David Lyttleton’s angular work is instantly recognisable, with extensive work for most of the UK press including The Guardian, The Times, FT, The Independent, Time Out, NME and the sorely missed Neon.

Squidge Magazine: How did you get yourself started in illustration? Do you still find it difficult to get work or was there a point when it naturally started to come in?

David Lyttleton: I got started in illustration the usual way: made appointments to see magazines in the summer after I finished college, took my folder along, and got work straight away. First commission was for Elle magazine, the first published picture was in the Radio Times.   Moved to London soon after, more folder-showing and commission-getting, and that was that really.

SM: Has the commission/getting work process changed since you started?

DL: The main way commissioning has changed over the years for me is that almost no-one rings anymore. By that, I mean everyone e-mails. Which is fine.  If you want to look for new work, the old ways still apply… go to a massive WH Smith or Tesco and go through all the mags, seeing which has illustration, then write down the names of the art director and send them some stuff in the post. Also, Libraries have a lot of magazines you may not see in shops so that’s a good idea too. Go through illustration annuals and see what the illustrators in there did, and who for… it usually says who the client was. Google them, and send stuff along. Finding out who to approach on newspapers is still as frustratingly difficult as it ever was, as it’s impossible to find names to send to.

SM: What’s your general approach to a brief when you get work in?

DL: I don’t really have ‘an approach’ as such. But I always try to make sure there’s a person in there. I don’t think an illustration looks right if there’re no faces, strangely. And I never crop pictures if I can help it. It just doesn’t feel right! I always do complete bodies on people, no cropping.

And it probably goes without saying, but I’m always trying to get every line right, better than the previous thing I did. That’s always my favourite part, the pencil stage. It’s where there is clear progression, in the lines. That’s where it happens. After that, it’s a bit of painting for some almost-invisible-but-crucial tones then its Photoshop all the way.

SM: Tell us about your Guardian column…

DL: I’ve done a lot for the Guardian over the years, and the other papers. I’ve had regular weekly things on the Sunday Express and the FT too. A weekly spot is a Godsend. Especially in Credit Crunch Britain! I can’t overstate the peace of mind a contract allows. It’s a wonderful job to do, it’s a funny column. It’s quite a fast turnaround, about twenty-four hours (I’m waiting for the copy now as it happens). But when I did a TV review column some years ago, the copy came in the morning, and I had to have it in by the end of the day. That was scary. Never missed a deadline yet though!

So yes, a weekly column is different to the usual irregular ones. I have a few monthly regulars too, which are also most appreciated. But until recently I had several more. But the economy had its dicky-fit, and four, five maybe, all went at once. Not nice. Groan.

SM: You did a lot of work for Select and Neon during their later period in the 90′s, were you given free reign with those?  One that particularly sticks in my mind is one with Schwarzenegger and Stallone having a fight, with a bookie shouting “50 clams on the big kraut”.

DL: I’d forgotten about those magazines, all that stuff seems a lifetime ago.  Neon was quite short-lived, I think, and it wasn’t Select, it was ‘Vox’, a similar magazine that the NME people did. I did a lot for the NME, for years on end.  Until the format and everything changed.  I can’t quite remember what happened, but it sort of fizzled out. I can’t remember that illustration either, although it sounds like (writer) Ian Harrison’s sort of thing. He wrote a strip I did in Neon, he’s a great writer, uniquely funny. He works at Q now, I think.

SM: You worked on Kling Klang Klatch with Ian MacDonald.  What was that like to work on?  It sounds like it was fairly rushed.  Have you fancied working on any other graphic novels?

DL: That graphic novel was right at the start of my career more or less. I didn’t have that much of a fondness for comics really, but it was a great opportunity. But I had to re-invent the way I worked in order to do it, which was fine, but the deadline was horrific. I was doing two pages a day at the end, which seems impossible now. Last week I spent four hours just drawing the thin pencil lines for the Guardian column picture I do every week, trying to get it perfect ( to my eyes ). I think there were some good ideas in KKK, but apart from that, I haven’t got anything good to say about it. I never like looking back at old work if I can help it, and I haven’t looked at that for years. It’d depress me… shoddy, amateur and rushed. In fact, I think I chucked out all the artwork with the recycling some time ago. I did a bit of comics work after, here and there, but didn’t pursue it. Not really me.

SM: How did you find it making the leap from paintings to Photoshop?

DL: The transition from paint to Photoshop was a doddle, it didn’t happen in a contrived way. I got a Mac when I moved out of London for e-mailing stuff in to magazines, just scanning finished paintings in and sending them. Then of course, I started going over all the straight lines to crisp them up, then I started only half-doing paintings and finishing them in Photoshop when I thought of a way to miss out the fiddly airbrush colour stage, then bit by bit they got more and more digital.

