Longtime friends Nick and Paul, better known as the Books, are heading to Iowa on Halloween. I whipped up this 4-color poster for the show, printed by the folks over at 8/7 central. It features fonts that were hand-made by the Books, as well as the iconic fly which functions as the back button on the web site I built for them five years ago. Maybe I’ll see some of you at the show?

Note: This article was originally written for Hi-Fructose Magazine. I’m republishing it here for your enjoyment.

While vacationing in a desert wasteland just south of the Valley of Grins, I found myself deliriously walking toward a cloud of pentapi. These multi-tentacled creatures evolved from the discarded heads of used dolls, a fact evidenced not only by their button eyes, but also by their aggressively vengeful attitude toward humans. Had I not been suffering from seven days’ worth of dehydration at the time, I would have known better than to joyfully embrace one. But as the pentapus wrapped its red, velvety arm around my leg, fully intending to tear it from my feeble body, I heard a man shouting from the sky. I looked up, and who should I see but Australian painter Shane Devries, floating overhead in his magical hot air balloon? Before long, he had parachuted to the ground and warded off every last threatening pentapus with his massive brush, which saved at least 30% of my limbs from being torn asunder.

“I may need a doctor,” I said to him. “But hey, while I’ve got you here, would you care to talk about your magical painting abilities?”

He nodded. The 26-year-old Devries has only been painting for three years, but has already created an impressive collection of art that transports viewers to vibrant locations and eccentric creatures. We talked about his upcoming exhibition, his work on the show Figaro Pho, and more.

Your work is full of vividly colored, bizarre, cartoon-like creatures whose relatively minimalist forms are contrasted atop heavily detailed backgrounds. What influences that combination of elements?

I really enjoy experimenting with each painting and try and make each new piece more challenging for myself as I go along – mostly so I don’t get bored, really, and so that I learn new things and move on from ideas that I feel I’ve explored enough. I think the stuff I’m working on recently is a lot more interesting and complex than the earlier stuff. I deeply admire realism and representational art, so the contrast between the simple characters and the more detailed and realistic surroundings are my way of creating flippant versions of traditional or representational art from my own world. It’s really fun because I get the thrill of learning from age old oil painting techniques, but I get to inhabit it all with bizarre mind-wandering ideas.

Whether it’s small toys or massive, button-eyed birds in teacups, there is frequently something floating in your paintings. Can you tell me about what inspires you to pump your creations full of helium?

The floating idea was more of a discipline really. Last year I was putting together a group of paintings and made a decision early on that every one would have a floating element to it. I find it helps with creativity to set some boundaries so that I get to explore different ideas rather than faff around with heaps of different ones. More often they are better this way too. I think there is something about floating and flying that’s appealing to everyone. I mean, I really wish I could fly, and I always have flying or falling dreams as most people I know do. So I think for those pieces the floating is almost like an emotion we can identify with somehow.

Along with the weightlessness of your characters, they are often found in near-complete isolation, hovering over beautiful but barren landscapes. It’s almost as though we’re getting to take a peek at a very rare creature, or a hot air balloon adventure gone awry. What draws you to create these lonesome adventurers?

(laughs) Yeah, I like to think that they are rare sightings. I think the landscapes are places I’d love to view from that perspective myself and they are inspired from everywhere – my family’s holiday pictures, places I’ve been, etcetera. The lonely creatures are just stragglers and oddballs that have been left behind. I like to imagine that there were once huge migrations of these weirdoes and these are just the ones that couldn’t keep up and wander about on their own.

Many of your paintings look like they’ve pulled straight out of the middle of a story. Do you ever invent back-stories for any of your characters?

Yeah, I like starting stories, but I try never to explain too much. I think it’s fun to let people add their own explanations and interpretations. For a recent exhibition I wrote a poem about most of the pieces and published them in a book. They never expound too much, but add a few questions and add to the fun of the art. I have my own stories, but I like to keep them to myself and let the viewer’s imagination kick in. For some of the characters I like to imagine that they sat with me for a formal portrait. I can’t think of anything more fun than getting to have a line-up of strange individuals to do formal portraits of.

