Cover creation - Forbidden Alliance

The cover art for Katrina Mountfort's début novel, Future Perfect had already caught my eye, being my sort of thing – so when the email came through from Elsewhen Press asking me if I'd be interested in illustrating the cover to Forbidden Alliance, the second book in Mountfort's Blueprint trilogy, I said 'yes' before I'd even finished reading the email.

Anybody who has read Future Perfect will be familiar with this particular vision of the future, where a highly regulated society with a culture based on external appearances, are made to live inside huge Citidomes, following a bio-terrorist attack. There's a clear nod towards Logan's Run in the storyline, which evolves around the discovery of the world beyond the confines of the Citidomes and what kind of people have chosen to remain in the outside world.

Elsewhen Press' own artwork for Future Perfect focused on the divide between life inside and outside of the Citidomes. So having established a variety of environments in the first book, the challenge for the cover of Forbidden Alliance was to expand upon this and somehow incorporate elements of the different environments, from a prison camp to a rural village, the Citidome and a narrowboat on a river.

This artwork also had to be in mono to match that of the first book, so another challenge for me was how to approach the scene without having my usual vibrant colour palette to fall back on.

So I worked up several rough concept sketches, trying out different perspectives and angles, but I found that trying to incorporate all the elements was just too much for a cover – yet they were all vital things to include, so what do you do?

Then it came to me – why not create the scene as viewed from within a prison camp? The simple inclusion of the barbed wire told the viewer everything they needed to know about the viewpoint of the scene, without trying to squeeze in security fences and prison buildings.

As for the other background elements... part of the first book was set in a village in rural Derbyshire called Ashford-in-the-Water, which happens to be a place I know well and have even photographed. So I had my own photos to hand for reference, and the church being the tallest building in the village (also featuring in the book), it was the obvious choice.

I've always had a fascination with the idea of a city encased under a glass dome – ever since watching the BBC's wonderful adaptation of The Tripods in the 1980s. I guess you could call that a benchmark, along with Arthur C. Clarke's Diaspar in The City and the Stars. This is therefore a concept I have previously explored in my work – most recently with Last City, inspired by Clarke's novel, and an earlier piece of retro-futurism, Escape.

However for this cover, the Citidome didn't want to completely dominate the cover, yet it does dominate the landscape. So I was faced with the additional challenge of getting that balance of elements just right.

There is no clear divide as there was on the Future Perfect cover, but the river and the narrowboat instead provide a central focal point for the scene.

Here is the final digital draft, before I started work on the actual artwork.

This was the first time I've read a story which has been partly set in a place I know, so it became all the more real. Having been immersed in Katrina's world with a knowledge of the real location, the process for the creation of this cover felt very natural and comfortable.

And here is the final cover art:

And here is all of the above - in one minute!

Panoramic music

This week saw the release of Panorama, my fourth album of instrumental music in support of the Initiative for Interstellar Studies (I4IS). 

While open to interpretation to a degree, my basic idea when composing Panorama, was 'music for a new world'. I was starting to imagine what kind of alien vistas that may stretch out before us, as we take our first steps on a newly discovered hospitable planet. The concept of my previous album for the Initiative, Beyond the Boundary, was space flight and a journey, so to follow that up with the discovery and exploration of a new world – the destination – seemed like a logical step. 

Work on this album actually began in April 2013, not long after I'd released Traces. However, despite working up several demos, I hit a block early on, and it would take a long time - many months - before an album of any form was starting to take shape. 

The first piece of music I made was actually the opening track, Touchdown. This seemed perfect right from the start, as a transitionary track between the interstellar flight of Beyond the Boundary, and the uncharted territory of Panorama. The final mix of the track is almost all the original demo - it is slightly raw and untamed in places, but for me it just worked like that, and over working the track would have risked losing that initial feeling.

Hear Touchdown on Soundcloud.

The title Panorama came quite early on, too. This was music for landscapes and huge vistas. Widescreen images in the mind's eye. And once that title was in place, the music and ideas began to flow, clearing the creative block I'd experienced at the start of the project.

Hear Panorama on Soundcloud.

One of my early plans was to make an album with no drums or percussion at all. This is something I've dabbled with in the past, and really wanted try. But it didn't turn out that way, so maybe the drum-free album will be a future project! However, Panorama does have several sparse, minimal pieces true to my drum-free idea, one of which is Aurora - perhaps one of the most evocative and atmospheric tracks on the album. At some point I was even considering this one for the title track. Aurora was another track from the early stages of the project, which just came out perfectly in one take. 

The main challenge throughout the process was how to make music for a world that I cannot see or visit, but can only imagine?

