V I E W-Vintage Illustration Explored Weekly

Welcome to Sherwood

2012-01-17T20:31:00.000-08:00

In an age before what is now known as "gaming".... before The Lord of the Rings had hit the big screen in any form, there were a different set of mythic heroes. They are still around, but they don't command the stage they way they did in a time before role-playing, blu-ray, and the "six-book series"...

Books that were read over and over, stories told for generations, were some of the tales that got the royal treatment when it came to illustrated editions that appeared near the turn of the last century. One such story that has always grabbed my attention is that of Robin Hood. I've always enjoyed that period in history, and that particular story. Many 1900 era publishers saw the appeal to the tale as well, and many saw fit to add it to their list at one point or another.
Of my illustration collections that Dover Publications has published, most are thematic by artist, but some are compiled by subject. The first of these was Illustrations of Poe, and the Arabian Nights illustrations were particularly well received. There are a half a dozen or so such titles now, but Robin Hood didn't grab the publisher's interest. I've collected quite a few editions, and thought it could be of some value to share them here on VIEW. Comparing how different artists look at the same story helps you find distinctions, that may help your own illustration or just enjoy one group more than another.

Some of my favorites—Walter Crane (top) near the end of his career, did Robin Hood in 1912. H.J. Ford (second) did his as part of The Book of Romance, in 1902. Howard Pyle's version (third) is full of premier quality line work, and was rewritten by Pyle as well, "to better suit the modern reader". Pyle's version is still reprinted today, and is often the version chosen for text when someone else throws their hat into the "Robin Hood Illustrated" ring.

An unusual arrangement took place between Frank Schoonover (fifth) and Louis Rhead, (fourth) where for a decade or so, books were produced with Rhead's line work, and a color Schoonover cover plate—even though Rhead got occasional color interior work. N. C. Wyeth's oil paintings (sixth) are among some of his best works for Scribner's Classics, and Frank Godwin's brilliant color plates from his 1923 edition (last) almost seem to mark the end of the era. (and these are just the tip of the iceberg...)

Uncovering the Working Class Illustrator

2012-01-04T20:43:00.000-08:00

Part of my mission here on VIEW has always been to bring to light some of the period illustration that for one reason or another, did not survive the ages. Yes, it's there for us to dig up, but not all of it is as easy to find as Arthur Rackham and Maxfield Parrish. I like finding the "Illustrators that Time Forgot". Most of them did some great work—otherwise they wouldn't have gotten the job in the first place...

Today's subject falls squarely in that category. While he was never a big book illustrator —choosing to work primarily in magazines—that path certainly limited his visible longevity. The few books he did do had little staying power among their titles. Frederick C. Yohn (1875-1933) is a name I've been paging over for years, while I search through old volumes of Scribner's Magazines, Harpers, and Colliers. Yohn was incredibly prolific from about 1895-1920, usually tackling scenes of contemporary living, some light romance, or occasionally the modern war story. (His Spanish-American War works were in high demand at the end of the 1890s) Historic work was also to his liking, and he did many scenes of the Revolution as well. Originally from Indiana, Yohn went on to become of the founders of The Society of Illustrators in NYC.
His skill set, ease with contemporary settings as well as historic ones, and ability, must have made him a reliable work-horse to the publishers that used him.

Pictured here are a WWI poster, three magazine pieces, and a painting that hangs in the Utica Public Library, of General Herkimer at the Battle of Oriskany.

Fine Lines and Solid Blacks, V. III.

2011-12-19T20:46:00.000-08:00

If you've followed this blog for some time, you know I'm a big fan of the work of British illustrator H. J. Ford. In conversation with a friend recently , we were discussing that appreciation, when he brought up John D. Batten. (1860-1932). I'd been aware of Batten, but I hadn't really explored his work until this came up.

At times in their careers, the works of Batten and Ford might have been nearly indistinguishable. Primarily line artists, both Batten and Ford often relied on intricate frames to surround their scenes, sometimes with a hand-written caption. Both worked in mythology and fairy stories—and both formed partnerships with writer/historians that explored fairy tales, and made minor heroes out of the illustrators to generations of children. The Batten/Joseph Jacobs partnership thrived throughout the 1890s, when they produced six books— English Fairy Tales, Celtic Fairy Tales, More English Fairy Tales, More Celtic Fairy Tales, Indian Fairy Tales, and The Book of Wonder Voyages. Indian Fairy Tales, in particular, yielded some great pieces of ink work. The last three here are from that book—"The Demon with the Matted Hair" is a fantastic piece of creature design. Tusks and a beak. During my undergrad work, long ago, I did a large ink piece with a complex Celtic frame—which I realize now, was modeled after Batten's style.

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My first semester teaching History of Illustration and Animation has wrapped up, and I hope to invest more time in the blog again to help it happen more regularly. Have a great holiday.

Getting things Dunn

2011-11-19T19:52:00.000-08:00

Last week was "Illustration Week" in NYC. It was declared so by the mayor—and gave NYC an excuse to tout the rich history of illustration that has passed through it, in the publishing houses, the schools, and of course the illustrators themselves. The Society of Illustrators made the most of it, with a week of special guests, lectures, and events. I was happy to add my two cents late in the week with a lecture on the illustrations of Alice in Wonderland, previewing my upcoming Dover book to the Lewis Carroll Society of North America— who happened to hold their annual Fall meeting in NYC that same week. It was a busy week following up a trip to Illuxcon, which all means a longer than usual absence from the blog. Let's get back on track.

I try not to turn to book reviews for subject matter when posting—but one came into the studio recently, that so completely covers an artist I've wanted to feature, that I can't ignore the book and the material it so masterfully displays. Harvey Dunn (1884-1952) came through Howard Pyle's Brandywine school, but with a direction all his own (primarily, a western one). I've looked for works by Dunn before with the hope of compiling a post of his works, but until now his work has not been as well collected as some of his other Pyle school alums. The right man for this challenge was Walt Reed. Walt is a legend in American illustration. He and his son Roger run Illustration House in NYC—a gallery for original illustration works, and Walt is the author behind numerous major books on illustration, most importantly, The Illustrator in America, 1860-2000. I consider this book the first stop for much of the research I do, and it would be required reading for my class were it still in print.

Harvey Dunn: Illustrator and Painter of the Pioneer West is expertly compiled, both in its selection of images and the accompanying texts. The section that I find most interesting is in the end of the volume, where a small book called "An Evening in the Classroom" from 1934 has been reprinted in its entirety, giving fantastic insight into Dunn's teaching approach. Don't let this one slip by you.

W.H. Robinson's Color Bulls-Eye

2011-10-11T19:28:00.000-07:00

What do I mean by that... you ask? I mean, he hit dead center on this one with his color work.

A few months ago while profiling the Calla Fall 11 releases (there's still one Golden Age reprint left to discuss) I posted a selection of William Heath Robinson's (British, 1872-1944) line work from Midsummer Night's Dream. WHR's line in that volume is beautifully clean and balanced, while the characters are intricate and full of personality. It's gorgeous ink work—but I chose not to review the color plates in that volume. I can't say the color work (in MSND) has the same impact on me as the ink work; the color is fine, but the ink work is excellent.

In other internet wanderings, I come across plates for a volume that W. H. Robinson produced in 1909. A Song of the English, by Rudyard Kipling. In this volume, the line work, while plentiful, is rather ordinary, but the color work here absolutely sings. I did some homework, and found that only the earliest copies contained all 30 of the color images... and they fetch quite a price. but good things come to those who wait, and after some time, I came across a nice copy which I can share with you today. Each of these five images is shown with the surrounding piece of line-work frame, printed in a soft color on the text stock, which frames the tipped-in full-color illustration. All of the plates for the volume are visible here, if you have a yearning to see the whole set.

or the whole volume, poem, line work, and all, here

The poem is about the grand Empire of Britain, which was quite extraordinary when Kipling wrote it in 1896. (The poem was originally published as part of the The Seven Seas) The dated qualities of the poem, and the attitudes that may not be universally favorable, may detract a bit from the books value in today's market, but the illustrations are some of W. H. Robinson's best. Subtlety, symbolism, solid figures, beautiful color.
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In more current times, if any of you folks are heading off to Illuxcon, in Altoona, PA in a few weeks, (for the Illustration conference that happens there annually) keep an eye out for me—I'll have some of my books along with my own work at the Showcase event on Friday night.

A Different Quality of Line

2011-09-24T19:44:00.000-07:00

Scottish artist Jessie M. King—(1875-1949) created a more emotionally driven image—Unlike most of her contemporaries at the turn of the century, King was interested in portraying a highly stylized figure, and illustration that communicated by its design as well as by its illustrative properties.

