitation, atmosphere over exposition, and feeling over familiarity is a lesson in creative bravery—and a testament to what can happen when an artist is allowed to speak in his own visual language.
Stranger Things as a Natural Canvas for Butcher Billy
Few artists in the contemporary illustration world have as deep and visceral a connection to retro aesthetics as Butcher Billy. His artistic identity is rooted in the visual language of the 1980s—a decade defined by its eccentricity, vivid subcultures, and genre-defying creative output. From splattered VHS horror to gritty underground zines, from neon-drenched album covers to warped comic book panels, Billy’s work is an intentional tribute to the era that raised him. So when Stranger Things arrived with its unapologetic celebration of all things '80s, it was more than a cultural phenomenon for Billy—it was a mirror.
“When the show first came out, I immediately connected with it,” he said. “It felt like someone had raided the same vaults of pop culture that shaped me.”
This natural synergy made Billy an ideal choice when Netflix sought an artist for their Season 4 poster campaign. His visual approach didn’t need to be adjusted to fit the series—it already existed in perfect parallel. His use of texture, layered meaning, and nostalgic iconography wasn't manufactured for the job; it was his artistic language. Stranger Things wasn't just a client—it was a cultural canvas that had already been painted in his mind years earlier.
Billy's designs for the series’ campaign reflect this intuitive understanding. Rather than mimic the show’s content, he expanded on its essence. Each poster reads like an echo from the past—something you might stumble upon in an old bookstore, misfiled among horror pulp paperbacks, or pasted to the window of a forgotten record shop. His compositions are not reenactments of scenes, but visual reflections of the mood, era, and emotional subtext that Stranger Things so carefully cultivates.
Bridging Generations Through Shared Aesthetic Memory
What makes Billy’s interpretation of Stranger Things especially impactful is its ability to transcend generational divides. While the show itself is deeply rooted in '80s storytelling tropes—government conspiracies, small-town mysteries, telekinetic children—it is embraced just as passionately by Gen Z audiences as by Gen Xers who remember the originals.
This intergenerational embrace is central to both the show’s success and Billy’s appeal as an artist. His work channels the kinetic energy of an analog past but does so through a modern lens, translating retro aesthetics into contemporary design language. As a result, younger fans who never experienced the 1980s firsthand can still connect with the emotions, symbolism, and visual storytelling in his work.
Billy’s posters aren’t just nostalgic—they’re nostalgic with a pulse. They don’t fetishize the past; they reinterpret it, remixing it into something that feels familiar yet fresh. In this way, his art becomes a conduit—a visual bridge between the past and the present.
The textures, fonts, and color palettes he employs all tap into collective memory. His work doesn’t require viewers to understand every reference. Instead, it uses atmosphere and suggestion to trigger emotion. Viewers feel like they’ve seen the imagery before, even if they can’t quite place where. That ambiguity is intentional, and it’s part of what gives Billy’s art its universal power.
The Magnetic Pull of the '80s in a Digital Age
For Billy, the continued popularity of 1980s culture—particularly in digital media and streaming entertainment—is both fascinating and telling. In an era marked by hyper-curation, perfectionism, and algorithm-driven aesthetics, the raw, earnest strangeness of the 1980s feels strangely refreshing.
“The '80s had this unfiltered enthusiasm,” Billy noted. “It was messy, bold, and unashamed. It didn’t try to be cool—it just was what it was.”
That authenticity is part of what makes the decade so enduring. In contrast to today’s overly-polished content, the 1980s celebrated imperfections. Movies were weirder. Music was louder. Fashion was outrageous. Everything felt more visceral because it wasn’t built for social media consumption—it was designed to evoke feeling.
This unapologetic attitude is what draws both creators and consumers back to that period. For creators like Billy, it’s fertile ground for experimentation. For audiences, especially younger ones overwhelmed by the constant pressure of digital presentation, it offers a chaotic beauty—a cultural artifact from a time before the internet smoothed every edge.
It’s no coincidence that Stranger Things became a hit with younger viewers. Its depiction of rotary phones, cassette tapes, arcades, and analog horror taps into a collective yearning for tactile experience. Likewise, Billy’s work mimics that texture—his posters look like they’ve been printed on thick paper, folded, and stuffed into a locker or found beneath a pile of comic books.
The '80s aesthetic has become a refuge—a rebellion against the sterile, touchless nature of digital life. Billy’s art, and Stranger Things as a show, embody that rebellion by celebrating flaws, quirks, and the raw emotion of a bygone era.
A Perfect Storm of Visual Nostalgia and Emotional Storytelling
The collaboration between Butcher Billy and Stranger Things isn’t just artist meets brand—it’s visual synergy at its most potent. The show’s core themes—identity, fear, loss, rebellion—are all staples of 1980s storytelling, and Billy is a master at translating those themes into provocative imagery.
