Interview with Ian Miller

Ian Miller is a British artist, illustrator and writer best known for his macabre sensibility, and surreal, quirkily-etched Gothic style. He is a graduate of St Martin’s School of Art Painting Faculty, and is noted for his detailed book, magazine, and graphic novel illustrations, including covers for books by H.P. Lovecraft, contributions to David Day's Tolkien-inspired compendiums, work for various Games Workshop-published fantasy gaming periodicals, role-playing and war gaming books and supplements, including popular Warhammer titles. His experience also extends to feature films such as Ralph Bakshi’s Wizards and Coolworld, and pre-production and production work on numerous short films and highly successful movies including ‘Shrek’.

1. What aspects of your childhood inspired your artistic creativity?

My mother worked for one of the leading theatrical costumiers in London during the early part of the fifties; so I was, from the outset, caught up in the most intimate workings of the Illusion Machine. My toy chests overflowed with the cast offs and oddments from a score of film and theatre productions. I was receptive to everything that was weird and wonderful. Fact and fiction were not in contention. Strange worlds could still be reached through the backs of cupboards, if you knew where to look. Bubble gum was made from Everglades swamp water - that was a fact. I remember, whilst travelling to Manchester on a steam train, seeing a herd of headless cows from the carriage window. When I mentioned it to the other occupants of the carriage, they just smiled, and said such things where commonplace in the North of England.

2. Your work is meticulous, highly detailed, dark and often humorous. What creative works inspired you or first drew you to your preferred forms of artistic expression?

Most everything, if truth be known. We are bombarded by detail wherever we look. I have always had an enquiring mind, and for me, making marks seemed like an appropriate response (making sense of, if you will). I used whatever tools were to hand; and by elimination, found the ones that best suited my needs. I do not think I set out with any preconceptions about how I wanted to express myself as an artist, nor how I should achieve that. I studied painting at Art School, but seldom went near a canvas. I think I got lost in seven years of Art History and Theory and always found myself painting like, after, or in the manner of, some other person or school. Etching and dip pens felt more like me, a more direct conduit to expression if you will. That said, however, I have a wide remit and my studio is cluttered with a plethora of large images and constructions. I started off at St Martin’s in the Sculpture Department and switched to painting in the second year. I think of this as a slow meander to God knows where? But I’m still drawing; so, “Huzzah!” for that.

3. Tell us about your learning process, and particularly how your work evolved as a result of it.

First, magic colouring books - you added water and the colours magically appeared. My father bought them in London somewhere. After this, twelve coloured pencils with a different colour each end. It was my sixth birthday. The vivid quality of the colours was startling; and even now, all these years on, I can still remember the excitement they aroused in me. Their arrival prompted my ‘Ancient Egyptian Phase‘. Frontality, hieroglyphic pillars, pyramids, and Ancient Egyptians was all that mattered. It must have been the desert yellow that started it. But whatever the reason, sand, asps, striped towels, palm trees and pyramids, filled the pages of my drawing books until every one of those twelve pencils was all used up. That was a very sad day for me. Then school, and those bloody awful powder paints, and small yard brooms they passed off as paint brushes. I remember I used to paint papier-mâché buns with the paint then eat them. I seem to remember I liked brown paper bags as well.

I took up etching in my first year at Art School and flirted on and off with the process for the next seven years of study. Needless to say, I was wholly intrigued by the process, but eternally frustrated by the difficulties of securing time on an etching press. The printing facilities at St Martin’s School of Art in the late sixties were not brilliant, and always heavily oversubscribed. This was a real shame because the staff and technicians were really very good. In any event, I came across one of my friends drawing with a Rotring Rapidograph and after trying one out myself, knew I’d stumbled on the solution to my problem.

The drawing point of the technical pen, although different in so many ways from that of an etching needle, provided a precise substitute. Although every image was now an edition of one, it did allow me to create the type of line work I wanted; and most importantly, when I wanted. This was a sheer joy. Admittedly, the mono line quality of these pens imposed limitations; but they were clean and efficient tools, and I found I quickly compensated for any shortfalls. In fact, building up surfaces / veneers, was so much easier and so much faster that my image production quadrupled. Laying down one pattern of lines on top of another, for so many years, in all manner of configurations and permutations, was perhaps the perfect preparation for understanding and manipulating the levels feature in Photoshop. Some might say, “What about working a knitting machine?” and I would have to say, “Yes, but I prefer the former.”