King would become quite popular as a book designer and illustrator in her early career, but it was her design sense that sets her apart, making her work readily identifiable. Frail lines, (I read one description as gossamer— which fits nicely) usually flat figure treatments, often set within a framework. The caption or accompanying text was often woven within the construct of the piece. King's form of calligraphy was so distinct that it can be used today, through a font which bears the name of a "center" she formed for women artists, Greengate. (I've actually used it frequently, and only now discovered it to be based on her lettering...)

Brought to my attention recently through the latest Calla Edition releases- the first two here are from that volume, (which is Oscar Wilde's fairy tale collection—A House of Pomegranates, illustrated in 1915) and a few from some others, to show a bit more variety. The black-and-white line piece is from a 1901 book entitled Modern Pen Drawings. It is captioned "Pelleas et Mélisande," and would have been among her earliest published works. The final two pieces are from a portfolio of drawings that King had published in a Christmas issue of The Studio, in 1913—

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My class at Montclair U. is moving along nicely... we looked at some of Jessie King's line work this past week.

A New Chapter, and finally—N. C. Wyeth

2011-09-02T19:32:00.000-07:00

It's a lot of change this month. My son started college—it's a bit more quiet at home.

Next week, I'm going back to school, in a way somewhat relevant to this blog. After working out the timing with Dover, I'm about to start teaching
The World of Illustration and Animation at Montclair State University, in NJ.
Not too different from the kind of stuff I've been doing here at VIEW, but much deeper and more thorough. I'm working to iron out how this is all going to come together, and I'll try to keep you posted— I imagine that I'll be finding lots of good stuff to share here.

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Last post I mentioned the release of my new book on N. C. Wyeth, 1882-1945. The book's title is Great Illustrations by N. C. Wyeth. I've been a fan of Wyeth's work since my teenage years. When he was on top of his game, Wyeth was one of the best painters going. He is considered by many to be the star student to come from Howard Pyle's "Brandywine School." From Needham Mass, Newell Convers Wyeth traveled to Pyle's Wilmington, Del. school with hopes to enroll in the Fall of 1902, and there began one of the most storied careers in the field of illustration. Wyeth's work was hugely influential, not only for its qualities, but also due to its reach. The years he spent doing work for the Scribner's Illustrated Classics created a shelf full of volumes with images that have been burned into our memories, and reprinted for decades.

Great Illustrations by N. C. Wyeth reviews work of his earlier career, before easel painting became a larger part of his output. There are the classic pieces—images from Treasure Island, Robin Hood, and King Arthur— his early western work, and magazine and advertising illustrations that have rarely been reprinted. One of the real finds reprinted in this collection, is a three page article written by Wyeth himself in 1919, on the quest "For Better Illustration." For me, it was great to discover works I was not as familiar with, like these pieces from The Pike County Ballads, 1912, (the steamer and the bar scene) and The Courtship of Miles Standish, 1920. (The last piece, with bright candles and the back-lit figure.)

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Congrats and kudos to my friends and colleagues who are currently showing their work as a part of FIT/NYC's first class of MFA illustration grads. If you're in or around NYC, stop by the museum at FIT for a real treat.

Thomas MacKenzie, in with good company

2011-08-20T21:29:00.000-07:00

Summer greetings to you all, especially those who signed on in the past few weeks! There's been a lot of activity in the studio, a few projects I can't discuss just yet, and some things coming together as we, err, speak.

I had thought to take a break from previewing Calla Editions, but then I got an advance copy of Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp, In Rhyme.

My first look at Thomas MacKenzie's illustration happened about three years ago. While working on Arabian Nights Illustrated in 2008, The good team in our acquisition office got their hands on a copy of this volume (Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp, In Rhyme, 1919) for me to consider adding the material to the collection. It was also about the time when the whole idea of reprinting beautifully illustrated books in near facsimile reproduction (The idea that would become the Calla line of books) was taking shape. What makes Aladdin a gem is not the 12 solidly stylish color plates—but add to that the line work that is woven into the text throughout the entire book—and while it's earlier printing was on a rough, porous stock that did not reproduce the blacks with great clarity, Calla reset the text, to match the spacing, but provide cleaner reading. I had not expected to be so impressed with this volume, but it really surprised me.

MacKenzie (1887-1944) was new to me. There is influence from the likes of Harry Clarke, and back to Aubrey Beardsley. Other names like Alistair, and Kay Neilsen aren't far from thought. Excellent company, to be sure. The next book he would illustrate was King Arthur and His Knights. Seven of those plates appear in Visions of Camelot. Though busy in the early twenties, his career was short-lived, and after a half-dozen titles or so, he did not return to illustration.
Spirit of the Ages offers a set of all twelve of the color illustrations, here. They appear a bit over-saturated to my eye, but that is a matter of opinion.

A full version of an early edition of the book can be seen here-

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My newest book- Great Illustrations by N. C. Wyeth— has just been made available on the Dover site This week-
Want an idea of what's in it? check out the table of contents-
I'll be back next post, with a better look at this new collection- Til then-
Jeff

Edmund Dulac's Fairy tale forte

2011-07-23T20:35:00.000-07:00

In continuing my previews of the upcoming Calla releases, we are brought to an Edmund Dulac's illustrated edition—The Sleeping Beauty and Other Fairy Tales, retold by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch. Quite a while ago, I spent some time on VIEW looking at two of the "edges" of Dulac's range- his more sophisticated works, and the Alphabet book he did early in his career. As a subject, The French fairy tales collected here are much more to the heart of Dulac's work, maybe only Arabian Nights material being more centric. This is considered by most to be among his best works, and with 30 full-page plates, it's hard to not find a few that are really special. Shown here, some of my favorites, from (Top to bottom) The frontispiece, from "The Sleeping Beauty," one from "Bluebeard," where Dulac let his love for Arabian themes come through—Two plates from "Cinderella," which as depicted here have a solidly French approach, and lastly a plate from "Beauty and the Beast," which may be one of Dulac's best-known fairy images.

Dulac was French-born, and likely would have been familiar with some of these tales from his own youth. Regardless of his history with the tale, it is quite evident there was a real passion put into the illustrations, they succeed on so many levels.

There are tales here that nearly all of us are familiar with—mostly due to the saturation our culture has with animated films—but there are also some stories which we may not be as quick to remember and are well worth revisiting. Quiller-Couch was quite an authority on writing and on children's stories in his day, and a solid writer on his own, to boot.

A master watercolorist rediscovers Wonderland

2011-07-07T18:46:00.000-07:00

1907 was a HUGE year for Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland.

Originally published in 1865, Carroll's copyright was up in 1907. (copyright at that time was not the near-century of protection it can be today) The popularity of the tale meant nearly every major publisher in Britain, and many in the US, had a new illustrated edition in the works. The most anticipated one at the time, was that of Arthur Rackham. Rackham's success in the gift-book market was already solid, and it remained to see how his Alice would hold up against the ingrained images of Alice's first artist, Sir John Tenniel.
After the flurry of 1907 releases hit the markets, one notable edition arrived a year later. (Probably due to the magnitude of the task) In 1908, an edition published by Thomas Nelson and Sons (London, Edinburgh, Dublin and New York) was released, with 92 full color illustrations by Harry Rountree (1878-1950). 92 color pieces. Rountree was an incredibly deft watercolorist. Unlike Rackham, Edmund Dulac or many others of the day, Rountree did not always rely on a solid line for his watercolor to fill (or did so rarely)—his style was different—His paintings often take true advantage of the watercolor as a medium, and display a sense of light that few other illustrators before him had captured. He also had the ability to present more realistic settings, without losing any of the charm that his characters portrayed . I am still in awe of the fact that this was in fact, a full-color print run, in 1908.
There are a few reasons why more of us are not familiar with this brilliant edition. The full-color run made it an expensive purchase in 1908. With a half a dozen editions out the previous year, most households that would be interested already held a new copy of Alice, and many of those would not be interested in a second one. The added delay of the full-color production would prove a costly one. Later printings featured some of the art, but rarely all of it—and Rountree would do two other editions of Alice in his career, but neither would contain this amount of color.
The edition today is prized among Alice collectors, and it did elevate Rountree's status in the market even further, putting his future on very solid ground. Rountree's animal work was to be the mainstay of his career in illustration. He was active in both books and magazines. Born in New Zealand, he came to London in 1901, and after an initial struggle, became part of the wave of success that period publishing brought illustrators of the day.

When considering which edition of Alice to bring to the Calla imprint, The Rountree Edition—due to its rarity, the brilliant full-color images, and the sheer depth of them—made me a strong backer for its joining the list. The Calla Edition is scheduled for a September release.