I’ve noticed you’ve gotten to do some artwork for the Australian show, Figaro Pho. Can you tell us about your involvement in that project and how it differs from your usual work?

Yes, Figaro Pho is a great invention of Vishus Productions who are based here in Adelaide. I had a lot of fun helping out with a few minor bits and pieces last year and working with all the talented and brilliant creators there. I only helped with a few episodes that included a few matte paintings, and some really great family portraits that were used in the hallway of Figaro’s manor. I love animation, so to help out was a real treat. The difference of working on a production like Figaro meant that I needed to adjust my individual style and work up pieces that suited the look and feel of the show, and work using digital [media]. Luke Jurevicius and Deane Taylor gave it such a fun and light-hearted look, so it certainly wasn’t a chore.

You’ve also done some work for a couple of children’s books over the past couple of years. What was it like shifting your art to tell someone else’s story?

Kids’ books are a lot of fun, and I haven’t done a lot so far. I think it’s nice when you get a story or a project that means something to you. I try to take on stuff that I’m excited about rather than chasing big paychecks and recognition. (laughs) Sometimes I find myself seriously questioning myself, but I’ve always found it so much more rewarding to work with people I like and on projects that I think are important and downright fun. So for books, I think it’s nice to work with publishers and authors who all want the same outcome and encourage creativity above everything.

On your blog, you mention that you’ve spent a good deal of time traveling around Africa getting your head pumped full of new things to draw. How have your travels impacted your work?

Yeah, I had an amazing trip to Cambodia recently. I thought about art all the time and did a whole lot of sketches whilst there. I came back with a lot of ideas and enthusiasm, but only managed to get one of my planned paintings finished, mostly because ‘real life’ and deadlines kicked in when I got back. But hopefully I’ll get to use some of my ideas eventually. I’ve found that I plan a lot of work while I’m away but get terribly sidetracked when I get home.  (laughs) I need to discipline myself a bit more I think.

Since you began creating art, how has it changed over the years in terms of subject matter and the way you make it?

I think it’s changed, and hopefully it’s noticeable. I haven’t been painting for more than three years so I’m still exploring my ideas, abilities and loves mostly, which has meant that I work on quite a variety of different projects from time to time. But I enjoy oil painting so much and keep falling for it big-time because of its freedom and subtleties. My earlier stuff is quite bold, simple and saturated in light with ideas that are humorous and endearing. But more and more I’m enjoying the challenge of bringing in a lot more complexity and subtle emotion. As I mentioned before, I like the detail and care in representational art, so I think this will be a flavor that will creep more and more into my world.

You’ve got an exhibition coming up this December, and by the look of things on your blog, you may have abandoned floating robots in favor of furry, tentacle-armed creatures that will haunt my nightmares forever. First, how did you know that bearded fish-murderers scare the living hell out of me? And second, what else can we look forward to from your future projects?

(laughs) Yeah, he does look a bit sinister dosen’t he? There’s nothing to worry about though because the fish is still alive and the Mox is a harmless creature – possibly more scared of you than you are of him. I had so much fun working on it and I wrote a little bit about the painting.

It’s not very often that you’d happen a glance
But sighting the Mox is always by chance
Enigmatic in presence and keenly aware
You can never look past his ominous stare

It doesn’t give a lot of explaination but yes, I’m working toward a show, and there will be a couple more of these creatures around. All the paintings will give the idea of a rare and extinct species (like the Mox) and that you are viewing them as proud and noble outsiders who no longer roam the bizarre world they inhabit. It’s going to be a lot of fun! I’m not too sure what the future holds. I tend to work instinctively and I’m keen to keep evolving and inventing. Next year I’m working on another book which I’m very excited about and will keep painting for exhibitions here and interstate.