4. Of the work you’ve created, do you have a favourite? If so, why this particular work?

I do not have a fixed favourite. Mood dictates ‘favourite’ and, for the most part, all I see are the shortfalls in my imagery. That said, I always view this as a healthy state of mind, because it motivates me to try harder. My favourite painting is Mr and Mrs Andrews by Thomas Gainsborough in the National Gallery. I love this image in any mood.

‘Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.’ ~ Walt Whitman

5. Tell us about The Broken Diary.

The Broken Diary is a natural extension of my working practise, a necessary development. I have always loved storytelling, and picked the right tool and vehicle for the job. Transposing my thoughts and images into words is always an exciting process. I was inspired many years ago by Alfred Kubin’s book, The Other Side. The Broken Diary is a real life diary, juxtaposed against a twisting tale of delusion, dream and nightmare. Perhaps they are one and the same thing?

It was a very generic process. There were no real constraints. All things were possible. I’m now reworking a theatre project, which nearly made it to the London stage some years back, called The Shingle Dance for an animation project/film in the Netherlands. I also adapted it for opera, but the lighthouse collapsed in the Shetlands. Third time lucky, maybe?

6. You are a writer and artist who successfully applied imaginative skills to several creative outlets, including graphic novels and feature films. Tell us about any challenges you have faced with the adaptation of your work.

The creative imperative, in my view, is to push constantly at the boundaries of one’s practise, beyond the comfort zones, if you will. I try hard to do this. I do not always succeed, but I do try. I find the process of image making hard, and always have done. Sometimes I’m astonished I found a way through, despite a lifetime of application.

A tale about Hollywood?

It was whilst my wife and I were wandering penniless around San Francisco in 1974 /5, that Ralph (Bakshi) tracked me down via London and New York, and offered me a job working on his film, Wizards in Los Angeles. At that time, the working title for the film, as I recall, was War Wizards. This hunt was prompted by Ralph having seen a Gormenghast Castle image I had created for Pan Books some months earlier. After our frugal time in the old Gaylord Hotel near Union Square, where the lift threatened to die every day, and the event of the week was the free doughnuts and coffee on Sunday mornings, West Hollywood was a startling contrast. Although the scenery was not so good, the material gains were quite dramatic - in short, a fairytale transformation.

Seeing my work enhanced and animated was astonishing, as was interacting with so many talented people in the Bakshi studios. Ralph allowed me immense freedom of expression; and I worked all the better for it, I think. Such licence is rarely given or found. My association with Ralph was a dynamic, and never to be forgotten experience. Sometimes, I liken it to trench warfare for the artists. You lived ever second of it - whizz, bangs, screams, and all. It was sometimes exhausting; but it was never ever boring, or middle of the road.

7. Where do Orange Monkeys come from, and why are they so dangerous?

They pop into your head when you’re dreaming. Some people dangle them in cocktails by their tails and giggle a lot. I suspect that that pisses them off, big time. I swore I’d never say a thing, if they left me in peace. Even the spiders are frightened of them. Just pray they never visit you in your dreams.

8. What do you find most rewarding in the creative process, and how do you overcome that which you find challenging?

By taking a very deep breath, three in fact; and saying mantra style, “I can do this,” as many times as it takes to get me moving. I remind myself I have served my time and that I have the skills and discipline to follow through. The magic comes through application. The experience is always different, tantalizing even. There is always so much to learn, so much to hone and perfect, then there is magic.

9. You have worked on popular films such as Shrek. What aspirations, or reservations, do you have regarding the continuing application of your work to film and television?

My last stint working on a film was in Vancouver. It was a wee bit ‘humourless and sweat shop’. I went to work on development imagery, and everything was being pushed to finish from the very start. I did not feel it was an environment I could function well in. I left early. I have no problem with applying my work to film or any other medium. As I mentioned earlier, I’m adapting a script and imagery for an animation project. Wonderful stuff, if we get the funding. I’ll be working with some superb and talented people. It doesn’t get any better than that. I love the vital interaction these situations throw up, and I am always open to suggestions and offers. If somebody thinks I can contribute something useful, then why not give it a go?