I spent time looking at the Mars Rover's photographs of the planet surface, my favourite space and SF art, and of course, films, gleaming inspiration from things like the water world and ice planets in Interstellar and even the dream-like sequence at the end of Contact. The list goes on!

But the music also needed a sense of mystery to accompany the notion of exploration and discovery, and those ideas started to flow once I created the middle section of what became Crystal Cavern. Until then, it was just a demo track of the first couple of minutes, lacking direction. And it turned into one of my favourite tracks on the album, also reminding me of the kind of approach I took with my first album, Into the Light, in 2007. 

I'll be the first to admit that Panorama was a difficult album to get right. I even took a break from it for a few months while I made Future Worlds Redux and Sentient City! But giving it some time and distance, was just what it needed, as when I returned to it, all the pieces suddenly fitted together. Once I had made the title track, the rest of the ideas all emerged.

The final album comprises 15 tracks, plus a short bonus track when you purchase the full download. Rise was a piece of music I composed for the I4IS after their involvement in the Shackleton 2 helium balloon project, which saw a probe boasting the I4IS logo travel to 90,000 feet into the Earth's stratosphere, then take a selfie! So while not directly related to the theme of the album, it felt appropriate that Rise should feature in an album supporting the Initiative.

Panorama is available now via Bandcamp.

BFI Voyager poster designs and a confusing competition.

Last October, Harper Voyager and the BFI teamed up to announce a competition as part of their science fiction film festival taking place in November.

The competition was an exciting idea and something which instantly appealed to me – design a film poster of a science fiction novel that has not yet been adapted to the big screen. Several of my own pieces of artwork were inspired by classic SF, so for me it was a no brainer to take some of these pieces a step further and adapt them into fictitious film posters.

The first being HG Wells' When the Sleeper Awakes, which inspired my painting, Awakening. For me, this book still rates as one of the best pieces of dystopian fiction; a remarkable work for its age (of which the same can be said for all Wells' work!).

My second entry was Brian Aldiss' Non-Stop. I've read several of Aldiss' books, but Non-Stop remains my favourite and is the sort of story that you can imagine would make the most fantastic film.

My third and final entry was a new piece of artwork I created especially for the occasion – based on my all-time favourite SF novel, Arthur C. Clarke's The City and the Stars. A tall order and a big ask! I hardly felt qualified to even attempt illustrating this one, as I felt I could never do it justice. But I did my best, and I was very happy with the results.

With all my pieces, I chose a slightly retro design – imagining how the film posters and tag lines would have been, had these been adapted to the big screen in the 1960s and 70s, back in the days when illustrated film posters were as common as photographic designs, if not more so.

The competition deadline was early November, with the winner due to be announced at a BFI event in December. Well, December came and went without word of the competition. So did January. Then February. A few people bothered chasing it up on Twitter, to be told a winner would be announced, but with no idea as to when.

So come the end of May, with the thing seemingly dead in the water, I concluded (presumably along with the other entrants) that the competition had sunk without a trace. I posted my entries online, and noted that a few other folk had done likewise, with some impressive work.

By the start of June, over six months had past since the closing date of the competition, and no announcements made or anything to keep people in the loop. Was it so difficult to send out an email or post on social media to apologise to the people who had taken their time and put their creative skills to use in entering the competition? What a shambles.

And then, a week or so into June, a solitary post crept on to Twitter, announcing the winner! An almost subdued post with little fanfare, or response. I can only imagine the winner has been as confused and left in the dark as everybody else.

Out of respect to the people who dedicated their time and effort to the competition, the very least the organisers could do is post all the entries or the shortlist. 

It is such a shame this was so unprofessionally managed, as it was a really exciting opportunity. But with that in mind, what I did get out of this, was the opportunity to develop these pieces of my work into something more. I'm still very pleased with the results, and it is certainly something I probably wouldn't have done otherwise. 

That said, I'll certainly approach any such competitions in the future with a degree of caution!

For the love of books

I’ve been drawn into a book on the strength of its cover so many times – so it’s always a pleasure to have the opportunity to work with an author or publisher, to be able to turn their words into pictures and visualise their worlds for the cover art.

But that comes with a degree of pressure and expectation. There’s the artist’s inner struggle to enjoy artistic license but also (and primarily) to fulfil the brief and correctly interpret what’s in the author’s mind (and indeed the pages of the book). The recipe for success is – unsurprisingly – achieving a balance between the two. After all, we want a happy author and a great cover.

Some projects require a very specific scene or illustration indicative of the finer details of the book on the cover; others may warrant a more abstract approach or a scene that while not actually in the book, is still an accurate representative of the story.

Every artist has their style, and if you’re asked to do somebody’s cover, it’s usually because they like your style, and believe it is right for their book and audience. This simple fact in itself should quash any moments of self-doubt which crop up along the way (and we all have them!).