Thanks for taking the time to tell us about your work. Looking forward to your next exhibition! Now, if you wouldn’t mind putting those limbs of mine in my backpack, I’d like to see about finding that doctor.

Note: This piece was originally written for and published by Hi-Fructose Magazine. This version includes high-resolution versions of many of the images. Just click one to enlarge it.

Aaron Horkey’s posters are the product of multiple hand-drawn layers, each meticulously detailed with micron pens – all scanned, composited, and screenprinted to create a finished product. At his recent “Midwestern Heart” show, fans got a rare opportunity to see original ink drawings and finished color posters hanging in the same vicinity. Afterward, I was able to ask Aaron about the process of creating one of these posters from start to finish and he was kind enough to explain in thorough detail.

Can you take me through the process of designing a concert poster from start to finish? I’m particularly curious how much bearing each band’s music has on the design, and how involved you are with the screen printing process.

The music is of utmost importance – there have only been two or three instances where I was unfamiliar with a band’s output prior to working on their poster. It felt a lot more like work and the resulting prints clearly reflect this. As for the process, I’ll walk you through the Genghis Tron tour poster from 2008. The band and I had been in touch for a couple years but the timing didn’t work out for a print until late in 2007/early 2008 when they were planning a record release tour for their sophomore LP, Board Up the House. I had an opening in my schedule, the record was incredible and the band understood my “no art direction” policy, so all systems were go.

Once I start in on a rock poster I don’t listen to that particular band until the prints are signed and out the door. I feel like something’s going to be compromised if I do – some literal visual translation will occur or some such spanner will be thrown. This is where being acutely familiar with the band’s discography and outlook comes into play.

For this poster I knew going into it that I wanted to at least partially explore a merging of mechanical and organic textures to somehow mirror the music these guys create. I already had fairly fleshed out sketches of the antique microphone housing apparatus from an earlier, aborted project and thought they might mesh well with an insect of some kind. At this point I start gathering all my reference and, if photos are needed, (in this case the nail and dust covered, debris-strewn foreground) I’ll shoot and print multiple angles of whatever the project calls for. By the time I start drawing up rough comps I’ve usually already pieced the poster together in my head, turning over each aspect of the final composition again and again until I’m as familiar with its basic “ghost” as possible so it’s just a matter of stumbling through sketches until it all matches up on paper.

I typically put down 6-20 tiny, rough comps until one clicks and I’m able to build the final illustration from this loose idea. In the case of the Genghis print, the main foreground illustration and background lettering are drawn on separate plates but interact with each other on the final poster, following a basic line of movement up and away from the horizon line. Because of this I needed to draw one final refined sketch with both elements present, splitting up the lettering and illustration when it came time to transfer the art to the final paper for ink. My final pencil rough [sketches] typically include about 90% of the detail present in the finished ink work but may be only half the size. Similarly, the finished inks may be only a third or half the size of the final print, so the process from initial sketch to printed poster may involve a 500% enlargement. This is why it’s so important to ensure the composition is solid from a very early stage. It really reduces headaches – especially with a deadline looming. It usually takes a good 4-5 days to get the inked drawing somewhere approaching acceptable [quality].

Once the ink work is completed I’ll reduce it back down via Xerox and work up a color composite using watercolors, markers and gouache. This gives me a good idea of how many additional layers I’ll need to draw for highlights, shadows, etcetera, and what color of paper I’ll need to order for the prints. In this case I needed to draw two layers of highlights: a fill layer for the foreground illustration, and the “Genghis Tron” lettering that appears behind the insect. Additionally, I still had to draw the information text for the tour itself – dates, cities, flourishes – that would appear in the lower portion of the poster beneath the main illustration.

