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James Hiro Art

@james_hiroart

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🎨 Irish Digital artist
✨ Prints + originals
🖥️ Commissions open✨
NO AI - All original work on Procreate
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‘The Lost Boy’

Children have been going missing in Capital city…. And are forgotten.

On a rain soaked night in Capital City, something old has begun to stir. A strange lullaby drifts between the streets, carried through the fog towards the dark waters of the Spindle. And somewhere ahead… a little boy is walking. Alone.

A pale b;use light clings to him, faint as moonlight deep beneath deep water. His coat is soaked through. His dark hair sticks to his forehead. Yet he does not cry. He simp;y follows.

Turlough has seen many strange things through ‘The Sight’, but there is something different about this child. Something about the light surrounding him… Something about the song calling him onwards… and the closer Turlough gets, the stranger the night becomes.

Reflections move when they shouldn’t. Rain seems to hesitate in the air. And beneath the black water, something is waiting. The boy raises his hand as though someone is walking beside him. But Turlough can see no one there. Only the fog… only the river… on;y the song. “They’re waiting”.

The Lost Boy is one of my earlier illustrations from the Prologue of my novel, and depicts one of the first mysteries that draws Turlough back into a world he has spent a very long time trying to leave behind. But who is calling the boy towards the water? And perhaps the more frightening question… Who are “they”?

More artwork and characters from the Isle of Ériu coming soon. Follow along as I continue bringing the world of my novel to life. Digital fantasy illustration titled The Lost Boy. A glowing, ghostly young boy stands alone on a fog covered riverside walkway at night. His body is almost translucent, surrounded by an eerie pale blue light that fades into mist around his feet. Victorian style street lamps cast warm orange light across the wet cobblestones, contrasting with the deep blue night. Green magical lights float around the nearest lamp, while dark water, iron railings, shadowy buildings and distant gothic towers disappear into the thick fog behind him. taken in Ireland (country) by @james_hiroart

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14 days ago

‘Sisters and Secrets’

Two daughters of Bodb Dearg. Two daughters bound by blood, love and a bond that once seemed impossible to break. Eva and Aoife grew together beneath the ancient halls of Sídh Bodb Dearg, but they were never quite alike.

Eva, the elder, carried a quiet warmth. Gentle, com-owed and beloved, she moved through the halls like the last light of evening. Aoife was different. Where Eva brought calm, Aoife carried the storm.

Fierce, watchful and proud. A woman who could love with every part of herself… and hurt just as deeply. Yet for all their differences, they loved one another dearly. And perhaps that is what makes their story so tragic. Because there are some secrets that should never exist between sisters.

Aoife had carried one for years; a love she had never found the courage to confess. Eventually, she entrusted that secret to the one person she be;I ever would never betray her… Eva.

She asked her sister for help, and Eva promised to give it. Neither could have known that this simple promise would set something in motion that would change both their lives forever. Aoife trusted Eva completely, be;Irving her sister would merely speak on her behalf.

Love has a cruel habit of choosing its own path, and sometimes betrayal begins without anyone intending to betray. What followed would leave one sister carrying guilt…. and another carrying a wound that she promised to bury.

But some things do not stay buried forever.

If someone you loved betrayed you without ever intending to hurt you… could you forgive them?

More characters, creatures and stories from the world of Ériu coming soon. If you enjoy my work, a like, save, share or follow really helps me continue building this world. 🎨🖼️⚔️ Fantasy illustration of two women standing back-to-back in elaborate gowns. The woman on the left has very long black hair styled with braids, blue eyes, and a serious expression. She wears a flowing deep purple gown decorated with intricate gold detailing, with her arms folded across her chest. The woman on the right has long, wavy golden blonde hair with braided sections, blue/green eye, and a gentle expression. She wears a flowing forest green gown with purple panels and an ornate gold trim. Behind them, the background is divided between dark purple clouds on the left and softly illuminated purple water on the right, reinforcing the contrast between the two figures. taken in Ireland (country) by @james_hiroart

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a month ago

A slightly different kind of art from me today 🎨🐢

Alongside writing a boook and creating my digital art, I’ve also been spending a lot of time working on a few acrylic paintings. They’re very different from my fantasy pieces, as these are all taken from and inspired by the book that I am writing. They differ both in medium and subject, but I’m really enjoying the change of pace.

