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EUROPE'S MOST VISITED SF/F WEB SITE |
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Going to Jael
At last, the queen of SFF illustration, Jael, comes under the interviewer's
spotlight. She explains how she put her personal and inner ambition
on hold through most of her extremely busy child-rearing years, and
why she just loves Batman, Green Hornet, Captain Marvel and Superman.
Your editor fell in love with it on sight, and much later, on joining Paper Tiger, determined to get in touch with this magical artist. The Quest was yearslong and arduous, dear reader, and finally successful only at the 1999 World Fantasy Convention in Providence, RI. So it's a special thrill to present this interview. PB: If you were stuck on a desert island and were allowed to have only one of your own fantasy/sf covers with you, which would it be? Likewise, if you were allowed only one sf/fantasy book for which you've done a cover, which would that be?
J: Whew! What a difficult choice. I would have to pick, kind of upon the toss of a coin, my earliest cover -- for Borrowed Time, by a first-time author, Alan Hruska. The book was one of the earlier (that I'm aware of) novels about parallel universe theories, based on modern physics and old-fashioned biology. I had a wonderful time, inventing and interpreting . . . and of course, these days, wormholes and the string theory are kind of accepted as more of a probability than simply a "maybe" theory. Exciting! As to the second part of the question? There are several that have touched me deeply, the most obvious being Letters to Jenny by Piers Anthony. But I would have to perhaps choose another -- a very early cover and a fascinating book: Shadrach in the Furnace by Robert Silverberg. The plot is not unusual (cloning and organ replacement) and has been used in thousands of variations, over and over, up to and most likely including this very moment, but the writing is knowledgeable, well constructed and witty, and you care deeply about the conclusion of events for the characters as well as for the planet. Again, I had a wonderful time reading and inventing. PB: You paint in a lot of modes other than sf/fantasy. Could you tell us what attracts you to them?
J: Basically . . . I was commissioned to do them! It pays the bills. But, among all of the various cover art that I have done, there are some wonderful and truly remarkable stories. I've been lucky. The greatest, I feel, is The Cat that Went to Heaven by Elizabeth Coatsworth, which borders on the mystical, and has been a children's classic since the early 1940s. It can still bring me to tears, talking about it. A couple of others, which were "supposed" to be romance covers, but in which I got brave and painted my OWN interpretation, were Swansdowne by Daniel Farson (nephew of Bram Stoker), a strong, solid, beautiful novel of banishment to Australia in the 1800s, and a novel -- also set in the 1800s -- by Jan Webster with a dumb title, Muckle Annie, but a stunning story of a strong-willed Scots woman who follows a dream (with all the hardships you'd expect and more) to Canada. PB: It is, however, for your sf/fantasy work that you're famous. What brought you into this field in the first place? J: The Vision . . . The Quest . . . A childhood dream. I had to put much of my personal and inner ambition on hold, through most of my extremely busy child-rearing years. Then, finally, came the timing and opportunity for personal and technical challenge. Within this field was the home I had been waiting for. The story of opportunity knocking at my door is a funny one . . . but too long for this interview. Or maybe not. What happened was this:
I met C.J. Cherryh, Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle -- among various stellar professionals from NASA, doctors of anthropology, doctors of physiology, etc. -- nearly sixteen years ago at a symposium on world-building and theoretical alien encounters called CONTACT, held that year (I think it was 1983) in Santa Cruz, Ca., where I had my public studio in a gorgeous old 'converted-to-tourism' courthouse, in the middle of the beautiful old coastal town. The symposium was based on professional workshops begun by the famous anthropologists Gregory Bateson and Margaret Leakey. The founder and father figure of CONTACT is still Jim Funaro, Doctor of Anthropology at Cabrillo College, in Aptos, Ca. Anyway, attending CONTACT for the first time I was excited at the possibility of perhaps becoming involved in this great event in some way . . . perhaps in future years. I had absolutely no clue of the masses of sf conventions that were being held around the world at the time (remember, I was finishing up my raising of lots and lots of children and had not really looked up from the grindstone to see what else was going on). At the conclusion of this thrilling three-day event I was getting ready to leave when I overheard one of the participants mentioning that they hadn't yet found anyone to take Larry and Jerry back to the airport in San Jose. I thought, "Wow, what a fun opportunity," so spoke up and volunteered. Then I raced to the phone to call my brother in Utah, who had always shared his sf books with me, and visa versa. (Among our favourites at the time, were novels written by Larry and by Larry and Jerry.) I said, "Guess who I may be taking to the airport?" He retorted, "Dunno . . . Flipper?" To make a long story much shorter, I ended up NOT taking them to the airport -- a shuttle was in fact available immediately -- but for the next two years I was deeply involved with CONTACT both through my art and in the handling of many aspects of the brilliant workshops. And it was through the working friendship with Larry and Jerry, who both encouraged me to travel east to fulfil my dream of cover illustration that I made a monumental decision -- Jerry just said, "We have to get you out to the East Coast." So there, in a tiny nutshell was my opportunity knocking. I used that "window", and have been working in the field ever since. PB: What sort of formal (or informal!) training did you have, and how much has it helped you in your work? J: The "creative" training began when I was born (or before), I guess. My mother and grandmother were professionally active and creative in stage drama, music, dance, big