The Story of Wicked Tim
digital version of a 1914(ish) Rountree book

And some Rountree work currently available through the Chris Beetles gallery, in London.

Virginia Frances Sterrett, wish you could have stayed a while longer

2011-06-27T21:21:00.000-07:00

Occasionally, there is a bright flash that flares up in an art field- only to be made dark again when that light is quickly put out. It seems to me that an unusual number of creatives, writers and artists alike, led noticeably shorter lives in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Now, it may be that everyone led shorter lives, but, I'm not looking at life-stories across the board, It's the creatives that interest me.

One of these cases belongs to the life of American illustrator Virginia Frances Sterrett. (1900-1931)

Sterrett had a difficult youth—her mother died when Virginia was just 9, and her father had died even earlier— and Virginia was diagnosed with tuberculosis at the age of 19. While dealing with the disease over the next decade, she managed to complete illustration commissions for three books between bouts of sickness—Old French Fairy Tales (1920), Tanglewood Tales (1921), and Arabian Nights, 1928.

Her work shows a good deal of eastern and art deco influence. Much of it makes use of flat shapes that function as near silhouettes, while other pieces use simple backdrops for complex and delicate figures to set against. Her art is exceptional in these areas, however, and a beautiful sense of color and design permeates all of her work.

Despite her short life, and just this trio of volumes, she has a better web presence than many illustrators of the day. I bring her to your attention only because you may not have stumbled upon her yet, and her work and her story are worthy of review.

View all of those illustrations here-

and a short bio here-

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Shakespeare Illustrated, now available through Dover Publications—due in stock at Amazon on July 3rd

Fine Lines & Solid Blacks, V. II

2011-05-30T18:36:00.000-07:00

William Heath Robinson's A Midsummer Night's Dream

The Brothers Robinson. Throughout the history of illustration— there have been repeated instances of siblings who have found measured success as individual illustrators. Usually there are marked similarities in style and execution, but sometimes there are differences, that will put one ahead of another—at least in commercial success.

In the case of the brothers Robinson, there was not a just pair of brothers, but three. Thomas Heath, (1869-1950), Charles, (1870-1937), and William Heath, (1872-1944). The mutual success they shared is quite amazing, with their total output in Golden Age volumes having tremendous influence, especially when looked at combined. The three of them have far too much to look at or discuss in a single VIEW post, so I'm going to start with the youngest, and by today's measure, the most recognized, William Heath.

As mentioned in the last post, in the current Calla season, one of the volumes I'm particularly stoked about is W. H. Robinson's Illustrated volume of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. W. H. Robinson did do some stellar color work in his career, some of which I hope to show you this summer— but I want to look at the absolutely incredible line art he did for A Midsummer Night's Dream. The book (1914) contained 12 color plates, and 51 line illustrations, many of which were full page. W. H. Robinson had an incredible eye for deciphering contrast, and his inky shadows have some of the best shapes of any line work of the period. Here are a few of my favorite pages and pieces-

W. H. Robinson's career took an unusual turn at the beginning of World War I, when he began designing some strange, complex contraptions (in a comic form) to do simple mundane tasks. This form of cartoon became immensely popular, and while there were dozens of illustrators who could do a fair Fairy-tale page, this kind of design and humor were nearly unique to W. H. Robinson—so he made the most of it, and spent a good deal of his later career doing that type of work.

Jim Vadeboncouer's W. H. Robinson Bio

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Yes, An Edmund Dulac Treasury, my latest compilation work, is now available! Shakespeare Illustrated should be right on its tail, here in a few weeks....

William M. Timlin's One Hit Wonder

2011-05-22T18:20:00.000-07:00

And the wonder that it is...

Lot's to discuss here. As many of you know, I have long-standing involvement (on a few levels) with Dover Publications. In the last few years Dover has re-examined the idea of the reprint—out of that, the imprint Calla was born, to bring a selection of the beautiful material we found, crafted so well a century ago, and deliver it in as near a facsimile fashion as we could produce. The line is doing fairly well; there is still appreciation for these volumes out there. With the coming holiday season, Calla has selected 9 new volumes to reprint, seven Golden Age classics, and two modern classics. I'll discuss these seven vintage volumes in the coming weeks, and today I'll start with the book I've been waiting more than two years to talk about, William M. Timlin's (1892-1943) The Ship that Sailed to Mars.

Originally published in 1923, the book saw only 2000 copies printed in England, 250 of those were distributed in the US. it contained 48 color plates, and handwritten text of a fantastic tale, by a British-born South African architect who never produced another comparable book. The Ship that Sailed to Mars has some gorgeous plates. My first encounter with the images was as a young teen, when I found some on notecards. Years later, I found a reprint of the rare book, and scooped it up knowing it was unlikely I'd ever get my hands on a 1923 edition. — even that 1993 reprint now fetches over $100 a copy.

After Dover obtained an original edition to work from, Calla has finally committed to reprinting this stellar work in it's original format. Timlin showed the potential to rival the best illustrators of the period, but this remained his lone statement. It is a supurb collection of images, and Timlin's calligraphy add to the books uniqueness. Until now, it has been nearly unattainable.

Amazon's listing here.

Dying to see the rest of it- catch a peek here-

What? The other 2011 Calla selections? OK, here they are- to be profiled in the coming weeks-
A Midsummer Night's Dream, Illustration by William Heath Robinson
Alice in Wonderland, with 92 color images by Harry Rountree
Oscar Wilde's A House of Pomegranetes, with illustration by Jessie King
Edmund Dulac's Sleeping Beauty and Other Fairy Tales
Arthur Rackham's Engish Fairy Tales
Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp in Rhyme by Arthur Ransome, Illustrations by Thomas Mackenzie

The two modern Classics are-
Jan Pienkowski's The Thousand Nights and One Night-, the Arabian Nights done in a traditional style silhouette, with brilliant color backgrounds-
and James Gurney's amazing Dinotopia. How great to have this book back in print. All exciting stuff, happy to bring you the news. All of these, are scheduled to be released in September 2011. Stay tuned for the profiles, and updates.

W. J. Aylward, Old salt from Wisconsin....

2011-05-16T07:48:00.000-07:00

It seemed like a fair moment to share with you some of the work of one of my favorite marine painters, and by the end of the post, it'll be clear as to why.

In previous VIEW postings, we've already looked at Gordon Grant, and Anton Otto Fischer, both excellent marine painters. There was plenty of work depicting shipping during the Golden Age, it is a subject that has it's own tricks, and for those that "knew the ropes," there was plenty of work to be had. The next in the seafarer's group is W. J. Aylward. (1875-1956). Aylward was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The son of a ship-builder and lake captain, (for those who didn't do well in geography, Milwaukee sits on the southwest edge of Lake Michigan, and is actually a port city in middle America...) Aylward's fondness for marine subjects stayed with him his entire career.

Aylward was a Brandywine Alumni, and was fortunate enough to receive one of Howard Pyle's career-making "field trips". Pyle had helped arrange for Frank Schoonover to get to the Canadian wild, and for N. C. Wyeth to travel out West. He helped Aylward get assigned (through President Roosevelt, no less) to write about and illustrate an incredible sea journey, with the floating dry-dock "Dewey". The culmination of this project came to be printed in the May 1907 issue of Scribner's Magazine, with 20 pieces of work, four of them full page.

Aylward did lots of magazine work, for the likes of Youth's Companion, Scribner's, and Harper's Magazines, among others. Books too, where the story was right—In the early part of his career, 1904— he caught a big break in getting an assignment to do Jack London's Sea Wolf. 20 years later was the other end of that run, with the 1925 edition of Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
In 1950, while still teaching, he published a small book through Pitman Publishing—Ships and How to Draw Them, though somewhat light in the way of instruction, it has some nice grayscale work, and if you're interested in the material, could be worth tracking down. (see the "Looking Forward" illustration, above)

There's a nice start at looking up Aywlard on Paul Giambarba's great site, 100 Years of Illustration and Design

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In Dover News- Friday I got my hands on an advance copy of A Dulac Treasury. It'll be trickling out soon, and I'll let you know as soon as it is attainable. Shakespeare Illustrated is currently at press, and Great Illustrations by N. C. Wyeth, whew, that's almost wrapped up. Next post, I should finally be able to give you some news about the new season of Calla Editions.

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And in a week of nautical art— it's worth a mention that my own sea-faring work is currently being shown at Krab Jab Studios, in Seattle, if you're out in that direction.