One thing that connects al of my acrylic work: animals. Every piece is either based directly on an animal o4 explores a theme connected to the natural world.

George was the last known Pinta island tortoise, and his story is a tragic reminder of just how easily something that has existed for thousands of years can disappear forever. His story has stayed with me since I was a child, when my fascination with animals and the natural world really began to grow.

So, for this reel, I thought I’d share a little glimpse behind th4 scenes, a time lapse of one section of the painting slowly taking shape, brushstroke by brushstroke 🖌️

There’s still plenty left to do, and this is only one of several pieces that I am working on. I’ll be sharing more progress from this painting, as well as some of my other animal-inspired acrylic works, in the near future.

What animal would you love to see me paint next?

And if you’d like to see how Lonesome George develops from here, stick around. There’s a lot more to come. taken in Ireland (country) by @james_hiroart

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a month ago

‘No two Fomorians went to war wearing the same face.’

Across the long Fomorian Scourge, the warriors of the deep became as varied as the nightmares told about them. Some grew scales, others horns, wings, claws or bodies twisted beyond recognition. Some crawled close to the earth, and others towards the battlefield. Serpents fought beside creatures of bone and sinew; things born of fang, armour, brine and shadow marched beneath the same banners.

And then there were warriors like this one.

A Fomorian whose ascended form seems almost constructed for war. Long limbs built for reach, a single burning eye, and a body warped into something somewhere between flesh and armour. Yet look beside it. The warriors and the creature are one.

That is what makes the Fomorians of Ériu so dangerous. Their humanoid is not simply a disguise hiding the monster underneath. Both forms belong to them, beauty and horror, thought and instinct. The elegant figure standing before you and the towering thing behind him are two expressions of the same being. During the wars of Ériu, these creatures faced the Tribe of Danu for centuries. On the fields of Magh Tuireadh, their countless forms changed against the Danu warriors beneath a sky filled with fire, smoke and magic.

Eventually, the Fomorian armies broke. But they were never completely destroyed. And somewhere in the darkness, perhaps creatures like this one still remember what they once were.

Which form would you rather face, the warriors… or the thing standing behind him?

Another Fomorian design from the world of Ériu. More characters, creatures and lore from my novel coming soon ⚔️🔥 A towering Fomorian warrior in its monstrous form stands behind its humanoid form beneath a smoky blue and gold sky. The creature has an elongated, asymmetrical body, extremely long limbs, clawed hands, dark green, grey and rust coloured skin, and a single glowing orange eye. It holds and hanging metal lantern in one raised hand and a long flaming weapon in the other. In front stands its slender, bald humanoid form with pointed ears, dark skin and a simple pale wrap around the waist. Fires burn across the the landscape behind them, emphasizing the contrast between the Fomorians controlled humanoid appearance and enormous battle form. taken in Ireland (country) by @james_hiroart

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2 months ago

Growing up, I could lose myself for hours with nothing more than a pencil and a sheet of paper. Whether I was sketching animals, Pete or Pokémon, freehand drawing was always one of my favourite ways to create. This quick sketch is the first concept for a new Fomorian design inspired by the whethered stone faces of European gargoyles, but also Disney’s Gargoyles from the 90s (one of my favourites as a kid).

Every illustration I create starts like this, drawn by hand first, then brought to life with colour in Procreate. Check back soon to see the creature transformed from a rough sketch into a finished digital art design of a fearsome Fomorian warrior. And yes…. Apologies for the poor lighting and the faint pencil lines 😅 I seem to have misplaced my drawing pencils, so this was the best I could do for now.

I’d love to know what you think of the design so far. Does it already feel like something that could belong in the world of Ériu? If you enjoy fantasy art, creature design, Irish mythology, and seeing the creative process from sketch to final illustration, consider following along, there’s plenty more to come. taken in Ireland (country) by @james_hiroart

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2 months ago

‘The Sluagh Emerging’

Some door were never meant to be opened….. Not because they hide treasure…. But because they hide monsters….

