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.
