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ARTIST TALK | 8 questions for Emily Brooks Millar

Updated: Sep 17

Emily Brooks Millar (b. 1998) is a visual artist based in Glasgow, Scotland. ​​The Artist work is a blend of mixed media, primarily using acrylics, oils, and crayons. The child-like feel within her pieces allows for a sense of creepiness and exploration that invites viewers into a space where they can freely share their thoughts.



Your work blends a child-like aesthetic with a touch of creepiness. How did that style develop?


I think it was a very natural thing. I go with what I’m interested in and what I like, and then I hope other people like it too. For me, whether it’s books, galleries, or shows, it’s really important to make the work feel approachable. A lot of people are intimidated by white-wall gallery spaces, especially if they’re new to being an art audience. Doing something childlike evens the playing field - people feel they can comment, they can talk about it, whether they’re surprised or fully invested.

I also like to contrast that playfulness with something that gives people a laugh or catches them off guard. Creepy elements pair well with childlike work. It started with the childlike aesthetic, and as audiences have become more invested, the work sometimes flips on its head.



You often start with writing before creating an image. What role does text play in your process?


A few years ago, I studied oral history as part of my degree, which involved long-form interviews that were three to four hours long. At first, I would lift text directly from those interviews and turn them into pieces. Later, as I moved on to other projects, it evolved into storytelling more generally.

There’s always a story; sometimes it’s a phrase embedded in the work, or a comic book–style caption that places the audience somewhere else. I enjoy finding little phrases or funny moments that often get overlooked. They help tie audiences together and invite them to create their own story.



Morality is a recurring theme in your art. How did your life experiences shape that focus?


I grew up in a big Catholic family, so I developed a strong sense of right and wrong. I’m not very religious now, but many people close to me still are. That upbringing gave me a very black-and-white view of good and bad.

In storytelling, characters are usually faced with a problem, and the entertainment comes from how they respond. Do they make the right choices or the wrong ones? Presenting problems through that moral lens makes the work approachable - everyone, regardless of background, can have an opinion.

I think my storytelling is deeply rooted in morality, and that’s probably underpinned by my religious background. Growing up, I was in Catholic school and even had an aunt who was a nun. But what I value most now is that my family can have open, respectful conversations across different beliefs.



Bright, bold colours are central to your work. What do they allow you to express?


I’m like a big kid when I walk into an art supply shop. I always go for the bright yellows, reds, and other vibrant colours. Part of that is about approachability.

When you’re dealing with dark, satirical, or self-reflective themes, using bright colours keeps the mood lighter. It avoids feeling like a “downer” in the room. That rainbow contrast between dark and light makes the work engaging, and honestly, if it’s going to hang in someone’s home, I’d rather it be colourful and inviting than gloomy.




In Birddad, As Told by Rats, and Be More Gus, humour and quirkiness meet deeper themes. How do you strike that balance?


You really have to go with your gut when creating stories or characters otherwise, it’s not authentic. But yes, balance is important. Having people around me that I trust to look at drafts is a big help.

For example, Be More Gus is an all-ages book that’s more upbeat and simple, so there’s less risk involved. But with As Told by Rats or Birddad, which carry darker humour, there’s always the chance it won’t be to everyone’s taste. Still, I trust my instincts and assume the best.



Your recent drawings, I Am Waiting, Redpaws, and Purplepaws, have intriguing titles. How do you name your works?


I think titles are important. They help me reflect on a body of work later, especially when writing about a show or book. They also provide clues for the audience.

My work is always figurative, there’s always a person, character, or animal and titles invite viewers to think about what that character is up to. For example, in I Am Waiting, a bear is waiting at a bus stop. With Redpaws and Purplepaws, the names are cute, but they also direct focus toward the subject itself.



Which of your characters or books has sparked the most unexpected reactions from audiences?


It goes both ways. With Be More Gus, people are sometimes surprised that it’s so simple and positive — they expect something wilder. On the other hand, when people see the bright colours in my work, they don’t always anticipate the darker themes.

At markets or events, new audiences sometimes pick up As Told by Rats and you can see their faces change as they flip through. That surprise reaction is always funny to me. I know my style isn’t for everyone, but when it does stick with someone, I hope it stays with them.



What’s next for you — any new themes you’re excited to explore?


Right now, I’m working on a painting collection called The Man Who Longs to Be a Cat. It follows a man who gradually transforms into a cat hybrid and finds himself in strange situations. It builds on the cat character from my earlier series, I’m a Perfect Ten, which explored themes of self-improvement and responsibility.

I’m also collaborating with my partner Kris, who’s a writer on a longer-form story. It’s about a ghost looking for a new house to haunt, but he ends up befriending the family he’s supposed to scare. I like doing painting collections solo, but when it comes to stories, collaboration makes it richer.









 
 
 

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