But I still draw them out on A2 stretched boards, and do a little bit of sort of black and white tonal painting before I scan them in. I don’t want to ever get rid of that stage, it’s crucial. Especially the pencil drawing part, that’s like a signature I reckon. It’s where the work progresses, in the line, and the immediacy of hand/pencil/paper is crucial to that. I think the way I do the painted tone element too is an indispensable part, although it’s barely visible these days. It’s a funny painting technique that has evolved since college days. I prime the paper with a thin acrylic wash, then paint the whole thing with a mixture of three colours of gouache, and lift the not-waterproof gouache back off the waterproof acrylic with a wet brush to get light tones. Then it’s scanned in. It sounds pedantic too, but I can only use one type of paper, and one type of acrylic base. Others don’t work. Don’t know why I’m telling you all this, you didn’t ask, but I’ve typed it now!

SM: Just to clarify – you’re not the David Lyttleton that up pops in modelling listings for Beatrix Potter figurines are you?

DL: I’m not that David Lyttleton, no, but I know who you mean. Eerily, I’m from, and now live back in North Staffordshire where the Pottery industry is.. er, was.. so it’s a double co-incidence. Curious indeed

Steve Tillotson is the creator of Banal Pig, a series of comics that mixes the banal tedium of every day life with dick jokes and relentless jollity. Our newest contributor, Ed Clews, dropped him a line to talk about his work…

Squidge Magazine: Can you tell us about your background, how did you get started?

Steve Tillotson: I trained as an artist without really thinking about it. I was good at drawing and didn’t have a better idea at the time. I did a BA Hons in Fine Art for Design at Batley School of Art and Design, (that’s near Leeds, southerners) which was a really enjoyable experience, and on the back of that I went straight to the Royal College of Art to do a two year Masters in Printmaking. Again, a great experience, and you get to rub shoulders with all these rich and famous artists, but it kind of convinces you there’s a pot of gold at the end of it, in reality it’s a bit different. There’s so many people trying to be artists in London, it’s difficult to stand out and make a name for yourself.

I tried for a few years, but started to get really jaded and was really poor from paying back student loans, so my partner and I decided to try something else and we moved to Bristol. It was around this time I started making comics, about 2005, but the idea had been kicking around for a while. It’s much easier to do a nice pen on paper page of a comic than a 2 meter squared painting with enamel paint on rusty steel, and I’ve stuck with it really. Four years later, and I’ve churned out about 13 comics, and I find that the medium is the best vehicle for my ideas, and probably will be for a while.

SM: How did you start out trying to be an artist in London?

ST: I got a few offers and contacts from my Masters show at the Royal College of Art, and tried to follow them through as much as I could. I did alright as well, sold a few grand’s worth of paintings that kept me going for a bit. Along with a few of my fellow students, we organised some group shows, which were good, but didn’t get much attention. I always enjoyed making artwork and the social life in London, but it soon got to a point where it was costing a lot of time and money to do it, for no real reward. I was stuck in a rut really, I was working less to try to make more artwork, but earning less as a result and as I had to pay off my hefty loan, I was only earning just enough to cover my outgoings. The bottom line was it was too expensive a hobby, and I needed to do things in a different way, hence the comics and the move to Bristol.

SM: Is there any particular reason you moved to Bristol? Also, is there a scene specific to Bristol compared to say somewhere like London, Manchester or Leeds?

ST: We chose Bristol on a whim really – it seemed like a good arty town, not too massive, and it’s worked out well for us. There’s quite a few people in Bristol who I’ve met through comics, and there used to be a quite a well-attended comics forum, organised through the Bristol travelling man shop. This sadly closed down a few years ago now, but I’m still friends with a lot of the people involved.

From what I understand, there are bits and pieces going on in London, but I think it’s a big old place, and too varied to have what can be described as a unified scene. I know there’s a lot of good creators based in Brighton, and there is the Manchester Comics Collective, and I don’t know much about Leeds, but I think there’s a few people that meet up for the “drink and draw” events. With the internet though, it’s quite easy to keep in touch with people from all over, even collaborate on things without ever meeting. This might be a bit impersonal and antisocial, but it’s practical and quite efficient.

SM: There some obvious influences in your work of Viz, Oink, The Beano/Dandy – bits of Glenn Baxter seem to factor in as well. Are there any others that you particularly like?

ST: Yes, spot on. I was brought up with British comics, all that stuff; Whizzer and Chips, Buster, Nipper, anything going. I vaguely remember Oink and how it was a bit rude and controversial, and everyone likes that stuff when they’re a kid don’t they? I don’t think I’ve ever bought a copy of Viz, but I’ll always read it if it’s about, and you’ve got to hand it to those guys for doing it for so long. I’ve not actually looked at any of those comics as visual cues, if you have a look at Lickle Bastard, which is pretty obviously a Dennis the Menace pastiche, it looks nothing like him really, just the bits that I could remember, the mad hair, big boots and Gnasher and that, and I just stuck it all in there.

I’d never thought about making comics myself though until saw Daniel Clowes’ books, I think David Boring was the first one I spotted in a library, and from I then I gradually got into indie and alternative comics, Chris Ware, Michael Kupperman, Tony Millionaire, Jason but as soon as I saw that first one I thought, “I could do this”.

