Born in the French countryside, Zoé Maghamès Peters arrived at art through an unconventional route. She holds a double degree in political science/history and a master's in gender studies, specialising in sexual violence research - and thanks to a fascination for digging deep into subjects, her creativity ultimately found expression in illustration. With stylistic nods to the psychedelia-tinged work of Heinz Edelmann and Peter Max - Zoé's work brings a contemporary edge to a wide variety of topics through her bold use of colour and hint of abstract intrigue.
Could you define the approach or philosophy of your work Zoé?
I used to draw scenes using Chinese ink. They were strange and darker than the work I do now. The colour came with colour pencils, which I used for a while. When I could buy an iPad Pro and use Procreate, a new door opened with colour—this step was pretty transformative to my work. Procreate allowed me to make mistakes and experiment without pressure. It was a very liberating experience as I don't have formal training. My practice brings a lot of joy to me every day. At the same time—as all creatives reading this now know—it has its high ups and low downs, mixed with a lot of fear. Illustration is what I love most, and I deeply care about it, but it should not all be about ego. I try to have a good time with it. Trying not to be too harsh on myself is a constant process. I've learned a lot of lessons through illustration: take care of yourself and rest, try and fail, build trust, look inside yourself for validation, accept criticism and be curious about others. It can be healthy.
'I've learned a lot of lessons through illustration: take care of yourself and rest, try and fail, build trust, look inside yourself for validation, accept criticism and be curious about others. It can be healthy.'
Which piece of work or project have you learned the most from?
Before I had any 'bigger' clients, I answered a call and contacted Ariel from Bloodletter to illustrate the following issue she was preparing. Bloodletter is a feminist horror magazine showcasing personal and analytical perspectives on the horrific by women, non-binary and trans writers. I've been working on the 20+ illustrations for the issue for months, building a cohesive identity and a personal interpretation of these great texts. I love working with passionate, ethical, and fun people (who doesn't? It's the best), so this has been a treat. The regularity and volume of work, the constraints and the themes touched were all very formative. I'm not a big fan of horror, which I was straightforward about since the beginning, but on some level, my work feeds on what connection and intimacy mean and how mysterious, playful and weird it can all be. I could relate to every one of these texts, proving that good (I hope good) work doesn't necessarily bloom for the most familiar places. It was also a delight to evolve as an illustrator while the magazine grew—mutual progress happily shared with Ariel. Loved it. I think the next issue will be out around October. Go read it!!
How important is research to your work and why does it matter?
I rarely start with a blank page. I always use an older drawing of mine as a reference or a piece of archive I like to act as a frame. These elements often disappear as the drawing evolves but help set things off. I've spent a lot of time trying to understand what I liked in other people's work—dissecting what elements spoke to me and why, then trying to incorporate these bits into my work. Research is central. I love books, so I often dig into my library. I've also spent a lot of time on The Peculiar Manicule and the Internet Archive (thank you for building such unique places on the Internet). I love to work in arborescence—start with the subject and see where it leads in terms of research. When I don't have a lot of time to research, I'll stick to some of my essentials: fashion, social context, object design, food. Archives have a fundamental place in my work, and I find most of my inspiration in the 1960s, 70s, 80s, and 90s.
'...on some level, my work feeds on the meaning of connection and intimacy and how mysterious, playful and weird it can all be.'
Which illustrator alive or dead do you most admire and why?
It's very tough to choose only one. I'll go with two: Saehan Park and Peter Max. Both are fantastic examples of how playful and wild you can go with figurative work. Saehan works with strong constraints (using a scribing ruler) to her advantage. She masters other styles of drawing but has made a strong case for her alcohol-based fun little characters. One of my favourite children's books is her Papa Ballon. Peter Max has also had a strong influence on my work. I'm not a fan of all his work, but I learned from him that it's possible to build a dynamic and striking image without relying on classical technical drawing skills. His unique graphic vocabulary has inspired me to try and create my own. There's something very musical about his work. I hope to bring something of that to my illustrations. These illustrators evoke a 'do not compare with others, do your thing' constructive spirit. Oh, and I have to add Kate Dehler. Her stunning work has been an entry point into late mid-century illustration for me. Through her work, she also taught me to play with texture. I'm a big fan.
What is one part of your working process that you do well, something you could improve and something you wish you never had to do again?
I'm getting better and better at colour and strong line work.
I could improve everything related to formal and life drawing.
I tried drawing a realistic car and hated every part of the process. I'll make weird ones.
Who would be your ideal client to work for and why?
I'd love to make weekly illustrations for a magazine column, like Tomi Um does for the New York Times Ethicist newsletter. It's fascinating how she comes up with great ideas in an economy of time/space each week. I'd also love to work with FSG editions—they publish some of my favourite authors and have great covers. I'm generally interested in doing book cover illustrations, as I'm an avid reader (with a lousy attention span). I'd also love to work with the skincare brand Herbar. I fell in love with their visual identity (bravo, Elise Rigollet), and it would be really fun to interpret their mushroom universe in a project.
What do you think defines 'good illustration'?
I love this question. One of the reasons illustration has a dear place in my heart is that you can appreciate an illustrator's work without liking it. In my eyes, a good illustration responds to the brief personally and efficiently. There are many ways to do that. All require a lot of work and soul. I love understanding the tools each illustrator has crafted for themselves. I relate to Bruno Munari's take on design. A sense of relief comes with understanding how someone can be very smart with their work, even if it doesn't touch you personally. Good illustration comes from a place of experiment, tons of work, and pleasure.
'I relate to Bruno Munari's take on design. A sense of relief comes with understanding how someone can be very smart with their work, even if it doesn't touch you personally.'
What actor/actress would play you in a film about your life and what would the name of that film be?
Questions that relate to my image always confront me with the contradictory parts of me: the fact that I'm mixed (Lebanese-English) and from a popular background, with grown-in-the-countryside-higher education-bows-and-cats tastes. I often fear leaving the less visible parts out as they are dear to me. I'm looking forward to feeling more chill about all this. Anyway, let's say: Girl, You Can Do That Thing— with Carey Mulligan for adult me and Catherine Demongeot (as in Zazie Dans Le Metro) for kid me.
What film do you recommend to others most often and why?
This will relate to the previous answer (bows-and-cats tastes). Still, I've most recommended the 1995 Pride and Prejudice BBC mini-series, which none of my friends has ever watched without being forced (by yours truly). I love fiction that leaves room for quieter, opinionated women. I've also recommended Triangle of Sadness a lot since it was released for its immaculate rhythm, dialogue, and social commentary.
Zoé has illustrated the article 'Lost in Translation: Is Charlie Kauffman's Adaptation The Ultimate Hollywood In Joke?' for the Fun and Games Issue, out in October.