I ended up designing two separate text pieces for this poster as the first attempt was absolutely awful and really had no redeeming qualities. Once all the art is complete, everything is scanned in and assembled into a digital mock-up to ensure the various plates line up and nothing is terribly out-of-whack. Film is then output, screens are shot, and ink is mixed. I try to be present for at least part of the printing process if at all possible, either to sign off on colors or just to help rack prints, but I don’t remember being around for this one until it was time to sign the band’s copies. Ben LaFond handled printing duties on this one and absolutely nailed it as usual. The custom-mixed metallic green ink and split fountain lettering really turned out well on the dark brown stock, band was stoked and it was on to the next one.

You’ve made posters for a pretty wide range of bands. Does any of them stand out as particularly inspiring to design for?

Most all of them have been an absolute pleasure to work with. I’m very lucky to have been able to contribute something, however insignificant, to the visual histories of quite a few of my favorite bands. Isis, Andrew Bird, Converge and Boris are some of my repeat clients, all of which have inspired me for many years, well before I started working with them personally. Getting to work with Cable was a dream come true as well, I thought I’d never have the chance, but when they reformed in 2008 for a handful of shows I had to throw my hat in the ring. Two posters and an album cover later and the rest is history.

I’ve noticed that you’re also a musician under the name Jack Spaar and even released an album back in 2005. Do you continue to write and perform music?

I designed and issued the Jack Spaar record as a historical document via my 420X10 imprint but, despite rumors to the contrary, I’m not Jack. There have been a small number of unsubstantiated accounts of his continued existence but he’s presumed to have died in a mobile meth lab explosion outside Fulda, Minnesota in the early years of this century.

After years of designing for all sorts of surfaces – skateboards, clothing, shoes, belt buckles, album and magazine covers, toys – what’s been your favorite material to work on, and why?

LP covers and skateboards are tops for me. My heroes growing up all had either album art or skateboard graphics (or both) in their portfolios so naturally that was the goal.

In June, your company, Dead Arts Publishing, released the first of a series of six sets of prints depicting your black-and-white original drawings. Can you tell me a little about the series and when we’ll get to see more?

The letterpress series has been years in the making and every force in the known universe seems to be conspiring against its completion, but we are planning on announcing the contents of Suite 2 early in October of this year. The prints included in the series are 1:1 scale, 1 color letterpressed reproductions of my original drawings released in 6 sets of 3 prints each over the course of the next year or so. The prints are available individually or in lavishly packaged suites, which include an exclusive bonus print available only with purchase of the set that will not be reprinted elsewhere. Including bonus prints there will be 24 pieces total in the series: 18 standard edition pieces and 6 bonus prints. Each round of prints are available as an open edition during a specific ordering window and the edition size is determined by the amount of prints ordered during this window. Anyone interested in receiving updates and/or further information regarding the series can subscribe to the mailing list at deadartspublishing.com.

Lastly, what’s next on your slate? Any new projects we should keep an eye out for?

So much backed up on the desk, now that the show is open I can get back to work. A couple new movie posters for Mondo, a new collaborative print at the Bird Machine with Jay Ryan, portfolio exchange in conjunction with the MAPC 2010 conference in Minneapolis, letterpress bonus prints and incidentals, painting commissions, more Japan-exclusive items to be released via Mega•Fauna, some shirts, look through the Jaime Hernandez art book, mow the lawn, ride my bike, change some diapers, wash some dishes, etc.

Thanks a ton for taking the time to answer my questions! I really appreciate it, and I’m sure your other fans will as well.

Note: This piece was originally written for and published by Hi-Fructose Magazine. This is a re-run with high-resolution photo links. Just click any image to see it in much greater detail.

Near a lonely silo in Windom, Minnesota, the massive, scale-covered tail of a rare bird whips around a decaying fencepost. Its claws grip the wood as it stretches toward the moon, holding a newfound treasure up to the light. Peering out from beneath its fish-shaped, metal helmet, the beast twists the object around in its elongated beak to examine it from all angles. A skeleton dangles there. The bent remains of a creature perhaps a tenth of its captor’s size. The bird pauses, as if pondering what to do with it. But it is soon startled from this dilemma as a flock of manta rays takes flight behind the hill, soaring up past the clouds toward the stars. The bird lets out a deep croak from its frog-like throat and, satisfied with the night’s find, flaps its massive wings, departing into the dark.

