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'The Fish who Could Wish for a CD-ROM'
Carousel - the guide to children's books
Issue 2, Spring 1996,
page 8
Compact Disc Read Only Memory enjoys the acronym in every
language it seems. Even the Yankee-phobic French pronounce it 'CD-ROM' but with
the wonderful Gallic growl on the 'R'.
A CD-ROM disc is an amazing, astonishing, extraordinary shiny
sliver of plastic measuring only 12cm in diameter but contains vast quantities
of information. Not only can it store text, it can store full colour movies,
animation, graphics, a sound track and its interactive. Pop the disc into a
CD-ROM computer, the screen sparkles with sharp clear images and the speakers
pump out the sound in full stereo.
I felt extremely lucky and fortunate to be involved in CD-ROM at
the early stage when Oxford University Press (OUP) decided to publish a CD-ROM
edition of the book I had illustrated, 'The Fish Who Could Wish', written by
John Bush. At my first meeting with the editor, Emma Williams, I was shown
samples or tests produced by a Glaswegian company called InnerWorkings
specialising in high quality computer graphics and animation. I was ecstatic.
My illustrations had been beautifully and faithfully reproduced
but with the added dimensions of sound and animation! Emma then presented me
with a fat wad of notes, no not sterling, but the draft manuscript for the
CD-ROM Edition of 'The Fish Who Could Wish'. This document had been prepared
by InnerWorkings, and could have been a stumbling block for me, but fortunately
I have a background in film animation and I was able to re-work the
manuscript into a storyboard form.(A storyboard is a method used to plan out a
movie in comic book form.)
Various analogies are used to explain the structure of a CD-ROM.
The simplest one I prefer is the bicycle wheel. The hub of the wheel is the
'Home Screen' on a CD-ROM. This is the first screen that comes up and is the
base of the CD-ROM> The spokes are represented by certain icons, objects or
hot spots within the home screen. To follow one of the spokes out to a point on
the rim of this imaginary wheel you click on the hotspots using the computers
mouse. Or 'rat ' as my Luddite friends would say. You have reached that point
on the rim when a new screen flashes up on the computer's monitor. You can
explore this screen by clicking on any part that interests you. This can also
lead you to other points along the rim, other screens for you to scrutinise,
probe or rummage about with your mouse. Or you can go straight back to the home
screen and click on other undiscovered areas.
Emma and I, plus the storyboard manuscript (the latter we
checked in as excess baggage) flew the 'red eye express' to Glasgow for a
meeting with Lesley Keen, owner and top banana of InnerWorkings, and her bunch
of animators, software writers (aka propeller engineers locally), a musician and
sound engineers.
My role amongst this anarchic bunch was to make sure that the artwork
scanned into the computers remained true to the original illustrations and any
new artwork drawn by the animators looked like a Korky Paul drawing. To do this
I drew character sheets of our hero the fish, who was subsequently named
'Hamish' after his creator.
A character sheet is a series of drawings showing Hamish front
on, side on, from the back, from the top and any other unusual position he may
appear in the CD-ROM. I also illustrated lots of fish, new backgrounds and
foregrounds, other assorted forms of creepy sea life and more fish.
All the artwork was done using pen & ink with watercolours on
good quality paper. Once they were scanned into the computer all finished art
and animation was done electronically. I also made sure any changes to the
layout. design and composition were in the style of Korky Paul.
John Bush was called upon to write a new verse to replace 'When
sharks go a hunting for a nice fishy treat...'. It was dropped for technical
reasons and John came up with a verse where Hamish wishes for a submarine. What
I found fascinating was to see how my illustrations, inspired by John Bush's
bizarre tale, in turn inspired the animators at InnerWorkings. They came up with
a vast array of gags and activities that are both funny and entertaining.
I was very keen that the music would be contemporary and not plonking
pianos accompanying falsetto voices. Tom the musician travelled in from a remote
glen and we chatted. He nodded his head a lot, made lots of notes, listened to
pieces of music I had brought up to Scotland. Then left.
Back in his glen he composed a weird and wonderful selection of
lively music, as well as weird and bizarre sound effects to go with all the
absurdities the animators had created.
I doubt whether Robbie Coltrane was actually auditioned for the
job but he did the voice over as only he can do it.