musicals, you name it. My mother wrote (along with many other things) a best-selling children's song book with two other ladies at the end of World War II. Aged seven, I watched it develop, each step to publication, especially remembering Erla Young, the prominent artist (who later taught as a colleague of Jim Christensen's at the BYU), creating the artwork to go along with the music and words. My mother had her own (one of the first) Matinee TV show -- live, no taping -- and I was always on it, singing, dancing, . . . again, you name it. But a Shirley Temple I WEREN'T! I was also fortunate to be able to watch some of the great artists of the western states at their work. Alvin Gittins, University of Utah, was one of them. He did gorgeous portraits of many heads of states and countries, including Haile Selassie, the once dictator of Ethiopia. His figures were luscious, alive and breathing, and his gentle, lovely portrait of my then 93-year-old grandmother was beautiful beyond anything I had ever seen. I was fifteen, and as I watched him paint her -- her sweet face illuminated, both in real life and on the canvas -- it left an indelible mark. As a mid-thirty-something, I was already quite successful, selling my art, lecturing at colleges and tech schools, raising lots and lots of my own kids and foster Native American children, etc., when a personal family crisis nudged me towards finishing my college degree. The only truly formal training I received was when I returned to the University of Utah and received a BFA and Secondary Certification, Summa Cum Laude. And by then I'd already been a working professional artist for fifteen years, so did it help?
Basically, on paper only! It sounded good, which is usually all you expect from degrees. But I sure loved my biology, Spanish and history classes (art and etc.), and I adored printmaking! I've also been asked, wherever I have lived, to teach, and for the last twelve years have taught Fantasy Illustration at the Montclair Art Museum, Montclair, New Jersey. PB: Who are the artists, either inside or outside the sf/fantasy field, who you feel have most influenced you? J: Oh gosh . . . I hate this! There are, of course, so many. Growing up, the main influences were the original Peter Pan illustrations by Arthur Rackham and Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, with illustrations by John Tenniel. I didn't really discover sf until I was a teen, and then, for some reason, the comic book look of it didn't appeal much to me . . . although I loved my Batman, Green Hornet, Captain Marvel and Superman. I adored the lovely art of Maxfield Parrish which I found within my favorite poetry book, Poems Of Childhood, by Eugene Field (he also wrote Wynken, Blynken and Nod). I cherished Pyle and Wyeth. Then, of course, there was good old Bosch. I discovered the awesome work of Alma Tadema about fourteen years ago, and I'm totally blown away by some of the current sf/fantasy artists/illustrators, who are brilliant. Too many to name here. Exciting times for Fine Art in sf and fantasy! PB: Are there other artists -- and, for that matter, writers -- in New Jersey with whom you share ideas or just chat? J: Sure. Ten years ago, before I met Greg (my cute biker, Dusty), who kinda pulled me back into a partial domestic mode, I had lots more time to have great phone chats with Tom Kidd, David Mattingly, Barkley Shaw, Viki Lisi, the always generous Vincent Di Fate, to name but a few. Now I'm so busy it's hard even to call all of my kids, who're spread out all over the country. I love to share ideas, and ask questions, when I can, and truly wish most of us lived closer to each other. The year I moved TO New Jersey was the year almost all of my artist friends moved OUT of New Jersey to Connecticut. The only one who stayed put was David Mattingly (at the time I didn't know Joe DeVito), and Steve Youll hadn't yet moved here from England. I still have occasional great and fun phone calls with Steve Youll and wife Jamie, and still converse with quite a few of the others, although it's a little more sporadic. Now I'm finding conversing by e-mail so much easier, and it doesn't cramp your neck talking while you're painting (I hated those darn headsets), and . . . well, it's a change of scenery from the easel. So now I e-mail almost everyone! I know, I know . . . but e-mail is wonderful! PB: Have you ever thought of taking up writing yourself? J: Absolutely! I gotta live at least another fifty years so that I can find time to get to the now up to eleven books that must be written. Too long a story for much detail, but when I was seven (my Magic Age) the fates gave me a "gift", in the meeting of a true GENTLEman in his sixties -- a genius, creatively and scientifically -- who influenced me and my family greatly. His story, along with others (several of my own fictional fantasies) are tales I must tell. And, last but not least, I mustn't forget the story of my unique creative mother. She singlehandedly stumped and got my stepfather elected to a judgeship while he was away serving in the military in the Philippines during World war II. It was written up in Time magazine. Later, MGM approached her, wanting to make a movie of this unusual feat. She modestly said no thank you. Also, many of her gorgeous melodies have never been resolved into full orchestrated music. I'm the only one, being the oldest of six siblings, who knows what they really sound like. It's a legacy I must complete. PB: I'm lucky enough to have seen some of your stunning abstracts and semi-abstracts -- at least in the form of slides and JPGs -- and they really knock my socks off. Presumably there's not much commercial market for these aside from sales of the works themselves, but if you were left to your own devices and didn't have to think about the electricity bill, would it be in this area that you'd concentrate? In other words, is this where your heart really lies, or do you prefer painting the current mixture of abstract and figurative work? J: Well, in truth my "perceptualistic" art has always sold well, for more than forty years now. But the current focus in our sf/fantasy field still requires more of the literal approach, and, since there's more longevity in the sale and resale of this literal cover art, I've put my "other stuff" simmering on the back-burner for just a short time.
