LCF23: Unveiling the Artistic Odyssey of Katie Digan: Disappearance, Hope, and Adventure

The concept of vanishing or disappearing seems to be a recurring theme in your work, from Christopher McCandless to your childhood friend. What draws you to explore this theme, and what do you hope to convey through your artistic interpretation of these disappearances?

I find it difficult to be alone and struggled to relate to people like McCandless and my friend who bravely ran into the unknown with no certainty that they’ll be better off for it.

Aside from my group of friends, at the time of her disappearance, I’ve yet to meet another person who has lost a loved one in ambiguous circumstances. I have learnt not to talk about it because people just don’t know what to say. It’s a strange and specific type of grief which leaves room for hope, often people speak about that hope like it’s a burden and we the left-behinds surely just want closure, but I realised that as long as I can hope she’s better off now, there’s at least one place where that’s the case – even if that place only exists within me.

As time goes on and your memories of the missing person begin to meld with your imaginings of the life they have now and your hopes for them, your mental image of them becomes more imagined than grounded, which is where the inspiration came from – to picture her in all these fantastical, impossible places. I prefer to picture her a brave adventurer rather than the lost girl I was when she vanished.

How did you navigate the delicate balance between addressing a profound heartbreak and presenting your work with a sense of optimism and whimsy?

I knew I was interested in pursuing animation from the first time I tried doing it a year ago, and this led me to think of how animated works guide most of us through childhood, blending otherworldly ridiculousness with tough concepts and life lessons, so I had this question in mind from when I began: ‘how would I explain this story to a child without upsetting them?’.

Life wasn’t especially easy for me while I was studying. By the time I got to begin my graduate project I decided I’d had enough of dwelling on upset and turmoil, I wanted the project to be optimistic because I am determined to believe that while life may be difficult, our perspective on events can transform them for the better.

In your project, you mentioned weaving influences from indigenous American cultures. How did you incorporate these cultural elements into your work, and what significance did they hold for you?

I did a lot of research and focused on seeking out primary sources as much as possible, using TikTok to find Indigenous American people talking about their lives and keeping their traditions alive, looking at animated works by Indigenous people on the National Film Board of Canada website, photographs of Alaskan National Parks from National Geographic, and narrowing down my research so it was relevant to the Yukon region of Alaska where McCandless disappeared.

My parents are both Irish and while I was growing up in the UK, they taught me Irish history knowing that it would not be covered in the British curriculum. It is because of these lessons that I sympathise and identify strongly with other colonised groups histories. This is what made me want to treat the research process with due reverence and respect as people indigenous to the Americas have been so disenfranchised and marginalised.

There is a beautiful movement going on of revitalising traditions that were effectively outlawed by imperialist powers. The admirable determination to refuse subjugation and erasure that, I thought deserved to be brought to light, their refusal to be silenced inspires me.

Your illustration work exudes a distinct Studio Ghibli vibe bringing it a sense of nostalgic feel. Can you share how you discovered and developed your unique artistic style?

Thank you, I love Studio Ghibli! I started drawing a bit obsessively as a child because it was a part of our routine to go to the local library with my father and siblings, where we were expected to borrow a book each week and read it in time to take it back the next. I thought I was gaming his system when I discovered the library’s stash of old comic books from the 80s and early 90s and borrowing them – I was so inspired by their aesthetic, that dark dreaminess balanced with perfectionism. It’s been a work in progress for most of my life but the blend of realism in terms of proportions and anatomy with outlandish concepts and stories has remained consistently a point of inspiration for me, and getting to explore character design in my work at LCF has been one of my favourite things about studying here.

Can you discuss the technical challenges you faced in the duration of your project and how you adapted your approach?

I did most of my development work throughout this project in blender, a 3D modelling programme used for animation and design, which is incredibly complex and counterintuitive for people who are more accustomed to Adobe technologies as most creatives are. I was able to produce some short, animated works I was happy with and learned a lot in the process, but ultimately realised that the time I had would be insufficient to produce the animated dream sequence I’d had in mind from the start. In the end, I went back to the comic books I loved so much and created a series of still images, opting to illustrate a letter I never got to send to my missing friend using Photoshop. I’m glad I set my sights so high initially though, because in encountering and solving problems in blender I discovered a pride in my work that I didn’t realise I’d been missing for a long time.

What led to your decision to pursue a BA in Fashion Imaging and Illustration at LCF? In what ways has the course influenced and shaped your artistic practice?

When I applied to LCF I hadn’t expected to be accepted at the time. I’d resigned myself to studying Art Psychotherapy or another branch of psychology as a safe option. So, when I was accepted it felt like a sign that I didn’t have to give up on my dreams. I’d tried my hand at textiles and design before and had always been most commended on my illustrations, even illustrating other students’ work for them when they asked me to.

Initially pursuing fashion was a pragmatic decision – I thought the fashion industry was the most realistic career option for my skillset, but over the past three years I naturally gravitated towards the kind of work I’ve produced during my graduate project, telling stories, and have decided ultimately to move into animation in pursuit of becoming the kind of artist I was so inspired by as a child lost in old comic books.