A year later the CD-ROM edition of 'The Fish Who Could Wish ' was
released. At the 1995 Frankfurt Book Fair we won the 'EMMA': The European
Multi-Media Award beating Bill Gate's Microsoft entry into second place. OUP
have now decided to publish CD-ROM editions of two more books I have
illustrated. As I write, the animators and propeller engineers are working on
'Winnie the Witch' by Valerie Thomas and 'Dragon Poems' edited by John Foster.
I think CD_ROMS are an excellent opportunity for children's
writers and illustrators to expand and develop their work. As an illustrator,
but more as a parent of young children, I would despair if CD-ROMS should plunge
to the depths of garbage that pervades much of children's animated television.
©1996 CAROUSEL
'Drawing Picture Books'
BOOKS FOR KEEPS - the children's book magazine
No.98 May 1996 page
4
On the first day of my first job as a young art school
graduate at an advertising agency in Cape Town, the boss's secretary wandered
over to my drawing -board and said, 'Hello, howzit. So you're Korky Paul , the
New Drawer?'
Not, 'So you're the New Art Director?' or even 'The New Artist?'
Just, 'The New Drawer?'
On reflection it was a fair description of what I did then and
years later a fair description of what I do now. Draw picture books. I like the
word, too. Prefer it to artist or even illustrator.
A fair description but not a full description for someone creating a
picture book. Because, I liken a picture book to a movie. As the drawer, you are
not only the cinematographer but also the director, the casting agent, the
costume designer, the set designer and responsible for the locations, lighting,
props and continuity!
The text is the sound track and it's that special combination between
words and pictures that makes for good storytelling in a picture book. As in a
movie neither can exist properly on their own.
For me a picture book starts with someone else's manuscript. I am not
a writer, I am a drawer, remember?
This means I am constantly searching for new stories which can turn
up in a variety of surprising and unlikely ways. Take 'Winnie the Witch' by
Valerie Thomas. At the end of my first meeting with Ron Heapy, the Children's
Book Editor at Oxford University Press, he presented me with a manuscript about
a witch who lived in a black house and suggested I attempt two or three
drawings. It was early days in my career and at the end of first meetings,
photocopies are made of your portfolio, pleasantries exchanged and the parting
words are inevitably, 'Don't 'phone us, we'll 'phone you...' I am extremely
grateful to Ron for not going near the photocopier or muttering those dreaded
parting words.
Something similar happened with Robin Tzannes (the 'Tz' is
pronounced as a 'J' in English). One hot summer in Greece she saw a doodle I'd
scribbled of a mad professor. 'Write me a story about him,' I joked. That winter
she sent me the wonderful story about Professor Puffendorf and followed it with
the fable 'Sanji and the Baker'. Then came the story of a child triumphing over
an adult in 'Mookie Goes Fishing'
What do I look for in a story? The subject matter is irrelevant; I
will draw anything. What does appeal to me are stories with an unexpected ending
or a neat
and clever twist. If on the first reading the story inspires me and
fills my head with images I feel confidant I will do justice to it. 'The Dog
that Dug' by Jonathan Long and 'The Rascally Cake' by Jeanne Willis are two
stories that fired my imagination immediately. I will discuss themes or ideas
with a writer but choose not to be involved in the writing of rough drafts or
final manuscripts. I've tried it but without success. Once I had Robin Tzannes
yelling at me in her best New York accent, 'Korky Paul! I don't tell you how to
draw so DON'T tell me how to write!'
I prefer to work from a finished manuscript the writer and
perhaps the editor are satisfied with. The majority books contain 32 pages.
Pages 1 and 32 are glued to the inside front cover and inside back cover
respectively. Pages 2 & 3 ,and 30 31 are the end papers. Page 4 has the
copyright details and page 5 is the title page. This makes a total of 8 pages
leaving 24 pages, or 12 'double page spreads' for the text and the
illustrations.
Now the fun begins. My first task is to divide up the text and
arrange it over the 12 spreads. I firmly believe this is the drawers
responsibility, as it is such an integral part of how you design and interpret
the story visually. To go back to the analogy with a movie, it's the drawer
taking on the role of director planning out the shooting script. There are no
hard or fast rules, but generally the first thing I look for is the beginning,
the middle and end. Spreads 1 & 2, 6 & 7, and 11 & 12 are pencilled
in. This leaves spreads 3, 4, 5 and 8, 9, 10.
I now look for things happening: an introduction of a new
character(s), a change of scene, or a 'cliff-hanger' sequence where you have to
turn the page to discover the outcome. These are all obvious cues for a new
spread. A good tip is to treat each spread as a chapter. Simultaneously, I have
to be aware of the pace, the rhythm and the drama of the story and try to
reflect that (as well as the style of the writing) in the breakdown of the text.
