A trip to the thrift store and a stack of vintage National Geographics magazines later, Kelly Gilleran fell in love with mid-century illustration, saturated colors and the dreamy world of retro advertising. Known for her playful anthropomorphic food characters and her iconic pin-up girls, she describes her palette as “Kodachrome with about 60 years of yellowing.” Now, the Colorado Springs-based illustrator, pattern designer and ceramicist is reimagining what nostalgia can look like.
You mentioned stumbling upon your style during college while working for an art store. You ended up painting a cheeseburger and “it felt like a huge breath of fresh air.” Why do you think that is?
While I was in college I was in an exploratory phase, as most people are. I was doing large scale figurative oil paintings with very philosophical narratives that were incredibly personal. I was finding myself and dealing with depression, so I felt like too much of my identity was tied to the work. Creating a boundary between myself and my artwork was very cathartic for me. It felt very freeing to do something based more on the act of painting rather than something that was starting to feel so heavy.
Your work feels nostalgic without being tied down to a particular decade. What about mid-century illustration keeps pulling you back to it?
I think it was probably seeded by virtue of being born in 1990. There was a 60’s revival in the 90’s, and I watched a lot of TV growing up so I was inundated with bright colors and sugary advertising. Austin Powers was immediately my favorite movie when it came out. I was immediately attracted to the bright colors, shag carpets and space-age furniture.
You’re dedicated to traditional media. What does painting by hand give you that digital tools don’t?
I do both digital and traditional media work now, but traditional media makes it far easier to get into a flow state. I enjoy working with really terrible references where you really can’t see a ton of detail so you have to do a lot of problem solving, guessing and exploring to get the textures right.
Painting feels a lot more intuitive to me; it doesn’t feel like thinking, it feels like it just happens. Digitally, I get a little too in-my-head, and you can endlessly work on a thing for far too long and still be unsatisfied. A painting kind of lets you know when it’s done.
Your paintings turn everyday objects (ice cream, burgers, fruit, etc.) into something iconic. What do you think illustration can reveal about simple everyday things that photography perhaps can’t? In other words, what makes a cheeseburger worthy of fine art?
I think what I do has a lot to do with un-reality. Photography captures something that exists, and I’m more interested in fantasy. When I decide to paint a food, I’m looking to paint the most idealistic form of that thing.
I think what I’m doing is speaking directly to that feeling of nostalgia, which is inherently a bittersweet feeling. There’s a longing for something in the past, but when we do that we tend to ignore or minimize the less desirable reality of what that past actually was.
Are there vintage illustrators whose work influenced you? Do you have any other inspirations?
Most mid-century advertising illustrators are nameless, unfortunately. For pin-ups, obviously Alberto Vargas and Gil Elvgren would probably be my favorites. For food illustrations, Wayne Thiebaud. Again, I’m primarily inspired by colors. If I see a color combination that tickles my brain in the right sort of way, I’ll think of something that replicates it.
I still look at my mid-century National Geographics and also my ISpy books from childhood when I need a creative pick-me-up. I read a lot too, so I always have lots of ideas bouncing around, marinating and coalescing eventually.
Your work has a very distinct style/identity. Was that intentional, or something that developed over time?
It was a very conscious choice for me. When I was working as a ghost painter, I realized it was not only important to be “good,” but it was also important to be prolific. I consciously chose to paint a singular concept I loved that I felt was marketable, and that I could paint a lot of without getting bored. I had the specific idea that a collection would really “brand” me, wherein you could see my work and maybe not know my name, but you could tell it was the same person.
Do you branch off from your pop art food/pin-up girl aesthetic, or prefer refining that signature style?
Oh yes! For the past 3 years I have been primarily pursuing ceramics with some painting when the mood strikes. I’m also a pattern designer for a clothing company called RSVLTS, so I get to do all sorts of fun patterns in all sorts of styles, themes and licensed IP. My illustrative work seems pretty singularly focused, but I’m a big fan of variety and novelty. I get into all sorts of arts and crafts, I just don’t necessarily feel compelled to publicly share all of my creative endeavors.
Is there a food item you haven’t done yet but want to?
I don’t think I’ll ever entirely stop painting food, but I’m less inspired by it as of late. Currently I’m working on a collection of botanically themed pin-ups; they are quite a bit more natural than the buxom food girls. Then I’d love to do an illustrated tiki cocktail book, so food-adjacent!
What’s something people don’t understand about being a professional illustrator?
The reality is that art is a pretty terrible way to make a living. Before I ever made money from my art, I worked 40 hours a week and then at least another 40 on my art, because I loved it. I didn’t have children, I don’t go on vacation, I will never have a nice car, I don’t have health care… but I live a very lovely life where my time is my own, and that is very much worth it to me.
You have to constantly keep learning, changing and pivoting. I started as an oil painter, then switched to gouache, Photoshop, pattern design and digital illustration. You have to stay curious. Art is not meant to be efficient, and you never know when an old skill becomes useful.
Creativity is really just the first step. You’ve gotta love the labor as much as you love the beginning and the end.