What separates Billy’s work from retro imitation is the presence of soul. Each poster he creates is layered with meaning. The grunge, the decay, the vivid reds and eerie greens—they’re not just design choices. They’re emotional cues. He’s not just capturing an aesthetic; he’s channeling a memory, whether real or imagined.
And it’s this deep emotional layering that gives his artwork staying power. These are not pieces that trend for a week and disappear. They live on as collectibles, as T-shirts, as shared moments on social media. They become part of the larger narrative of the show, enriching the universe of Stranger Things with visual poetry.
In a media environment flooded with content, Billy’s posters are arresting precisely because they resist speed. They ask to be looked at longer. They slow viewers down. And in doing so, they extend the emotional reach of the series beyond the screen.
His collaboration with Stranger Things stands as a benchmark for how nostalgia, when handled with care and vision, can be both commercially successful and artistically profound. It proves that honoring the past doesn’t have to mean repeating it—it can mean evolving it, elevating it, and allowing it to speak anew to modern audiences.
Career Evolution: From Agencies to Artistic Autonomy
Before becoming a full-time illustrator, Billy worked as an art director in advertising agencies. Though it offered creative discipline, it often left him unfulfilled. He eventually made the leap to pursue illustration full-time, building a personal brand around his distinct aesthetic.
“It wasn’t easy. There were years of grinding. But I needed that freedom to develop my own voice,” he said. “And now, clients come to me for that voice.”
This model has allowed Billy to stay selective, taking on only projects that align with his creative values and personal interests.
From Social Media Stardom to Billboard Glory
The response to his Stranger Things posters was immediate and overwhelming. Social platforms lit up with praise, shares, and tributes. What began as digital promotion turned into physical products—t-shirts, sweatshirts, hoodies—sold through Netflix’s official store. The designs even expanded into billboard advertisements, with posters stretched across major locations in Los Angeles, including Sunset Boulevard.
Netflix requested horizontal adaptations for these large-format displays, a challenge Billy hadn’t initially anticipated.
“It was tricky,” he said. “The original compositions were vertical and carefully balanced. Reworking them for landscape formats was almost like designing them from scratch. But seeing them towering over Sunset was worth every second.”
Icons and Inspirations
When discussing artistic influences, Billy points to figures who disrupted norms and reshaped visual culture. Saul Bass, known for his minimalist film posters and title sequences. Jack Kirby, the comic book legend with a dynamic, cosmic style. Andy Warhol, who transformed commercial imagery into high art. And Banksy, whose provocative street art continues to challenge political and cultural systems.
“I love artists who stir things up,” he explained. “The ones who don’t ask permission.”
Fueling Success Through Skepticism
Surprisingly, Billy credits some of his most significant motivation not to mentors or encouragement, but to criticism and doubt. Early in his career, he faced pushback from people who didn’t believe his vision was viable.
“It’s strange, but the most powerful advice I got was people telling me I couldn’t do it,” he said. “That lit a fire. Sometimes being the only one who believes in your dream is exactly what you need.”
Final Thoughts
Butcher Billy’s work on Stranger Things Season 4 is far more than a typical marketing collaboration—it’s a powerful demonstration of how deeply personal art can intersect with global pop culture in meaningful, lasting ways. In an era where mass media often leans toward formula and repetition, his posters serve as a refreshing reminder that originality, nostalgia, and bold creative risk can still command attention and resonate with audiences across generations.
Billy’s journey—starting from late-night sketching sessions and personal passion projects to being personally selected by the Duffer Brothers—offers aspiring artists a compelling blueprint. His story affirms that you don’t need to chase trends or dilute your vision to fit in. Instead, success can be found by refining your own style until it becomes impossible to ignore. The very aesthetic that once set him apart in the world of pop art is now the reason Netflix and other global brands seek him out.
Through his posters, Billy managed to elevate the promotional material for Stranger Things into something collectible, memorable, and almost mythic. Each artwork stands on its own, infused with emotion, tension, and atmosphere. They don’t just hint at what happens in an episode—they evoke how it feels. That emotional storytelling, executed without relying on actor likenesses or conventional imagery, showcases a rare level of trust between creator and client, one that many in the industry only dream of achieving.
The fact that these illustrations were not only embraced digitally but also expanded into merchandise and large-scale outdoor campaigns demonstrates the commercial power of authentic artistic expression. The overwhelming fan response, from social media love to physical product sales, solidifies Billy’s status as a cultural tastemaker—someone whose artistic language is understood and appreciated across platforms and demographics.
Ultimately, Butcher Billy’s collaboration with Stranger Things is a celebration of creative freedom, generational influence, and the continued power of the ‘80s to captivate imaginations. It proves that nostalgia isn’t just a longing for the past—it’s fertile ground for innovation when filtered through a fresh, modern perspective. In connecting the eerie charm of vintage horror with contemporary design sensibilities, Billy has crafted a visual legacy that will likely outlast even the series itself.