In most of the picture books I've illustrated the writer offers
little or no description of the character's physical appearance or their
clothing. In a picture book it is redundant. Now the drawer becomes the casting
director and costume designer. Some characters require hours of doodling and
sketching before I feel they're right. It's difficult to articulate how you
decide on a look or a face as it's something that comes from within you. I'd
spend hours drawing dopey-looking muts for 'The Dog That Dug' and wasn't happy
with any of them. One day while yakking on the 'phone and doodling away, I
inadvertently drew the dog that I had been attempting to sketch for days.
There are those rare occasions when a character is so clear in my mind's eye
after the first reading of the story, that the first sketch is absolutely right.
Mr. Rufus Skumskin O'Parsley from the 'Rascally Cake' was one such character.
Whether I am drawing witches, pirates, mad professors or Middle
Eastern travellers, there are certain items of clothing (clichéd as they
may be) which instantly communicate who or what they are. For example, take head
gear. A tall pointed hat emblazoned with stars; a three cornered hat with the
skull 'n cross bones stitched into it; the little lamp strapped to a forehead or
a flowing silk turban. I will exaggerate them, distort them and add little
embellishments so they are no longer clichéd. I bring something of
myself, the Korky Paul look, to the appearance of the character.
Then I could add other items of clothing with unique details to
make them distinctly mine - Winnie with her bright red and yellow striped
stockings, Cap'n Teachum with his row of medals for plundering and pillaging,
Professor Puffendorf's pockets stuffed with pipettes and test-tubes.
Black stately homes, rotting borer-beetle infested galleons, and
a few exotic domed desert cities are just a few of the sets I've been lucky
enough to design. As with the costumes, I delight in taking the obvious and then
imbuing it with that exaggerated and distorted Korky Paul look. In 'Winnie the
Witch', Valerie Thomas used only one adjective to describe our heroine's home-
'black'. my initial sketches showed a picturesque cottage complete with
thatched roof and exposed timber beams. The results were dull boring and
obvious. 'What's the opposite of a cottage?' I asked myself Answer: 'Stately
Home'. Once I had hit upon this idea the book opened up for me. All the rooms
and paraphernalia of a stately home would serve as a wonderful and dramatic
back drop for Winnie's antics with her cat, Wilbur. The real challenge lay in
illustrating it all in black!
Having decided on the location, built the sets and found the
props, resolving the problems of composition, design and layout over 24 pages is
a lot easier and clearer. Design and layout is the arrangement of text and
illustrations on the page. In a picture book it is essential these two elements
are tightly integrated to tell the story successfully.
I frequently use a comic-book layout, which in turn is rooted in
cinema. Close-up shots, long-shots, events happening off camera are all
cinematic devices used to tell a story effectively and dramatically. An example
of this is in 'Sanji and the Baker' on the spread featuring a large picture of
Sanji sadly tossing his borrowed five silver coins into a copper bowl. Running
down the left -hand side are five small pictures showing the evil Baker. The
first picture is a medium-shot of him smirking. In the following four pictures
the 'camera' zooms in and on the final shot we see him in extreme close-up
grinning feverishly. These five shots represent the Baker's greedy response to
the coins as they land in the bowl. He is seen from the judge's viewpoint (who
is off -camera) which underlines or highlights Sanji's, as well as the reader's
sense of injustice.
Linking the large picture to the strip of small shots are the
onomatopoeic words of money falling into the bowl, printed in a bold, comic
-book style typeface. This device tells the reader the two events are happening
simultaneously in the same room. The five silver coins are based on the Zimbabwe
dollar. I keep one in my wallet for good luck!
Each spread is worked out first in rough form on light-weight
cartridge paper. The finished artwork is executed on a medium weight watercolour
paper. All the artwork is done 25% larger than the printed size. On the
cartridge paper I draw in all the information I need to plan out and design the
spread. Page size, illustration size and spine. On a separate piece of paper I
have the typsetting of the text . With a pencil I sketch in my ideas, moving the
text around to fit in with the illustration. When I am satisfied with the pencil
sketch and position of the typsetting I redraw over the pencil lines in black
Indian Ink using a dip-pen, making alterations where necessary The roughs
end up as a collage of drawings done on separate pieces of paper and glued into
position, Sometimes a drawing is exactly what I want but is the wrong size. I'll
enlarge or reduce it on a photocopier and glue it into position on the cartridge
paper.
