William A. Hall’s oeuvre in an ever-expanding hyperrealist theater intermingled with time markers—which are literally outside interruptions in the artist-intensive workflow. In fact, Hall composed his drawings on the steering wheel of his car, in which he lived for most of the last twenty years of his life.

 

Hall conceived his drawings in series over a few days, months, or years, building visual narratives that developed on separate pages—not necessarily sequentially—of scrapbooks. They range from two to twenty panels, laid out and assembled after the fact by collectors. This is the case of the thirteen-page composition, Pumpkin Castle Interior, on the back of which he inscribed the dates and times of their execution: Panel no. 2 on October 26, 27, 28, 29, 2013, and January 13, 2014; Panel no. 9, from January 15 to February 6, 2014. On the verso, he sometimes added definitions of inspiring words taken out from the dictionary, as well as diary observations, like his ever-changing locations from one Los Angeles neighborhood to another, the temperature of the day, conversation with cops, or the appearance of a monarch butterfly on his windshield.

 

Hall’s art immerses us into the atmosphere of post-apocalyptic, unpopulated futuristic scenes, out-of-time Lilliputian detailed landscapes showcasing imposing twisted trees (as seen in Tree Motel), waterfalls, rocks, and wood machines of his invention. His production repeatedly tackled the interconnected themes of survival and safety, including the drawings attached to his novel Protége, which follows the adventures of the giant Xenos, who was created from different cadaver body parts sewn together, and whose mission is to protect “from the cruel predatorily humanoids who have been a problem for many centuries.”