BY GRACE ROBERTS

Golden tickets, looming witches, and badgers in waistcoats — these are just a few subjects illustrator Quentin Blake has brought to life. Best known as the illustrator who worked with British children’s book author Roald Dahl, Blake has an eye for the fantastical, conjuring up characters out of ink pen and watercolor. From Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to Matilda, Blake’s illustrations are instantly recognizable, with a distinct style completely unique from any other and additionally iconic as a result of Dahl’s beloved status in the children’s book world. Blake has mastered the preservation of whimsical nuance, capturing both expression and environment in a way that becomes its own form of storytelling, no longer simply an accessory to the written word. A household name in the world of illustration, Blake exemplifies a style that has become synonymous with classic storytelling and lands where foxes are fantastic and giants write memoirs.

Matilda by Roald Dahl, illustrated by Quentin Blake, 1988

Children’s books tend to be the best medium for illustrators with unique, whimsical styles, or else inspire their illustrators to match the tone of the story. The latter is certainly true of Blake, whose approach serves to emphasize the outlandish characters and environments featured in books like The BFG, or classics such as A Christmas Carol, where Ebenezer Scrooge is featured enrobed and beak-nosed. Picture books, in particular, require their illustrations to match tone and improve readability, lifting the words off the page and into tangible concepts.

Even though he doesn’t recall ever really reading picture books as a child, Blake captures the childish spirit perfectly in his scraggly, endearing images of kids and adults alike (though the latter are usually clad in top hats or holding toads). Though he brings to life such eccentric characters, Blake has an affinity for drawing the natural world — vines, flowers, and big-eyed birds run rampant over pages, and his most recent book The Weed was an excuse for “nonsensical drawings, really…An act of pure self-indulgence,” as he comments in an interview from 2020 when the book first hit shelves. Blake loves what he does, as evidenced by the pure joy so often emanating from his drawings.

Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl, illustrated by Quentin Blake, 1970

Despite being most well-known for penning the illustrations for 18 of Roald Dahl’s books, Blake has done work for well-known authors like William Steig and Dr. Seuss, fellow illustrators also notable for their distinctive style and whimsical drawings. Even if you haven’t ever picked up a Dahl book, you’ve likely seen Blake’s design on the logo for Ben’s Cookies, a popular chain in the United Kingdom, or greeting Eurostar passengers on murals in St. Pancreas International. Born in Kent, he grew up with a love of drawing and first published his work at 16 in the now-extinct magazine Punch — a humor and satire weekly, a genre unsurprising when you look at the development of Blake’s style. Between the '60s and the '80s, Blake taught English and was head of the illustration department at the Royal College of Art; his passion for arts (and language) is still just as obvious today when he speaks in interviews and for articles.

Blake’s style has often been described as “scrappy,” from the sparse way he adds features to his characters to the scribbly nature of his lines, and the same can be said for his process, as he prefers to employ a mix of planning and spontaneity in how he constructs a drawing or scene. He’s been known to answer the question of “What are you inspired by?” or “How do you begin your work?” by simply saying, “I just make everything up.” It’s the perfect mindset for someone tasked with crafting giants out of midair and coloring in a fire-breathing dragon. There’s an earnestness and a passion reflected in his work, and something a little hare-brained, too.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl, illustrated by Quentin Blake, 1964

Blake imbues a sense of lilting, airy ease into all of his drawings, favoring imperfect lines and casually calculated watercolor techniques. He’s described his toolkit as “a bottle of waterproof black ink and a lot of scruffy-looking dip pens,” which explains why his drawings have a scratchy sort of read to them, translating as endearing and suitably childish on the page. His illustrations feel like they were drawn spur of the moment, giving off a sort of spontaneity that Blake has often said he favors, despite his admittance in the essential nature of partial planning.

He employs the lightbox technique for most of his drawings, which involves layering watercolor paper over a rough sketch, which is backlit, to give a template to trace the final image. Despite the playfulness of the result, Blake often ends up with sheaves of half-drawn papers and no perfect iteration of the facial expression or pose he had in mind for his character. This sort of calculated imperfection is a hallmark of Blake's work and something that contributes to the exciting kind of haste that seems to be exemplified in his pieces.

“Dragon #3” by Quentin Blake for The Dragon Centre, St George’s Hospital, London

Now in his nineties, Blake focuses on installation and multimedia work in addition to supporting his numerous foundations. He helped found the House of Illustration (now the Quentin Blake Centre for Illustration) in 2014, a center in London where activities, educational resources, and exhibitions all relating to illustration are held. He is a member of several art clubs and societies in the UK as well as for his alma mater, Cambridge, and even wrote a book about his life’s work, titled Quentin Blake: Beyond the Page, which details many of his projects beyond book illustration. Now focused more on the public space, his art comes in the form of murals at several hospitals in England and France, long adorned the scaffolding at train stations, and resides on awnings and bright red bakery boxes to hold dark chocolate orange cookies.

A self-portrait of Blake.

Blake possesses an enduring legacy not only for his iconic work with Dahl or his unmistakable style, but for his enthusiasm and willingness to contribute to and comment on the arts. His capacity for indignation and clear enthusiasm, even in his old age, for drawing is entirely palpable in his work. There is something wonderful about seeing someone’s style reflected in them as a person — many have noticed that Blake looks remarkably like one of his own drawings with his mischievous eyes and white hair which sticks straight up — and as an enjoyer of the world, so much so that it’s their greatest joy to preserve and reflect back those moments through art. The sentiment is filled with real-world magic, a feeling those who have enjoyed a Blake illustration know all too well.

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