A Master Fantasist— Sidney Sime

2011-04-24T18:54:00.000-07:00

Many moons ago, I picked up a book at The Strand bookstore in NYC, on A British illustrator named Sidney Sime (1867-1941). The work in the book ( Sidney Sime: Master of the Mysterious, Thames and Hudson, 1980) is almost exclusively grayscale—and while he did do some color work, the majority of the work he presented during his active illustration years—was reproduced as halftone work. Sime worked early in his career for numerous publications, including The Paul Mall Magazine, Eureka, and The Idler (which Sime later owned and edited) . He had a penchant for strange, dream-like scenes, and a bit of surrealism, occasionally touched with a light dash of humor. In 1904, he made the aquaintence of Lord Dunsany. Dunsany was a writer— short stories and plays, mostly—whose writing was well matched with the imaginary places that Sime depicted. The pair began a working relationship that lasted through 6 volumes of illustrated tales, from 1905 to about 1916, with an few additional frontispieces for another decade. The work Sime did with Dunsany is the bulk of what we can see of his today, and a small amount of it survives in reprints.

The pairing complimented each other so well, that not only did Sime illustrate for Dunsany, but in 1912, Dunsany wrote a book of stories about existing Sime works. (The Book of Wonder) Sime's strange characters and fantastic settings influenced many artists after him, and his sense of mystery continues to entertain us today.

These images are a few of the ones I did not find so readily elsewhere. Though very little of Sime's color work is in print, I did find one piece in my files, from an Illustration House show, 20 years ago. There are many sites scattered around that feature a fair amount of Sime's work, one of the most teasing being that of his former home and museum/gallery in Worplesdon, England. Most of Sime's work was left to the town trustees, to establish a gallery. While they have done so, the site provides only a glimpse at very small images which we can't see anywhere else. Hopefully in time, more of that may emerge.

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The third image is an enlarged detail from the second-

Kay Nielsen, Denmark's star of the Golden Age.

2011-04-08T18:53:00.000-07:00

There's a lot going on in the studio this month. That's a good thing—but it does tend to impact the frequency of blog reports.

Looking over the list, as I work on the 50th VIEW post, It says to me that there are a few of the characters in our story that are still in need of credit. While I revel in uncovering the ones that are overlooked and/or buried, there are a few illustrators that we haven't discussed, or looked at, that are familiar to many of us—but maybe not to all. To continue to look past them would border on disrespect. Can't have that.
So let me bring one to the front, who has been influencing me since I was a wee lad, though I had no clue who he was, until much more recently.
Kay Nielsen (1886-1957) was Danish by birth, though he came to America in 1936. Nielsen did work on a few fairy tale volumes, including Andersen's Tales and The Brother's Grimm. His work had a very distinct style—perhaps with some traces of influence from British line artist Aubrey Beardsley. Some others whose work fits this mold might be Harry Clarke, and the work of John Austen in his edition of Hamlet.

Nielsen's work has some great theatrical quality as well—something that did not go unrecognized—even his early illustration work has some of the feeling of a set, with lot's of flat areas of color, and decorative elements. If Nielsen had a masterpiece in illustration it was his edition of East of the Sun, West of the Moon.(1914) More literature from his native Scandanavia, this collection of myths provides some great imagery for Nielsen's sense of environment. There are many illustrated editions, Nielsen's may be the definitive one. Here are some of the best from East of the Sun, West of the Moon.

Jim Vadeboncouer's Nielsen Bio-
Calla facsimile edition- here
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ROAD TRIP
Back in this century- If you're in the states, up in that NE corner near Mass., not (too) far from me, there is a very promising lecture opportunity going on at the The Rockwell Center for American Visual Studies at Norman Rockwell Museum this coming Sunday- From the museum's info--Dr. Jennifer A. Greenhill, Assistant Professor of Art History at the University of Illinois. Dr. Greenhill’s lecture is entitled “Imperiled Illustrators: J. C. Leyendecker, Norman Rockwell, and the War at ‘The Saturday Evening Post.’” This lecture is based on an article Dr. Greenhill is currently writing about the moment when Leyendecker leaves “The Post” and Rockwell takes over as the magazine's star illustrator. For more info on the event- check it out here. Thanks to the museum for allowing me to pass that on to you.

St. Patricks predecessors

2011-03-17T20:22:00.000-07:00

This is just a quick stop-by. I'm loading the car/truck/vehicle to get to Lunacon In Rye, N.Y. tomorrow. But it has been on my mind all week that back in December I commented that I'd put up some more Celtic myth work from Stephen Reid, for St. Patricks day. So let me stick to that. Here's to the old gods.
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As promised, I have more Celtic mythology from Scottish illustrator Stephen Reid. (1873-1948)
When I last mentioned his work, back on December 18th, I had just gotten my hands on one of two volumes of Celtic themed work that Reid did over a century ago. In what I can find of his other works, very few of them achieve the fluid forms that these pieces seem to capture, and his palette is diverse enough, yet still totally natural. This group of images is from the more recent acquisition—and a really tough one to get a hold of—Cuchulain, The Hound of Ulster, by Eleanor Hull, 1910. (Which seems to have also gone by the title The Boys' Cuchulain)

It seems that there were many reprints, and it is certainly easy enough to find a print-on-demand copy these days, but finding an early edition with all 16 plates in color, that's a challenge. As luck would have it, even this copy, showed up missing a plate. So close.

Jeff

Hard to find Sidney Chase

2011-03-12T15:45:00.000-08:00

Sidney Chase (1877-1957) is a lesser known Brandywine Alumni. I first found Chase's work combing through century old issues of Scribner's Magazine, and then found his name again, while reading about N. C. Wyeth.

Chase was originally from Massachusetts, near Boston. While attending the Eric Pape School of Art, around 1900, he met a few fellow students that would rise to the challenges of being accepted as students of Howard Pyle—Among them was N. C. Wyeth— with whom he wrote to regularly over the years.

Most of the information I was able to find on Chase, is due to his friendship with Wyeth. As Wyeth struggled to find his place somewhere between the art museum and the illustration assignment, he had less and less respect for his fellow classmates who embraced illustration without reserve. Very few of them earned his regard. Sidney Chase was one of the few that Wyeth maintained some degree of respect and friendship for.

Looking over this set of pieces done for an article in a 1908 issue of Scribner's Magazine , it is easy to see that the work deserves some amount of respect either way. This kind of coastal Maine life was a favorite subject of Chase's— and would come to be one of Wyeth's as well- around 1920 Wyeth and Chase split the cost of a house in Maine, where both would go for years in the future to find inspiration for painting.

Chase went on to achieve fair commercial success, getting work from the larger magazines of the day, sometimes (as with this story on Maine fishing) as author-illustrator. Like Wyeth, he later turned away from illustration, looking to find a deeper meaning and satisfaction in painting. Chase did mostly watercolor work later in his career.

At the end of his life in 1957, Chase had left wishes that his remaining work be destroyed, wishes that for the most part were complied with. It makes the sight of his illustrations that much more of a rare treat.

From a different corner of the globe

2011-03-01T17:35:00.000-08:00

What most of us are exposed to in illustration is somewhat limited—to artists published in English speaking material—there is a whole world out there, most of which has been publishing books as long as Great Britain and the USA have. Some of "our" best artists will find publication in other languages, and some of the best from other parts of the world occasionally "cross over," and get published here. Ivan Bilibin (1876-1942) Was a Russian-born illustrator, who worked on book illustration all throughout most of his career, though sharing that time with stage design in the latter part.

Bilibin's earliest working years were not spent solely in illustration; other employment would contribute to his direction and design sense for the rest of his life. In 1902 he was working for an office of the Russian Museum, to record folk art in the outer reaches of the country. For two years he was a field agent of sorts, observing and collecting the art that defined the Russian culture. It's easy to see how this permeates his work—Architecture, costume, all aspects of regional design, and its importance, all come through in Bilibin's book illustration. His work from then (and before) to the early 1910's, was largely traditional Russian folk and fairy tales.

My first encounters with his imagery came on notecards, (the top image with the wolf-rider has been haunting my bulletin boards for nearly 3 decades...) and a few years later, in the Time-Life Enchanted World Series, where they published the tale of Baba Yaga in the volume on Wizards and Witches. His work has incredible graphic quality, and is very distinct in its appearance, with flat areas of color in a hard drawn outline, somewhat resembling a complex stained-glass sketch. Relative design elements frame many of his illustrations.

Jim Vadeboncouer's Bilibin Bio

Fine Lines and Solid Blacks, V.I

2011-02-12T20:01:00.000-08:00

February, the Heart of the Winter. I like Winter, it gives me plenty of justification to be locked up in the studio. It's been very busy as of late, a big new painting in its final stages, two books about to leave for press, one "in scanning" and one on deck. Of course, there's even more in the wings. So I've been away a bit, but wanted to give you something interesting to look over.