I never wanted to have to promote these loves. I have this same feeling about my music and my books. A few things need to remain personally passionate. The feelings and ideas for these perceptualistic pieces flow easily from deep inside of me. I take the term "perceptualistic" from William Blake, misquoting him somewhat, when he said, "If the Doors of Perception were cleansed . . . Man would see things as they are . . . Infinite." My perceptualistic art is ambiguous, complicated and involved. It does tell a story. It's not just an abstraction. Many of the pieces do incorporate figures. The viewer(s) interpret the "story" on their own terms, so hopefully the picture becomes a doorway into their own imagination and reality. When I moved to the eastern USA I had no time to "play", finding out there was not much turn-around time for cover deadlines. Now, happily, each time people see these works (mainly through my slide shows and gallery shows) I find them very receptive . . . and, yes, this is probably the truest form of art for me. My favourites do include a combination of the figurative within the "abstract". I have done quite a number of private commissions in the last few years, featuring this type of approach. It's worked out great -- been very successful. PB: With all the dynamism of much of your figurative work, have you ever been tempted to pursue matters in animation or elsewhere in the movies? J: Nope! At age ten, Fantasia was absolutely mesmerizing, and I've dreamed about it and a few of the other visually stunning animated movies thousands of times through the years, but I wouldn't have the patience for the tedious creative process. Book illustration in all forms, plus personal paintings, are where it's at for me. It's always been my beloved books that I could reach for, and escape into. (When I was younger it was lying under my blankets with my flashlight, or sitting high up in a tree.) Books have always been my source of comfort, excitement and adventure. Sadly, I'm so busy lately that I haven't left myself much time for the passion of reading, alas. I know I'm missing out on so much . . . But I'm still buying books relentlessly, and will probably have several hundred to read (hopefully) before my eyes stop working. I do find, however, that I am enchanted with all that can be done with the computer. And this is only the beginning. It is a most wonderful new tool for the creative mind. Toy Story 2 was just unbelievable! True, the computer will never replace the brush and canvas, thank God! -- but WOW! Some of the computer visuals are out of sight! PB: Finally, are there any particularly exciting prospects on the horizon? J: Many things. A book of my own art will probably be in the works within the next couple of years. I have opportunities opening up that I simply wouldn't have dreamed of five years ago. A little too early to go into detail, but I'm happy and excited. I'm involved in a series of children's classics, both cover and interior art. This will probably be ongoing for quite a while. I plan -- with the encouragement of quite a few people who're backing me -- on doing a lot more of my own exploratory art. This is Life is verrrrrry busy . . . but good. PB: Jael, thank you very much. J: Thank you for asking me to participate. A version of this article originally appeared in The Snarl, Paper Tiger's reader zine. Many thanks to Snarl's Editor extraordinaire, Paul Barnett (www.papertiger.co.uk), for letting us play with his prose. All art on this page is (c) Jael, 2003.
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OTHER CONTENT - June 2003
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Once
upon a time when the world was young your editor co-wrote with Ron
Tiner a book that wasn't an encyclopedia but was called by its publisher
The Encyclopedia of Fantasy and Science Fiction Art Techniques,
a three-pipe title if ever there was one. Among the gallery pictures
obtained by the publisher (through the good offices, we later learned,
of Jane Frank) was one called Beauty in Space by an artist
we hadn't come across, Jael. 
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