Drawing on Their Talent
From idea to illustration, four local artists bring color to The 330
When it comes to storytelling, pictures literally illustrate an author’s words. Whether the story is fantastical, nostalgic, graphic or commercial, line and color breathe life into creatures and objects and translate thoughts from the artist’s mind to the viewer’s in vivid detail.
Each of these talented illustrators creates a unique world that tells a story. Whether they use pencils, paint, ink or digital programming, their work illustrates some of the enormous artistic talent that starts in The 330 and makes the world a more colorful and artful place.
Jon C. Lund
by Sharon Cebula & photo by Tylar Sutton
That’s one of my things: to simplify as much as possible.
Artists of almost all periods have been inspired by nature. Monet’s “Water Lillies,” O’Keefe’s giant flowers, Frank Lloyd Wright’s architectural masterpiece Falling Water—all grew from a reverence for the natural world. A simple brushstroke, combination of colors or change in perspective creates an elegant marriage of nature and art. Living in Hudson, Jon Lund is surrounded by trees, flowers and birds that feed his own creativity. “Every chance I get I’m riding my bike in the CVNP,” he says. “And I’ve gotten a few posters out of that, too.”
Images of Brandywine Falls, blue herons and elephants at the zoo mingle with Lund’s more commercial work for clients like Major League Baseball, Target stores and the 2011 U.S. Tennis Open—one of his favorite campaigns to date. “The piece I did for them was iconic and worked well to get everything in it that they wanted, and did it simply,” he says.
Lund finds great pleasure in his artwork despite—or perhaps because of—its commercial nature. “Sometimes it’s not as openly creative as you might think because the client has strict control over the final product,” he says. “[But] I find plenty of creative possibilities in satisfying the client. I have no problem at all making them happy.” Artists who excel within the strict confines of the 12-bar blues or writing a sonnet can relate to the simplicity of freedom amid rules.
Simplifying organic objects—like a gangly blue heron—taps into their inherent elegance, a quality that harkens to the Modernist and Post-Modernist movements of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The modernist aesthetic of artists like Tom Purvis and Otis Shephard in advertisements of the 1930s and 40s is echoed in much of Lund’s work. People and objects are reduced to their simplest forms, on something of a flattened field where the contrast of shadow and light defines them. “That’s one of my things: to simplify as much as possible.”
Before attending The University of Akron or studying historic art movements, Lund was drawn to commercial artwork on Time Magazine covers that were delivered to his family’s home every week. “What other kid cares that Robert Grossman has done this week’s Time cover?” Boston’s 1976 eponymous LP, illustrated by Roger Huyssen for Epic Records, was also influential. You’d most likely recognize the iconic image of guitar-shaped space ships in richly saturated reds and blues. “The same guy did Time covers,” Lund says, “where I first saw how an air brush could be used to create something like that.”
The air brush technique that Lund uses was very popular in the heyday of arena bands like Boston. As a kid, Lund excelled at pencil drawings of Hot Wheels and dragsters, then moved to air brushing similar images in the ‘70s. “I started air brushing everything even in high school,” he says. “In the mid to late ‘90s, I jumped to doing the same kind of work on the computer [with] Adobe Illustrator.” The digital technique follows the same basic process as the analog, he says: “You make a shape and then fill it.”
That simple technique helps Lund create elegant images that sell to clients across the country, while choosing to stay put in Hudson with his wife, three kids, an old cat and a new puppy. “It doesn’t matter that I’m here,” he says. “I could be anywhere. I advertise nationally, get work from all over the country and have been doing so since about ’91.” Sending his creativity out into the global economy while filling his creative well with the idyllic splendor of The 330 keeps Lund’s life simple, and that’s how he likes it.
Dinara Mirtalipova
by Abigail Bashor & photos by Tylar Sutton
Basically, I like things bright and happy. I don’t have a formula or overthink things. It’s very intuitive.
In the realm of once-upon-a-time storybooks like “Beauty and the Beast” and “The Princess and the Pea,” illustration can bring words to life. These bright, whimsical visuals are an integral part of self-taught illustrator Dinara Mirtalipova’s artistic collection. Enchanting images of mystical mermaids, majestic horses, and elegant moon goddesses playfully dance across her project mediums, creating a sense of mythical tradition. The Sagamore Hills-based designer has used her alluring past and love for creative expression to foster a career full of passion.
