ablo Picasso once observed that "there are painters who transform the sun into a yellow spot, but there are others who, with the help of their art and their intelligence, transform a yellow spot into the sun." Famed science-fiction illustrator Frank Kelly Freas, who over the past half-century has crafted landscapes on worlds illuminated by dozens of distant suns, is surely among those talented few who can turn a simple yellow spot into an inspired and brilliant orb.
Born in 1922, Freas has been one of the most important—and prolific—artists in the SF field. He has won science fiction's highest accolade—the Hugo Award—10 times, along with myriad other honors, including the Chesley Award (three times) and the Locus Award (five times). As a testament to both his longevity and enduring popularity, he also received a Retro Hugo Award, bestowed in 2001, for his work in 1950.
After more than five decades drawing everything from classic pulp-magazine and book-jacket images to best-selling record album covers, one might think that the 80-year-old Freas would be resting on his laurels. Yet, as the following discussion indicates, he offers contemporary fans not only a valuable historical perspective, but also some unambiguous opinions on the current state of, and the future outlook for, science-fiction art.
You began working in the science-fiction field in 1950. What was your first professional SF illustration, and how did that assignment come about?
Freas: The first national cover that I did was for the November 1950 issue of Weird Tales. I was in art school at the time, and a friend of mine had just come back from New York. He was looking over my stuff, and he said, "Kelly, you ought to send this to Dorothy McIlwraith. It's just
what she's looking for." And I said, "Dorothy McIlwraith, who's that?" He explained that she was the editor of Weird Tales.
Well, I immediately sent off a package of samples to her, and she responded with an assignment, which was that November 1950 job. In fact, the only thing I had to change from what I had already submitted to her as a sample was to add some little sparkles to lighten the overall feeling of the cover so that the ink wouldn't spread and close it up.
What was that image?
Freas: It was a Pan dancing in the moonlight. He started out with a plain horn, but in a subsequent edition he got his clarinet, which is what he was supposed to have in the first place.
Quite a few writers have talked about their experiences with John W. Campbell, the influential editor of Astounding Science Fiction, but not too many artists have shared their memories. How would you describe your working relationship with him?
Freas: It was marvelous! For 20 years, John Campbell was probably my very closest friend. He was also the guardian for my children, as I was the guardian for his. I know he liked working with me, and I never worked with anybody I enjoyed more. John was so full of ideas, and we always had something new and different to talk about.
He gave me a pretty free hand in the illustrations I did for his stories. He said, "If I knew what I wanted, I'd do it myself and I wouldn't have to hire you!" So we got along really well in that respect. As a matter of fact, I don't recall his ever bouncing anything I did or making any major changes to something I handed in, because we thought sufficiently alike that I knew pretty much what he was looking for, and he knew that, one way or another, I was going to give him what he wanted.
How did he go about assigning illustrations to you?
Freas: I was in his office at least once a week, often on a Wednesday. I'd be visiting several other people and would stop in to see him, so we'd frequently have lunch together. He would usually have a manuscript waiting for me, because he knew I was going to be in that day, and he'd just tell me what was needed. He didn't bother writing anything on it—he just told me what he wanted and I went ahead and did it.
Nowadays, when you get a manuscript, it has got half a page of specifications of what the editor wants you to do. John and I never had that problem, in large part
because I worked to the proportionate size of the magazine, and anything that varied off scale or was too big or too small he took care of. At that time, all of the technical aspects of publishing a magazine were much cheaper and freer flowing. Nobody cared quite so much about whether it was right or not or whether it fit the union rules or anything. It was relatively free and easy.
Can you describe the process of how you go about illustrating a story?
Freas: Well, basically, it's learning what the story is all about. That is, attempting to determine what the author was trying to say and what the readers are going to have trouble getting out of it. There's always something that can stand clarification, and if I can pick an area like that, which will set a mood and clarify the whole attitude or objective of the story, that's my ideal solution. My illustrations are always directly in the service of the story, which, I should add, isn't always necessarily in the service of the editor. If it's what the story requires, that's what I want to do.
Do you read each story in detail to create your drawings?
Freas: Every time. I actually read each story at least three times. Once just straight through as a reader who is having the privilege of reading an advance copy. Then, the second time I read it with a sketchpad in hand, though sometimes I'll make notes on the manuscript itself. I just draw little doodles. The third reading is to check for details, to make certain I didn't draw something in conflict with the story or omit something germane. That also gives me one last chance to double-check myself before committing paint to board. However, mostly I do my sketches separately from the manuscript, so that if something works out exactly the way I want it, I can stick it in my projector and enlarge it to my working size and save myself a lot of time.