In many ways, being asked to provide a cover is to be invited on part of the author’s very personal journey of the creation of their book – and hopefully attributing to its success. However, for me it goes beyond being just a job – it’s for a love of books, a huge respect for the author and their creative work, and the simple prospect of creating something tangible. As an avid reader myself, being able to contribute to something that goes on to have a life of its own and reach people all over the world is quite simply, a real privilege.

Judging a book by the cover

Now, I’m not proclaiming to be the god of book covers, but what does irritate and frustrate me (as both a reader and designer), is just how many dreadful science fiction book covers make it out there on to the shelves, real and virtual. 

Fortunately, there are a lot of very good covers; modern designs, unusual approaches and beautiful illustrations. But then you get those who give the rest a bad name – where a wonderful painting or piece of artwork has been ruined by bad typography. With almost twenty years’ experience as a professional graphic designer, its time to cast a brief eyeball over this common offender.

You know the type… a tacky 3D effect, or badly coloured gradient shading that instantly transports you back to the 90s. Naff free fonts that are often illegible. Or worst of all, a combination of all of the above! 

Then there’s the corroded typeface. Ah yes, that old chestnut. They’re a bit silly, but I admit, they do have their place. Just. There are plenty of these out there – some quite good ones – but if you’re going allow a designer to put a font like this on your front cover, then at least make sure they take a clean and existing typeface, and manually corrode or fragment it themselves in Photoshop. Not only does this make it unique to your cover, it also avoids repetition on the characters. Look at most battered typewriter fonts for example, and the same cracks in the same letters appear in the same place. Lazy. With a DIY approach, you’re in control of how extensive the damage to the text is, with a subtle approach often working best and preserving legibility.

But back to the 3D font. There really is no excuse – get rid of it, unless you really do want your book to look immediately dated and not particularly serious. But, hang on, I hear you say – doesn’t it have its place? Well, it does – but moreso in computer games and cinema than book covers, in my opinion. I can understand the need to make the title stand out as an element on its own, but the problem is, it is so often badly executed.

These are examples of some of the clichés commonly found on SF book covers. But I find too much font treatment is just overload, and ultimately, it distracts from the artwork. And in some cases, it renders your all-important title illegible. That word again. An instant fail.

Then there’s the dreaded 'Sci-Fi' typeface. This frequent offender is often narrow in width, sometimes with angular edges – or if not that, its something which resembles the characters from a 1980s digital watch. Basically, it cheapens the whole affair. An artist hasn’t slaved for hours over your beautiful cover art only to have it tarnished by a tacky, stereotypical typeface. 

These fonts often crop up online or on TV when everything is lumped together under the slightly cheap and somewhat nerdy, acne-ridden 'Sci-Fi' banner. It's Sci-Fi, therefore it must have a science fictiony kind of font, right? Wrong. Any serious author will of course, know that the preferred terminology for literature is science fiction or SF, with 'Sci-Fi' reserved for film and television. But that shouldn't be an excuse to cheapen the genre with a naff typeface.

While I agree that sometimes you might need to emphasise the typeface on a cover (depending on what its sitting on top of), the key to a successful execution is subtlety. Just keep any font treatment to a minimum.

The much-maligned drop shadow deserves a mention. It can be effective. But it can also render your background artwork completely flat. Again, best avoided or used with subtlety – for example, if you're batting with a light coloured text over light areas of artwork, the right amount can provide the required definition.

The choice of typeface is absolutely crucial – this is a whole sub-subject in itself. It can indicate the style or time period of the book and it also defines the genre. If I’m working on a cover illustration, I see it as part of my job to work on the text too, as it really is an extension of the cover art (whether it be illustration, montage or photograph). The choice of font helps build your brand and can often be a defining touch on a cover.

Needless to say, this sort of thing isn’t restricted just to the SF genre, but at a time when SF literature is very healthy, and the self-publishing market vibrant and buzzing, there really is no excuse for a bad front cover.

Next time, we'll talk about bad Photoshop montages. Until then...

Edgar Froese

I was very sad last week to hear of the passing of Edgar Froese, the founding member of German electronic music pioneers, Tangerine Dream.

While I usually cite Jean Michel Jarre as a major influence on my own music, there is certainly no denying the influence of Tangerine Dream. Both artists began making ambitious and experimental electronic music around the same time, each pushing musical boundaries in their home countries. In fact, Tangerine Dream’s seminal 1974 album Phaedra does have a somewhat similar, if darker feel to Jarre’s Oxygène, which would emerge a couple of years later. 