A native of Tashkent, Uzbekistan, Mirtalipova and her family moved to the U.S. roughly 10 years ago. Fate etched its way into the canvas of Mirtalipova’s life when she secured an entry-level position with American Greetings that seemed to be a perfect fit. “They basically asked me if I could handle scissors, and I said ‘yes!’” This experience allowed her to improve her portfolio while also working her way up to in-house designer. “I realized that this was my calling; that this is what I wanted to do for my career.”
As life often goes, following a dream is not always a linear path. “After I had a baby, I realized that my priorities shifted,” Mirtalipova explains. “I wanted to stay home with my daughter and decided to dive into freelance.” She initially worried that not having the sense of collaboration found in an office would decrease her creativity. The lack of traditional art direction at home wasn’t a hindrance, though. “I realized that my art has opened up even more and has revealed more of my personal inspiration,” she says. “Being away from the creative world has helped me be more creative, as funny as that sounds.”
For Mirtalipova, creative inspiration comes from both her current life and the nostalgia of her past. “Just growing up in Uzbekistan was a big influence because everything there is folklore: the songs, the traditions, the way women dress,” she says. “As a child, I was really into Uzbek and Russian folklore, and was very fond of Greek mythology. I keep going back to these stories when I’m drawing.” Prints in red and black, with pops of blue and green, are a common thread throughout much of Mirtalipova’s art. Her work echoes that of 20th century Russian illustrator, Ivan Bilibin, whose drawings incorporate similar elements. Fairytale-like characters and other legendary creatures evoke traditional Uzbek folk themes, and touches of nature are continuous. Brightly colored birds with intricate feather patterns are one particular motif that soars throughout various pieces.
The creative process is very natural for her. “It’s basically just everything that’s around us,” Mirtalipova says. “I love taking walks with my daughter and carrying a sketchbook for us to sit down with.”
Her color palette and materials are always changing, never static—a reflection of the unpredictable nature of life itself. “Basically, I like things bright and happy. I don’t have a formula or overthink things. It’s very intuitive,” Mirtalipova says. Her experimentation in materials like gouache has led her to paint stunning handcrafted eggs that tell a story with each design. Acrylic painting on wooden jewelry showcases vivid floral patterns as well, mirroring the rich colors and patterns of her culture.
Mirtalipova says that more than anything, she hopes others find a love of cultural art the same way she has. “I want others to catch that fever of folk art, and to discover other cultures,” she explains. “I think every culture has its own folklore, and that’s what makes it so amazing. Folk art isn’t about the correct proportions or precision; it’s about the mood and the feel, and how you express that through your painting. I encourage people who are not artists to pick up a brush and try it. You don’t need to show it to everyone, but you can do it for yourself.”
Tim Eakin
by Sharon Cebula & photos by Graham Smith
When I’m truly feeling creative, it’s like a river that’s flowing above my head.
“You might not be safe, but you might also not be in danger. You’re just going to be for a while,” says Canton native Tim Eakin. He came to this wisdom the hard way: trying and failing for years to find his way as an artist in the Rust Belt. He’d always had talent, but at the end of high school, he felt no support from the adults in his life to pursue a career in the arts. Rather, their collective advice was to “just find some line to jump in and follow the line until your grave. I knew I’d be miserable doing that.”
Eakin’s is a singular creativity that does not lend itself to the constraints of the mundane. “When [I’m] truly feeling creative, it’s like a river that’s flowing above my head,” he says. “If I’m able to open my mind, I can just stick my hand up in it and feel it. Sometimes it’s so strong, it just takes me away and it’s effortless, like a movie running through my head.” These images flow into Eakin’s hand as he wields colored pencils, his preferred medium, to craft illustrations that might challenge some viewers.
With an open mind, though, you can find the humanity in the bug-eyed alien’s expression, the tenderness in the scowling beast, the strange beauty in the grotesque humanoid. Eakin uses vivid colors and unexpected amalgams to illustrate an unusual vision of life. “I go for hikes by myself,” he says. “It’s so inspiring, the terror of being completely by yourself and self-reliant. We’re conditioned to think our environment is out to get us, but really it’s not.” He seems particularly comfortable balancing the familiar and the unknown: not really safe, but also not in any real danger.
