An interview with Kristen Willis, illustrator of Casa Mia, a new picture book by Josie Montano, published by IP Kidz, an imprint of IP (Interactive Publications Pty Ltd)
We were delighted to add Brisbane illustrator Kristen Willis to our team for the latest book by esteemed author Josie Montano. In this guest interview, Kristen gives us insights not only into her artistic practice, but her family life that resonated so well with the storyline of Casa Mia.
Q. On Artistic Technique: Your bio notes that you blend “pigments and pixels”. Can you walk us through your process for this book? How did you decide which elements to hand-draw and which to manipulate digitally to create the warm, nostalgic feel of the story?
A. I love utilising mixed-media methods as both a graphic designer and fine artist, and I often move fluidly between traditional and digital processes throughout a book’s creation. For initial concepts, character exploration, and rough ideas, I begin on paper, allowing the drawings to feel loose and intuitive. These are then refined digitally for storyboard presentation.
Once the artwork is approved, I return to working by hand, creating the final illustrations at the scale of the book. This is where the emotional tone of each scene really evolves, through paint, colour pencil, and texture. In the final stage, the original artworks are scanned and carefully digitised, then placed into a Photoshop template to prepare them for print—bringing together pigments and pixels to create the warm, nostalgic feel of the story.
Q. On Visualizing Memories: In the story, Carlo looks through a “dusty old album” to see what Nonno’s (his grandpa’s) village looked like. How did you approach the challenge of illustrating the “snapshots of a rich and meaningful past” mentioned in the summary? Did you use real historical photos for reference?
A. Nonno’s world is a whimsical blend of both Josie’s and my own Nonno’s hometowns in Italy. Using family photographs alongside online historical documentation, I was able to build an authentic sense of place that carries personal meaning for both families. I loved the process of interpreting these real memories and references into illustrated moments, transforming photographic snapshots of the past into warm, expressive images that feel lived-in, nostalgic, and rich with story.
Q. On “Biscotti and Sugar Cane”: You mention your childhood was fuelled by “biscotti and sugar cane” and that you use illustration to internalise family memories. How did your personal upbringing influence the visual details in the attic scenes, such as the specific look of the “special things” Carlo finds?
A. I grew up in Ingham, North Queensland, a small sugar-cane town shaped by Italian migration beginning as early as 1891 and expanding significantly after World War II during the 1950s. Both sides of my family arrived during this post-war wave, drawn by the promise of work and stability at a time when opportunities in Italy were scarce.
Casa Mia became a beautiful opportunity to honour and internalise those family memories through illustration. Many of the attic “special things” are drawn directly from my father’s side of the family, who immigrated from the Veneto region. My Nonno lived very self-sufficiently, which is reflected in details like the growing tomato vine and the Alpini war-uniform gardening gloves. Other visual elements, such as pizza-making scenes and the accordion, represent Josie’s family history. Together, these objects form a visual language of memory, blending both of our family stories into Carlo’s world.
Q. On the Accordion: There is a specific scene where Carlo tries to play Nonno’s piano accordion, but it just “bellows and shakes”. How did you work—through text and art respectively—to make this object feel like a bridge between the past and the present?
A. There is a pivotal moment in the story when Carlo discovers the accordion and is inspired by the richness of Nonno’s passion for music. In that moment, I imagined Nonno’s earlier life and the sounds that shaped him, the music that carried memory, emotion, and identity. It represents the music of life itself.
Through Carlo’s curiosity and his eagerness to play an instrument that takes decades to master, the accordion becomes a bridge between past and present. Visually and emotionally, it connects Nonno’s lived experience with Carlo’s desire to understand and carry that legacy forward.
Q. On Intergenerational Bonds: The book is described as an “intergenerational bond” story. In an era where families are often separated by distance or digital distractions, what message does Casa Mia send about the value of sitting down and listening to the stories of our elders?
Casa Mia is deeply rooted in intergenerational connection and in the cultural importance of passing down stories and traditions from migrant families of all backgrounds. As a second-generation Italian Australian, I am constantly trying to gather and preserve family stories that might otherwise be lost. I worry about how easily these stories can fade as they are passed down, and I already see that my children know less than I do, which is something that genuinely saddens me.
The silver lining is that, as a creative, I am in a unique position to interpret and preserve these connections through storytelling and illustration. Casa Mia gently encourages families to slow down, sit together, and listen, because within those shared moments are histories, identities, and memories worth holding onto.
Q. On the Dedication: The book is dedicated to specific family members, including “Mamma Margherita”. Did having these real-life inspirations in mind change the emotional weight of the project for you during the creation process?
A. I felt an immediate connection to the manuscript from the very beginning. The Nonno I referenced in the story is drawn directly from lived experience. For many years, I was the youngest grandchild on my Dad’s side of the family, and my Nonno lived with dementia. Because of the language barrier, his inability to speak English and my inability to speak Italian, our connection was built through shared experiences rather than words.
We bonded while collecting eggs from the chicken coop and racing to see who could finish their spaghetti and ice cream the fastest. Those moments allowed me to authentically connect with Carlo’s perspective, admiring artefacts from another country that somehow brought both curiosity and comfort at the same time. That emotional truth deeply shaped the heart of the project and gave the dedication real weight during the creation process.
