Jayne Paddington of Southampton Solent University interviews me:
JP: Tell us about the book illustrations you created.
The book had an unusual beginning. As an artist with a background in theatre, in 2017 I’d been commissioned by a music ensemble to helm a new production of Hansel & Gretel. The producer had seen and been impressed by the Hansel & Gretel Toy Theatre I’d designed for Benjamin Pollock’s Toyshop (see above) and wanted to capitalise on the success of that. She’d begun talking with the composer she had in mind for the project, and as I was already collaborating with Simon Armitage on the revised and illustrated edition of his Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Faber & Faber, 2018), I suggested he join us as the librettist/writer.
Simon titled his re-working of the fairy tale, Hansel & Gretel: a Nightmare in Eight Scenes, and it previewed at the Cheltenham Music Festival in 2018 before a national tour and a London premiere at the Barbican. A recording of the piece was broadcast by BBC Radio 3 during Christmas week, 2018.
At some point during the pre-production of the show Simon suggested we might work together to produce an illustrated book of his libretto/poem. We discussed the options for publishing and I recommended we speak with Joe Pearson at Design for Today. When Joe agreed to undertake publication, work on the book began in earnest.
Set in a war zone, Simon’s version of the fairy tale took a completely different tone to the original by the Grimm Brothers by changing the impetus for Hansel and Gretel’s journey from that of abandonment by feckless parents, to an agonised decision by a loving father and mother to send their children away from the bombings.
By this simple change the story became one of love and sacrifice, rather than of duplicity and abandonment. He was very clever too at conveying the degrees to which children mis-hear and misconstrue, and his text is full of moments when the siblings’ actions are based on their misunderstanding of events.
With regard to how the images were made, the overall intention was to capture something of the golden age of lithography printing that both Joe Pearson and I greatly admire. One of the hallmarks of the process is that the images are reproduced on uncoated paper and have a matt finish.
Above: work underway on an illustration, and below: as it appears in the book.
I made the drawings in black pencil, some on paper and some on granular lithography film, with occasional use of collaged textures that I produced myself by various means. I made separate ‘stencils’ in crayons and paints on lithography film for the colours. The layers of drawings and stencils were assembled digitally by the book’s designer, Laurence Beck, which was the point at which the colour was added.
Below: detail of the image as it appears in the book.
Another attractive hallmark of old-school lithography can be the slight mis-registration of the various colours. This is something I’d intentionally cultivated in my artwork for the book, and Laurence was very careful to reproduce the effect in the finished images.
JP: How did it feel to win? What will happen now as a result of winning?
It’s been a strange time to receive my V&A Illustration Award in a summer when the building has been closed. The event was originally to have taken place at the museum in June, but was indefinitely postponed at the time of lockdown. There was to have been an exhibition of the artwork at the V&A, and that too was cancelled. I heard about the announcement not from the museum, but from a press release they put out. While it’s very exciting to have been honoured in this way, it can’t be denied that reading about it in an unexpected online press release has not had the excitement factor that an event would have brought to it. I’m guessing they will either hold a smaller event later in the year, or failing that I guess the trophy will be delivered in the post.
JP: Where do you find inspiration for your illustrations?
When you’re working to a text by the poet laureate, you don’t have to look any further than the words. I knew Hansel & Gretel inside out because I’d already designed and directed it for the stage, so I had a very good starting point for the project. Nonetheless, the moment the stage tour was over I began from scratch again with the text, dividing it up and making a very rough dummy copy that set out lines-per-page and earmarked where the images might go. And because the publisher and I had considered that first dummy very carefully, though the details sometimes changed over the period of illustrating, the overall shape and number of pages remained pretty much as we set out at the beginning.
The next stage was to make a huge project-book in which I began the process of designing every visual element I intended to show: human characters and what they wear, settings and the moods generated by them, objects, animals and events.
It was exhaustive and stretched to several hundreds of images. (Enough for three books really.) Even if something appeared only once – such as the ‘imagined’ hyena that appears early on – I drew it dozens of times to work out what the image would bring to the book.
For a bridge described by the author as ‘arched like a hissing cat’, I made more than fifty drawings of arch-backed cats, hump-backed-bridges, cat/bridges and bridge/cats, gradually finding the hissing cat/bridge hybrid that best conjured the mood of the scene.
Simon is an incredibly enriching poet to collaborate with, and to do justice to him I find ways of accompanying his texts in ways that will take the reader by surprise. I begin with the words of course, but often the places most profitable for illustration are the spaces between them.
JP: What advice would you give to our students wanting to one day follow in your footsteps?
Well they can’t follow in my footsteps, and shouldn’t want to. They should find their own ways, and travel by routes of their own devising. My careers have been various. I didn’t start as an artist, but as a choreographer and director, so I came late to the easel and even later to illustration. My experience is that the wider your interests, the better you’ll be at whatever you do. I don’t go around thinking about illustration all of the time. I read (voraciously) listen to music, study history, try to understand the world, try to understand people and stash away everything I learn in the place marked ‘material to be be used on some future project!’ I study art of all varieties and periods. I collect art, vintage toys (particularly wooden building blocks), textiles, puppets, masks, comics, fossils and books. I’ve collected all my life, whenever I’ve had a bit of spare cash. Some of the things I’ve collected ended up in the stage production of Hansel & Gretel, and migrated from that to the book.
Below: from the shelves of my tinplate toy bird cabinet…
… to the stage production of Hansel & Gretel …
… to a double-page spread in the book:
This little cavalryman migrated from my sitting room…
… to an animated sequence in the stage production …
… to a preparatory drawing for the book …
… to full render separations on paper and lithography film …
… to the final colour book illustration. (Detail)
All my collections fuel my work. I never have to start from scratch with any illustration project. Somewhere in my collection, there will be a starting-point ready made. I just wander around looking at what I have until I find it. It’s a more organic process than trying to conjure something out of nothing.
Here’s a link to a little film about the making of Hansel & Gretel.
Clive Hicks-Jenkins, 2020.
Hansel & Gretel: a Nightmare in Eight Scenes
Author: Simon Armitage
Illustrator: Clive Hicks-Jenkins
Designer: Laurence Beck
Publisher: Design for Today
At last I’ve had a quiet moment to sit and read your post and watch the videos, and it’s been an enriching time. Fascinating to read through the various methods, and how you work yourself so hard. Although I wonder at 50 illustrations of one subject, I know it’s incredibly easy to pile up that number, just tweaking one bit can throw everything else out, so you toil away, getting new ideas with each sketch, and how important all that work is, both mental and physical but fulfilling when you finally get a result. This book is so perfect in every way and such a treasured item on our bookshelves, I love touching its smooth pages. Thanks for these lovely quiet and informative moments. Xxx from a very hot and dry Dordogne……
And of course dearest Clive I missed out the most important bit which is CONGRATULATIONS! You are so utterly deserving, I do hope they will exhibit as intended, they should do, and not let a silly little thing like Covid get in the way of showing the public such wonderful art.xxxL
I’ve never met Clive, but I love him, his work, writing, collections, and above all his kindness, which emerges in so many ways (he’s actually taken the time to write to me personally about loss and other matters). I enjoy so much about him, including his award from V&A. Great start today–reading Clive’s post during breakfast of coffee and steel-cut oats from my barracks apartment, surrounded by books, paintings, and sculpture while considering how best to teach my students about Clive and his artistry when they return to campus next month. Very happy for you Clive and happier still to (sort of) know you. Very best regards to you and family.
Jack, what a lovely comment. Thank you so much. You’ve made my day.
My very best. Stay safe and well.