Cookie Consent by Free Privacy Policy website Original Drawings for Disney's Hercules - Auction in London
march 24, 2017 - Sotheby

Original Drawings for Disney's Hercules - Auction in London

When Sotheby’s approached me to make this large one-man auction I had reservations. Although I have occasionally sold private commissions, in general I have retained my original drawings, and, apart from exhibitions, they have remained unseen after publication. A sale of this size made me shrink away: to me these are not only drawings, they are memories, and mark particular moments in my life. So I was reluctant, but I was gradually coaxed and persuaded. Gradually we built up a representative selection, and so here we are: a crosssection of my work for newspapers, magazines, animation, opera, ballet, theatre, Disney’s Hercules, Yes Minister, The New Yorker and Pink Floyd The Wall, bringing us right up to date with Mr Trump (very good material for my work by the way, if not for everybody). I have always drawn, ever since I could hold a pencil. As a young child I was a chronic asthmatic and spent long periods bedridden either at home or in hospital and I drew. Drawing became my way of communicating. It became my way of exorcising my fears, and that still applies today. When I start to caricature someone I exaggerate their features or I may imagine them a something else entirely, a rhinoceros, or a vacuum cleaner. What I’m trying to do is simply bring out their essential characteristics. I find a particular delight in taking the caricature as far as I can. It satisfies me to stretch the human frame about and recreate it and yet keep a likeness. There comes a point in that stretching process where, like a piece of stretched chewing gum, it breaks and the likeness is lost. I feel it’s the duty of an artist to re-interpret the world and to freshen our stale vision, making us see what we hadn’t realised was there, and, in this attempt at changing the way we see things many artists use distortion. Caricature has a noble history, stretching back to Hogarth, Rowlandson and Gilray and it’s almost impossible to say where caricature ends and ‘fine art’ begins. The borders are blurred. Both Daumier and Hogarth straddled these borders, and the comic art of Lichtenstein and Jeff Koons, for example, has transferred successfully to the gallery, and my great hero, Picasso, certainly used distortion. I have been lucky enough to be able to expand my career beyond my work as a political cartoonist. Working as an artist is a lonely pursuit, and it’s wonderful to be able to collaborate with other creative people. Over the years I have designed sets and costumes for operas, ballet, fringe and West End theatre – and movies. Many opportunities have arisen by serendipity. For instance, I happened to be in the same box as Sir Peter Hall at a concert in the Albert Hall many years ago, and that led on to him inviting me to work on a musical, two West End farces and a production of The Magic Flute for Los Angeles opera. Similarly, John Musker and Ron Clements, producers for Walt Disney, followed my work when they were students in Chicago. Many years later, they contacted me and asked me if I would be production designer on Hercules. As I’d been a devoted fan since seeing Pinocchio as a boy, this job was particularly special and I had a great time on the movie, designing all the sets and characters and working directly with the brilliant Disney animators. When members of Pink Floyd saw a BBC TV film I had made called Long Drawn Out Trip – reportedly saying “We’ve got to work with this guy, he’s fucking mad” – they invited me to work with them on some of their projects, which led to our long collaboration on their stage shows, album and subsequent film of The Wall, during which I lived the rock and roll life of helicopters and limos with black windows. The group became good friends, and recently I’ve been working with Roger Waters on his new worldwide tour. My drawings are of course very personal acts made in the privacy of my own home, but when they leave my hands they escape into hundreds of thousands of copies and may be seen by millions of people. I don’t think about that when I make the drawing – it’s just between my imagination and that piece of paper – but if a drawing is particularly ferocious or overtly sexual and someone looks at it in my presence I have to admit to sometimes feeling shy; I feel so personally about it it’s almost like undressing in public. My political drawings are often protests, and in showing my dislike I have to draw the dislikeable. To horrify people about the waste of war I must make a horrific drawing of war, and when I come to draw people, their bodies become vehicles for their emotions – greed, lust, cruelty. So, here is a selection of my work, from David Beckham to Oscar Wilde and from Trump to Churchill, including some drawings that have never been seen: either because they were too strong for publication - or because they were about something I just had to get off my chest