Notes & Major Points
Inside the Business of Illustration Steven Heller & Marshall Arisman
Part 2, Chapter 2: Style
ISBN: 9781581153866
CSULB Library Permalink: https://csu-lb.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01CALS_ULB/d7ul0l/alma991014861059702901
Heller, Steven, and Marshall Arisman. Inside the Business of Illustration. Allworth Press, 2004.
CHAPTER TWO
Style
Style defines an artist's place in time. It distinguishes old from new,
fashionable from timeless, even genuine from fake . Much of an artist's career
rests on possessing a recognizable style, even if that artist assumes (or steals)
someone else's. Throughout the modern age, illustrators have, with impunity,
tried on other illustrators' styles as though a hat or coat. This kind of ready
to-wear style becomes theirs until the next trend emerges and they try on
another. And so it goes in art and commerce.
Style is also a form of currency. For a successful artist it can be
money in the bank while for a bankrupt one it is merely counterfeit. So
beware of false prophets selling fake styles and beware of taking on a style
that produces no profit. Style is a critical concern for an illustrator at any
stage in his or her career. What it says about an artist's point of view and
how it frames an illustrator's ideas can mean triumph or failure-it can mean
an illustrator has a voice or is mute.
However, style must not be viewed as the be-all or end-all but rather
a function of art, not the reason for it.
So, how does an illustrator choose his style? Sometimes style is
purposely selected from what Tom Wolfe has called "the big closet" of
historical or contemporary cultural references, both high and low. Other
times style selects the artist and by some twist of fate or preordained destiny
it becomes the natural fit for whomever wears it. But most times it is a
decision on the illustrator's part to find a distinct method of expression that
also carries with it the value of allure. In the commercial sense of the word,
style is a hook that sells a product, which in this case is illustration. So as a
pure business decision, style is decided upon in the same way that a merchant
might choose a sign-by what will best attract the attention of the proverbial
passersby.
Most "fine" artists recoil from the commercial label and most
illustrators (who are already professionally labeled "commercial artists")
attempt to reconcile the A and C words. But both have to address issues of
style. For illustrators, balance is accomplished through styles that signal a
particular approach that is not entirely mainstream-but not too off the track
either. If a style is too outrageous it will not only bypass convention, it will
thwart any hope of being saleable. Conversely, if the style is too neutral it will
not stand out, and therefore be less sought after by art buyers. Balance is
critical. Knowing how to present an honest persona and still appeal to art
directors, editors, and spectators is the challenge faced by all illustrators.
Another challenge is to avoid being obsessed with style. As
important as it is, style-compulsion has deleterious effects. Many illustrators
(indeed some very talented ones) are pure stylists and less interested in
concept than form. These artists excel in rendering pastiche or realism-their
hand is a finely tuned machine. They are also the same artists on whom art
directors impose their own ideas and in return get an impeccable but often
soulless rendering in their particular style. While this is a venerable practice, it
can nonetheless be limiting. The style of the moment, whatever it may be
new wave, old wave, art brut, realism, romanticism-has a proscribed shelf
life before going stale or turning rotten. So the danger for an illustrator in
relying entirely on style as his whole equity is that when it falls from
popularity (and it will) the paying work will doubtless dry up too.
Conversely, if the style is a vessel for concepts, the longevity of the art and
artist increases, at least insofar as style and concept are honest, intelligent,
and viable.
Which leads to the question: What is an honest, intelligent, and
viable style? To be honest means to select a form of stylistic address that fits
the user snugly. In other words, the illustrator should not affect a style that
does not merit the work itself. It is imprudent to work in a style that does not
reflect the intelligence (or skill and talent) of the artist. To be intelligent
means selecting (or evolving into) a form that best expresses the artist's acuity.
Sometimes a comic approach is the best way to communicate serious
messages. A satiric caricaturist will use exaggeration and distortion to present
ideas, but sometimes he will use a very realistic style that forces a double take
and underscores the irony. This is an example of intelligently knowing when
and how to use one's graphic and comic strengths. But sometimes an
illustrator may go overboard on the cartoon style, which undermines the idea.
