Laundry drying in the sun, oil 20 x 15cm

The Classical Retro Flavour

Notebook from an ALE-HOP store in Spain, 2014

Is imitation the highest form of praise? I guess it depends on how dodgy the result might be. Here's a notebook recently discovered in Spain, one of many similar kinds sold in the ALE-HOP chain of gift stores (where you can buy everything from kids puzzles to sunglasses and sex toys,side by side). Interestingly, also similar to a certain other book:

The Arrival, 2006

What gives away the plagiarism is not the idea, which at a glance looks generic enough - 'Classical Retro Flavor' as suggested (not unlike the funny 'Engrish' of Asian products my wife and I collect, although more Eurostyle here, 'Euringlsh'?). It's actually the details of spinal damage, which in my original cover were directly scanned from an old photo album sourced from a local museum in Perth and recomposed. The typography detail is a further giveaway. 

The Arrival is a fairly popular book in Spanish speaking countries, under the title Emigrantes, although the ALE-HOP notebook, produced by a company called Clavendia (who notably don't show images of their work online) is based on the slightly different English-language edition and probably draws files off the internet and run through a photoshop filter. Maybe the designer thought it was a relatively obscure foreign source and a safe target. Almost true: it only came to notice after being accidentally discovered by a family member on holiday.

Of course, there's a debateable grey area between 'heavy influence' and copying, but either way the absence of permission is a problem and presents an unwelcome issue for my publishers too. That said, I can't help but be amused by gratuitous type, almost a mini-review of The Arrival... not to mention the Euringlish spine type you can see on this scan of the back cover below: 'SMELL OF HAPPY'. Or perhaps just fishy.

Back cover of the ALE-HOP notebook

Teenagers watching an approaching storm, oil on board, 20 x 15cm

High noon, oil on board, 20 x 15cm

Studio 360 Interview

Recently aired, I talk here briefly with Kurt Andersen about influences and Rules of Summer, which you can listen to here,


or as part of the full podcast episode leading with the iconic British illustrator Ralph Steadman (who happens to have been influential on much of my early work, such as The Rabbits).


For an extended version of my own segment with a little more comment on creative process:

It's wonderful to have been invited for this interview as an avid NPR listener myself (mostly while working or, more often at the moment, strolling with a pram).

CBCA Book Awards - Rules of Summer

This week is Children's Book Week here in Australia, and was preceded on Friday by the CBCA (Children's Book Council of Australia) Book Awards, and Rules of Summer was honored with the prize for Picture Book of the Year, fantastic news and no small feat given the strong showing this year; congrats also to fellow winning fiction picture-bookers Nick Bland, Bob Graham, Ann James, Janeen Brian, Libby Gleeson, Freya Blackwood, Andrew Joyner and Jan Ormerod (greatly missed), and to all other writers and illustrators in other categories. More info about the winners and shortlists can be found here, and my short acceptance speech here. Particular thanks to all the booksellers who have been so active in bringing Rules of Summer to the attention of readers over the past year, your support has been amazing as always.

Purposeless building, oil on board, 20 x 15cm

Moonee Ponds, oil 20 x 15cm 

Shipping containers, oil on board, 20 x 15cm

North quay, oil on board 20 x 15cm

Horizon with shipping containers, oil on board, 20 x 15cm

Camelias at dusk, oil on board, 20 x 15cm

A road that runs through dark trees, oil on board, 20 x 15cm

Another Illustration Time Capsule

Fighting a Monster, 1980 (aged 6), crayon on butchers paper

Fighting a Monster, 2013 (aged 39), oil on canvas

I much prefer the original, the energy and drama of childhood drawing is very hard to replicate. Just look at that sorry soldier fallen twisted to the ground, and the steely resolve of the fellow manning the laser canon! It's hard to beat any drawing by a six year old for sheer directness of spirit. The more recent painting was produced for a local exhibition last year, in which artists were invited to revisit some aspect of their childhood self. It's an idea many have experimented with, most notably Dave DeVries' excellent Monster Engine (using other kids' drawings) and more recently the Dutch artist Telmo Pieper. Aside from amusing results, it's an excellent way to reconnect with a very distant (and yet very near) state of mind, enjoying the archaeology of childhood, where many thoughts and feelings end up fossilized on these layered paper strata.

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