10. Who, do you imagine, would be your ideal client?

Somebody who trusts me to do what I do well, pays an equitable fee, has a sense of humour, and sees beyond the pound or dollar signs associated with the project. Whether you attach a small or big ‘A’ to the word art that is what I try to do. I care a great deal about the process of image making.

11. Tell us a little about any good art you’ve seen recently, and good books you’ve read.

The Matisse Cut-Outs exhibition at Tate Modern is a superb exhibition in my opinion. I hope to see it several more times before it finishes. I loved the Mira Schendel show, also at Tate modern, and the Lowry at Tate Britain, a month or so back.

Books: The Great Game by Peter Hopkirk, Berlin Letters by Robert Walser, and A Field Guide to Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit. I’m about to start reading What is Madness? by Darian Leader, and War and Cinema by Paul Virilio, if the madness doesn’t take me first.

12. What other interests do you have?

Walking, sailing, staring at the sky, and talking to rabbits and dogs. Also, planning my next move in the search for my long-lost green sock, with the orange windmills on it - last seen by the ornamental lake, in Victoria Park, Rangoon.

13. Where can we find you and your work?

In dark cupboards; and if you look me up on: Wikipedia. In places I’ve forgotten I’ve even been. I’ve been scratching away for a very long time. Some of it would perhaps be best buried and forgotten.

Editor's note: I found Ian on his official website: www.ian-miller.org and you can too.

Interview with Martin McKenna

Martin McKenna is a freelance illustrator based in the UK. He was born in London, and started out in illustration with work for fantasy & horror RPG fanzines in the 80s, in particular the H.P. Lovecraft-devoted Dagon. His first professional commissions came from Games Workshop for their magazine White Dwarf and this began a long relationship with the company, illustrating lots of Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay publications and the very first Warhammer 40,000 book, as well as many other GW books and board games. Martin has also created game-related material for other publishers, including covers and internal illustrations for twenty-five of the Fighting Fantasy series from Puffin Books/Wizard Books, and card art for Magic: The Gathering from Wizards of the Coast.

Martin also produced artwork for various publishers around the world including Scholastic, Time-Warner, HarperCollins and Oxford University Press, illustrating popular authors such as Anne McCaffrey, Raymond E. Feist and Harry Turtledove, as well as some classics including Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde and The Silver Sword. He was fortunate enough to receive the British Fantasy Award for Best Artist.

Martin illustrated the book accompanying the album release of Misterstourworm & the Kelpie's Gift, an orchestral work based on stories and characters from Scottish legend. His artwork was used as large-scale backdrops for live performances of the work by The Orchestra of Scottish Opera, with narration by Lord of the Rings actor Billy Boyd.

As an author, Martin has written books about digital art including Digital Fantasy Painting Workshop and Digital Horror Art, and edited Fantasy Art Now published by Collins. In addition to work in publishing, Martin does concept and production art for computer games, and film and television productions which have included the BAFTA-nominated The Magician of Samarkand for the BBC, and most recently Gulliver's Travels for 20th Century Fox.

Talisman Of Death

1. Tell us about your artwork.

I’d hope it can speak for itself for the most part. I’m not sure there’s a lot I can add, especially if a picture’s worth a thousand words and all that. I like drawing dark, shadowy, gnarled things. They’re a lot easier and more fun than doing light, bright and pretty things. Particularly when, if something goes wrong, you can just make it a silhouette, stick it behind a bit of knobbly tree, or hide it in some mist. But no, generally I’m drawn to monsters, melodrama, and a crepuscular gothic sort of mood. Plus over the years I hope I’ve got better at some kind of useful storytelling through pictures, and in my most recent projects I’m working really hard on that. For probably too long now I’ve been working on my first big solo picture book project, which has a deceptively simple story I’ve struggled to perfect. It’s my first serious stab at writing, at the suggestion of one of my kindly editors. It’s a nightmarish adventure for children exploring themes of darkness and light. I’ve strived to create the look and feel of the ‘golden age’ of book illustration and the work of Rackham and Dulac, but with some modern touches. With any luck I may not have fallen too far short.

