Mitchell Toy, a former News Corp reporter, captures Melbourne through a nostalgic lens
A silhouette walks toward the cosmos, its hands in the pockets of baggy pants. A head cocked with deep curiosity, the figure is flanked by an unmistakable wheelchair.
Mitchell Toy knocked up this tribute to Stephen Hawking in around 15 minutes in the wake of his death, hitching a ride on the global hashtag, #RIPStephenHawking.
And he couldn’t have predicted the size – or spectrum – of the response, with the cartoon amassing thousands of likes and retweets.
Accusations of ableism, though, took some of the gloss off the support.
You might have seen this image making the rounds online in the wake of Stephen Hawkings death. Author provided.
I caught up with Mitchell at Eckersley’s Art and Craft in Prahran before getting a coffee at The Cullen nearby. He needed to stock up on supplies and hovered by blue oil paints, charming the staff with his dry wit, smart blazer and full-belly laugh.
Mitchell, a full-time artist living in Melbourne's bayside, is predominantly an oil painter, capturing Melbourne moments through a nostalgic lens. But he also draws cartoons once a week for the Sunday Herald Sun, digitally illustrates short feel-good comics and other cartoons often inspired by current affairs, like the Stephen Hawking tribute.
Mitch has been creating cartoons for the Sunday Herald Sun for four years.
I ordered a soy latte and explained to him I have lactose intolerance.
“You know what, I’d still prefer it if you just put up with the normal milk. Just to keep things real,” he responds.
It’s tempting to lose myself into his humour and reminisce about working opposite each other at the Herald Sun – he on social media and cartoons, me writing google-able articles (“when is the grand final?” was one of my profound classics). But I force myself back to my long list of questions.
I ask when he first began to be interested in art, given his background in journalism.
“When I first started my internship at the Herald and Weekly Times in 2008, I was actually being trained in graphic design, until the global financial crisis hit and there were no jobs in the arts,” he says.
“I became an editorial assistant, and then I was offered a job as a reporter.”
“If you can communicate to people effectively and articulate an idea that they perhaps can’t articulate themselves visually or in words, then, you know, it’s something that’s going to be of value to them.”
Mitchell worked as a reporter for five years, then moved to the digital team for another five years or so. I first met him at the end of this stint.
It’s perhaps this background in journalism that lends narrative to his art. Looking at many of his paintings and illustrations can feel like interrupting a moment in a story. In a refreshingly simple painting of a train, we see a woman applying lipstick while a man in a suit steals a glance from the train window. I desperately want to know what happens next. In a magical digital illustration, a woman on a flying tram destined for the moon waves goodbye to a man on a rooftop. I have questions.
“I really subscribe to the idea that the design and the implied story of a painting are always far more important than how you paint it. You could just use charcoal on concrete and make something that’s far better than an oil painting if the design and the implied story behind it are strong.”
Mitchell wasn’t out of journalism long when the Stephen Hawking graphic exploded online. And the backlash was swift – it was even featured in a Huffington Post article on ableism. But Mitchell wasn't perturbed when he knew the image resonated with so many others.
“I had a lot of messages from people who had relatives that died from the same disease who loved the image. One woman whose husband had recently died of ALS said she never connected to an image as much as she had connected to that. She requested a print and I was glad to send it to her.
“And that’s the context that I think of that picture in. When you get messages like that you tend to forget the criticism pretty easily.”
A couple of people he knows immortalised the cartoon as a tattoo, and a woman from Canada even left Mitchell's scrawly signature carved into her leg.
“Art around grief speaks to people the most, I think. If you can communicate to people effectively and articulate an idea that they perhaps can’t articulate themselves visually or in words, then, you know, it’s something that’s going to be of value to them.”
“You’re always taking a risk with cartoons, and usually that’s the way it worked creating content for News Corp. But the more risks you take the more successful your ideas become.
“I had thought the Stephen Hawking picture was low-risk – although it did cross my mind that it might be in a dangerous area. Still, I thought it was a sensible risk to take and I’m glad I did.”
‘Bunyip’, digital. The magic in Mitch’s art is perfect for children’s books.
From a studio in his father’s shed, Mitchell primarily works with oil paints. The colours are rich and precise, which is necessary for commissioned portraits to get the correct tones of flesh.
For landscape paintings, he says, it’s not as important to be so precise. Still, it isn’t an anything-goes affair and there are a few ways he makes sure he accurately captures a moment in time.
Before bringing the scene to a canvas, he might paint with watercolour on site to get the colours right, and then use photos to transfer the lines and the form. But he doesn’t work outside all that often.
“I have a low tolerance for the weather. Flies will come and land on the paint, and the conditions are always changing so the clouds and the light will just move and the shadows change completely.
“The other thing that helps, which was surprising when I first tried it, is taking notes. It brings you back to a more accurate memory.”
Mitchell’s voice lifts excitedly when he tells me this. And as I scribble my own notes frantically with my coffee still barely sipped, I realise this is another connection back to his decade in journalism. He shows me some of his notes, where he’s ranked the darkest and lightest parts of a scene.
Note taking is particularly helpful with paintings of water - his greatest muse - because there’s a lot going on. In paintings of the ocean in particular, he explains there are reflections, transparency, shadows and light bouncing around.
These points are often resurrected in my mind when I go to the beach and, with new curiosity, I notice the transparency and reflectiveness of the waves. I wonder how much more beautiful the world would look through the eyes of an artist.
It’s no wonder his coastal paintings are so popular.
“I remember talking once to a gallery owner many years ago before I was really interested in art full-time. He said if you’re interested in doing art commercially, which has got to be an imperative for anyone that actually wants to make a living as an artist, you have to first consider any of your ideas hanging on somebody’s wall.
“Half of your endeavour should really be taking risks and finding new ideas, but you do need to be commercially minded – not just doing things that come from a deep chaos of your mind.
“I think a lot of my Melbourne paintings strike that nice balance of something that has artistic merit but is also likely to be a commercial success.”
I’m reminded again of my journalism training. Young journos are told not to be self-indulgent. In fact, my lecturer once made wanking gestures when she brought this up just to labour the point. Mitch agrees.
“But it’s often tricky because far too often, particularly in journalism, news companies will go too far, and they’ll simply go and ask people what they want to read.
“But as I said, you need to take risks and come up with things people don’t yet know they want because that’s how you hit on big ideas. And of course I still do art that’s just for me.”
I ask Mitch what the proudest moment of his artistic career is, and he tells me he has two paintings hanging in parliament house in Canberra - one a portrait of his local MP Tim Wilson, which he submitted for the Archibald Prize, and another of the Royal Exhibition Building in Carlton, commissioned by president of the Senate Scott Ryan.
Then he tells me this lovely story.
“When I was in the UK last year for a few months in the north of Oxford, studying art theory, I practised a lot, painting things I just saw around the place.
“There was a great house around the corner - an old 1850s town house which I loved, so I painted it. And since it was impractical for me to take it back to Australia, I thought, well, I’ll give it to the people who live there.
“So I left it on their doorstep with a note, and they asked me around for afternoon tea.
“They were lovely people - a husband and wife. Then I found out the husband was a member of the House of Lords and was the former head of Scotland Yard, Sir Ian Blair. Now that painting is hanging in the living room of their house, which is really nice.
“If you’re passionate about something and you’re willing to share that passion with others, you’ll certainly cross paths with interesting people.”