I now tape the completed rough onto a light -box. (A light -box
is a drawing board with a glass worktop and strip lights beneath the glass.)
Over the rough I tape down the watercolour paper, flick on the lights and the
rough sketch below shows through. With a very sharp HB pencil I lightly trace in
the illustration, again making alterations where necessary. The primary reason
for tracing the rough onto the watercolour paper is to position the illustration
exactly where I want them. It also helps to avoid drawing to close to the edge
of the page, into the area reserved for the type or drawing crucial details over
the spine or gutter.
I remove the watercolour paper from the light-box and start
drawing -not tracing! There's a great difference between the two. I don't
slavishly follow the pencil lines as this would produce a dull and lifeless
work. They are there simply as a guide. The trick is to recapture the
spontaneity and freshness so often found in the rough drawings.
I draw mainly with a dip-pen using black or waterproof coloured
inks. The colour work is done with watercolours. Toothbrushes, porcupine quills
and wall paint have all been used at sometime to achieve certain effects. In the
scene where Cap'n Teachum forces his crew to walk the plank, I had great
difficulty in getting the stormy sea right. Every colour of blue in my studio
was tried, but without success. Then I spied a bottle of Quink Ink. 'For
fountain pens only' read the label. Ignoring that I splashed it on recklessly.
The effect was remarkable, it was exactly what I wanted! I have yet to use it
again.
As in a movie, continuity is important. As is making sure the
geography of the world you create makes sense to the reader. In Winnie's home
the bathroom in the first spread appears on a different floor on the final
spread Cap'n Teachum has his pegleg strapped to the wrong thigh on two
occasions.
The other thing I do is give existing
characters walk-on parts in new books, or include them in crowd scenes. In
'Sanji and the Baker', Cap'n Teachum appears uninvited in two scenes. It took my
daughter, Zoë, aged seven at the time to spot the mistake the night before
I was to deliver the artwork to Ron Heapy. Children spot these mistakes and
write to me pointing them out. Initially these were genuine errors in
continuity, but now I put them in deliberately and wait for the letters...
The illustrations I leave for last are the endpapers, title page,
and front cover. The endpapers I use as an opportunity to design a bold graphic
statement to express the essence of the book. It's an enjoyable exercise and can
prove quite difficult to find a neat, simple solution.
The splashes of colour I used in 'Winnie' is a good example of a
bold graphic design giving a flavour of the story. Sometimes I give them a
more illustrative treatment as in the endpapers for 'The Cat That Scratched' by
Jonathan Long. I drew an extreme close-up of the cat scratching furiously using
the comic-book device of lines of force to show the cat's action. In 'Monster
Poems' edited by John Foster, I used drawings done by my wife's god-daughter,
Joanna Mitchell aged 5. In 'Billy Bumps' , our daughter, Zoé Paul,
contributed the endpapers.
The final illustration is the front cover. The reason for this is
that I base it on one, or a combination of illustrations from the book. What I
look for is a scene that is a synopsis, a visual shorthand of the story without
revealing any twists or surprise endings. It must also clearly show the main
protaganist. Look at any of the books I have illustrated and you'll find the
front cover buried somewhere within.
The front cover is the most difficult illustration to get right,
and frequently I fail the Oxford University Press Front Cover Examination. This
finds me scuttling back to my studio a sad and depressed man. I have to admit
they're normally right and my second attempt is a vast improvement. These past
the test.
I enjoy illustrating ideas which are not in the text but are
inspired by it. This is all part of enhancing the story. They are
embellishments, tales within tales to tempt the reader into the book. If I have
a good story that inspires and excites me, it's a delight. A joy to work on.
More importantly I hope children (and adults!) will find it a joy to explore and
read. But that is what we all hope for.
©1996 BOOKS FOR KEEPS
'What a Brilliant Idea!'
Silver Jubilee
Conference Catalogue
Federation of Children's Book Groups
Stratford-upon-Avon 1993
I sat staring out the vast windows of the Royal York Hotel,
amazed that the lawns outside glowed a brilliant green despite the grey drizzle
which shrouded them. As I pondered this phenomenon, I became aware of a gentle
nudging and tugging at my arm, then an urgent voice whispered, 'You've won,
you've won! Go on, get up...'