Carol Wailers

Removal Giant

2. What aspects of your childhood inspired your artistic creativity?

The things that I found most frightening! My earliest drawings, mostly scrawled on my bedroom wallpaper as if I were a troglodyte, all came as a direct result of whatever good, strange things disturbed me in books and comics, and especially on television. The first murky TV memories I have are of Doctor Who, and I was fortunate to be at an ideal impressionable age that coincided with those great gothic horror episodes of the mid 70s. Combined with a very early introduction to Hammer and Universal horror movies - again, I’m grateful to have grown up with all the late night horror double bills that used to be shown by the BBC. This proved to be formative, vital stuff and provided a foundation for exploring all sorts of spooky fare that I still love and find inspiring. I’m at my happiest when I have goosebumps.

3. Tell us about your learning process, and particularly how your work evolved as a result of it.

Big Ben

Whatever I’ve learned has been self-taught; nothing I’ve done has come as a result of any formal training. Perhaps it shows! For many years all my stuff was done with purely traditional materials, using inks and other often unpredictable unguents on paper that didn’t allow for much in the way of mistakes, so I had to gain confidence in my technical abilities early on if I was ever going to complete jobs and meet deadlines. Since 1997 most of my stuff has been digital, which is much more forgiving and I guess it helped me loosen up a bit in my work. But it was a case of almost relearning things or at least how to approach things slightly differently and how to embrace the perceived freedom of all this new-fangled electrickery. My digital work went through a few dodgy phases while I was finding my feet again and searching for some sort of identity within it all, and now I feel happier with how I’m using Photoshop etc for drawing and painting. I seem to be enjoying doing things that are simpler again, using the new technology so I don’t have to worry about the paper buckling.

4. Are there any underlying themes or messages in your work?

Virtually everything I do is commissioned work, so whatever themes or messages it contains are mostly those that are necessary for the artwork to be doing its job in conveying a mood or helping to tell a story, for the client.

5. Of the artwork you’ve created, do you have a favourite? If so, why this particular work?

There’s not really one particular picture I like, it tends to boil down to things that stand the test of time and that I can bear to still look at. Any time I look through old work I find different things that I like and dislike each time. It’s a nice surprise when I look at something I’d almost forgotten doing because it had to be done in a hurry, which is usually the case, and discovering that it really wasn’t too bad. Some pictures remain stinkers and are best buried at the bottom of the drawer.

The Shadowing

Howl of the Werewolf

6. Tell us about your British Fantasy Award for Best Artist.

It was quite a long time ago now. But still I caress it and polish it and adore it for most of every day. I carry it with me everywhere and show it to people at bus stops. Actually, there’s not a great deal to tell. It was nice to get one, whatever it was I did that year, or cumulatively up to that point, to get me nominated and all. The best thing is having an example of the statuette itself, which was made from a carving by my great old friend Dave Carson. Although I did already have one he made for me out of concrete in case I never received a real one, and I still use that as a doorstop.

Spellbreaker

7. How is creating science fiction or fantasy art different from creating other genres?

I’m not sure there’s a whole lot of difference. As a commission, any job requires an individual approach to fulfil the brief, whether it’s something fantastical or otherwise one works within whatever stylistic parameters are put in place. The same basic rules of lighting and composition and whatnot remain the same. The main difference is in the challenge of making a fantastical, unreal subject appear believable to some extent.

8. What do you find most rewarding in the creative process, and how do you overcome that which you find challenging?

I’m very happy if I get something finished. And if I don’t hate it, then I’m ecstatic. I’m exaggerating somewhat but it’s not so far from the truth. I love it when there’s an image, a piece of work that I’m happy with, that I can sit back and look at in the evening but which didn’t exist in the world that morning. There’s so much about the process of making this stuff that I find challenging. I’ll usually get underway with some procrastination. And after some frisbee with the dog and a bit of gardening, and the washing-up, I’ll procrastinate a bit more. Eventually I’ll confront my demons and probably, not having overcome that which I find most challenging at all but merely sidling around the back of it to give it a kick before running away, I’ll have produced another piece of work which I’ll forever thereafter think could’ve been better. But the next one’s bound to be great.

