Illustration Histories: a review of current texts

Illustration has not been fully chronicled, though there are many monographs, essays, catalogues, organizations such as the Society of Illustrators, who house and exhibit collections and work of illustrators and artists, but there is no single book or source to rely on. Steven Heller and Seymour Chwast have done a beautiful job on their book Illustration A Visual History, and it is divided in themes rather than by chronology. Published by the Society of Illustrators and no longer in print, Walt Reed's the Illustrator in America 1860-2000 needs a decade of updating, and that would include a lot of the digital and contemporary artists we look at now. Walt Reed's book is useful in its descriptions about many artists and illustrators and certainly features many of the giants. The timeline that begins each decade is useful as well. It offers interesting anecdotal snippets that combined with Heller/Chwast and other books brings together a more complete picture.

The Heller/Chwast book has some fantastic illustrations and wonderful reflections about what was going on in a particular time, it is lean and yet substantial, and certainly invites us to poke deeper. For example, in a section called "anthropomorphic"  they have paired Winsor McCay, Lou Beach, Ronald Searle, and Mel Furukawa. They also mention the publisher or publication in the captions of each image, which is useful to build a sense of the histories of publications as well. The pairings heller and Chwast have carefully curated,  allow casual readers or scholars to draw more conclusions, and locate diverse meanings in and behind the work and times. The Reed book also does this, but as it tends towards a certain aesthetic focus of what I would term Americana, it omits more cutting edge work that challenges the conventions of the day, and if included might stimulate more questions. Reed's tome focuses on painters, nostalgia, and realism, while the Heller/Chwast  coffee table book contains more drawing, graphic design, and cartooning, which produce different histories of illustration in each case. Heller and Chwast's text gets to the hear of some direct questions and theories, which provide great grist for dialogue and investigation.

Often, I think, historians must land on some theme or aspect, I guess. It would be difficult to write about everything and everyone in one place, and one wouldn't want to repeat or redo the research already in place, and  the work would become an encyclopedia. I think there is an assumption is that historians tell truths, write about a subject in its entirety, when really, they research, inquire, ask questions, probe, and dig like social archeologists, and often write something that leans in one direction or another, supporting a particular stance of vantage point, and may be limited to s small portion of the subject. They might use an artifact as a spring board, and look in other places for other supports, and begin to build a theory or argument.

They might build upon a body of research and material to reconstruct and knit facts, events, and evidence they  from a myriad of sources: correspondence, artworks, newspapers, films, dwellings, museums, artifacts, and other sources, which may be very subjective, cumbersome, difficult to translate or read. Often historians for one reason or another, leave things out.  Sometimes, we reader assume a book on aopic will tell us the whole story of that topic. What I find so interesting, is to read histories of illustration, and find out new things from each author's perspective, the arrangement of facts and artists, and how they present the images of work.

Omissions affect how those who read the history (critique, analysis, or report)  may interpret a period of time, a body of work, a movement in art, etc. in a way that is possibly skewed, inaccurate, and full of holes. It also may be innovative, break open controversies, and challenge everything we believed, thought we knew. So how do we use histories other spend so much time writing.

I want to address one omission from both the Reed and Heller/Chwast books, which I think illustrates how a perspective or historic landscape is carved out, and I'll address the other one at a later date. Walt Reed's decision not to include the 1980's illustrator giant Antonio Lopez , known as Antonio, is interesting and curious. Antonio's  technical prowess and variation brought fashion illustration back from the dead after photographers took their place in  magazines and books, providing a new gloss and glamour people clamored for. However, Antonio's  illustration brought and increased the success of many couture designers, as Rene Gruau had done before for Dior in the late 40's, and brought fashion illustration back to the center in the 1980's, and many others  succeeded too: Stipleman, Abling, Rosenfeld, Broadway, Suter,more, taking illustration away from the more  stilted look into an era of fabulous drawing. The omission of a whole genre and population of illustrators is interesting. One can always follow up with a book that only dwells upon fashion, but then a context that surrounds that work is not evidence or is partial.

Fashion illustration is essential to the history of illustration and fashion design, as well as advertising and editorial works. Magazines blossomed in the 1700 and 1800's as fashion were a big cultural focus, people travelled, had more money and luxuries in between wars and conflicts. The works of illustrators were regularly featured from then well into the 1960's, initially as engravings and then in many four color processes after the invention and introduction of chromolithography.  Fashion illustration's history has been affected by the fashion industry's ups and downs, and has always played and essential role in its stabilization, innovation, and the aesthetic eye of the public. Clothing has been a mirror of culture and social values, and would manifest those in the illustrations; clothing and the illustrations and paintings of clothes are laden visuals. An example might be Cruikshank's Monstrosities of 1822. Hats at the time were as large as umbrellas, so parasols were carried, since they could not be larger and be carried. Waistlines, hemlines, and hairdos dictated  and defined women's roles, health, and ability to move in the world. 

Antonio's playful, elegant, women and men made from energetic brushstrokes and an empathy for the human figure and anatomy, as well as a keen sense of how clothes are made, fit, and fall on the body are the strengths to drawing and sketching that Antonio brought. He revived otherwise formulaic drawing of clothing with beautiful line quality that varied in width to emphasize the weight  or lightness of fabric, and his ability to render fabrics and textures came from the evident delight in the materials he worked with including ink, pencil, pastel, watercolor, gouache, etc. He returned to old master quality and sensibilities to the funky, edgy clothes of the eighties from delicate lingerie and frilly lace to the jewel-toned, fitted, and angular clothes of Yves Saint Laurent. Remember this is the time of punk, Madonna, the power suit, fur, spandex, and hair bands! When historian choose to leave important artists, thinkers, and writers out of a certain landscape, we must feel called to contribute and restore those names and faces to it.   

I think when we research for any reason, we must dig beyond what is available to locate  those things which may may challenge available, accepted dominant theories and histories. We must be sleuths in our own education and practices as artists and thinkers; never settle for what is on the surface, written or drawn.  Maybe we should look for the most subjective materials full of invention and fiction! How can there be truly objective history, and is it really presented as that. I think in many cases histories are presented as something to believe and use a true measure of ourselves, our lives, our worth. Digging below can unearth the compost of humanity,  we can drudge subliminal selves we forgot, lost, ignored, or avoid.