So intelligence returns to balance, and balance means exactly knowing when
to apply the stylistic tropes that are best for maximum impact. Finally,
viability means that the art is publishable. If for an illustrator the style and
concept are inappropriate for any reason, then it is not viable, pure and
simple. Which goes back to the earlier point that a style must be a snug fit in
order for the entire work to be harmonious.
Reflection of a Personality Style can be analytically discussed as a means to achieve specific illustrative
ends. But it is also a reflection of the illustrator's persona that occurs because it
is meant to happen, and must thus be addressed with a little more subjectivi.,ty
(perhaps even mysticism). This does not imply that style picks the illustrator;
as indicated above, but that over time the illustrator grows into an outward
manifestation of an inner sensibility. Ralph Steadman's violently splotchy,
linear style is not just an incredibly expressive way to vent his rage against
cultural and political betes noir; it is an extension of himself, or, to put it
concisely, it is his voice. When style is a voice it is not to be turned on and off
capriciously. It is something that is endemic to the persona of the artist.
Like Steadman, Henrik Drescher's style is (literally) Henrik Drescher.
Although his work takes various forms-drawing, collage, painting,
sculpture, as well as editorial, children's book, animation-his style is a
consistent reflection (indeed evocation) of himself. He could not be Drescher
without that specific style. Moreover, anyone who copies his brutish approach
is committing a disservice (maybe even a crime) because it is akin to stealing
another's identity.
Which leads to the question of influence in the evolution of style. It
is perfectly acceptable for an illustrator to be so influenced that her "interim"
style reflects the style of the one who is influencing. But this cannot be
sanctioned for an extended period. How many times have the styles of Brad
Holland, Sue Coe, Seymour Chwast, Edward Sorel, and others been invoked
by acolytes? Like copying plaster casts, this is a way students and neophytes
learn the processes of leading artists and is acceptable to a certain pedagogical
degree. But once an artist goes out into world with a portfolio of other
artists' styles, alarms must blare and fingers must wag. A savvy art director
knows the difference between the original and a fake, and the latter will
suffer consequences. Of course, not all art directors are savvy, so a few
unethical illustrators will sneak into a few good jobs, but the deceit will not
last long. So as a word to the wise, learn from others but develop an original
style before the time to enter the market.
Style is a measure of the artistic (and commercial) continuum. So,
many illustrators embrace approaches that are current, and currency can be
redundant. Here the challenge is to distinguish oneself from the pack in ways
that do not subvert the basic approach to creation. Many well-known
illustrators, from time to time, purposely alter or change their styles to avoid
redundancy. Even if they originated the style, it is more prudent to let the
acolytes have it than compete in a draining creative battle. Style is not a
' forever thing. Vision is more important and it can be dressed in various styles
over time.
An illustrator's value is determined by various intersecting virtues,
drawing or painting ability, conceptual acuity, problem-solving expertise, as
well as being courteous, kind, obedient, and thrifty (well, maybe not the
latter). Style is but one part of this list. As important as it is, style cannot be
held as more so than any of the others. Style is a function of who one is as
an artist.
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Talking about Style
HELLER: How does an illustrator develop, maintain, and protect his or her
style?
ARISMAN: Picasso said that style should be what other people call what you
do. This is style in the purest sense of the word. Unfortunately, in the
illustration business, style is a bankable word. Illustrators are given
assignments based on their style. If you don't have a style that is consistep.t,
art directors hesitate to assign work, not knowing what will come back as a
finished piece. This, it seems to me, is understandable, but in too many cases
illustrators affect a style rather than evolve a style.
Undergraduate illustration majors are hammered with this issue.
"You must have a style" is rule number one in putting together a portfolio.
Two things happen when you force a look or style in your work. First,
experimentation stops. Self-editing begins. Formulas result. The second thing
is that if you don't have a style you will begin to look for one outside
yourself. You can find a style this way but it won't be your own. This brings
up the complicated issue of influence versus plagiarism. Any artist who looks
at other people's artwork will and should be influenced by it. If the influence
is genuine it will be referenced in the work. Determining whether you are
stealing or learning from another artist has raised heated debates and
bedeviled conversations for thousands of years. Picasso's comment was
"steal from everybody." And he did. Braque, African masks, and numerous
other sources. But, in the end, Picasso did Picasso. He made the references
his own.