A few posts ago I mentioned the amount of grayscale work published a century ago, and asked about it's worth to the working illustrator today.
OK.—but there was another medium that ruled a century ago, that is damn near dead now. Pen and ink—was not just cheap and easy to reproduce, it was for my money a legitimate art form in its own right. It's a whole different skill set to make an ink piece sing. Great painters are not necessarily great inkers, and vice-versa. What's a pen-and-ink drawing worth to look at today?

Once and a while, I'll post some of these century old ink pieces, Maybe some by the same artist, maybe some by a group almost forgotten today. I'll call this -Fine Lines and Solid Blacks.

This idea was largely born out of a single volume I came across a while back. Modern Pen Drawings: European and American, edited by Charles Holme, from the offices of The Studio, 1901. I love a good ink drawing—A good one will convey the idea of its contents so well that the viewer doesn't see the line.

When I started doing this, ink was still a way marketable to make a drawing, a publishable drawing. My first published piece was an ink drawing, and my first commission was for about 18 ink pieces.... I'd love to see an art director today request that any piece be done in beautiful, high-contrast, ink.

Here's a bunch from when ink it was at it's peak, by some familiar names, and some not-so-
Top to bottom- Dorothy Smythe, Alice B. Woodward, E. W. Charlton, Percy J. Billinghurst, and Patten Wilson, all Brits.

It should be mentioned that JimVadeboncoeur has been gathering this kind of work for a while now, and publishes them occasionally, calling them Black and White Images, (Fifth) Special Collection. (Ok, there are five now) They are treasuries of great, period ink work—in addition to the other collections Jim puts together—Thanks, Jim, keep up the good work.

Anton Otto Fischer, 8 years at sea makes a better marine painter

2011-01-22T11:16:00.000-08:00

There were a few illustrators to study under Howard Pyle in Delaware that specialized in marine work—meaning they painted a lot of ships and sea related imagery. A century ago ships were a much bigger presence in our lives, being the sole option for travel to Europe, and one to consider for travel almost anywhere from one coast to another. One of the finest marine painters to come through the Brandywine Valley was Anton Otto Fischer. (1880-1962) Fischer was German born, but came to America while in his twenties after spending almost eight years at sea. It was this kind of life experience that Pyle liked to see his students partake in, to give their pictures life, and authenticity. I'd bet it was a feature that Pyle would have embraced in Fischer. In 1910 Fischer caught a break by being paired up with Jack London, and for the next few years he often did work for London's stories.
During World War II Fischer served as an official war artist in the Coast Guard, aboard the cutter "Campbell". During a long career in illustration, Fischer worked for magazines such as Harper's Weekly, The Saturday Evening Post and Life, and was painting private commissions right up to the end.

Check the Post link above- it's a great gallery of some of Fischer's covers.
and there's a large slide show of Fischer work here, though accompanied by some music I can't seem to turn off...
and a great group at American Art Archives

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I got news today that my application for full membership to the Society of Illustrators has been accepted. This organization has a rich history from deep in the Golden Age, greatly related to the kind of imagery and work I present here on VIEW. Most of the American illustrators I present here were members of the Society, and it's nothing less than an honor to be carrying on their tradition.

The Virtues of Gray?

2011-01-04T20:12:00.000-08:00

This post is a question that has recently been tossed about in my editorial head.

A great deal of work in the Golden Age of illustration was published as halftone (or grayscale) art. For every nice color plate I find for a new Dover publication, or to post here on VIEW, I find three that were printed in various tones of gray.

My question is— Does that work hold any value and or interest to this audience today? I'm not speaking about the general public, I mean people who are fans of illustration for whatever reason, and who are usually the ones who throw down a few bucks for a Dover collection of Golden Age images? If you've been tempted to comment in the past but haven't, or even if you have, THIS IS YOUR WEEK. Throw me some comments, let me know, it could—no, will—affect the selection and layout of my next book to be submitted....

SO—To help the discussion, or at least what I hope will be one, I've picked a few pieces of grayscale art that I have found worth looking at more than once. I don't want to influence your comments on this, so I'll just give you the facts, and you tell me, does this material merit some study, would you pass it up, or is it as worthwhile as a similar color plate?

This first piece picks up on the last entry- The Prospector is an N. C. Wyeth piece from a McClure's Magazine, 1906.
Wyeth's teacher follows, that's Howard Pyle with Blackbeard's last fight, Century Magazine, 1894.
Sydney M. Chase is weighing the fish from Scribner's, June, 1908.
Fourth is Woldemar Fredirich, with a scene of "The Wild Huntsman" from The Illustrator, 1895.
and last is George Wright, with the firefighting scene, Scribner's, 1902.

Let me know if this kind of imagery is welcome in a book you might buy today, and why. Comments encouraged.

Snowday, Wyeth style

2010-12-27T13:06:00.000-08:00

I start this post in the immediate aftermath of a Northeast blizzard, one strong enough to shut down the railroad, and grant me a snow-day to follow the Christmas break.

It occurred to me that a new bunch of N. C. Wyeth (1882-1945) prints that have trickled into the studio share this wintry vision. Living where I do, it's not uncommon to see some snow on the ground from December to March, and it always surprised me that it doesn't show up in more work, from anyone who lives in the north. N. C. must've liked the snow as well, because looking over a group of his early works, a large percentage of them are snow scenes, including one of my most favorite Wyeth pieces. Seemed like a good theme to explore on a snow-day. Without taking it for granted—Newell Convers Wyeth is one of the most important illustrators of the twentieth century. He joined Howard Pyle, studying under him at the Brandywine, and Wyeth soon became Pyle's star pupil. Wyeth had an incredibly prolific career in both book and magazine work. He was also the patriarch of what became America's first family of art, with his son Andrew Wyeth, and grandson Jamie Wyeth being the central figures of three generations of Wyeth artists.

The images— a few nice covers from The Popular Magazine, including this cover with a Yukon adventure look to it- Polar bear, Native Americans, a trusty Colt .45. A second features one of N.C.'s strong solitary thinkers, in this case, a poacher...
A few plates from The Outing Magazine, January 1907- from a story entitled "How they Opened the Snow Road"
and a pair of plates from two classics—
The frontispiece from Mark Twain's last novel, The Mysterious Stranger (a read which I enjoyed tremendously in my college days)
and a piece I have the highest amount of respect for, from Robert Louis Stevenson's The Black Arrow, (also a good read)

Wyeth used snow in many of these pieces the way he used dust in his even earlier (or contemporary) western themed works—providing a light field, it helps him to increase contrast and strengthen shadows. He also frequently simplified figurative areas into definitive shapes, and obscured the details of distant backgrounds that would otherwise distract from the focus of the piece.

Stay warm. See you in the New Year, here's to a good one!

Ring out Solstice Bells

2010-12-18T15:04:00.000-08:00

The Solstice arrives this coming Tuesday. Marking the longest night of the year, it has special meaning to many people. This year's is especially spectacular, as it is not only coupled with a full moon, but also a FULL LUNAR ECLIPSE, visible all over the US. Holy Druids.

These old-world calender events always make me think of the myths and legends that make use of such happenings. Having just acquired a long sought-after book featuring some great pieces from Celtic myth, this seems like an appropriate enough occasion to share them.

Stephen Reid (1873-1948) is not a name you will come across in any (but the most thorough) of the books on Golden Age illustrators. His work was very good when he was at top form—but it was not always consistent. In his later work he went to an opaque medium, and lost a good deal of the sensitivity he captured here. Reid managed to hit a lot of the subjects I am passionate about—pirates, medieval history, and Celtic myth. These first four plates are a selection from The High Deeds of Finn and Other Bardic Romances of Ancient Ireland, by T. W. Rolleston, Harrap. 1910. This is what I just got a hold of, happy centennial, Finn. Featuring Reid's earlier watercolor work, his palette choice and usage of transitioning color manages to lend a nice dream-like feeling to these pieces, which benefit the faerie/other-worldly aspects of the setting. The last image is from an even earlier work, by Eleanor Hull—which is one of the pieces that inspired me to hunt down these color plates. I have a copy of that volume with the color on the way...I'll post those for St. Patrick's day. . .

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Speaking of "working Joe" illustrators—
One of the things I love to do here is find the folks who gave a real go of it, but never achieved the stardom of those few—and might have gotten lost a bit in the past 100 years or so. Reid definitely fits that category. He seemed to stick around for a while, I guess he was a nice guy who handed in his work on time, but maybe didn't do AWESOME work all of the time.
This past week I found another blog entry who looked at this situation with real insight. Let me share that with you, and thanks to David Apatoff at Illustrationart for putting these thoughts down.