I leapt up bewildered, and staggered towards the front of the
banqueting hall, through crowds of parents and children seated around the
beautifully laid tables piled with cakes, cookies and cups of tea. I was dimly
aware of a horde of little faces staring up at this tall, balding gent who had
not been paying attention when he should have been doing so.
The occasion was the 1987 Children's Book Award Ceremony put on
by The Federation of Children's Book Groups. And as I stumbled through the
crowd, my delight took over me, for I was the joint winner of an award for a
book that I had illustrated. The other winner was the author of the book titled
'Winnie the Witch'. She, Valerie Thomas, was in Australia and sadly could not
attend the ceremony.
That was the start of my involvement with the Federation. (I will
use this abbreviation as I find the full title a mouthful!) To be honest I had
never heard of this extraordinary organisation until in March 1988 when I
received a letter from the Federation forwarded through Oxford University Press,
the publishers of 'Winnie the Witch'. They were writing to tell me that our book
had been voted one of the top ten for 1987; and who had voted for our book?
Children!
What a brilliant idea- and yet obvious! Of course, the people for
whom the books are created for are, undoubtedly, the best judges. But most
important, by giving the children the responsibility of acting as judges, I am
sure that the Federation is giving them a strong motivation to read.
I believe that something like 300 books are submitted by the publishers for
the children to peruse, enjoy and judge for this award. Wonderful! There are
numerous 'prestigious ' children's book awards which get a lot of coverage (is
this the meaning of prestigious/) but none of them has the unique standard of
the Federation's Award, which is set and demanded by children.
So, for me, winning an award judged by children is a particularly
rewarding and special experience. It is also marvellous to see my judges falling
about with delight when they look at my drawings. I saw this happening when, a
few months after the Award Ceremony, Jan Sanderson invited me to
Radcliffe-on-Trent to talk at the primary school.
I have since been to numerous primary schools and these visits
give me the most fun. I read to children and afterwards draw for them. But I did
find that I was bored by repeatedly drawing characters from my books, so I
started to call out to my audience for new suggestions.
The results where hilarious- noisy sessions with demands for
double-headed, green spotted monsters, wearing pink knickers, purple sunglasses
and one hundred pairs of legs- with as many feet in plimsolls, sandals or both.
Give this monster a pair of squint eyes and I will have thirty kids collapse in
fits of laughter.
Silly stuff, indeed, but lots of fun.
These mad, crazy sessions are stimulating for me and for the
kids, but they are more than this- they are a fantastic source of inspiration
for me. And, at the end of each session, I am overwhelmed with gratitude when
the children present me with their own wonderful drawings.
I am not one for joining professional bodies or societies, but I
have been so impressed by the enthusiasm of the people who run the federation
and the work they do, that this year I became a fully paid up member of The
Federation of Children's Book Groups.
Anyone who has anything
to do with children's books should join- especially the authors and
illustrators.
© 1993 KORKY PAUL
'Korky's Corker'
(Me and my Motor)
Oxford Mail - Motoring Section
26 November, 1997
Merc is just magic
Award-winning children's book illustrator Korky Paul drives a
Mercedes-Benz Estate he calls 'Top Banana'- because it's big 'n yellow.
Korky Paul, the man who created 'Winnie the Witch', says he
travels millions of miles a week in his favourite car. Here he tells Wednesday
Wheels about his car- and the dark night he came face-to-face with a pirate...
What's your favourite journey?
Going to the car wash.
What's your favourite music while driving?
Chip and Enzo's Greatest
Hits. 'O'Lord, Won't you by me a Mercedes-Benz' by Janis Joplin.
What do you like about your car?
The automatic gears and the
special cubby hole for my drawing things at the back.
What do you dislike?
Filling her up with petrol.
What has been the best moment?
Taking her to the car wash for the
first time.
Who would be your ideal driving companion?
Winnie the Witch,
because she could magic me directly to my destination without getting stuck in
the traffic jams-and find me free parking when I get there.
What has been your worst moment / breakdown?
Mercedes never
breakdown!
Which famous person does your car remind you of and why?
Professor
Puffendorf, the world's greatest scientist who has made many wonderful
inventions-eg the banana-matic.
Err why?
Because it's yellow like the banana-matic and it's a
wonderful invention (the banana-matic that is)
If you won the National Lottery, what car would you buy?
A
chauffeur- driven Sinclair.
Any anecdotes about your vehicle?
Once upon a time it was a dark
and stormy night and we were driving past the Smugglers' Inn in Cornwall.
Suddenly out in front of the car stepped a pirate with a
wooden leg and a huge three cornered hat emblazoned with the skull and
crossbones.