Aaron Horkey’s artwork is often a combination of both beautiful and nightmarish imagery – filled with hauntingly strange creatures that emanate from within his imagination out into the natural surroundings of his hometown in rural Minnesota. There, at Windom’s Remick Gallery, Horkey recently unveiled an exhibit containing an astounding 84 pieces of artwork he’s created over the last seven years. Of those, 33 were his original ink drawings, which hung nearby their finished counterparts. This allowed the crowd to catch a rare glimpse of Horkey’s work before any colors, lettering, or other modifications were made to create the finished posters.

Along with his previous work, a brand new print entitled “Midwestern Heart” was also available. The person who guessed closest to the number of stars in the print’s vast sky without going over the actual number walked home with a free $800 print. I got the opportunity to ask Aaron a few questions about that show and get a step-by-step look at how he creates one of his posters.

First off, how many stars were on that “Midwestern Heart” print? My guess was 2,500, but I never heard what the actual amount was.

The final tally was 4,340 which is substantially higher than I would have ever guessed. Even though it took about 8 hours to draw them, I assumed there would only be a thousand or so. Credit for the official count goes to my long-suffering wife, Kim. She figured out a system so as to not lose her place while counting and knocked it out between ferrying kids to soccer practice and whipping up some incredible vegan blueberry/peach cobbler.

Can you tell us a bit about the idea behind that print and the show?

The main idea behind making the print was to have something available for folks to pick up as a memento of the exhibit since nothing in the show itself was for sale. I tried to come up with imagery that wasn’t too obviously Midwestern while still referencing the area (although, admittedly, a huge ear of corn is just about as obvious as it comes). Ladybird beetles are ubiquitous here, especially in the summer months, and the clear, star-filled sky is a definite hallmark of the rural midwestern experience. The dilapidated barn in the background was found on a gravel road outside of Mason City, Iowa and has long since returned to the soil. I’ve carried those reference photos around with me for almost a decade, wasn’t until this project that I found the right spot for her. As for the show, I mostly just wanted to gather a few things together that I wasn’t terribly embarrassed by and present them in their native environment. Most all of my reference material and inspiration for the work in the show was culled from the surrounding wilds of rural Cottonwood County and a majority of that from within a 10 mile radius of the gallery/museum. The Remick Gallery was the venue for my first solo exhibit which took place in the summer of 2003 and I wanted to present a good cross-section of my output from the seven following years. A decent amount of stuff didn’t make the cut but the space filled up fairly well regardless, definitely the highest number of pieces I’ve had in a single show.

There were rumors floating around the Internet that this would be your final show, but from what I gathered, you’ve got another one coming up late next year. Can you tell us more about that?

“Midwestern Heart” will be my last solo show for quite a while, if not for good. If I did another solo show I’d want to exhibit a series of all new paintings and drawings which would take many years to compile as well as finding the right space to present them. Really can’t see it happening what with the commercial work and parental duties absorbing most of my waking hours but the idea of a new painting show is always there, nagging at the back of my head. Never say never, I suppose. The show next year would be a group show in San Francisco, California but I’m not 100% sure it’s happening so I can’t divulge anything beyond that.

The oldest of your work at the show was a group of skateboard designs from 2004. What led you to begin working on skateboards and how did that lead to your work as a poster artist (if, in fact, it did)?