SM: Some of your strips have absolutely no punchline at all or seem to end with a sigh of resignation, can you explain that a bit?

ST: Does the joke have to be in the punchline? Hopefully the jokes come from the characters, and how they act in a given situation rather than a punchline, and I try to mix the format up a bit. Sometimes the joke is about confounding expectations, and maybe there’s a gap where the joke should be. That said, it’s not always meant to be funny, you might laugh at Incompetent Shark because he’s so pathetic, or you might feel sorry for him. I don’t know really. I try and make something that I find funny, and hope other people appreciate it.

SM: You’ve collaborated on a few things with Gareth Brookes and Jemima Von Schindelberg, how does that work out compared to working on your own?

ST: I met Gareth at the RCA, and we’ve always got on really well. We seem to work well together, and we always bounce ideas off each other. I can’t remember how it first came about, but I was planning a Rupert Bear pastiche with rhyming verses for Banal Pig 1, and he wrote it. He’s written a poem for each Banal Pig comic since, and both the Jolly Bear Summer Specials, as well as contributing story ideas and general comments. He’s really good at writing stuff basically, and I’m glad to have him on board. He makes his own (excellent) comics as well, and we always share a stand at expos and fairs, so we’re sort of business partners in a feeble way.

Jemima Von Schindelberg bought one of my comics and I think she emailed me to say she liked it, and somehow that merged into a story idea, Ethel Sparrowhawk. We then bounced the script back and forth until we were both happy with it, and I drew it. I’m drawing the second one at the moment, written the same way. Otherwise, I’m not keen on drawing other peoples scripts though, it’s hard work if you’re not entirely convinced by the idea, and more importantly, not getting paid for it either.

SM: How do you go about making a comic, and once you’ve got it down how do you get funding for it?  Do you have a regular job?

ST: Alas, yes, I have a boring normal job that pays the bills and buys the comics. That’s OK though, because as making comics is my “hobby”, I’m compelled to do it, and really enjoy it. I’d like an arty job, but because I’m doing something different during the day (I work at the council), it keeps it fresh.

SM: What do you think about the UK small press scene?  Which illustrators are currently catching your eye?

ST: I think the UK small press scene is pretty healthy, and I think there seems to be good new people coming up all the time. The thing I like best about making comics and zines is that they can be totally unique and free from censorship and outside interference, and you don’t get that in a lot of other mediums. You get to take home this little distillation of someone’s personality for a few quid. That’s the ideal anyway, and there’s also a lot of shit out there, but horses for courses and all that. I’ve recently put together an anthology, the second one I’ve done and that features the majority of my favourite artists at the moment, Oliver East, Jim Medway, Dan Locke, Paul O’ Connell, Stephen Collins and the previously mentioned Gareth Brookes, but I’m also a fan of Hugh “Shug” Raine, Scott Jason Smith, and I’ve got to mention Jimi Gherkin, who makes great zine/comics, but also has been instrumental in organising the Alternative Press Festival, and injecting a large dose of energy into the small press scene.

SM: Any advice for people starting out in illustration or comics?

ST: I haven’t the first idea about illustration I’m afraid, I’ve had no formal training in that area, and have only had one random (badly) paid gig doing drawings of stage sets, but it’s basically drawing pictures of things isn’t it? I think you’ve got to find your own style, which only comes with drawing a lot. So do that.

My advice to someone thinking about making comics, or zines or anything like that, is to actually make one. It sounds too obvious to even bother to say, but I’ve seen a lot of people who have loads of ideas knocking about, whether it be stories on their hard drive or a folder full of little drawings. These things are transformed by the simple act of compiling them into a little pamphlet, and suddenly, you’re doing it, you’re a publisher and you can see how it works, and how to make it better next time. Go to expos and fairs and see what other people are doing, see how much people are charging for things and how they make their books. Also, if you like someone’s stuff, let them know, have a chat – it’s good to have friends/ allies for help and advice.

SM: Tell us about the Manly Boys annual.

ST: Manly Boys is the first comic that Gareth and I have done as a 50/50 collaboration. We wanted to do a comic in time for the Web and Mini Comix Thing in March this year, and as time was tight we decided that sharing the workload was a good idea. The theme came from an essay Gareth read by George Orwell about boy’s magazines of the early twentieth century, basically saying how shit they were, and we both thought there was a lot of mileage in those ideas of imperialism, the comparative brutality of  pre-war living in Britain, and a few homoerotic gags.

It’s proved really popular as well, we sold all the copies we brought the first time it was on sale at the Web and Mini Comix Thing, I think because people get the joke straight away, it’s quite accessible. We’re thinking about doing a follow up, Comely Girls, for next year, we’ll see if there’s legs in that idea, but it was really good collaborating with Gareth in that way, and I’m sure we’ll do something again.

You can see more of Steve Tillotson on his blog here. You can buy copies of Banal Pig and other comics here, and rather than binning a load of artwork, Steve is selling them double cheap here.