Charlie Forrester

There’s no place he’d rather be from. The paint of Big Muddy flows through his veins. Thick and oozing ochre, passion is stuck to the bottom of this guy’s soul like the mud at the bottom of the Mississippi. He was created to create. Forrester’s got stories to tell, and he illustrates those tales that mythologize the human experience simply and striking—trying nail down transcendence with a #2 pencil.
He’s got the grit and you bet he’s got the grind. Drive around Memphis, and you’ll see how hard working this guy really is. Between bites of a wet, pulled-pork sammich at Central BBQ look up at the walls and you’ll see his murals. Lush, intoxicating hues of a Delta dusk with a Crossroads cabin plopped in the middle. Did Robert Johnson once live there? The brown, worn planks trod by phantom feet and a blues tune floats out of one of the painted guitars.
Hit the regional comic cons, and he’ll be there, manning the booth, signing custom illustrations. An affable smile and burly hands may palm you a business card, glossy, and featuring a spritely caricature of his daughter as a wood nymph. Flip it around and it’ll direct you to his Instagram feed link so you can keep up with his in-progress drawing-of-the-week.

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