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Be careful with your golden sickle cutting the mistletoe.

Often overlooked Warwick Goble

2010-12-06T21:32:00.000-08:00

In a recent mail to someone I 'd mentioned British illustrator Warwick Goble. (1862-1943) Then I went to link to a VIEW post as to better explain my point, and found that I too, had somewhat overlooked Warwick Goble. Time to correct that, as he is certainly worth a look at.

Goble had a solid career in illustration, and was well entrenched in magazine work when the gift-book boom hit Britain after 1905. Goble was often in the shadow of Arthur Rackham and Edmund Dulac, but he rose to their level on more than one occasion. After roughly 15 years in magazine and paper work, Goble got a break from Macmillan, who in 1909 signed him on to be their gift-book illustrator, granting him steady—if war interrupted—work for the next decade. Like Dulac, tales of the exotic east held a special interest, and would reoccur as his subject of choice repeatedly. Like those two aforementioned giants, Goble worked primarily with a watercolor treatment over line work.

Goble also made a few serious benchmarks in fantasy/sci-fi work, with the very first illustrations for H. G. Well's War of the Worlds, (Ink-wash pieces in Pearson's magazine, April-December 1897) and also he was the first illustrator to tackle the words of that young (at the time) Oxford professor, J. R. R. Tolkien. Not bad credits for the resumé, eh? Shown here- images from The Fairy Book, 1913, Folktales of Bengal, 1912, The Tolkien image from The Book of Fairy Poetry, 1920, and lastly a look at Goble's vision of Wells's tripods...

Greetings to everyone I got to see at Illuxcon. My presentation on The Influence of Golden Age Illustration of Fantasy Art Today was well attended and received. If it rears it's head in a video format of some kind, I'll be sure to let you know. The show was a much needed shot in the arm, and I'm already looking forward to next year. Apologies for the delay in the posting—the past month has been frantic with the show, and many, many family events....

I'd rather be fishin'

2010-11-05T18:39:00.000-07:00

Well, almost.

There is a part of me that really wishes there was a bigger market for outdoor sporting illustration. Often at points I've commented that I'm really a landscape painter, trying to find commercial applications for it. In the Golden Age of illustration, this wasn't as hard as it is today. Somewhere between a hunting ad and a western story—this type of work often had beautiful landscape, rugged figures, and half of the time some sort of wildlife. Good painting material, as far as I'm concerned. A Golden Age illustrator also drawn to this kind of material, was Oliver Kemp (1887-1934)
This Brandywine alum had a strong personal interest in hunting, camping, fishing, and general outdoor survival. Kemp rose to the rank of major in WWI, and once survived a shipwreck for five days without food or water. He wrote about his interests and painted for a variety of clients, including Scribner's, The Saturday Evening Post, and Outing Magazine. I was not familiar with his work, but while digging through a century old edition of Scribner's, I came across these four stunning color plates, for an article entitled "Days a Fishing" (the article also had a couple of line pieces by Franklin Booth!) The four plates illustrate ideal environments for four separate species of fish— trout, bass, musky, and salmon. Makes me long for the season. Luckily the painting season goes all year long.

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I'm off to Illuxcon this week. I don't do too many convention appearances anymore, But this one is not just a convention, it's a workshop and a conference for illustrators—The best in the fantasy market, all the guests at the other shows, all here together. Looking forward to it. My presentation on The Influence of Golden Age Illustration on Fantasy Art Today, is certainly related to what I do here on VIEW, and the books I produce with Dover Publications.

From the Other Side of the Channel

2010-10-27T19:15:00.000-07:00

Largely due to our own difficulties with language, most of what we're exposed to is limited to English. (most, not all) Some of the world's promising artists and illustrators during illustration's Golden Age found their way to Britain, or America, because it's where the largest book markets were—Edmund Dulac, and Willy Pogány come to mind. A few, worked across international lines.

Some years back, one of the acquisitions editors brought to my attention an unusual oblong book—well over a century old, by a French illustrator I was not familiar with. Louis-Maurice Boutet de Monvel, (1851-1913). The book interested me right from the start, largely due to the medieval subject, but the more I poured over it, the deeper it pulled me in. Boutet de Monvel had a fairly successful go with childrens' book illustration in the 1880s. It was not his passion, however, he resorted to it for financial reasons; his training was in painting.

The book, an 1896 retelling of the tale of Joan of Arc, remains the only book of his I've had a real study of, but it's 45 images are enough to find an appreciation for the man's thinking, his planning, and a highly efficient execution of composition. It's a great study of period costume and weaponry as well. The style of finish here is rather sparse, but at the same time, no detail is lacking. Every horse, distant figure, or raised weapon is carefully placed. Many of the images spill across both horizontal pages, creating a long panoramic space for the artist to fill with figures. The color is intentionally softened— Boutet de Monvel calling it "...not color, really, it is the impression, the suggestion of color"
The book brought a good deal attention to Boutet de Monvel in France, and gained him some degree of success in England and America as well.
After numerous considerations, Dover finally did decide to reprint it earlier this year. These are a few of my favorite spreads/images.
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The Walter Crane book is on the market—I'll have new copies with me at Illuxcon in two weeks, if anyone wants to pick one up there. If you'd like me to bring a copy of Joan of Arc as well, drop me a line.

Another peek at Norman Price

2010-10-08T18:21:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since the last post. Things are busy, but that's not without some news to report. I haven't been writing here, because I've been busy working on three books... I'm wrapping up the last text bits for Shakespeare Illustrated, finalizing the plate selection for An Edmund Dulac Treasury, and beginning to hunt new material for one of my two titles on the Fall 2011 list, which I'll be able to give some details on soon. There is also a big new painting on the board, and Illuxcon is right around the corner.
After the last post, I felt as if the mention of Norman Price (1877-1951) was a bit of a tease. The other four on that list have had a fair amount of recognition, if not here, than likely on some of the sites on my "Education" list, (above, left). Info on Price is a bit harder to come by. At the same time— I have a nice selection of plates from him that will appear in the aforementioned Shakespeare Illustrated. The sections in the book are being assembled by play. This is pretty unusual, but we felt it would provide better reference for Drama usage if the art was collected this way. We picked the 12 plays we were able to find the best art for—which are generally the best known and most imaginative—and it's shaped up nicely. However— it does mean that there are some really beautiful plates, from less illustrated works, that have no place in the book. So I thought I'd show you some of Norman Price's pieces that didn't make the selection, as an appetizer.
As I mentioned last week, Price was not a student of Pyle's, but he did follow a very similar path. He had tremendous respect for historical details, had an affinity for pirates, and I believe you can say here, that his palette is also in the same neighborhood as Pyle's. This Shakespeare work is from a 1905(?) edition of Tales from Shakespeare, by Charles and Mary Lamb, Published by T. C. and E. C. Jack, London.

Raise a glass, you scurvy dog.

2010-09-19T21:01:00.000-07:00

You probably didn't know that today (OK, yesterday...)is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. It is, look it up, I'll wait.
OK, I'll use this occasion to do two things. First, to herald the start of Pirate Season, which runs (in my house) from Talk-Like-a-Pirate day until Halloween. Second, let's take a look at the pirate in Golden Age illustration. (Cue groans from FIT MA alums). Though I've managed to shy away from the topic in almost all my previous VIEW blog posts, it is well-known here in the NY area, that I have a strong interest in the imagery of the Pirate, and that in fact, it was the topic of my Master's Thesis.
OK, so it's ITLAPD, no reason to hold back—
Five of my favorite Golden Age Pirate illustrators, and why-

5. Frank Schoonover (1877-1972), If N. C. Wyeth was Pyle's "best" student, Schoonover was a close second, and probably closer to Pyle. Schoonover kicked out some very respectable, gutsy pirate pieces, including a great story on Jean Lefitte, a figure rarely visited in the genre. This (top image) is my favorite image of Blackbeard.
4. Dean Cornwell 1892-1960. Had a real interesting feel for the subject, with an uncanny sense of outdoor light on deck. Cornwell was a student of Harvey Dunn, Brandywine alum, making him a second generation Pyle student.
3. N. C. Wyeth 1882-1945. Pyle's prize student, he created masterworks for Treasure Island and Kidnapped. Though he did do a handful of other pirate pieces in his career, I don't see the subject as one that interested him more than any others; he was good at them all.
2. Norman Price 1877-1951. After Pyle's passing, and with Wyeth in incredible demand, the job of top pirate illustrator might have been split between Schoonover and Norman Price. Though almost any Brandywine student was capable of pulling off a good pirate piece, Price (who was not a Brandywine alum) came repeatedly to the subject, including many illustrated editions of Robert Chambers' pirate tales throughout the 20's, and did a nice Treasure Island as well.
1. Howard Pyle 1856-1911. Set the bar. It wasn't only his style of work, but it was the research that Pyle did into the subject. in 1889 Pyle traveled to Jamaica, which helped him create a colorful, but believable image, that shaped the way the world has thought of Caribbean pirates ever since.

