Tolkien artist Jef Murray (†2015) provides insight, inspiration and advice in previously unpublished interview

In 2012 I started a humble little blog called Into the West, where I delved into the depths of J.R.R. Tolkien’s mystical world of Middle-Earth. It was hosted on the now defunct “Middle-Earth Network” and before it was taken off the World Wide Web, I was able to host a handful of interviews with various authors and artists who loved J.R.R. Tolkien and the realm he “sub-created.”

One of those interviews was with internationally known artist, Jef Murray. Sadly he died unexpectedly not long after this interview. The Georgia Bulletin explains in his obituary how he gained international acclaim, “appearing in Amon Hen and Mallorn, both publications of the Tolkien Society, Silver Leaves, and the St. Austin Review, a journal of Catholic culture. He also illustrated the columns of his wife, Lorraine V. Murray, for The Georgia Bulletin and wrote two books, ‘Seer: A Wizard’s Journal’ and ‘The Framerunners.'”

On a personal level he also mentored me early on in my writing career, providing me kind, but critical advice to a “young pup,” eager to write fiction.

He led an inspiring life and affected many people by his example and strong Catholic faith. Jef credited his own conversion to Catholicism to J.R.R. Tolkien as he came to understand him through his works of fiction.

Below is the full interview (it’s quite lengthy) I had with Jef Murray, which has lain dormant for many years. I am publishing it now in hopes that it can further his legacy and inspire anyone who is interested in Tolkien’s world of Middle-Earth, highlighting its ability to point us to another realm beyond this world.

Jef, the majority of your beautiful paintings are drawn from various scenes of Middle-Earth and your collection of short stories and poems are clearly inspired by Tolkien. How long have you been acquainted with Tolkien’s world of Middle-Earth?

Indeed, quite a few of my paintings, and perhaps the majority, are inspired by Middle-earth, but I don’t want to give short shrift to the many illustrations I’ve also created of C.S. Lewis’ Narnia, of scenes from classic fairy tales in general, and of more mystical/spiritual/religious events and persons. Nevertheless, Tolkien has certainly been one of my primary muses.

I first recollect being read The Hobbit by my mum when I was in 2^nd grade. She recited one chapter per night to me and my younger brother as a bedtime story, along with chapters from the Narnia tales; and I’ve ever since conflated the two in that enchanted and mysterious realm of childhood glamour that is remembrance.

We were also told at the time that there was a sequel to The Hobbit, but that we were not yet old enough to read it at bedtime. Happily, in this instance, my mum was quite right; the nightmares that might have ensued had she relented to our protestations would have been epic in proportion! What my childhood imagination might have conjured upon her reading to us about the ring-wraiths, I’d prefer not to reflect upon!

But, I did at last tackle The Lord of the Rings in high-school, and like so many others, fell in love with that fuller world that Tolkien created. This was abetted by the fact that my high-school was nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains, and to step past the Edge of the Wild, all one had to do was plunge into the heavy woods that surrounded the campus.

Nevertheless, I do not feel that I truly began to fully understand and appreciate The Lord of the Rings, nor The Silmarillion, until I came back to both works as an adult. And as with any classic novel, each subsequent reading teaches me a bit more about myself, about the greater world, and about the nature of life and mystery; because at each reading, I approach the texts as a different person.

I am sure there are many inspirations behind your works of art, but is there a specific scene from Middle-Earth that inspires you more than others?

There are too many wondrous places and people in Tolkien’s magnum opus for me to give an adequate answer, so let me turn your question on its head and suggest scenes that do not inspire me.

Throughout his writings, Tolkien takes the point of view of free folk who choose to withstand and overcome wickedness, the will to power, and hatred, rather than taking the perspective of evil’s allies. We typically only get “into the head” of the corrupt and degraded characters (Morgoth, Sauron, the Witch King, Smaug, Saruman, the orcs, etc.) through the experiences, insights and counsels of the Wise; and even in these cases, it is clear that they are expressing their best sense of how the Enemy operates rather than intimate personal understanding of evil’s workings.

So, Tolkien takes the stance that I believe all of us should take; that is, of decent, though fallible, people struggling against evil. He does not wallow in horrible scenes and images, though horrible events are certainly depicted in his writings. Rather, he dwells on hope, on perseverance, on faith, on honour, and on love.

As a result of Tolkien’s own stance, I have rarely painted or sketched a scene from Middle-earth that was deliberately ugly, or dark, or that I intended should in any way glorify or honour the power or the triumph of evil. I wish to follow Tolkien in highlighting light, and life, and the deeply-felt longing we all have for the good, the true, and the beautiful.

And, as I’ve said, Tolkien’s tales are suffused with scenes that allow an artist to render such things: autumnal forests and sparkling morning mists; the rolling Shire hills; the sweeping plains of Rohan; the craggy peaks of the Misty Mountains; the beauty of the Fair Folk and their dwelling places; the valour of the Dunedain; the poignancy of resolute struggle against overwhelming odds; the peace that comes with acknowledgement of weakness and of the need for the help of a greater Providence.