To give a more personal example, in the late sixties I saw my first
painting show of Francis Bacon at the Guggenheim Museum. The figuration
that dominated the art world at that time was not emotional. It was a cross
reference to popular culture. Pop artists like Warhol, Rosenquist, Wesselman,
and others used the figure as an icon. Warhol's silk-screened heads of Marilyn
Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, and Elvis Presley passed through my brain and not
my stomach. In my own work I was struggling with trying to reflect the
emotions I was feeling at the time. The Francis Bacon show went right
through my nerve endings, not though my brain. I left the exhibition
emotionally drained-and excited.
Most people are seen in categories and miss the subtle nuances.
People that didn't like me said, "You are ripping off Francis Bacon." Others,
more gently said, "You must like Bacon's work." I knew the impact of
, Bacon's painting was showing up in my work. As defensive as I was (no one
likes to hear that their work is not original), I also knew that Bacon's work
would pass though me and become less dominant if I just kept working. I
would, in effect, incorporate it, which is what influence should do. That has
happened over the years and hopefully what I am doing now is more of my
own. This is what you were referring to in your opening questions, "Let's talk
about style. You have one (maybe two.)"
In the illustration business, sryle is more immediate; little time is
given to develop a style naturally. Successful illustrators are blatantly ripped
off because their "sryle" makes money. Different styles are in fashion at
different times. Brad Holland has, in the past, been ripped off more than any
illustrator I can think of. There was also Cober, David Levine, and others
who were ripped off but Holland had so many imitators in the nineties it was
painful. These rip-offs were commissioned and appeared in print. I fault the
art director here as much as the illustrator.
What do you do when you see a portfolio that in kind terms is
"highly influenced" by another illustrator?
HELLER: "Highly influenced" is a polite way of stating a big problem. But
the fact is there is a zeitgeist or prevalent style that many young illustrators
follow. Whether it is the surrealist sryle or the art brut sryle or a realist style.
For each of these categories there are exemplars representing them. Brad
Holland is surreal, Henrik Drescher is brut, and James McMullan epitomizes
the realist sensibility yet has an impressionistic leaning. These are languages
as well a's styles. So it is not unusual for artists and illustrators to work with
these dominant languages.
I've used illustrators who somewhat resemble Holland or Drescher
or McMullan or any number of others, but I would not use them if they
looked exactly like these artists. When I see someone's work, the worst thing
I could say to myself is "this is like Holland." But this determination is
subjective. What's influenced slightly to my eye may seem like a rip-off to
another and vice versa. So I try to balance as well as I can. If I see too many
68
of Holland's or Drescher's mannerisms or ideas in a portfolio, I close it
immediately. But if I see a spirit of another but an individual approach trying
to break out, then I might go with it.
However, the other part of this story is my desire to avoid
redundancy. I will not use three illustrators who work in a similar manner,
even if they are otherwise totally original. It doesn't do them, or me, any
good to have repetition of style. I also won't use someone who does the •
currently hip-what I call schizophrenic-style (a cross between art brut and
cartoon) because I see it everywhere. Again, there is no percentage in using
something that has too much currency.
When you critique your students I know you are more concerned
with their content, but how do you address style that is too au courant or, for
that matter, redundant?
ARISMAN: I usually start by raising the question of style before we get into
the content. "Many people are going to say your work looks like ... " I then
ask the class to raise their hands in agreement or disagreement. The student is
now defensive but a collective opinion is out in the open. An honest
discussion takes place that relates to more than the singular example. The
attempt is not to resolve it (a legitimate influence may be taking place) but to
recognize things that often go unsaid by art directors or fellow students not
wanting to hurt someone's feelings.
The whole point of being in a community of illustrators is to use the
collective voice of the group to vocalize what we are looking at. Why else pay
all that money for graduate school? If you can do it by yourself I recommend
that applicants use the tuition money to rent a studio and get their MFA in
much easier and cheaper ways.
