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Welcome to the official Ian Miller site.
This is the place to find out more about the artist Ian Miller. Ian has been creating artwork since the 1960's. Not only is he a respected fantasy artist, he also creates fine art and is a writer. Selections of his art are scattered throughout the site. You can click on most images for enlarged versions. There are also a selection of Ian's writings throughout his site.
Enjoy!.
Click on the following links to find out more about the artist & his work
- Artwork
A selection of Ian Miller's art.
- Text
prose & poetry.
- Biography
Some information about the artist.
- online store
original art work.
- Contact
Use this page to contact Ian Miller about his work .
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15:34 That's when it all began?
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The culpa morti were killing rabbit's in the garden and exchanging Corsican recipes.
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click image to enlarge |
click image to enlarge |
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click image to enlarge
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The image in this space
was consumed by mice
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' In every work of genius we recognise our own rejected thoughts: they comeback to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this. They teach us to abide by our spontaneous impressions with good–humoured inflexibility most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side. Else tomorrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and felt all the time, and we shall be forced to take with shame our own opinion from another.'
Emersion, Self reliance 1841 Seamus Heaney , The Goverment of the tongue, faber 1988.
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Your talking to me,,,,, ( I think, no I'm sure ) . Despite being locked in the dark cupboard again last night, by the men in Pink, I wrote my name on the palm of my hand with an indelible pencil so I'm pretty sure I'm who I say I am,,, because i can't see any stitch marks toot! suggest this is a new hand. The shop is set up for a cart, but because I'm dealing at the moment with the variables of original art pieces; different sizes, weights etc, that cannot be put in a standard box or tube, with established postal rate I ask everybody to contact me if they wish to buy: signed stitch marks |
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When I arrived, the Station seemed empty. Wind shepherded the litter towards the ill lit stairs and platform underpass. It was only after the train pulled out and I walked towards the exit, that I noticed the two people sheltering in the doorway,
the broken novel ian miller© 2008
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Beware of : Clones, Facsimilies and rabid dogs |
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Fumbling for Order.
For Description.
For a sense of Perspective
22—6—37
Is that the clue?
Traffic—Havoc—Bicycle—
I think I’m close— |
MUST TRY HARDER Must try harder MUST TRY HARDER
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Bend like the young bamboo, and hope there's enough spring left, for one more good fart. |
Anybody with an iota of sense,would have dropped the box in the newly dug hole and walk away from it right there and then but good sense had never been one of my strong points and anyway, I had a weird feeling that if I did drop it and run, it would be waiting for me somewhere up ahead. The box and I were going all the way.
the broken novel ian miller ©2008
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Somebody you should read : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._G._Sebald |
An adverb is a small South African mammal that lives on the slopes of table mountain |
SUN 17:55 |
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Why was there a line of six pink plastic buckets outside the back door of the Coast Guard Cottage?
They looked brand new.
When I got closer, I could see that each of them was full of coloured water, an outrageous blue, reminiscent of the Eastman colour cheapies played out on Pacific atoll’s
It must be an old Martin’s liquid watercolour.
I looked into each, expecting to see goldfish or some other denizen of the deep, Their was nothing swimming about in any of them, but in the last bucket, I could see a coin lying on the bottom.
Unable to resist, I pulled up my sleeve and reached into the blue water. No sooner had I pulled my arm out, cuff dripping, than I was grabbed from behind and pushed up against the wall of the cottage.
Before I could utter a word, I heard someone close by shout:
“He’s taken the King’s shilling”.
the broken novel ian miller ©2008
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