The otherworldly creatures in Eakin’s artwork evolve from images he sees all around him, both natural and man-made. Fungus on a tree in the woods or a rusting piece of machinery in an abandoned factory will catch his eye, and his imagination takes it from there. “When I was a kid, the first band I liked was Nine Inch Nails,” he says. “They took what’s considered ugly and turned it into something beautiful. That’s my same philosophy. We live in these ugly places, but it’s still part of life. Even though it’s not beautiful, it’s unique and fascinating.”
Working part-time jobs and struggling to hone his artistic style, Eakin enrolled in classes at Kent State University but chaffed at the collegiate atmosphere. He stumbled onto a visual communication and design course where he learned elements of composition—and discovered a love for illustration. “[It] is just like telling a story with a picture.”
This discovery led Eakin to renew his sense of hope for his future and to find a niche in the Canton arts community. Working at The Hub Art Factory or Print and Press Studio, he now focuses on illustration work, often including Rust Belt themes that resonate with the work of other artists in the area. “I feel like now I’m part of some kind of tribe,” he says. “It’s given me new inspiration. It’s always good to have someone in your corner and to do that for someone else.”
This sense of belonging manifests in his latest artwork, which is infused with a more whimsical undertone. Perhaps he’s found an intersection of safety and danger that will let him just be for a while.
Ted Sikora
by Abigail Bashor & photos by Tylar Sutton
My path is winding, not point A to point B at all.
Hungarian ice cream truck drivers. Psychedelic mistresses of mayhem.
The threat of “Lawnmower Man.” These are all images conjured from the creativity of a local atist. Northeast Ohio native Ted Sikora is co-creator of the hit series, “Apama: The Undiscovered Animal,” and his take on the graphic novel is anything but conventional. Drawing on local roots, Sikora’s interpretation of the superhero comic captivates readers while also creating a sense of familiarity. A collector of comics since age five, Sikora says he has been in love with the medium ever since.
“My path is winding, not point A to point B at all,” he explains. Between stints in a rock band and various theater projects, Sikora continually found himself drawing on his artistic background. Eventually, a friend of his, Milo Miller, set out to create the film “Hero Tomorrow,” and Sikora joined in on the project. A few years of back-and-forth script writing led to Sikora constructing scenes on storyboards, propelling his career further. “This all came back to my love of comics and illustrations,” he says. “It taught me some composition discipline.”
The film, based on the story of a struggling comic book author trying to create an unknown superhero, was shown at festivals internationally and gained immediate traction. “People who saw the movie kept saying that the ‘Apama’ character was unlike anything in comics, and that we ought to consider making it into a comic book,” Sikora says. Basing the origin story partly off the film, the series “Apama: The Undiscovered Animal” was born.
“‘Apama’ is the story of a Hungarian ice cream truck driver in Cleveland who discovers the spirit force of the most savage creature mankind has ever known.” Devised with a modern spin on the ‘70s Bronze Age, “Apama” takes readers on a journey through a land at once familiar and new-made—Cleveland. Scenes bring the reader into Public Square filled with smashed trucks and then continue past familiar imagery that makes the city by the lake recognizable. While fantastic elements remain constant, real effort was made to keep the story grounded in other ways. “We wanted to tell a story that was much more down to earth. My father had a tire store in Akron for years. The main character, Ilyia, was based on guys I used to change tires with in the shop,” Sikora says.
Rather than replicate the overdone conventions of Marvel or DC Comics, “Apama” forges a new type of narrative. “I thought that kind of character wasn’t well represented in the superhero universe. He’s not brilliant like Peter Parker, he’s not wealthy like Bruce Wayne, and he’s not a home-trained warrior; he’s one of us.”
With authenticity on his mind, Sikora co-wrote the script and illustrated character design while aware of certain features. Cover art introduces the story “from the jungles of Cleveland,” with speech bubble vectors highlighting the “PUMPH” of fight scenes—a modern, Rust Belt take on the old-school “BAM”s and “POW”s of the genre’s past. Complementing the illustrations of Spanish artist, Benito Gallego, Sikora finalizes the digital coloring, lettering, and layout of the comic. He tries to avoid a hyper-stylized or heavily-colored look, explaining his philosophy that the story itself should represent those colorful moments.
The earnest charm of Sikora’s stories is what he hopes readers take away most. “There’s something entertaining and fresh in these stories that people find unique,” he says. “In an area like superhero books that’s already pretty saturated, it’s fun to come up with something people haven’t seen before.”