Illustration Time Capsule

The time taken for artwork to be returned from a publisher has reached a new personal record: 17 years. The book in question, Force of Evil by Gary Crew, a collection of suspenseful cop stories I illustrated back in 1997. Not long after the book was published, I contacted the publisher only to be told that their office had more or less vanished – not unlike a twist in a Gary Crew tale – nobody worked there anymore, and like a frustrated detective, I quickly ran out of leads. It was more or less assumed that the original artwork was permanently lost, so much so that there wasn't even a suspect left to pin the blame on.

The Staircase, gouache and pencil on paper, 1997

Apparently what had happened (I now know) was this: the artwork sat with the printer for a some years, having nobody to return it to. Eventually it came back to the freelance designer who had worked on the book, a person with whom I had no connection. Her attempts to get in touch with me via publishers and other agencies failed: the work was filed away for another long period. Eventually an office reorganisation brought it into an archaeological light, my current publisher was contacted, and they immediately let me know. Interestingly, the designer and I now virtually live in the same suburb, and I was able to just drive over and pick them up. Thus ends a great mystery! 

The Last Cabinet, gouache on paper, 1997

One odd thing is that I had been thinking about posting images of lost work only a few weeks prior, since a blog must be good for such things (there's always hope on the internet... and no artwork really disappears). The other odd thing is the unusual experience of seeing the work again. It's rare to look at images I don't quite remember painting - I even had to check the signature on a couple of them. Technically they are as good as anything I'm doing now, but with a higher level of detail, produced at a time when I may have had a lot more time for fussing about with tiny brushes (these works are quite small, A5-sized). A lot more time, but not much money, and even less employment. Chances are that if these paintings had not been buried in a time capsule, I would have immediately sold them all off to the lowest bidder, just to pay my rent.

A Missed Call, gouache and pencil on paper, 1997

Incidentally, the original book is out of print, and the illustrations were quite poorly reproduced due to cheap paper. I don't think they aroused much interest, remaining largely unknown. But what you can see from this work is my early interest in creating a disquieting atmosphere through simple compositions: I actually learned most of what I know about illustration from working on small scale pieces such as these. In spite of the hazards of poor pay, relative anonymity and the mishandling of original artwork in a predigital age (hooray for electronic files!) early work such as this proved to be an invaluable experience, essential visual training for larger projects such as The Arrival many years later.

A Step Behind, gouache on paper, 1997

Imaginary landscape: shelter, pastel, A2

Imaginary landscape: elemental form approaching a lagoon to be born, pastel, A2

Imaginary landscape: domain of a black animal, pastel and pencil, A2

Imaginary landscape: distant city lights, pastel and pencil on paper, A2

Collins St, Melbourne, oil on board 15 x 20cm

New Prints

I've created three new large-format (65 x 55cm) giclee prints of Rules of Summer images, as signed limited editions, as faithful as possible to the original oil-on-canvas paintings thanks to high-resolution photography and fussy colour matching on a beautiful matte stock. For info and queries about these, please contact Books Illustrated, info@booksillustrated.com.au, or to find a little more about prints in general, visit their site

Never leave a red sock on the clothesline

Never be late for a parade

Never give your keys to a stranger

One green mini waiting in the night, oil on board, 20 x 25cm

Scraps of Summer

 

'Not invited', pencil, 2009

An early concept sketch for the book that eventually became Rules of Summer five years later. Most of my stories begin as sketches with unfocused narratives (if any at all) and often don't progress much further than this. But they can sometimes evolve: the image here ended up splitting into a few different paintings such as 'Never forget the password' (below, as a rough colour sketch - you can see the compositional similarity) all of which deal with themes of exclusion and longing.

While I really like the concept of this original drawing, it didn't quite fit into the structure of the final book, something that often happens, and so needed to be sacrificed. The phrase 'kill your darlings' – removing favourites – applies to illustration as much as writing.  However, there's no reason why I wouldn't revisit this again in a different context, and a sketchbook is always handy this way, a literal scrapbook open to all kinds of recycling and adaptation.