They are, for the most part, unrelated – just two avenues I always aspired to have my drawings applied to. I started skateboarding around 1992-1993 and have been obsessed ever since. Being land-locked in that era the thought never crossed my mind that I’d ever be able to contribute to the visual history of skateboarding. Then, around the turn of the century, my good friend Todd Bratrud began making headway within “the industry” and wound up eventually becoming art director at a company which essentially gave him free reign and he, in turn, let me know the door was open for submissions. Being called on to send in graphics was the most exciting/daunting thing I’d experienced up to that point. I’ll never forget opening the first box of boards I’d designed. Lackluster though they were, it was an absolute stoke. The opportunity to work on posters came a few years later and when those started catching on and finding an audience I really slowed down with the skateboard graphics. I’d love to get back into it but I’ve vowed to never have my stuff applied to a skateboard via heat transfer ever again – screenprinting only from here on out. Unfortunately almost nobody shares my sentiment as screened graphics are more expensive, time-consuming and difficult to produce and as such are only practiced by a small number of individuals in this day and age. Another dying art I’m not prepared to let go of just yet.

When you put together a show like this and look back through all your previous art, in what ways do you observe your work evolving since you began?

I’d like to think I’ve started to figure out how to draw although it’s painfully obvious I have many more miles to go before I’m able to pull off a successful picture. The lettering on a lot of those early prints is just clunky and awkward – I was still measuring widths between letters and going to great lengths to make sure drop shadows were uniform, etc. Once I started to loosen up a bit the lettering became less stilted and more interesting, to me at least. As for the evolution of the screenprints, once I had a few under my belt I started to better understand how the inks interacted with each other and what elements could be omitted from the main drawing and added onto other layers. Discovering transparent black/grey was a huge step toward somewhat believable dimensionality with shadows and such, to the point of being sometimes ridiculous and often times spending days on shadow layers barely visible in the final printed product. You can really see the evolutionary leap, for better or worse, if you compare the three Andrew Bird posters in the show. I grouped all three together on the wall and there were 3 years separating each print starting with 2003, 2006 and ending in 2009. To my eyes the most recent is the most successful but the 2003 Bird still stands as the favorite for most of my collectors. I’d like to believe it’s because it’s the hardest to come by, as it’s not a particularly strong piece, but I really can’t tell anymore.

I got to talk to your parents quite a bit at the show. They told me that you were pretty self-motivated from an early age and that you mostly trained yourself as an artist. Yet even in some of your oldest work, your designs have been markedly intricate – requiring a very close look to notice everything you’ve packed into each corner. How did you go about developing your highly-detailed style when you were younger?

As long as I can recall I’ve tried to make every square centimeter of surface area count. The entirety of my 6th grade social studies note-taking was crammed onto one college ruled notebook page, much to the chagrin of my teacher at the time. I’ve always been drawn to excessive detail – my favorite books when I was a kid were of the sort where one could get lost in each page for hours. “Who Needs Donuts?” by Mark Alan Stamaty is a perfect example. Once I got more immersed in comics it was a similar thing – Rand Holmes, Serpieri, Hewlett, Crumb, Ware, Cooper, Kerri – all my favorites really know how to fill a panel/page. That’s the sort of work I react to and that I’ve always aspired to make, horror vacui forever.

Manta rays and helmeted birds have been frequent characters in your work through the years, often found perched atop decaying machines or flying across rural landscapes. What sorts of things inspire these recurring visuals?

The rays, manta and otherwise, are there for their inherent symmetry, the birds are dogged survivors. Each has a role within a greater narrative, which each faction is slowly evolving within. I have a loose idea of where these animals are headed but I’m trying to let them find their own route for the time being.

Come back tomorrow for part two of my interview with Aaron Horkey and read a detailed walkthrough about the making of the Genghis Tron poster!

Finally got some time to upload a whole bunch of new Aaron Horkey photos to my Flickr account. Have a look for some closeups of his original drawings from the “Midwestern Heart” show. Oh, and if anyone wants to buy me a pro account, I’ll gladly upload the rest. Otherwise, I’ll post ‘em up next month, as this month’s upload quota has been reached.

