The Official Ian Miller website


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Welcome to the official Ian Miller site.

This is the place to find out more about the artist Ian Miller. Ian has been creating artwork since the 1960's. Not only is he a respected fantasy artist, he also creates fine art and is a writer. Selections of his art are scattered throughout the site. You can click on most images for enlarged versions. There are also a selection of Ian's writings throughout his site.

Enjoy!.

Click on the following links to find out more about the artist & his work

Artwork
A selection of Ian Miller's art.
Text
prose & poetry.
Biography
Some information about the artist.
online store
original art work.
Contact
Use this page to contact Ian Miller about his work .
PDF article
A 1984 interview about Ian (from the Fantasy Art Techniques book).

15:34

That's when it all began.

It stopped for a while

and I lost touch.

Now I'm reconnected and wondering WHY?

Some say it was the snow and ice.

I nearly drowned when I was a child, so know this is a nonsense.

Ian Miller has a very melicate dechanism.......

He is often at the mender's.

The culpa morti were killing rabbits in the garden

and exchanging Corsican recipes.

They said: liking spiders was alright outside,

but perhaps I should stick to carving wind chimes.

Nobody mentioned the black dog under the table

"I am a feather for each wind that blows"

Leontes






click image to enlarge	click image to enlarge


alligator	abstruce

I've just come back from the USA ,

with a picture of Williamsburg in the snow

and a broken pink umbrella.

The umbrella had a nasty grease stain on it.

I never noticed at the time.
Strange by any measure.

I told them not to take the circus to Stalingrad.
All the tigers are dead.
The high wire performers fell to their deaths with frostbite fingers, killing two clowns on the way down,
DESPITE! the hand warmers from Troy –––––––

The cadence of cupidity.

how does that sound now.

Is it :

the noise of a cash register closing on a sale.

the trader's laugh, the banker's smile

Something quieter

I looked up again to reassure myself it was not angels tumbling on the wind

Imagine a red room, then tell me all about it?

''The Adventure may be mad but the adventurer must be sane '

GK Chesterton : The Man who was called Thursday 1908

Your talking to me,,,,, ( well I think so, no I'm sure ) .

Despite being locked in the dark cupboard again last night,

by the men in Pink, I wrote my name on the palm of my hand

with an indelible pencil so I'm pretty sure I'm who I say I am,,,

because i can't see any stitch marks toot! suggest this is a new hand.

The shop is set up for a cart,

but because I'm dealing at the moment with the variables of original art pieces;

different sizes, weights etc, that cannot be put in a standard box or tube,

with an established postal rate

I ask everybody to contact me if they wish to buy:

signed stitch marks

When I arrived, the Station seemed empty.

Wind shepherded the litter towards the ill lit stairs and platform underpass.

It was only after the train pulled out and I walked towards the exit,

that I noticed the two people sheltering in the doorway,

November 1st 2009 Preston Park
Walking the dog

I came across a chap staring up into a tree, near the children's playground.
He had a small book open in his left hand and I wondered what he was
doing
Ever curious, and prompted by the intensity of his stare, I look up, then ask him if he was bird spotting.
He said " No I'm counting the leaves".
I wished him all the best and walked on,
musing on a conversation I once had with a short order cook on the eve of Borodino.

CLICK!

Next week: The wizard and his pals,who live two doors up

Fumbling for Order.

For Description.

For a sense of Perspective

  22—6—37
    Is that the clue?
     Traffic—Havoc—Bicycle—
        I think I’m close—

MUST TRY HARDER

Must try harder

MUST TRY HARDER

Bend like the young bamboo,

and hope there's enough spring left,

for one more good fart.

Fred Gambino has sent you a message.
Date: 9/10/2008
Subject: take this seriously
Ian
If you want this to work,you need to take it seriously,

i.e, semi conductors as a profession wont get you any referrals.

You also need to use the site and contact people you know

like Barry and Kieth Alcorn otherwise you might as well not bother.
Cheers
Your ever faithful pal

Anybody with an iota of sense,would have dropped the box in the newly dug hole

and walk away from it right there and then

but good sense had never been one of my strong points

and anyway, I had a weird feeling that if I did drop it and run,

it would be waiting for me somewhere up ahead.

The box and I were going all the way.

DUE TO INCURSIONS BY THE SEA

this area of beach has been deemed unsafe for the present moment

Wild gesticulations,

squeezed fingers,

grinding teeth,

and a pin for the pomegranate

Another week and no weather.

What will happen next .

Somebody you should read : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._G._Sebald

SUN 17:55

Buy smaller shoes, then your heels won't go: CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Being dislemsick does not ward off flue or colds,

despite what it might say on the packet,

but it can be fun;

especialearly when writing the word :

Fumigate.

I am lead to believe that Fumigate

is a very scary character

from 'Star Wars'

A new type of boat

It doesn't have a bottom and relies on prayer to keep it afloat.
Animistic chants work best.
The power source is a mix of condensed lament and irish linen.
Do you think the world is ready for it?
Maybe I should make marmalade?

Why was there a line of six pink plastic buckets

outside the back door of the Coast Guard Cottage?
They looked brand new.
When I got closer,

I could see that each of them was full of coloured water,

an outrageous blue,

reminiscent of the Eastman colour cheapies

played out on Pacific atoll’s
It must be an old Martin’s liquid watercolour.
I looked into each, expecting to see goldfish

or some other denizen of the deep,

Their was nothing swimming about in any of them,

but in the last bucket,

I could see a coin lying on the bottom.
Unable to resist,

I pulled up my sleeve and reached into the blue water.

No sooner had I pulled my arm out,