One Frame from a Film That Was Never Shot: Narrative Strategy in Jon MacNair’s Illustrations

Transmission 342: Interview with Jon MacNair

Jon MacNair is an artist who operates in the quiet, silver-toned space between an innocent daydream and a medieval nightmare. Born in Seoul, South Korea, and raised in Michigan, his path was forged through the meticulous study of illustration at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA), where he began refining a visual language that feels both ancient and refreshingly modern. His artwork explores themes of myth, morality, and the human condition, often presenting enigmatic scenes that invite open interpretation. Working primarily with India ink on paper, MacNair populates his landscapes with a recurring cast of archetypal figures; the magician, the explorer, and the vagabond; mythological creatures that carry out cryptic rituals under the cover of a permanent twilight, in the space between narrative and ambiguity, where finely executed drawings act as vessels for symbolic inquiry. Blending the dark whimsy of fairy tales, the intricate linework of Renaissance woodcuts, and the haunting stillness of German Expressionist cinema, his pieces are less like static images and more like stills from a film that has never been released; personal, monochromatic world-building that has garnered a cult following in the contemporary art scene.

His commercial work has appeared in a variety of editorial publications and has been utilized for clothing and packaging design. His commercial portfolio includes a prestigious list of clients; Monument Snowboards, 21st Amendment Brewery, Grove, Corpse Corps Boards, Willamette Week, On3P Skis, The Stranger, Tooth & Nail Records, Closed Casket Activities, Baltimore Magazine, Annalemma, Urbanite Magazine, Baltimore City Paper, Slice Literary Magazine, Pittsburgh City Paper, The Riverfront Times, Rockpile Magazine, The Washington Square Review, Hyphen Magazine, Computer Arts Projects, Quirk Books, and The New York Times. In addition to freelance illustration, he frequently exhibits his personal work in galleries across the U.S. and abroad, including New York, Chicago, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Baltimore, St. Augustine, Seattle, Tokyo, Glasgow, Paris, and Hamburg. He is now based in Pennsylvania, having previously lived in Baltimore, Portland, and Austin, and continues to develop his legacy through worldwide gallery shows and one-of-a-kind 3D shadowbox experiments.

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When did you realize you were fascinated by the juxtaposition of calm and quiet and darkness? Were you always attracted since your childhood? 

Yes, I would say since that sort of atmosphere has fascinated me since I was little. I’ve never been afraid of the dark or of silence and sitting with my thoughts. Not only do I enjoy the quiet, but I find that I need it to function on a daily basis. I think a lot of creative people might feel similarly. I find nighttime particularly interesting because of the way darkness can transform familiar daytime surroundings into a completely different world. Our minds like to fill in the gaps of what we can’t see and our imaginations become more active. When I was younger, I found working on art late at night to be an especially good time to focus and be undisturbed.

Do you prefer to let a story develop as you work rather than planning it out? Have you ever finished a piece and been genuinely surprised or even unsettled by the story that emerged, as if you were the reader rather than the author?

I can’t really say which I prefer since I often find myself in both scenarios. Sometimes I let the story develop as I draw, and the other times I make a fairly thorough sketch beforehand. Sometimes the sketch is vague and the purpose of it is solely for compositional placement. Yes, I have often felt surprised by the ’story’ my mind will concoct as a piece is being worked on. You may have an idea of where you want a piece to go, but there is also a beauty in the creative process when it comes to little surprises. These can really add unexpected depth to whatever you are making and can also propel your work forward in new directions when it comes to future pieces. Happy accidents I guess…..

Your influences range from medieval art, surrealism, renaissance art, and mythology and a compendium of beasts. Are there recurring themes or archetypes you find yourself returning to subconsciously?

As far as archetypes, my work is fairly heavy with them. Things like the explorer, the magician, the sage, the creator, the guardian, and the shadow. You can see these archetypes reappear time and again in my work. The explorer in particular seems to find its way back quite often. I have a character that I refer to as “the vagabond” that I’ve featured a bunch of times, often depicted as a figure carrying a bindle or blanket stick. In my work, this character is often seen searching for something, sometimes simply a place to rest their head. On a symbolic level I feel like it’s a representation of trying to find “home” and a place to belong to. It’s very much an ‘outsider’ character.

Your selected chromatic style has become a signature. What does stripping away color give you creatively? What allows you to express what unlimited color cannot?

Firstly, I would acknowledge that my primary use of monochrome didn’t start out as a thought out decision with a deeper meaning; it was merely a limitation of a new medium that I was trying out at the time, that being India ink. I love color and have used it much in my lifetime. But I suppose the reason I have stuck with using monochromatic mediums is because I find a lot of beauty in the multitude of values that a grayscale palette can supply. I enjoy the challenge of conveying a range of emotions without color and more with shadow and light.