When I see more concern for technique than content, I raise the
question "Am I working very hard to get through your technique to see the
image?" My assumption is that I see the image first; then I see how it was
done. When the order reverses itself something is wrong. Texture is a prime
example. Students find an overall texture (cracking, brushstrokes, running
swirls, etc.) as a base of their illustration. They disregard that this texture
does not belong on everything. The dog, the glass table, the rug, and mom's
face. I suggest that texture is not style and that the surface of things should be
considered in combination with each other. I then take a piece of white paper
and cut a small square out of the center. By moving the square over the entire
surface of their work I ask them to imagine that what they are seeing are
musical notes. If all the "notes" in the illustration are the same note,
something is wrong.
HELLER: But a dominant style implies that all the lines will be the same; it's
inevitable that this recurs. Is there any sincerity in following style?
ARISMAN: The current interest in art brut is understandable, if not always
useful. Sincere images, driven by an untrained artist, have power. Much like
African masks, the artists are not trying to make "art"; they are trying to
make magic. In our current postmodern world of self-conscious image
making, the "reference" pop culture in all media, the individual artistic voice
is hard to come by. Images, including illustration, are overwhelmed by mass
media. We have seen too much, we know too much, and we yearn for the
power we see reflected in art brut. We are unfortunately too well trained and
experienced and that "magic" has little to do with what most artists are
trying to do. Taken on its most superficial level, the drawing or painting of
art brut is taken as "style." Mocking what appears to be honesty, artists have
imitated the lack of drawing skills as being honest and contemporary. In
short, drawing bad is seen as style. Sometimes this lack of drawing skills is
true. Many artists can't draw anymore because drawing was not part of what
they did. Now that drawing has reemerged, how to draw has become an
issue. Bad drawing has become a style.
In the classroom this issue has to be addressed as a style issue. The
student who can draw has to be confronted with why they are choosing not
to. If this is style-driven it won't last. There is too much of it around. If it is a
genuine impulse to ask questions about "why am I drawing this way?" it will
become integrated into their vocabulary. Have you seen portfolios where the
art brut and cartoon issues seem genuine?
HELLER: I've seen real honesty expressed through incompetent drawing. I
say this without tongue in cheek, yet with considerable reservation. There are
some people who cannot draw but make that deficiency into a positive thing.
Sadly, this way of working has become a superficial style for many who are
just mediocre and who use the surface of "bad drawing" to suggest cool and
hip. Remember, art brut derives from truly psychotic people, not nice middle
class boys and girls who want to make some kind of creative statement.
Would you agree, then, that our advice should be, at this stage, to
forget art brut and return to the real art of drawing or risk becoming just
another style-hack?
ARISMAN: I agree that style evolves naturally from a solid foundation in
drawing. Once established, the foundation can be explored-expressionism,
art brut, or whatever. I think that all "styles" should be forgotten as a
conscious goal. The surprise is that everyone has a style whether he or she
wants one or not. At this point, an artist's line drawing, woodcuts, paintings,
collages, etc., are all connected. Everyone recognizes the artist's work in
whatever medium he chooses. This is not a formula, but rather an expression.
That expression is the artist's style. Have you ever given a first-time
assignment to an illustrator who then turned in a finished piece in a totally
different style?
HELLER: It has not happened too often. Most beginning illustrators don't
want to risk screwing up, which will doubtless hinder getting a second job.
But this style shifting has happened more frequently with veterans. It is a
problem sometimes because it throws one's expectation out of whack. I'm
not adverse to artists experimenting with their style, but I'd like to know in
advance so I can judge the work intelligently and without prejudice.
I agree with you that style is expression, but not all style is
expressive. Indeed some styles subvert the message while others enhance it.
If you were to give a class devoted to style, what would it entail?
ARISMAN: I would have each student put up at least ten examples of their
work that included line drawings, painting, woodcuts, etc., and find the same
voice in all of them. Many students think that style is the result of using the
same technique. It's not. Style is the underlying handwriting of whatever you
do, no matter what tool you have in your hand. Style is driven by your view
of the world, not by a technical procedure. When your head changes, your
style will change. Then you will have a new style to explore. This is a natural,
healthy, on-going process.
- Inside the Business of Illustration
- Steven Heller & Marshall Arisman
- Part 2, Chapter 2: Style