Emilia Edwards is an exceptionally promising young artist based in Pittsburgh, PA. Her artistic practice includes books, prints, and wall paintings. Edwards’ recent installation, CHAMPY—currently on view at the University of Vermont Fleming Museum—is a 400-square-foot, immersive depiction of the monster that allegedly resides in Lake Champlain, a local legend since the late 19th century.

What initially drew you to the language of comics? How would you characterize your particular approach to the form?

EE: I’ve always loved comics, cartoons, toys and everything that exploits the possibilities of a story told with pictures. Most of my comic drawings don’t include words. I prefer to tell abstract, winding stories using an invented language of symbols and characters. Many of my recent drawings are done in black and white. I have found that the absence of color forces me to clarify the action and tone of each panel. My current approach to comics borrows graphic elements from mainstream comics and combines this influence with collage and printmaking to form vivid, experiential narratives.

Much of your work contains rather disturbing—but somehow very beautiful—organic and biological forms. What is it about this imagery that has made it become so prominent in your work? Where do you get your inspiration?

EE: Reality is often stranger and more beautiful than fiction. My comics take place in invented worlds composed from bits of appropriated reality. My sources of inspiration include medical journals, food magazines, bodybuilding magazines, TV shows about plastic surgery, medical diagrams, horror movies, the meat and seafood section of the grocery store, open-air markets, billboards, advertisements…the list goes on.

Among your influences, you’ve mentioned posters you encountered on your travels, cartoons, and underground comics. Have there been places, people, texts, or images that have been particularly influential for you?

EE: Much of my art adopts the slick, stylized quality of advertisements, magazines, graphic novels and animation. I draw inspiration from the works of underground comic artists like Robert Williams, S. Clay Wilson, R. Crumb, Vaughn Bode, and 60s collage artist Jess Collins, Winsor McCay’s Little Nemo in Slumberland, Jack Kirby, and ‘90s animated television shows: He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, Batman, and in particular, John Kricfalusi’s Ren and Stimpy.

The cities in my comics are usually composite fantasy settings composed of references to my own travels. I like to use photographs of post-industrial cities like Pittsburgh, Detroit, Bilbao, and Frankfurt as menacing backdrops for my stories.

When I look at the imagery in some of your work, it’s difficult for me not to make the leap to environmentalism—I can imagine that some of these forms are mutants in a post-apocalyptic, toxic future. Do you see your work as having a political message?

EE: This comic is a projection of a future on a toxic planet. The final result bears more resemblance to apocalyptic science fiction and horror movies than a politically oriented message about environmentalism. It functions as a kid of cautionary, dark fairy tale. The mutant frog is the virus and the water is its host. My work frequently uses interpretations of current events and popular concerns as a social setting for a catastrophic event.

Your work spans the comic page as well as full-room, immersive wall drawings. How has working on these two drastically different scales contributed to the development of your work?

EE: Last year, I began creating large, painted installations that correspond with my books. This direction began when I started exhibiting and began to think about the relationship of image and scale. I wanted to create a situation in which a larger group of people could experience my work. Wall paintings allow me to physically surround the viewer with a dynamic image to provide an intense, public experience. The image in each installation is a frozen moment: a segment, preamble, or postscript of an unseen story or event. The mural pieces allow me to play with the concept of an implied story line. I like the challenge of creating readable characters and narratives in two completely different contexts.

What will you be working on next?

EE: My next project is graduate school. In September 2009, I will begin working on an MFA in the printmaking department at the Rhode Island School of Design.

What are the issues facing us today that you’re most interested in, concerned about, or motivated by as an artist? What should we be paying attention to?

EE: Right now I’m interested in the prospects for our future. My comic for this series is a projection of a city awash in poisonous, black water. This would be a dark, fantastical cartoon if the doomed situation weren’t entirely possible in the relatively near future. As I said above: reality is stranger and more beautiful than fiction. Reality is also much more terrifying than fiction.