Today I’d like to share some images from Shrieking Tree’s forthcoming second book, Zakery’s Bridge. The book follows the same format as our previous book, collecting several stories from children under one theme. Previously we explored homelessness, and with this book we explore the lives of child refugees and immigrants. Just as with the last book, the proceeds from sales of Zakery’s Bridge will go to charity – this time to the organization called CultureAll. You can read more about the project at the web site I recently designed and read a full story in the “look inside” section. Below are some pages from four different stories that I designed. A few tweaks are left to be made, but these are very close to being finished.

Each story opens with a map and quick facts. This is the opening to the title story.

Stories feature images from many different photographers around the world.

Opening facts include common names for children, and the distance from the foreign country to Iowa.

The generosity of donating photographers makes for some stunning pages.

The story about girls from Taipei features a particularly impressive photo from photographer Daniel M. Shih.

These pages help educate readers about Buddhism.

I used distinct textures for each story’s informational columns to give them personality.

I wrote the headings at the beginning and throughout each story to lend it a handcrafted feel.

(Note: This article was written for and originally posted at the Hi-Fructose magazine web site. This version of the article has links to additional high-resolution images so you can see the fine details of Aaron’s work. More details to come.)

In the tiny town of Windom, Minnesota, poster artist Aaron Horkey unveiled an exhibit containing 84 pieces of artwork he’s created from 2004-2010, including a brand new print pictured here. About 275 people packed a small room at the Remick Gallery, some traveling great distances, including a few who flew in from Japan. Beside many of the finished color poster prints, about 33 original drawings hung, allowing viewers to see Horkey’s work before any colors, lettering, or other modifications were made.

The limited edition print was available in two versions – a lighter-hued set of 100 that sold for $80 each, and a darker version, limited to six, which sold for $800 each. The dark version included tons of additional object details added by Horkey with colored pencil, which he noted took him about eight hours per poster. Visitors were invited to take a guess at the number of stars in the print’s vast sky, and whoever guessed closest without going over the actual number was promised one of the six dark prints for free.

Contrary to rumors, the show will not be Horkey’s final display (there’s more to come next year), but it is likely to be the last chance to see some of his original work in the midwest. Horkey’s work is amazingly detailed, and the chance to see his work up close revealed gobs of additional details that you simply can’t pick out in low-res images online. We hope to have an expanded report up later, but enjoy these photos from the show for now!

This image is a separate, 21-color screenprint entitled Nesting.

So, I went to Aaron Horkey’s “Midwestern Heart” show in Windom, Minnesota yesterday and got to see a lot of the original drawings that later became tour posters. I’m pretty exhausted from the trip right now, but I wanted to post a detail from one of my favorite pieces at the show. Click for a high-res version of the photo.

The poster that this drawing turned into (courtesy OMG Posters):

Widely rumored to be his last show, Aaron Horkey will be displaying a retrospective of his amazing art in his hometown in Minnesota today. I’m heading there on behalf of Hi-Fructose magazine to check it out.

No More Noir by Aaron Horkey

One of the projects I’ve been hard at work on this year is Zakery’s Bridge, a book of children’s stories about their journeys from other countries to Iowa. Some are refugees, some are immigrants. The stories are told by Drake professor Carol Spaulding-Cruse and Kay Fenton Smith. Danny Heggen, editor of From a Growing Community, Iowa’s Homeless Youth is serving as project manager, and I am again serving as art director/photographer.

This project has proved to be challenging in a significantly different way than our last book, because the things I need to take photos of aren’t readily available to me. Most of the text focuses on the kids’ home countries, which means that I’ve had to go hunting for the vast majority of the photos online, negotiating a low price for them whenever possible, seeing as we have a very meager budget. Proceeds will again be going to charity, with CultureAll as the beneficiary.

An initial story is available for reading at the book’s web site, which I also created. I plan to post some new pages here soon, but for now have a look at the book’s cover here and support us with a pre-order at zakerysbridge.com!

The book’s cover.