For centuries, the Sluagh existed only as whispered warnings passed from one generation to the next. Hollow phantoms created during the Great War, born from the souls of fallen Danu and Fomorian warriors who were denied the peace of death. Twisted by forbidden magic, they became weapons without mercy, stripped of memory, stripped of choice.

Even Balor, was condemned for summoning them. That knowledge was thought lost forever. But deep beneath the sleeping circle, ancient monoliths awaken. Black wounds spread across stone where sacred runes once stood, and one by one the portals begin to open.

The first creature drags itself into the chamber, then another, then another. Within moments the darkness is alive with the scarping of talons, broken wings and bird-like skulls emerging from the void. They do not scream in rage… They come in silence.

Because the Sluagh have no hatred of their own. Only the murderous will of the one who summoned them. For Turlough and Midir, this is more than another battle. It is proof that someone has rediscovered one of the greatest forbidden arts in the history of Ériu.

And if the Sluagh have returned…. What other horrors might still be waiting beneath the earth? A dark fantasy illustration of the Sluagh emerging from ancient stone portals inside a vast underground chamber. A towering bird-skulled phantom stands in the foreground, its skeletal body dripping with black sludge, while several other hollow Sluagh crawl from glowing monoliths in the background. The cavern is lit by eerie grey and violet trones, creating an ominous atmosphere that evokes forbidden magic and ancient horror. taken in Ireland (country) by @james_hiroart

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2 months ago

‘The Battle of Magh Tuireadh’

For over two centuries, the plains of Magh Tuireadh knew only fire.
The Tribe of Danu and the Fomorians fought until the land itself forgot what silence sounded like. Every victory was measured in sacrifice. Every dawn revealed another generation that would never see another sunset.

I watched it all from the edge of the forest. Not as Turlough, as a stag.

The last of the Cesairians had hidden beneath antlers and fur for centuries, believing my story had already ended with my people. The Sight had promised that one day a people would come who could break the Fomorian scourge, but after watching race after race fall… even I had begun to doubt.

Then I saw him. Midir.

It was then I became Turlough once more.

Together we fought beneath a sky burning with ash and sunset. Ancient magic met nightmare, and fire answered shadow. The last Cesairian stood beside the greatest warriors of the Tribe of Danu, and together we drove back the darkness that had ruled Ériu for centuries.

The Battle of Magh Tuireadh was more than the defeat of the Fomorians. It was the day ho-e returned to the land. It was the day I found my first true friend since the fall of the Cesairians. And though history remembers the victory… I remember every face that never came home.

If you had stood upon the fields of Magh Tuireadh, would you have answered the call…. Or tuned away from a war that would shape the fate of Ériu forever? Illustration of Turlough, the last Cesairian, standing alone on the blood soaked battlefield of Magh Tuireadh at sunset. Clad in a dark green hooded cloak and holding a wooden staff, he is surrounded by fallen warriors and monstrous Fomorians of a hard fought war. Broken shields, discarded weapons, torn crimson banners, and the bodies of the Fomorians with horns, fangs, and tentacles which litter the scarred landscape beneath a blazing orange and crimson sky. The scene conveys sacrifice, victory, and quiet remembrance in an epic fantasy world inspired by Irish mythology. taken in Ireland (country) by @james_hiroart

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2 months ago

Starting back posting again with one of my earlier creations. This piece I call: ‘Stone Remembers’.

There are many monuments across Ériu. Some are raised to kings, some to heroes, and others to names long since forgotten. This one belongs to neither me, nor my people.

Beneath the Tree of Síocháin, I raised a monument to the Cesairians, the first people to call this island home. It was all I could offer those who fell to the Fomorian Scourge. Time has hidden it from the world, but not from memory.

Yet, standing before this weathered Celtic headstone, I cannot help but wonder about th hands that carved it. Mortals, with such fleeting lives, shaped stone that has endured for centuries. They were ordinary people, and perhaps that is what makes their achievements so extraordinary. In only a handful of generations they transformed this Island. Their settlements became kingdoms and their ideas outlived empires. They reshaped Ériu so completely that those who came after, the Tuirenach, the Merrow, the Íth, and the Wolves of Ossory, would inherit a land forever changed by their hands. Even those who returned, the Fír Bolg, and the Nemedians, returned to a land now free from the rule of the immortal races.