In the beam of the headlights, I could see he was frantically
waving us down to stop with a large blunderbuss in his left hand.
I slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop, a whisker's breadth
from his huge belly. Through the pouring rain I peered at this crazy figure. A
crooked row of what appeared to be medals sparkled on his chest.
'Cap'n Teachum's the name!' he said. 'Piracy's the game!'
Then he reached over, snapped the Mercedes-Benz symbol off the
bonnet of the car and added it to his collection of gleaming 'medals'.
He spun round on his wooden leg and staggered off through the
rain, disappearing across the moors.
'That's the fifth one that's been nicked, dad!' cried my
children. 'I know, I know!' I sobbed.' I can count!'
The roads just aren't safe anymore...
© OXFORD MAIL 1997
Creature
culture
Korky Paul - A children's
book illustrator who conjures up a world of real and imaginary creatures.
Open any book by Korky Paul and you enter a world alive with real and
imaginary creatures, with houses that are crammed, gardens that burgeon,
shelves that groan, bins that burst and dusty basements festooned with
pipes and cobwebs. All human and animal kind is here. Everybody's secret
life peeps out from under stairs, corners and beds. Stories of desperate
dogs, ebullient ghosts, kindly witches and forgetful pirates romp through
his pages bristling with energy. Eyes bulge, hair bristles, lips pout,
fingers grasp and rows of tiny teeth chomp their way through horrible
feasts. Stripey tights droop when Winnie the Witch (Valerie Thomas,
OUP) is worried.
Each dense picture
is fun to explore and talk about. Adults respond to the gentle satire
in which nothing and nobody is sacred. In many books, virtually unnoticed,
there is the wise onlooker, a silent commentator on human and animal
frailty like the little mouse that watches everything in The Cat
That Scratched (Jonathon Long, Red Fox).
Korky Paul is fascinated
by detail: clothes, food, the detritus and the underside of life. The
Dog That Dug (Jonathon Long, Red Fox) burrows deeper and deeper
past miners and tube trains till he reaches prehistory. Does Captain
Teachum's Buried Treasure (Peter Carter, OUP) lie beneath the sandy
desert or under the steamy jungle? Up on the surface frenetic habitations
hum. The laboratory of Professor Puffendorf's Secret Potions
(Robin Tzannes, OUP) is ³full of odd-shaped bottles and tubes, and strange
looking machines². His settings do not just form the backdrop, they
are integral to the text and elaborate on the narratives.
Korky Paul pounces
on greed. In the old fable Dinner with Fox, pastry crusts, pot
lids and oven doors pop open in the cleverly constructed book (Tango).
Children love books about food and in Sanji and the Baker (Robin
Tzannes, OUP) not surprisingly our hero is accused of stealing the delicious
smell of crusty bread. Like Roald Dahl, Korky Paul delights in feasts
both delicious and revolting in The Rascally Cake (Puffin). Mr
O'Parsley smacks his lips with horrible delight at the array of revolting
dishes like ³fat black tadpoles squashed on toast².
Readers share in
the frenetic lives of the characters and sympathise with them in all
their scrapes. Korky Paul's is not an art of alienation. He invites
us to tingle with horror and laugh in disgust. We identify with young
Samuel David in Call Me Sam (Teresa Lynch, OUP) when people call
him every name but his own and, in Have You Seen Max? (Peter
Harris, Tango) we desperately search for him under trapdoors and in
suits of armour.
Generosity is Paul's
hallmark. His endings are happy, and good wins. His characters delight
in their wickedness. They care. He works well with different authors
because of his rare gift of empathising with other artists. His illustrations
meld with the rhyming couplets of Jonathon Long in The Dog That Dug,
the sparse text of Stephen Wyllie's Dinner with Fox, the rhythmic poetry
of Jeanne Willis's The Rascally Cake and the directness of John Agard's
story-telling in Brer Rabbit The Great Tug-o-War (Bodley Head).
He has fun with all kinds of formats from pop-up, three-dimensional,
greeting card (Halloween, Tango Books), and graduated pages (Billy
Bumps Builds a Palace, OUP) to the interactive CD-ROM of John Bush's
the Fish Who Could Wish, spoken by Robbie Coltrane (OUP).
Korky Paul will
keep you itching for more, and like The Cat That Scratched you will
come back again for more of his innovative art.
THE OXFORD TIMES,
25/9/98, Jan Lee
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