Out of this World: the art of Josh Kirby is showing at the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool (UK) from 15 June - 30 September 2007
Entry is Free
Below is an article about Josh Kirby
by Laura Davis, Liverpool Daily Post
 Artistic genius hardly anyone knows
Millions love his work - many don’t know his name. Laura Davis reports on the life of Liverpool-born artist Josh Kirby
THERE is a theory that, while an author is responsible for first creating a fictional world, a reader is equally involved in realising it.
The imagination plays as great a part in the action of a story as the words on a the page, goes the argument.
But few thoughts are spared for the humble illustrator, whose depiction of the novel on the book jacket tempts readers to take it down off the shelf and invest several hours of their time in its narrative.
Yet, were it not for Liverpool-born artist Josh Kirby's colourful paintings, many fans of Terry Pratchett's Discworld series would have a different image of the lavishly described universe where death has an adopted daughter, vampires drink wine, and trolls and dwarfs share a mutual hatred so ancient they have almost forgotten where it came from.
"His artwork is legendary even though most people probably don't know him by name, although they might be familiar with what his pictures look like on a book cover," remarks Ann Bukantas, curator of Out of this World, a retrospective of the late Kirby's expansive artwork, which opens at the Walker this week.
"Over certain characters, Josh and Terry Pratchett had an ongoing debate over whether or not that was what Terry had had in mind.
"A lot of the women in them are very voluptuous and quite scantily clad, and Terry Pratchett would say ‘she doesn't look as though she would be able to go and vanquish somebody with a sword' and Josh would counter with ‘everybody expects fantasy heroines to look like that'."
In 1928, long before Pratchett had invented Discworld as a parody of the fantasy lives people were living during the early '80s boom, a baby boy took his first independent breaths in a house in Argo Road, Waterloo.
Named Ronald William Kirby by his parents, neither of whom had shown signs of any artistic talent, it was soon said about him that he was born with a pencil in his hand.
He attended the local primary school before being admitted to the Liverpool School of Art as a junior, and, having completed the equivalent of a Fine Art degree, decided to move with his brother to London to "seek their fortunes".
Just 18 months older, Len Kirby had taken after their parents in terms of his artistic ability and felt a deep-seated responsibility for his talented younger sibling.
This he felt strongly when the pair were evacuated to South Wales as children during the Second World War."We had a label put on our lapels and were given picnic snacks," recalls Len, who was sent to a house two fields away from Josh.
"My father gave us a note saying ‘Could you please allow them to be boarded together?' But the pressure was such that it couldn't be done. It was very distressing that because I'd promised to look after him being his elder brother and I couldn't fulfil my obligations."
So the move to the capital was a second chance for him to make sure Kirby was looked after and, while Len took on a string of jobs to pay the rent, the young artist set about establishing a career.
Although he was initially drawn towards portraiture, it was easier to find commercial work so he took a post at an agency that made film posters.
"He eventually came to paint people like Clark Gable and James Stewart and all the film stars for the film posters," says Len.
"These posters used to get stuck up all around town and on the underground going up the escalators they used to have framed pictures of forthcoming events and we used to travel up and down.
"I remember feeling very proud to go up the elevators and see my brother's work of somebody like Victor Mature or Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire . . ."
Kirby's collection of work is as diverse as it is vast - including bug-eyed aliens for science fiction book jackets, happy young girls riding ponies for jigsaw puzzles and the wonderfully detailed, vivid oil paintings of wizards, trolls and the grim reaper for the Discworld novels.
Although he may be most associated will his illustrations for Pratchett, he also created the famous Life of Brian poster for Monty Python, based on Bruegel's painting of the Tower of Babel.
Kirby continued to paint and draw until the end of his life in 2001, when he died of heart problems at the Elizabethan rectory in Norfolk he bought with his former wife, Diane, filled with his works of art and other items he liked to collect.
"Every room had his paintings in it," remembers Len. "He never threw anything away. If you went in his bedroom you would find a basket full of shoes and they were shoes that were worn out but he wouldn't throw them away. His loft was full of old papers and magazines.
"The rectory had about 12 rooms but he spent all the daylight hours in a little sort of cupboard and he used to get up early in the morning to get the light to paint and he'd just come out for the odd cup of tea and lunch."
A quiet, reclusive sort of man, who became interested in Scientology in the 1970s, Kirby was often surprised by the attention he received from people who loved his work.
"He was quite well-known in America and he had fan clubs and he used to get knocks on the door and a party from Texas would come and see his work. He was quite flattered actually and rather flabbergasted by it all.
"He was a very quiet, careful individual. He didn't push at all."
When Kirby died, he appeared to have bequeathed his estate to a female friend, who had visited him every weekend for 20 years, bringing him meals, and took him to the science fiction conventions he was invited to attend.
However, this was contested and precedence given to an earlier will, which left all his belongings to his former wife, Diane, who he was married to from 1965-1982.
Since her death, his paintings have been passed to her daughter, Amy, who contacted the Walker to arrange the exhibition of his work that is opening on Friday.
It will include illustrations from science fiction and Discworld book covers, some of his jigsaw puzzle designs, and a small number of large-scale canvasses.
"One of them is like a portrait of an alien and it's just massive. It was a subject he'd done on a smaller scale on a book cover and really liked it and decided to do a larger version on it. You walk into the gallery and there's this massive, many-eyed tentacled alien on a bright yellow background," laughs Ann.
"He constantly revisited things and reworked them so you get more than one version of a certain picture and we're also showing a small selection of studies for some of the finished paintings, so you can see him working his ideas out on paper. They're really beautiful - they're freshly, loosely painted watercolours."
In curating the exhibition, Ann has found the diversity of Kirby's work fascinating.
"What's really interesting about him is when he was doing book covers, for Westerns and horrors, I think he had to adapt his style to what the arts editors wanted. Sometimes you see things and because of the quality of them you know that they're Josh but you think ‘Wow, I didn't know that was him'," she explains.
"And the volume of work as well. He used to say that he was a slow painter; I think it took him up to eight weeks to do a really highly finished piece, but despite that there's just a phenomenal volume of stuff.
"His work for Terry Pratchett is quite camped up, really over-exaggerated and very funny. To get that combination of fantasy and high comedy is really exceptional, and I don't think there's anyone that does it as Josh Kirby did."
Len has not seen the work since Kirby died, and one of the great sadnesses of this story is that the brother that supported him throughout his early career may not be able to visit the exhibition to be reunited with the illustrations.
Len suffers from glaucoma and has had to have an operation on his eyes.
But, as seems typical of his generous nature, he is not complain-ing.
"It's in the family, my mother's family all went blind. Of course, it was a great worry for my brother Josh.
"In a way, I would have been relieved that I'd been the one that got it and not him."
OUT of this World: The Art of Josh Kirby opens at the Walker on Friday.
Talent recognised in his home town
IRONICALLY, shortly after moving to London, Kirby received his first major commission - to paint the Lord Mayor of Liverpool, Joseph Jackson Cleary.
He had gained a reputation for portraiture while at art college, earning him the nickname "Josh" after 18th- century English artist Sir Joshua Reynolds.
His brother, Len Kirby, recalls him travelling back to his home town to work on the painting during 1949.
"I remember those days. He used to get the train up to Liverpool from Euston. He made several journeys to complete the painting and he was very disappointed that the chap wore glasses because glasses are devilish things when it comes to painting.
"I think he liked to see into people's eyes properly."
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