What goes into designing a new banknote?

Before a new design is even considered, there must be a clear reason for change. Sometimes, it’s about improving security. In the late 1970s, for example, the Dutch 100-guilder note featuring admiral Michiel de Ruyter became vulnerable to counterfeiting due to its simple brown colour. As fake notes began to circulate, public trust declined. DNB urgently commissioned designer Ootje Oxenaar to create a safer alternative. The result? A striking new note popularly known as “The Snipe,” named after the bird on its front.

Inflation can also drive the need for new denominations. In the 1970s inflation increased, and by 1977 60% of all banknotes in circulation were 100-guilder notes. A 50-guilder denomination was missing; it had disappeared some 20 years earlier because people had no need for it then. That changed when DNB researched the use of 100-guilder notes and concluded that people did need a denomination between 25 and 100 guilders again. Oxenaar was once again called upon – this time to design the “Sunflower” 50-guilder note.

When an entire series of banknotes is redesigned – as currently with the euro – choosing a unifying theme is essential. Each note must be distinct, yet clearly part of a cohesive set. In the ECB’s 2023 survey, popular themes included European culture and rivers and birds. In the past, DNB's Executive Board chose the themes for guilder banknotes. Dutch banknotes have featured everything from historical figures to anonymous citizens (like the Zeeland Girl and the Helmsman), and even a nature-themed series with no people at all.

So how do you find someone to design a banknote? Sometimes, a central bank can directly commission a trusted designer – as DNB did in the case of the Snipe and the Sunflower. But even he had to start somewhere. In the 1960s, he was invited – along with two other artists – to submit a design for a green 5-guilder note featuring poet Joost van den Vondel. Oxenaar’s creative approach and cooperative attitude won him the commission.

Design competitions are common, especially for coins. They allow multiple artists to submit ideas, often resulting in fresh and unexpected designs, as in Oxenaar’s case. Aesthetics matter, but so do practicality and security. A winning design must be adaptable for mass production and resistant to counterfeiting.

Once a designer was selected, the real work began. At this stage, the artist worked closely with technical experts. DNB had its own team of specialists and a detailed manual of design requirements. The artist submitted a sketch. If approved by DNB’s board, it was refined to meet all technical standards. But there was another key player: the printer. For Dutch guilders, this was usually Joh. Enschedé in Haarlem. The printer had its own guidelines, and the final design had to align with what printing technology could achieve. Advances and limitations in printing technology at Joh. Enschedé have always been factors in creating new banknotes.

The entire process – from concept to finished note – can take a year or more. Throughout, the designer, printer, and central bank collaborate closely. Each has influence. For example, DNB’s board loved Oxenaar’s 100-guilder design featuring Admiral Michiel de Ruyter – but insisted the admiral’s hat be removed, calling it “silly.”

Beyond the experts, there’s one more crucial group: the public. DNB regularly gauged public opinion on Oxenaar’s new notes. His 50-guilder Sunflower and 100-guilder Snipe were especially well received. But when the Snipe was replaced by Jaap Drupsteen’s Little Owl design, reactions were mixed. This note was part of an entirely new series by Drupsteen. In 1993, a Dutch newspaper asked a flower seller on Amsterdam’s Albert Cuyp market for his opinion. After inspecting the new note, he said: “Is that that new hundred guilder note? Yeah, I like it. An owl doesn't fly as fast as a snipe, so it'll stay in my pocket longer.”

If you look closely at the last series of Dutch guilder notes, you’ll notice a pattern: animals. The 100-guilder note featured a little owl, while its watermark showed a mouse. This predator-prey pairing was no accident. Designer Drupsteen often used such symbolic relationships. On the 10-guilder note, for example, the watermark showed a stickleback fish—prey to the kingfisher depicted on the note itself.

Even the microtext on the Little Owl note included a poem by C. Buddingh’ (1968), evoking the owl’s silent, deadly grace: “who else but he slaughters all that trips and slips through the night: noiselessly wheeling on downy wings, with talons like clapping daggers.”