A little gem of a book, without a place on the shelf

2010-09-04T19:05:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, at a point when Dover started to look at what I brought in with some real interest, I began acquiring more books to impress upon them. At a local convention I found what appeared to me a solid hit: from 1902, it was well old enough to be in the public domain (always makes it easier...) a neat little tome with some well executed illustrations. A plus for me—it was called Viking Tales. After pirates, Vikings might be my next big weakness in subject matter....

These weren't run-of-the-mill 1902 book illustrations—they have a distinct design quality about them, I think that the artist, Victor Lambdin, was letting Art Nouveau work of the period influence his style of illustration, (look at that branch work in the chapter head, "Harald's Battle") here in this little book of Viking Tales. I'm guessing it didn't go over real big at the time, because I can find almost no other books that Lambdin worked on other than Viking Tales. His name does turn up in a few magazines during the first few years of the 20th century, but it doesn't look like he made a deep career of illustration.

Dover's considered this book on two separate occasions, (under two different regimes) but nobody seems to feel it has enough draw to print it. (it's the story that seems to be the hard sell, not the art...) While the art has a slightly juvenile quality, I like the sparse, clean ink work, and the pattern-like motifs used to fill distinct areas. If this interests you enough, it can be had as a download from gutenberg.org—and there are plenty of print-on-demand vendors who can get you a hard-copy, if you can't turn over an early edition from abe, or alibris.

Deep Dream-like color of Florence Harrison

2010-08-26T22:34:00.000-07:00

Florence Harrison (active 1887-1937) has a history as mysterious as her style. I was surprised to find she had nearly vanished from accurate identification, only recently being connected to a clear and verified identity. Born at sea, she was the daughter of a master mariner—and grew up to split her time between Europe and Australia.

Important titles that Harrison worked on include Guinevere and Other Poems, by Tennyson, and The poems of Christina Rosetti. Later in her career she was a regular contributor to children's annuals. (These large magazine-type publications often had first-rate illustrators doing pieces for them that were exclusive to these periodicals) Harrison's work reflects a strong influenece from the Pre-Raphaelites in mood, content where possible, and composition. I see the influences of Waterhouse, Burne-Jones, and Walter Crane in her work. Harrison is one of those rare ones, who impresses me more with her sense of color than her line. Her palette sets a comfortable dream-like tone, that her line work cannot.

While she did not publish mountains of material, these volumes mentioned above are like rare gems, few and far between but ever so valuable. Thanks to friend and colleague M. C. Waldrep for her work in By A Woman's Hand, and bringing more of Harrison's work to my attention.

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And speaking of Goblin Market-
Out recently from Dover- Goblin Market By Christina Rosetti and Arthur Rackham. This small volume has been done as a hardcover gift book, making it quite a nice thing to, well, gift. There are just a few color pieces (all of the original ones) —but they are quite beautiful, and the book is embellished with many small line works, the original case design and endpapers are present, and a charming reprint of a color remarque that Rackham drew into an early edition copy. Nice addition to your Rackham library, at a reasonable price.

Complex line and thought; Frank Papé

2010-08-01T20:18:00.000-07:00

Here's a fellow not likely to show up on your" best of the best" lists, and perhaps not likely to get his own gallery filled book, but someone who did some incredible work, line and color. I first found the work of Frank Cheyne Papé (1878-1972) while scouring titles for a compilation book. I've begun to keep an eye open for more, and when examined on a whole, it is a bit surprising that his was not a better known name.

The first thing one will find while looking for info on Frank Papé is back on the Bud Plant/Vadeboncoeur illustrators list—and it's as good a foundation as you're likely to dig up. Born in 1878, Papé was 22 in 1900, putting him in prime position to take advantage of the publishing rush of the Golden Age. His earlier work, in the 19-teens, seems to have been peppered with the Fairy-tale work that was prevalent at the time. The first two color pieces here, from A Russian Story Book, are from 1916—and show some mature and refined color sense. A few years later in 1921, Papé had some line work printed with James Branch Cabell's Jurgen. This wild tale involved a time traveler's exploits with various women through time and history—it was wild for the time, and quite controversial. The near banning of the book, combined with the quality of the fine line art, made the book a huge success when it finally made it to market. The attention given to Papé's work there was considerable, and it's acclaim steered Papé to stick with line as his signature style for years to come. The last two are from Tales from Shakespeare, and feature that same line style, and an unusual multicolor printing on a few plates as well.

In his later years, sometime after 1935, he appeared to have settled into the security of a staff job, art directing for a children's magazine in Chicago. Some brilliant stuff, and I'm sure there's more to be seen-

The Many Sides of Helen Stratton

2010-07-19T21:17:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy season up here in the studio. I'm juggling the details of a few upcoming Dover books, just finished my first foray into sign painting...(that's a long story...) and there's prep work beginning for the upcoming Illuxcon...more prep for me than the usual show—just to get started. In any case, I've been away from here too long, and finally have enough material on one artist I've been looking at for some time, to make a worthy post.

A while back while working on Once Upon a Time, I found a volume of Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales illustrated by Helen Stratton (active 1892-1924). There's not much info to be found on Stratton, and the work I've been able to find from her is different in every job—not a recommended career trait for an illustrator. But there are some beautiful qualities in the entire range of her work, and she could put down some dark spooky scenes with the best of them. Her work on the 1899 Andersen's Tales is intense—There are probably 400 pieces of line art in the 320 page volume. She mastered working in line, one job this size might have been enough to develop a whole new grasp of a medium. To the right are some of my favorites. For some time, the only other work I'd found by her was from Heroic Legends, by Agnes Herbertson, no date. I like her color work here, her line is still present, and she still uses value well to separate (or combine) different planes within an image. Recently I found a third volume with her work, A Book of Myth s, 1914. Again, a slightly different style, the color work here is almost without any line, very sensitive, and perhaps more personal. Not as strong, for my money. Like many of the day, I think her best work was her line art, the demand for color work in the teens and twenties led her in a direction she was not as well-suited for. If you can catch a look at that work in Andersen's Tales, I'd highly recommend it.

Afterward- Don't get me wrong, I think her color work has some really nice qualities. I particularly like her palette. But in comparison to her line work, I'd prefer the line. JM

The Detmold brothers get Wild

2010-06-30T21:18:00.000-07:00

There is one other Fall '10 Calla Edition title I want to bring to talk about— one that came to the attention of Dover a few years ago when I was combing through the work of the brothers Muarice and Edward Detmold, to compile An Edwardian Bestiary, completely filled with illustrations from these two brothers. Early in their development, The two had found strength in animal representations. Their first book, Pictures from Birdland, (1899) contains some superb work, influenced by Asian woodblock prints, art-nouveau design, and the brothers own sensitivities to wildlife. Amazing stuff. Then look at the fact that they were teenagers (sixteen!) when they did the work, and you get an idea of the capabilities they had at their disposal.
The Brothers took on Kipling's Jungle Book as a subject for a portfolio of 16 plates in 1903. When they were later added to the text by the publisher Macmillan, it made for a beautiful edition of the work—but the plates with the text were very small, a fraction of the size they appeared in the portfolio. Calla is printing the plates larger than they have ever been printed with the text, including several images as spreads, with art reproduced from an original 1903 portfolio.
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The second book I will be developing in the next season will further Dover's look at Edmund Dulac. I've spoken twice about Dulac in the past year, the second time foreshadowing the coming of this title. After strong success with Dulac's Fairy Tale Illustrations, and continued peeks at his imagery in Poe Illustrated, Arabian Nights Illustrated, and others, Dover felt we had enough interest to support a broader look at the illustration work of this pillar of the Golden Age. I'm really looking forward to putting this project together. An Edmund Dulac Treasury will be available in February of 2011.

