[Artist] Ryan Heshka

On a recent trip to California I found myself eating lunch at In-N-Out Burger. As we rounded a bend on the 101 its smart yellow arrow soared into view and we raced into the parking lot, stomachs gurgling with hunger. For someone who likes to consider herself more of a Michael Pollan than a Queen Latifah (official celebrity mascot of Fatburger), the idea of eating a fast food burger with fries (and a milkshake!) should have been horrifying. But instead it was gleefully enjoyable, the entire experience was a trip back in time to that classic American era of drive-ins, sock hops and hoop skirts. The food was, to be honest, a mere accessory to the visit. What we were really there for was the adorably kitsch experience of the place, the retro uniforms on the staff, the quaintly simple menu (you want a burger or a cheeseburger?), the unflagging delivery of service-with-a-smile. We practically made “aw” faces at each other when we saw a guy chopping potatoes for french fries by hand. In-N-Out burger is a locus of warm fuzzies for the good ol’ days. In its staunch refusal to evolve aesthetically, it taps into our unconscious attraction to the simplistic optimism of that golden age. Looking at Ryan Heshka’s work gives me almost the exact same feeling. Minus the calorie-coma.

Ryan’s paintings and illustrations are populated heavily by men in jumpsuits wielding rayguns, women in space helmets, flying eyeballs, Studebakers, mad scientists and all manner of bizarre creatures. “What I do has an American feel,“ he says, while discussing his recent stint living in L.A. His visual style draws very deeply from the look and feel of vintage comic books, a look that he says has held his fascination since childhood. Originally from Manitoba, Ryan grew up during what he describes as the end of the “lo-tech” era, a time before computers and cell phones and all other various iterations of this digital age. “It was so nice,” he says wistfully, “when people didn’t have cell phones.” As a child during the Seventies, Ryan watched cartoons and read comic books produced during the youth of his parents’ generation. But he hesitates to dissect how nostalgia affects his work, instead offering up that his old-school aesthetic is just a part of who he is. “I don’t think I could do something that looks up-to-date if I wanted to,” he says with a laugh. He tells me that he struggles sometimes in his work as an illustrator to produce images of people with current hairstyles and outfits, tending more easily towards figures that resemble Clark Kent or June Cleaver.

The artist himself has an almost gentle, self-effacing demeanor. When we entered his apartment following our discussion the other day, his wife wanted to know if Ryan was being too modest during the interview. I think he probably was. Completely self-taught, Ryan balks at approaching anything too close to self-congratulation, and, despite having worked professionally as an illustrator since 2000, often describes himself as a beginner.

“I’m just feeling things out,” he says, “and kind of finding my way. I feel like I’ll get there.”

But where he is now is looking pretty good. He has a bundle of gallery shows all over Canada and the U.S. under his belt and his work has recently graced the front and back covers of the 18th issue of BLAB, an annual publication that features up-and-comers, movers and shakers in the world of illustration. Ryan also has a second book, a kid’s book called Monstertown, coming down the pipe for release in 2010 (his first book, ABC Spook Show, originated from a Halloween show he did for El Kartel in Vancouver a couple of years ago). So, to some folks looking in from the outside, Ryan may already appear to be “there.”

The paintings that he produces for exhibition he refers to as his “personal” work, as opposed to the men with briefcases he may create for a commission for Forbes (his list of illustration clients runs the gamut from Reader’s Digest to YM to Toro), and I notice that he rarely uses the word “art.” When discussing the difference between art and illustration, Ryan again hesitates to place himself within the dialogue. He prefers, he tells me, not to overthink what he is doing, for fear of thinking himself into a place he cannot grow from or get out of. He says he finds interviews “weird” because people ask him questions about his work that he consciously tries to avoid. He may be right; Heshka’s work is not the kind of thing you want to dissect and theorize about. His paintings are boldly coloured, engaging, entertaining and appealing. They make you feel good. What more do you really need to know?

www.ryanheshka.com
Words: Joni McKervey