Many of your characters are ‘Harbingers’ or ‘Observers.’ In your own life, do you feel like a witness to the stories around you that you want to reveal, or does your artwork reflect a desire for your characters to take more agency and action?

I definitely feel that as an introverted person I am always quietly or even silently observing people and things around me in everyday life. I suppose the characters in my work that would be considered the “observers” are more a reflection of me than some of the more active players. Much of the time, these observers are part of the natural landscape itself, such as the anthropomorphized plants and hills and clouds. I feel a deep connection with all the characters I depict though, and every one of them probably carry a fragment of me in them somewhere. Perhaps some of the more active characters can be seen as wishful alter egos.

Your creatures often perform acts that look like rituals or punishments, yet they have a certain ‘storybook innocence.’ Do you think of your world as existing before the concept of Good and Evil was invented, or after it has been forgotten?

The “storybook innocence” is probably due to my deep love of illustration seeping into my work. I also think that is an accurate description because there really is nothing horribly violent or gruesomely graphic about my work (at least in my opinion). There’s a lot more implied than actually shown and seen. There are a lot of tools and weapons featured in my work, but usually not depicted being used at a moment of violence, but typically before or after the fact. I’m not really sure I can choose between the two choices you gave as I don’t think of the characters and scenarios I create as operating in a completely good or bad manner. I tend to reserve judgement on that sort of thing more often than not in my work.

Your artwork often feels like a single frame from a larger untold story. Do you imagine full narratives behind each piece, or do you prefer to create ambiguity to let the audience unfold  different  levels of interpretation?

I rarely have ‘the whole story’ as one might say. I really am more interested in these kinds of ‘keyhole’ moments or vignettes. Ambiguity is definitely a prominent factor in creating what I consider to be an intriguing story with my work. It’s similar to taking a book off a shelf, flipping to a random page and reading the contents. You don’t have a context for what came before and won’t know what comes after. All you can do is take what you are reading and put it into terms you understand within your own lived experience. I think I prefer that sort of approach when it comes to any kind of art, whether that is film, writing or music. Ambiguity adds to the intrigue.

There’s often a balance between darkness and humor in your imagery. Do you think your work reflects more of your internal world or how you interpret the external world around you?

I think it reflects more of how I interpret the external world around me. There are many things in this strange world that I think a lot of people would agree are both dark and also humorous, or maybe that is just how we cope with the chaos. 

You use very evocative titles like “Imminent Disruption of a Nightly Ritual”. What happens when the ritual is actually disrupted?

Titles can either be really fun to come up with or totally mind-numbing; it just depends on if they come to you easily. Sometimes you might have a title in mind before you even create a work. Those potential titles can live in your head for years. In cases where you end up simply describing the scene being portrayed, you should at least try to do it in an amusingly descriptive way. As far as the answer to your question, that’s purely for the viewer to ponder (but in all honesty…..probably something very unfortunate happens).

In your artwork, there is also a distinct thread of absurdity and ‘mischievous play.’ If you had to choose a single piece of yours that you think is actually a comedy, which one would it be and why?

Hmmmm….I really had to think about this one and look back through my archives, probably because I don’t generally think of my work as being all that comedic. It’s not that I’m against that sort of thing though. Personally, I just don’t think it’s something I excel at portraying. I can’t think of any single piece of mine that feels like a comedy. That’s not really my thing when it comes to art.

When you create for a client, do those characters exist in the same ‘universe’ as your personal gallery work, or do you feel like you are opening a separate, temporary portal just for them?

I would say that would depend on what the project is. When I have done larger profile commercial work, it is often suggested that the “scary factor” needs to be scaled back. This often is applied to projects that are for a general audience or even specifically children. I personally think most children like to be scared a little bit and can handle it, but it’s always the adults making those decisions so I don’t really know for sure. Also, I don’t consider my work “scary” so what do I really know? So no, most of the time I don’t think it’s exactly the same universe as my personal work. I think of it as a somewhat sanitized adjacent universe. After censoring the tone of my work on those larger commercial projects it’s always nice to go back to doing what I want without limitations. Incidentally, the illustration projects I feel I have had the most creative freedom with tend to be album covers. Those projects usually come to me because bands and musicians appreciate the darker tone of my personal work. For that reason, a lot of the album covers I have done are for music that is also darker in tone.

Photos and images courtesy of Jon MacNair

Dominique Musorrafiti

Ciao! My name is Dominique. I’m Italian and I’m proud to be a mix. My father was an Italian chemical engineer and high school teacher, with Greek and Polish heritage. My mother is Haitian, she was high school language teacher, with Dominican, Spanish, French, Portuguese, African and Native American heritage. Being a mix makes me appreciate to want to understand different cultures and lifestyles. I grew up in Italy, lived few years in Haiti, travel around main European capitals, lived many years in China, in Spain and UK. Traveling makes me feel that we can learn something from every situation in every part of the world.