9. What advice would you give to anyone considering a career in art?

Bloodbones

Sorry, art’s full. Anyway plumbing pays better. Oh okay, to attempt a more serious answer, I guess the key thing is to keep working and enjoy it. If you love what you’re doing, stick at it and really put everything into pursuing it chances are stuff will happen for you. There's no tried and tested method of getting into illustration work, everyone I know who does it professionally got to where they are by different routes. Overall it's simply a case of remaining persistent. The important thing is to get your work seen by art directors etc -- submit samples of your work to companies and publishers who put out the kind of stuff you like, and maybe approach art agencies.  Some diligent research online can give you the name of an art director within an organization and how to contact them. And then if you fire off enough bullets, depending on the suitability of your work (and any number of other random factors), one is sure to eventually hit something and you're off to a start -- anything to gain experience.  I remember when I was about sixteen I entered a Games Workshop drawing competition, but rather than being entered into the competition I received a letter from John Blanche (their then art director) inviting me to work for them, which was incredibly exciting for me at the time. So, nothing ventured, nothing gained.  My career started before the internet made it so much easier to contact people -- now it's possible to really put yourself out there in the world through Facebook and the like. Get a site set up, or simply start a page on an art site such as CGSociety. Love what you do, keep at it and don't give up.

10. What have you done to promote and market your artwork and what advice would you give to other artists?

I suspect I’ve probably not been doing enough to promote myself recently. What I could really do with is to be asked to give an interview for a blog -- then I’ll hit the big-time. I’ve been a bit quiet of late, working away on my projects. But I dare say I need to remind folk I’m not deceased, so I must do things like update the blog on my own site soon... too easily neglected, as I’ve discovered. As for advice to artists, I’ve probably already covered that in the previous answer.

11. Who, do you imagine, would be your ideal client?

That has got to be Windsor Davies. Just the thought of him fixing me with his steely squint while gurning that moustachioed pout, before complimenting me on the good job what I done by saying, “My lovely boy!” in his sonorous Welsh baritone is what forever drives me on. A slightly more serious answer might be, I dunno, designing some telly Doctor Who monster stuff perhaps. If you’re reading this, Moffat, give us a bell.

Centaur Uniforms

12. What aspirations, or reservations, do you have regarding the continuing application of your work to film and television?

My little forays into film and TV have been fun, but quite intense and stressful at times. Although that might have been due to negotiating the M25 at 6am to get to film studios - I’m not much of a commuter. I’ve loved seeing my artwork come alive on screen as costumes worn by actors, or as animation or whatever. I’d really like to do more work in film if I get the chance to muck in on anything good, as long as I don’t abandon the sorts of personal book projects, which have been taking up all my time recently. If I have any reservations, it might be that movie productions can be just so sprawling and complex with so many people involved - I went from the last such experience I had at Pinewood to working alone on my simple little picture books, which has been a nice, calm time in comparison. Having opportunities to hop between the two spheres every now and again provides a refreshing contrast, if I’m lucky enough to continue to be asked.

13. Tell us a little about any good art you’ve seen recently.

I’m seeing good things all the time. But recently I’ve been stuck very much in the past, on that Rackham and Dulac trip, with a liberal dose of Sidney Sime. The latter can really stir my imagination and lure it away into murky, spectral reaches. Just the thing on a slow day.

Jack

14. What other interests do you have?

Aside from reading a lot and endlessly watching films, other interests are mainly outdoor activities, in necessary contrast to sitting indoors and the very sedentary business of doing illustrations. Training my brilliant border collie for sheepdog trials - by far my best achievement of late! Climbing Scottish mountains in sideways rain, and recently learning to fly aeroplanes, which provides plenty of thrills and mental exhaustion.

15. Where can we find you and your art?

My work and I turn up in all sorts of odd places. But check out www.martinmckenna.net and that poor neglected blog it features that one day I might actually update.