Although I own many Tangerine Dream albums and tracks (they’ve recorded far too much to keep up with, especially in recent years), I actually know very little about the band and Froese in particular, which is a little unusual for me, as when I get into an artist’s work, I’ll usually find out much more about them beyond just the music. Yet Froese has remained somewhat enigmatic to me.

If anything, I was a bit of a latecomer to the party. I knew of their name for a long time, before ever investigating their music, which I did around 15 years ago. But I was instantly hooked. My introduction to their music was actually a 'best of' compilation on Disky Records, but that contained most of their famous works and encouraged me to go on to enjoy albums such as Exit, Phaedra, Zeit, Green Desert, Hyperborea and most recently, White Eagle.

While many people sing high praise for their early work, another generation was inspired by the albums that Tangerine Dream put out in the 1980s – I’d seen White Eagle namechecked many times, particularly by musicians producing computer game soundtracks in the late 80s and early 90s (which nicely leads me back to my previous blog!). Indeed the music on White Eagle – and countless other Tangerine Dream albums – is not unlike a computer game soundtrack; an ever-evolving soundscape forming a musical adventure of discovery and exploration.

Although an expanded band for live shows, in later years in the studio, Tangerine Dream and Edgar Froese were essentially one and the same thing – with the occasional contribution from his son Jerome and other musicians.  One particular favourite of mine is one of their lesser-known releases, Quinoa, originally a fan club release in 1992, though now readily available as a digital release. A quick discography check, and you come to realise just how many albums they’ve released – there’s always one you haven’t heard of and something new to explore. 

While their latter day music may not be as pioneering or iconic as their earlier albums, there is always an instantly recognisable Tangerine Dream sound and style – and although Froese has now departed for the great gig in the sky, that iconic sound and style will live on.

For me, the discovery of their music was yet another moment when I thought to myself: “I want to try and make music like this”. I’ll be the first to admit there’s a long way to go before reaching such a standard, but without their music, I might still just be thinking about the idea of making music rather than actually doing it. And for that, I’m grateful.

My latest realise, Sentient City is out now via Bandcamp

Digital Deluxe

Following on from the previous post about the joys of the Amiga home computer and the musical inspiration I gleamed from the games scene, it's now time to shift the focus on to art.

My journey into digital art began way back in 1990 at the formative age of 12. Up until that point, I had got by just fine with pencils and paper, without the addiction or distraction of a home computer. Of course, all that was about to change.

One day at school, our art teacher, Mr Cronin, took us to a dark and dusty corner of the art room, and introduced us to The Computer. Its was an Acorn Archimedes, and it had this thing called a Mouse – which looked like a house brick on a cable with a funky ball mounted in the underside. Mr Cronin then went on to demonstrate the power of a paint program, and the mouse swung into action.

This was the moment.

First he created a gradient from red to yellow, and before long we had a sunset! A few clicks of the mouse later and we had a house with windows. Wow. Up until that point, my only experience of computers were friends’ C64s or Spectrums that played pixely games with chirpy music. The notion of making artwork on the computer hadn’t even crossed my mind.

Mr Cronin then took the excitement up to 11 – by clipping out a section of the image and creating a brush… which he then zoomed around the screen and painted with, creating an impossibly crazy pattern.

I was sold. I’d seen the future.

I got home. “Dad – Can I have an Archimedes?” 

My pestering for one of these mysterious Archimedes machines went seemingly ignored, until one day when my Dad went out one morning and came back with this exciting new computer – a Commodore Amiga A500.

I still remember the squeak of the polystyrene packing as I extracted the Amiga from its box. Of course, the computer coming with the 10-Star Games Pack, would lead to a whole other distraction, but also in the bundle was this exciting looking software package entitled Deluxe Paint II…

Deluxe Paint – or Dpaint as it was usually referred to – was made by Electronic Arts and for a long time the main art/paint program on the Amiga. And it was the answer to all my artistic needs. The Amiga being smarter and more advanced that the Archimedes, Dpaint offered so many functions and hundreds of colours.  I’d soon be drawing cartoon illustrations, Daleks, space ships landscapes, you name it. All with the mouse, I should add! And as I progressed through later versions of the program, I’d explore the joys of even more colours and animation features too.

DPaint opened my eyes to digital artwork. I’d go on to design my own games on the Amiga, make comics, write stories and even do my school work at any given opportunity. 

Fast forward to the mid 1990s and my arrival on a college course in computer graphics and design. I was delighted to find a room full of Amigas. Of course, I already knew Dpaint inside out. The following year, it would all change and we’d be working on Macs and PCs running this new thing called Photoshop. But Dpaint’s user interface proved to be the perfect training ground for the more advanced Adobe software.

Some of the last work I ever did in Dpaint on the Amiga was some college coursework from that time – a journey inside a giant computer, giant engine and giant machine – and here it is! What fond memories.