Sometimes I wonder how it came to this.

After centuries of war against the Fomorians, surely my friends among the Tribe of Danu had a grown weary of bloodshed. They had fought to free this land, had sacrificed more than race, mortal or immortal, should ever have to endure. And yet…. Before long they found themselves at war once more.

Could it truly have been avoided? Could fear have yielded to understanding? Could two peoples, each believing they fought for the same land, have chosen peace instead? The stones offer no answers.

Only silence.

Do you think the Tribe of Danu and the Celts were always destined for conflict…. Or couldnÉriu have belonged to them both? Illustration of Turlough, the last Cesairian, standing silently before an ancient Celtic high cross in a mist covered forest. Wearing a dark green hooded cloak and travelers pack, he gazes up at the weathered stone monument, lost in memories of his own fallen people. Bare trees fade into the blue-grey fog, creating a quiet, melancholic atmosphere that reflects themes of remembrance, loss, and the passing of civilisations in a fantasy world inspired by Irish9 mythology. taken in Ireland (country) by @james_hiroart

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2 months ago

‘Creating another Quirky Character’.

This one started out the same way they all do, a rough sketch, a vague idea, and a lot of "let’s see what happens".

One of my favourite parts of the process is watching a character slowly come to life through layers and colour. It’s never just about drawing, it’s about discovering who they are while building them.

Every piece teaches me something new. A colour combination I wouldn’t have tried before. A detailed that suddenly makes the whole design click.

If you enjoy seeing the process behind fantasy character art, folllow along, I share the messy middle as well as the finished pieces. by @james_hiroart

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7 months ago

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7 months ago

The last of the base colours going down for this layer. 🎨 This little guy is nearly finished… but the real magic is still to come: shadows, light, atmosphere 👀✨

He is part of a much larger piece: ‘The Pirate Queen of Ériu’ ⚔️🌊🏴‍☠️

The final piece will arrive soon, but there is still shadow to carve and light to decide where it falls. He stands on the edge of something larger. A story that has not spoken its name.

Would you like to see the full character reveal before the final artwork drops?

Follow to watch this piece evolve layer by layer 🤟🎨🎨🤟 taken in Ireland, Europe by @james_hiroart

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7 months ago

‘Stone, Sweat, and Survival: The Fir Bolg’

They were not born conquerors. They were builders.

After the Nemedians fell to the Fomorians, the Fir Bolg came to Ériu seeking sanctuary, fleeing enslavement in their homeland, chasing the promise of freedom across dark waters. But Ériu was already ruled by cruelty.

Like those before them, they fought the Fomorians in brutal, hopeless wars. They bled for a land that did not belong to them. And when they fell, they were not granted mercy. They were chained.

The Fir Bolg became the backbone of the Fomorian dominion. They built their settlements, forged their weapons. Grew tgeir food. Those too weak to work were devoured. For centuries, they endured.

When the Tribe of Danu finally shattered the Fomorian scourge, the Fir Bolg were free, but freedom did not mean peace. They clashed with the Danu, dwindled in number, and eventually left Ériu behind, returning to retake their homeland.

They returned centuries later, not as conquerors, but as survivors, finding that the Fir Bolg had all vanished from their homeland.

In modern day Capital City, the descendants of those Fir Bolg are known as masters of trade and craft: builders, smiths, labourers, engineers. They are the quiet strength beneath the skyline. They have been enslaved, they have been hunted, they have been forgotten. But they endure. And endurance is its own kind of power.

What kind of strength lasts longer: the sword… or the hands that build? A fantasy illustration of four blue-skinned Fir Bolg standing together in worn work clothes. A muscular young Fir Bolg man with crossed arms stands at the centre, flanked by an older Fir Bolg man with a tool over his shoulder, a Fir Bolg woman holding a mop and bucket, and a young Fir Bolg girl carrying a basket of eggs with a hen at her feet. by @james_hiroart

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8 months ago