Downalla was built on influences from a range of different media. I find a lot of fun in taking pieces from different stuff I like and throwing it into the mix. I didn't set out to make something built on the fasntasy genre, so much as I wrote things which helped me to escape. And that approach suited a model I was already familiar with: Irish manuscripts. This is the tradition with which I most identify.
With the introduction of Christianity, Ireland encountered the Latin alphabet and book production. We developed a distinct visual style and font very quickly. Irish styles were transmitted to England and (what would later be called) Scotland, where they flowered into some of the best medieval books in Europe. This example is from the Book of Kells, a Bible copy from about ___. It was likely made in Scotland under an Irish influence, and is estimated to have taken 60 years to produce... pretty amazing. It was the first artwork which really impressed me as a child, and I'll never forget the first time my dad brought me to see it.
Over time, the manuscript tradition was put to secular purposes, and literature in Irish started to be copied. This continued, at varying paces, throughout the Middle Ages. For various reasons, Ireland did not widely adopt printing after the English Reformation. Writing in Irish was still being circulated through hand-written copies as late as the 19th Century. I mean until the bleedin 1850s you could hire someone to copy epic literature by hand in my city. And those guys are my heroes. All my writing at home is in Irish and in the traditional alphabet which was developed for it.
Another hero of mine is William Blake. I like his poetry and drawing style, but I love his process. Blake trained as a printer, and engraved every letter of his writing into metal plates. This allowed him to print in his own handwriting - typos and all. And I want to do the same. I get really tired of seeing things in digital fonts; the inherent messiness of handwritten letters is fun to me. It's kind of freeing. I might not be able to make engravings like Blake did, but even my humble photocopies keep something of the originals' spirit. Blake is influential also for putting forward a very sincere philosophy through fantastical imagery. I try to do the same. Blake challenged the boundaries between "real" and "imaginary" worlds. Who's to say the things we see in our minds aren't relevant to the real world? I usually see places and characters before I write about them, and they can feel completely real. I don't have to like my characters or push them to a particular purpose. They just are, and it feels as though I am meeting rather than creating them.
Like lots of people, I don't read as much as I'd like. But here are some books which I've always loved.
George Orwell is probably my all-time favourite author. He put forward his ideas in an accessible and enjoyable way. Orwell could write stories which are fun to read on a surface level alone, while remaining uncompromisingly true to his own ideals. Maybe that accessibility is why he's been appropriated by absolutely everyone (most ironically by the political right)! But I think he taught me to engage with things as they are right now, even if I'm writing about imaginary places.
Gulliver's Travels is a weird little novel from 18th Century Ireland, but from a completely different scene to the Gaelic manuscript tradition above. It's still a disconcerting, thrilling and distinct book, though.
I'm a huge fan of music. It's the ultimate source of inspiration: you can listen to music while enaging in other things. It accompanies everyday life (speaking of which, why can't we have soundtracks for written works??). I am/have/experience synesthesia (or maybe I just have an overactive imagination), so sometimes I can almost see the music I love. In some ways, my art style is often trying to get the colour of my favourite music into image form. One of the best things about music isn't to do with the art itself, but with its associations. There's frequently as much pleasure in the memories a song calls up as there is in its actual sound. Ryo Fukui might have been a Japanese jazz pianist, but for me, his music will always conjure up flying around Holland on a rusty bike, right as spring began to overcome winter.