These were the things that were important to Tolkien, and they are the things that are important to me as an artist.

Middle-Earth is certainly a beautiful realm and Tolkien accomplished a masterful description of the scenery. Do Tolkien’s descriptions give you a sure guide to your paintings, or do you use them only as references? 

This is an interesting topic, and one that often goes unexamined. The fact is that Tolkien is really quite sparse in most of his descriptions of scenery. He is masterful in choosing the right words to describe the “feel” of a place, but if you go back and actually read his prose, his descriptions are rarely complex or overly detailed. I believe this is part of his genius, and why so many of us are passionate about our own interpretations of what Middle-earth “looks like”.

You see, those of us who came to Tolkien from his books, rather than from film adaptations, often have a very personal understanding about the tales because we have participated, with Tolkien, and through the use of our own imaginations, in building up our own images of how things really ought to look in Middle-earth. This is also why so many of us are passionate about what we dislike in film adaptations; such adaptations are based on other’s imaginings, not our own, and so they are often discordant. This is what Tolkien himself knew, I believe, when he suggested that The Lord of the Rings was singularly unsuited for adaptation into a motion picture.

But, to return to your question, Tolkien leaves the artist quite a lot of latitude when it comes to how Middle-earth might appear. What I try to do as an artist is to capture the charm, the enchantment, the grit, and the glamour of Middle-earth, not so much the slavish detail. I prefer this to trying to be overly scrupulous in researching and judging every possible clue that can be gleaned from Tolkien’s writings and notes. I know other artists take pride in being as accurate in their renderings as possible, and I admire them for doing so; but as long as what I create has the right spirit, I believe I am being true to Tolkien’s work, and I hope those who view my images agree.

Jef, often various artists will have mentors or masters that they look up to and desire to imitate, is there an artist that you aspire to imitate in either style or skill?

There is an old expression, attributed either to Picasso or to T.S. Elliott depending on whom you ask, that “good artists borrow; great artists steal”. That statement operates at multiple levels, but the kernel of truth it represents is that all artists learn from other artists, and we all lean on each other for inspiration, for interesting techniques, for different uses of media and light, etc.

Over the years, I’ve studied and admired the works of a great number of artists, including Maxfield Parrish, Howard Pyle, the Wyeths, Arthur Rackham, etc. I’m also fond of the landscape paintings of the Hudson River School, and of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, and of romantic figure painters such as Bouguereau. My own paintings tend toward the subjects and styles of many of these folk, and my graphite sketches, which some prefer to my paintings, tend to be modeled after the etchings and “fieldbook” drawings of 19th century explorers, particularly those English archeologists and naturalists who pervaded the British Empire at the turn of the last century.

But, over time, one develops one’s own sensibilities rather than trying to deliberately make one’s work “look like” that of any other artist. And that is what one should do as an artist. Your work evolves, and if it does not, then you are not an artist…you’re simply a draftsman. Yet, as it evolves, it becomes more an expression of what God has planted within you, rather than of just the influences you’ve encountered over the years.

What do you think is the greatest contribution to society that The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit have given to the Western world?

More than anything else, I believe these works, along with The Silmarillion, have shocked us into mistrusting the modern mechanistic mindset. That is, after the rationalism of the 19th century and the nihilism and horrors of the 20th century, there is a tendency to believe that all things in heaven and on earth are nothing more than random atoms bumping into each other: human beings are just machines with largish central processing units whose lives have no purpose, and whose stories, hopes, and ambitions are utterly without meaning.

Into this symphony of suffering, Tolkien introduces the clarion silver call of meaning, of purpose, of worth. Shakespeare reminds us that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy; Tolkien, too, reminds us that the existential angst of the 20th century is a passing thing, but a thing that must nevertheless be resisted. With epic tales of heroism, of wonder, of Providence, of grace, we are awakened from the deep slumber of empty consumerism and self-centeredness; we begin to ask why we are here, what great task might be ours, and ours alone, to fulfill? We begin to rediscover that life is far more magic-filled than we’ve been taught.

And that, I believe, may be an encouraging thought.

Is there any advice that you would give to aspiring artists or writers?

Simply this: do the work that God has given you to do and all else will follow.

What is that work? Only you can discern this, but you must do it, and you must put that work at or near the top of your priority list. Southern writer Flannery O’Connor puts it this way: “There is a great deal that has to either be given up or be taken away from you if you are going to succeed” as an artist. Yet, following that path and accepting those sacrifices is what will turn your labours into a gift; a gift to the rest of us, and a gift back to the One who gave you your talent and your desire to create in the first place.

Goethe is often credited with saying “Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.” And whether, ultimately, those were his words, I believe the sentiment is worthy. If you are an artist, begin your work. Begin it today, and do not delay it. For without your efforts, without your pouring your God-given talent into fulfilling the hopes and dreams that alone have been given you, all of us are made the poorer.