'Never forget the password' colour sketch, pastel 2013

Underpass, oil on board, 20 x 15cm

Home-made wombat, pencil, A4

Rail line, North Coburg, oil on board, 20 x 15cm

Grimm Fandango

'A witch taken to the gallows on the back of a wildcat', clay, paint, string, 15cm tall

One of several new sculptures inspired by Grimm's Fairy Tales, this one for a the story 'The Blue Light', about a solider taking revenge against those who have wronged him (including the witch above). I began this series as a set of illustrations for the German edition of Philip Pullman's Grimm Tales published last year, and have since continued to create additional works for other stories that I found particularly intriguing outside of that collection. By 1850, the Grimm Brothers included over 200 tales in Children's and Household Tales, so there's certainly no shortage of inspiration; as Margaret Atwood notes, 'no emotion is unrepresented'.

Rules of Summer App Commentary

High-res canvas: a detail from the Rules of Summer App

With the recent release of the Rules of Summer App in the US and many parts of Europe, I've updated my website to include a profile of this version of the book, which you can find here. Many people might think the app is just an ebook, but it's actually a lot more than that, and a unique work which took months of development. Among other things, it introduces a novel way of presenting  paintings at extremely high resolution through very clever image compression, something that could be of interest to many other artists, particularly those who (like me) prefer the mess of traditional materials, but also keep one foot in the digital realm.

3RRR Interview - on books and animals

I recently chatted with friend and fellow author and illustrator Sally Rippin about the use of animal characters in fiction and other things, together with presenter Kulja Coulston of RRR, a local Melbourne radio station. You can listen to the on demand segment here:
http://ondemand.rrr.org.au/grid/20140526112225

Flemington Road, oil on board, 15 x 20cm

'Melbourne tram on a wet evening', oil on board, 20 x 15cm

I was stuck behind this tram on a rainy evening in heavy local traffic and realised it was a very nice arrangement of colours: greens, greys, pinks and blues. I frequently paint small scenes or 'memories' like this as practise, and very ordinary subjects are the most useful. Sometimes I paint directly from observation where it's convenient (ie. I can sit down with a small painting kit for 30-60 minutes); more often I refer to a photo (as above, from my phone), reinterpreted according to memory since photos alone rarely capture the right feeling. The small size also encourages a certain looseness and experimentation, I'm less concerned about whether it is a good picture or not and more interested in closely studying those things I'd normally ignore. For me, this is basically what painting and drawing is all about: learning to look and pay attention.

Academic Nest Egg

A resident peacock inspects work on a big gold egg at the University of Western Australia

This egg, completed recently as one of several sculptural elements occupying a small courtyard at the University of Western Australia, clearly arouses the interest of birds as much as passing students and academics (very appropriate given the name of this blog!). It's a fixed concrete form overlaid with gold mosaic tiles, occupying a previously empty space beneath the large sun-dial mural completed last year; perfectly realised thanks to the meticulous handiwork of Iain Middleton and his team, working to interpret my notes and designs. You can find out a little more about both the sun dial and courtyard here, including more pictures and a short video profiling construction, or visit the University of Western Australia if you happen to be in Perth, and have a strong urge to eat your lunch while sitting on a big gold egg - and really, who doesn't?

landscape-portrait / portrait-landscape

A personal project I've been revisiting on and off over recent years is a series of drawings using a kind of generic portrait form as the basis for landscape imagery. On reflection, a lot of my work as an illustrator has been a mingling of landscapes and portraits; The Red Tree for instance beginning as an idea of representing inner emotional states as vast outer landscapes, also true of Rules of Summer as a way of articulating childhood experience. These 'heads' are quite similar I think, but the other way around, impressing the landscape into a figure: probably not so much an original idea as part of a long tradition (related also to body adornment, tattoos and so on). The distinction between a landscape and a portrait in painting is perhaps relatively a recent one. Our ancient ancestors might not have seen the point in such a separation.

'Head with weather', pastel on paper, 40 x 60cm

'Head with cypress and path', pastel on paper, 40 x 60cm

'Head with goldseam', pastel on paper, 40 x 60cm

'Head with cave and tree', pastel on paper, 40 x 60cm

'The New Year', pastel on paper, 2013

I'm trying to get into the habit of posting regular new sketches and other interesting things on this blog, particularly those that are unlikely to be published, not being part of any project - at least not originally. This one is a pastel drawing which I has since proved useful as a poster illustration for a young artists award (for school-age artists), based in my home city of Perth, Western Australia. Many such drawings start out as a jumble of shapes that eventually resolve into something, either successfully or not! The most interesting detail of this one may not be immediately obvious. This and a handful of other works will be exhibited at the Illustration Cupboard in London later this year, a very nice gallery to visit if you haven't already.