The Wizard’s Promise.

Book covers are still my favourite things, and once in a while I do one which becomes an immediate favourite. It can be because I loved the book, or I like the author, or both; or I don’t know anything about either of those things at the start and just have great subject matter.

This modern young adult book by Cassandra Rose Clarke for Angry Robot with its icy far away landscape and dark magic, a disturbing-looking shaman and the aurora borealis coupled with a request for spiky, unfeminine type was a recipe for excitement. I’m getting increasingly into the eyeball-razoring work that goes into a cross-hatchathon, despite the fact that I don’t get paid any extra for the 400% increase in production time, but nevertheless, this seems to be where my work’s leading me at the minute. I’m aware it isn’t feeling too modern or groundbreaking, but it pays to listen when that humming throb of enjoyment arrives parallel with what a client is loving.

Anyway.

I find my book covers happen two ways:
a) In one take; one piece, rendered completely and going to press that way
or
b) built using several different hand-drawn parts.
Needless to say, for ease of change and flexibility near to deadlines, clients prefer the latter - whereas I prefer the former!

This one used method B. I was given the image of the long-necked traditional shaman, and I found the magnetic image of the Native American gent online, and those two things coupled with images of Iceland and other freezing landscapes all fed into the content. My artwork generally starts with a tiny thumbnail in a sketchbook, a largish floppy Moleskine, and moves quite quickly to a pencil sketch with a fair bit of detail. The Wizard’s Promise, shows the Shaman of the story progressing from sketch to man-style with clothes to horned version and the final, which is then fully inked in with a dip pen and ink. 

The titles are always hand-rendered too, and all of the parts scanned carefully, and pieced together in all kinds of combinations until the ‘right one’ comes together. I made several ink backgrounds dried on the wood burner (well one burnt actually so that was chucked in the fire), and this is the result, enhanced on the final product by spot varnish and sensitive printing.

I love it when a plan comes together.

Copper, Gone.

I’m late in writing about this since around three months ago, life suddenly moved into Serious Hectic Mode and a lot has been sacrificed to accomplish the many things we’ve needed to get done - the gym is a stranger, my bed has been at times too, and also the telly and my blogs! We’re not out of the woods yet, since we can’t seem to stop lining up projects before the old ones are finished, but those times are worth it when you reflect on the outcomes. And one of the best things to have happened was making this artwork for Sage Francis’ upcoming album, Copper Gone.

Having done the illustrations for Human The Death Dance, it was of course an immediate yes.

Long time friend, muse and collaborator Sage had been drip-feeding us tracks from the album as they were made, so we already had the flavour of it when he asked if I’d be able to create something for the album. The album is named for a piece of text scribbled on the side of a house in Sage’s home town, which he’d watched deteriorate, empty and neglected, for years. Wood, metal and other potentially valuable assets were stripped from the house, till one day the words appeared on the side - as if the house itself was saying, ‘I’ve given you everything I’ve got - you’ve taken it all; I got nothin’ left.’ Which, as the story goes, was exactly how Sage was feeling as he neared the end of the album-making process.

As usual, Sage got more than he asked for. (I don’t think he minded.) Wanting initially only an interlocked C and a G, I listened to the album repeatedly and the C and the G became a full illustration, an interlinked construction of pipes, rivets, elbows and small copper components. This is one of the sketches:

 

The house was initially only meant to be a small additional extra, but eventually became the central motif for the album. Once artwork was approved, which happened surprisingly quickly, I had to set to work with the ink - a mix of nibs + ink and fine lines - you can see me swapping tools in this time-lapse:

https://vimeo.com/88240627



As is my normal process, it was pencilled out in detail on an A2 pad - note however how the lettering changed between first sketch and final, due to legibility worries:

Then it was inked up. It was a beast, and took the whole of a weekend. Then title tracks were written out and the elements made into separate motifs:

Like a good butcher, Sage knows how to take artwork and make good and honourable use of every single cut of it - no waste. Thus, the logo, house and title were separated and became motifs for hoodies and Ts as well as album and CD art. In the next blog I’ll go through the process we used to etch the illustration into actual copper (a first for me). As a conclusion though, here’s how the album looks, with its copper and verdigris coloured vinyl, along with its merchandise. Sage tours the album from May to November in a gruelling tour, with a heavy UK and European schedule. You can listen to a couple of the tracks on this page too.

The album drops June 3rd, and I promise you, this one is honestly set to make craters. Early reviewers are already talking of this as ‘the new Personal Journals’, which if you know Sage’s work, is quite a proclamation. His Magnus Opus? Perhaps. But I give my own impressions of the album in the blog called ‘Copper, Gone - straight from the heart valves and into your ears’. Let it just be said that if I ain’t feeling it, I ain’t drawing it. And my hands were sore. SORE.