David Litchfield's work initially seems dissectible along the normal seams of influence and history. There are immediate hints of Sendak, Miyazaki, and a handful of mid-century European book illustrators that give his work a basic context at first glance. But after just a few minutes of browsing, you realize Litchfield's work runs through much wider and varied ground than even these imply. It opens up, short-circuits any attempt to pigeonhole, and gets more intriguingly unique the further you look.
Subtle details in his characters’ faces, incessantly changing perspectives, surrealistic contortions of objects, and the delicacy of his more traditionally “fine art” painted pieces combine to throw off any scent of (direct) homage. Tonal comparisons remain, but it’s to Litchfield’s credit that his illustration balances being exuberantly conversational and personal, even occasionally (pleasantly) self-indulgent.
There’s also a type of love that grounds each image, a feeling of each world (despite their oddity and occasionally bestial edges) having been framed with a rare generosity. Each atom feels placed, directed, and crafted with benevolence. Never fluffy or saccharine, but always welcoming, marked by a masterful and enthusiastic sense of craftsmanship.
Wow…thank you Pixel Union. What a great feature on me. very honoured :)