David Mostyn

A tribute

My dad was taken away from us on November 5th, after a year-long battle with cancer. The same damn disease that ended my mother’s life in 2014. He was 81.

Dad in his studio, April 2021. This was his happy place: Radio 4 blasting and a cup of strong coffee nearby.

My father was a commercial illustrator, one of the most respected artists in his field. Born in Leeds and growing up in the Welsh countryside, he attended boarding school in South Africa as a young boy. His father was a vicar, so his job took him overseas, and the family followed.

After leaving school, he graduated with a degree in Fine Art from Durban Art College and eventually made it back to England, arriving in 60’s London with barely a pound to his name. Living in a bombed-out flat that made ‘Withnail & I’ look civilised, he found employment as a typesetter and art-worker, and eventually made his way into art direction in advertising and publishing. He met my mother during this time, proposed after just two weeks, and they were together for over 30 years. A feisty New Yorker, she convinced him to go freelance, which saw his career take off.

Producing weekly comic strips for the Beano and Dandy, my father also illustrated over 500 educational books and wrote a best-selling series that taught children how to draw cartoons. He collaborated with authors including Philip Pullman, Gyles Brandreth, Roger McGough and Richard Hammond, and worked on a huge range of commercial projects, from visual identities for Crabtree & Evelyn to NHS health campaigns. Other clients included Disney, Marvel, DC Comics, and pretty much every major publishing house in the UK, Europe and America.

In the 1990s, he made live TV appearances, being invited to draw on ‘The Generation Game’ and Children’s BBC. He also gave talks at the Edinburgh Festival. He was an excellent draftsman, graphic designer, model maker, photographer, painter and writer. My father continued to work until the very end and was doodling with pencil and paper, days before he passed.

Dad laughing with my wife (out of shot), at his home in the Cotswolds.

Like any artist worth their salt, he was not without his demons, and never thought much of his own work. But, like his illustrations, he was extremely funny. He had a very eccentric way of looking at the world and a uniquely quirky sense of humour.

Up until a year ago, he volunteered to drive the elderly to medical appointments, where he waited sometimes for many hours to take them home. When he began doing these hospital runs, I asked him how it was going.

‘Well, I drive over to their house, grab the old folk, throw them in the car, and we go tearing off to the hospital. I wait around, get a coffee, and then I dump them back at home. They don’t know what’s hit them!’

This was his ‘cartoon speak’, and he was actually very gentle and considerate, rest assured. However, his right foot had its own reputation, as he regularly broke the sound barrier in his concerningly overpowered car.

His culinary skills also acquired notoriety, as, by his own admission, he was no Gordon Ramsey, but he gave it the college try. He’d emerge from a cloud of smoke, on one occasion, wielding a giant lasagne that had nothing in it apart from red chillies. He informed me he’d forgotten to buy the filling, and that was all he had in the fridge, so we soldiered on, sweating profusely and praying there was a fresh box of antacids somewhere. Likewise, his attempt to make wine ice lollies was a noble one, but alas, the freezing point of alcohol scuppered the operation, and a tidal wave of vin rouge burst out of the freezer all over him, accompanied by a raft of colourful language.

We made this short film in 2012, an amateurish attempt on my part to pay homage to Wes Anderson and make a humorous record of dad doing his thing. The illustration is a take on my old headmaster, who was a bastard of Dickensian proportions.

My father was also interviewed about his life and work on BBC Radio Oxford; the broadcast was split into three sections.

Dad was great company and had quite an entourage of friends. He loved nothing more than to sit with ‘a glass of something jolly’ (as he put it), having a laugh, discussing life, art, and the world at large. He was interested in other people and loved to have fun and just be silly. He always revelled in our successes, while offering a sympathetic ear in difficult times. He was kind. He went out of his way to help others and didn’t expect anything in return. He couldn’t stand pretentiousness. He was able to recognise authenticity and largely ignored the rest. It’s something I’ve always valued, and he set a wonderful example.

It’s hard to summarise such a unique character. My father quietly lived an extraordinary life, fuelled by the richest of imaginations, and he maintained his humour to the end. He was loved, and he loved his family and friends. One of the last things I said to him was that, for better or worse, I was extremely grateful that we happened to be on this planet at the same time. He fixed my gaze, held my hand, and smiled at me so sweetly.

I hope you’ll enjoy this illustrated poem he created; it always makes me laugh.