You mention the privilege of reading a story in advance. Were you a science-fiction fan before you started illustrating?
Freas: Oh, yes, I was a science-fiction fan probably from the day I first learned to read. Even some of the stories that my mother recited to me before I could read had a science-fiction flavor to them, so it's no surprise that I should grow up being a fan. My nearest uncle, who was my closest relative when we lived in Canada, was also a regular science-fiction reader, and he always loaned me his books. Actually, I was the only one he would loan his books to, because he knew I would bring them back as pristine as they went out.
How did that early interest in science fiction affect your ability to illustrate the stories?
Freas: Oh, I think it must have affected it considerably, because I had a pretty good idea what the background concepts of science fiction were for readers of my generation and, for that matter, a couple of generations before. Put those ideas all together and, while they don't exactly spell mother, it works out just as well.
To what degree is illustration important to the field?
Freas: It's vital in several ways. Once of the commonest ways is that the author generally has no real visual imagination. He can describe a scene, but he can't picture it for you to a degree that the average reader can visualize. This is what I try to offer. I try to envision those parts of
the story that may be a little hard to visualize, or those parts that need special emphasis. When someone picks up a book or magazine, looks at that illustration and goes, "Oh boy, that looks like something I'd like to read," then I've done my job.
It's clear, especially from your recent work with the Illustrators of the Future contest, that you view yourself not only as an artist, but also a teacher. Why is the education of new artists so important to you?
Freas: I suppose mainly because nobody knows what to teach them. There aren't many art teachers in the country or in the world who know enough about science fiction to teach it, and the new generation has got to get their ideas from somewhere. So any opportunity I have to teach, I'm right in there.
One of the ways that many magazines cut costs nowadays is to eliminate the artwork that accompanies the stories. Considering the present economic state of affairs, what do you think the future holds for science-fiction illustration?
Freas: I really don't like the current underemphasis on the art. It's something that adds a great deal to the enjoyment of the literature, and I think the literature should concern itself a great deal more with being accompanied by visuals of one sort or another. They don't have to be bone-accurate or anything like that—I'd even settle for abstractions, providing the abstraction expresses the feeling of the story—but the stories need some visual expression. It shouldn't just be confined to words on a page.
Most fans probably don't know that you've also done extensive work outside the science-fiction field, including over 500 portraits of Franciscan saints. How have your non-genre creations impacted your approach to SF illustration?
Freas: Other than giving me a lot more data to work with, my outside projects probably haven't impacted my science-fiction work as much as my science-fiction illustrations have affected them. For instance, I got the original project for the Franciscan Book of Saints through a man who knew my science-fiction work. He thought I'd be perfect for the subject. Well, I had a ball! I won't go so far as to say that the biographies of all the saints are fiction, but you have to possess a good imagination to create them in the first place.
Although you're best known for your solo work, recently you've begun creating some illustrations in collaboration with your wife, Laura Brodian Freas, who's a noted artist in her own right.
Whenever anyone works together with another person, it's a two-way street, and both parties usually benefit. What have you learned from her that has improved your work?
Freas: Oh, God, an approach to the nature of people. She gets much more into it than I ever did, and makes it clearer to me. She really communicates it to me. Even in our normal life, helping me relate to people is one of the biggest things she does.
When you say she gets much more into it, what do you mean?
Freas: She understands people and enjoys people and knows people far better than I ever did. I enjoy them, but still and all I don't understand them nearly as well as she does.
Despite that self-professed weakness, The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction claims that you're "the most popular SF artist in the history of the field." What is it about your work that makes it so admired?
Freas: Possibly because I care about the stories I'm illustrating. I care about what my reader wants to see, and what he or she needs to see, regarding the story. But most of all, I paint pictures that everybody can understand.
Having already won most of the major awards for SF artwork, and having illustrated some of the greatest science-fiction stories of the past half-century, what does the future hold for Frank Kelly Freas?
Freas: I really don't know. I am perfectly willing to stick around as long as there is any work for me left to do, and I have no desire to retire. I just want to keep on doing the same thing, only doing it better, for the next 20 years.
Also in this issue:
The cast and crew of Ghost Ship.