Rackham and Grimm, together again

2010-06-03T21:41:00.000-07:00

I was surprised to find when I scanned my postings, that I had not yet devoted a post to discussing the work of Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) . Then again, his work is relatively easy to find, and I like digging for the stuff that you might not be familiar with. It was Rackham's work that kicked all of this research and book work off for me, back in '02.—and not without good reason. Dover had already been printing some Rackham material, and it had done fairly well, so I asked "Why hadn't we explored more of it?" With some caution, and the added lure of a market for people specifically interested in fairy tales, Dover put out Rackham's Fairy Tale Illustrations, which has been a solid seller ever since. (about to go into it's fifth printing)
For anyone who may not know, Arthur Rackham, is likely considered the premier British children's book illustrator of the Golden Age. He had a long and productive career in illustration, even when others found different creative ventures, Rackham was always able to find work drawing for tales. His images form many of the icons we hold in our minds when imagining fairy tales—his work was widespread and well sought after. His art tells great stories, and the dark details catch the eyes of elder readers as well as younger listeners.
Within the new books of the Calla line for the Fall, is one of Rackham's greatest collections of color work, his 40 plates for the stories of the brother's Grimm. This original volume was massive—for this new edition, Calla has taken out a few stories that may not have been illustrated at all, or perhaps featured only a small detail. All of the stories that accompany the 40 color plates are included. To the right are some of the gems, featuring Rackham's organic lines, and his soft, earthy tones. The Calla edition, like the others mentioned in previous weeks, is slated for a September release.
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NEW TO THE ILLUSTRATION/EDUCATION LINKS
Nestled in the hills of Stockbridge, Mass., you can find and visit the studio of the American illustration legend; Norman Rockwell. On the grounds nearby stands the Rockwell Center for American Visual Studies, rapidly becoming a Northeast stronghold for illustration history—Rockwell's and beyond—what came before and after. Keep an eye on the exhibit list, and the site offers a good deal of information as well.

And Speaking of the Bard

2010-05-23T11:52:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned last week in a look at John Austen's Hamlet, the new Dover Fall '10 list has been released, and there are a number of titles there that will be of interest to VIEW readers.
Aside from the great reprints on the Calla Editions list, I have two new compilation titles that will bring some beautiful works to light as well. The first one on its way is Shakespeare Illustrated. This volume will contain works from classic volumes of golden age illustration, as well as some of the iconic imagery produced in gallery painting from the mid and late nineteenth-century. The section on A Midsummer Night's Dream, probably the most illustrated of Shakespeare's works, will feature works from Arthur Rackham and William Heath Robinson alongside paintings from Fuseli and Millais. Hard to find work by Norman Price, to J. W. Waterhouse...
Shakespeare Illustrated will have potential to appeal to illustration fans, Shakespeare fans, and set designers and costumers who deal with Shakespeare's plays will have a great resource of visual information, all to pull from this single volume. Images in this work will be arranged by play, as opposed to artist, which should provide interesting comparisons and interpretations, appearing side-by-side. Scheduled publication date is January, 2011.

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Aside from the Austen Hamlet, my fave on the new Calla Edition reprint list is probably René Bull's Arabian Nights, which I looked at on VIEW almost a year ago. Check out that listing here.

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Look for me at BEA, (Book Expo America) on Thursday!

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Top To Bottom:
Charles Robinson, The Songs and Sonnets of William Shakespeare, 1915
William Heath Robinson, A Midsummer Night's Dream, 1914
Arthur Rackham, A Midsummer Night's Dream, 1908
Edmund Dulac, The Tempest, 1908
Norman Price, Tales from Shakespeare, 1908(?)

A Royal Treatment for the Bard

2010-05-15T19:22:00.000-07:00

Feeling a bit like an elf must feel on December 26th—the task of setting out a bigger list of cover designs for our Fall 2010 catalog is behind us. (If you don't know, I'm part of a team that designs over 500 new covers a year for Dover) In what I believe is our biggest list ever, there are at least six books that I will discuss here on VIEW in the coming weeks. Many won't see publication for a few months, but they are all in the works. A few of these are new titles that will be appearing in our Calla line. Most Calla titles are near facsimiles to early or first editions that appeared a century ago.

Calla is a line that Dover started a little over a year ago, the brainchild of Dover's current president. The line is near to my heart, for obvious reasons. It's aim is to produce beautifully crafted books, like so much of the material that I go through to put monographs together. Hardcovers, foil stamping, endpapers; the features that make books special— and great stories with even better illustrations. Their pricing is reasonable, and they are produced entirely within the US.

First one I want to look at is Shakespeare's drama, Hamlet. A great and classic story, but widely available. What makes this edition special?— The amazing line illustrations of John Austen. Austen had entered illustration as a career later than most—his first illustrations not being published until he was 35—but he found an interesting track working in a similar style to one of his artistic idols, Aubrey Beardsley. The twist, is that this group of images is something of a bridge between Beardsley's complex design-heavy style, and the influence of Art Deco on illustration in 1922. It was indeed a turning point for Austen, who began to simplify further after this project, never returning to the level of involvement that some of these images contain. It's a beautiful package from cover to cover. I'll get back to you shortly with a release date.

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I'm attending BEA (BookExpo America) for the first time this year. I'll be around the Dover booth, but out prowling the floor too, on May 27th.

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THIS JUST IN
The book has been announced for a September 16th release, at $25.00

...and, we're back

2010-05-10T18:28:00.000-07:00

Wow. It has been an incredibly long time since my last post, and in truth, I'm still pulling together this week's info. The good news, is that there is news. We are just about at a point where I can announce some of the new titles from the upcoming season of releases at Dover, and there are a few titles that will be of interest to fans of vintage illustration. There is almost always a title on every biannual list that deserves mention, but this season is especially strong for friends of this area of art. I'm taking the unusual route of making a post without some accompanying images to just say- hang in there, I'll be right with you— and to acknowledge a difficult loss for illustration fans.

News came to me this evening of the passing of Frank Frazetta. If there was an artist alive who was the bridge between the Golden Age of illustration, and today's fantastic imagery, it was Frazetta. The splash his work made was so big, it was felt at every edge of the pond. His definitive images of Robert Howard characters will forever bear his moody colors, and his deep, dark shadows. His imagery was sword-and-sorcery. Every 40 or 50-something year old fantasy illustrator working today owes something to Frank Frazetta, for the influence he had early on, and continues to have today. He will be remembered as one of the most influential artists of the twentieth century, maybe not tomorrow, but time will bear this out. Thanks for everything, Mr. Frazetta.

Be back in a day or three with this week's regular post. —Jeff

March is Pyle's Month

2010-03-22T21:20:00.000-07:00

Howard Pyle's birthday was on March 5th. He would have been 157 this year. While I had a clear idea to post a few things in his honor, I've happily been busy, with a couple of illustration jobs, work on the Walter Crane book, and a convention.

So let me get back to that, before we lose March-
Recently, I had hopes of expanding the book I put out on Howard Pyle back in 2006. When I first put that together, the primary goal was to make some of Pyle's work available to a market that had very little access to his imagery. It was a long, hard sell, and I needed help to convince Dover it was worth it. The book recently went into a second printing, and before it did I had hopes of adding more material to the original edition—but it didn't work out. The result is, I had gathered materials, that will very likely never be reprinted in their original format. So until the next print run, here are a few rarely seen pieces from smaller, less-likely to be noticed, Howard Pyle works.

First up were a few small books. The first is from 1892— Called Dorothy Q Together with A Ballad of the Boston Tea Party and Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill. (They just don't write titles like that anymore...) These historical pieces were written by Oliver Wendall Holmes, (sr.) father of a very important justice of the supreme court in the first half of the 20th century. This charming little volume has scores of Pyle ink pieces, and a few wash pieces also. The second title is one of Pyle's own writing—The Price of Blood appeared in 1899. It has the look of a story originally published as magazine chapters, but I can't be sure at this time—I'll check on it—It has a three-color frontispiece, red, black, and yellow. The other small pieces (chapter-heads) are 2 color, red and black. Pyle was about to come into his heyday at this time, teaching, and soon to begin to work with a greatly improved method of color printing, which would finally allow him to reproduce paintings accurately. These two books—while nice examples of work at the time—are not likely to be appreciated by today's audiences, and will likely remain silent artifacts of the past century.

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Working on this, and with a pointer from friend Scott Kraft, I found the blog of Ian Schoenherr. A fine illustrator in his own right, Schoenherr keeps up the family ways, and turns out an AMAZING blog on our buddy Howard Pyle. If Pyle's methods, details, and effects interest you, head on over and check out Ian's Howard Pyle blog. And many thanks to Ian for helping me straighten out some facts on this post!

Thulstrup's Horses

2010-03-01T21:45:00.000-08:00

What I have for you today is some real vintage imagery. There are several subjects in Golden Age material that get repeated thematically. I've made you aware that the sea is a theme I am especially fond of—another theme that surfaces in art of this age, not surprisingly, is horses. When you think of early horse painters, Frederick Remington is likely the first in mind, perhaps followed by Charles Russell. (I actually prefer Russell) But here is a name I stumble across frequently while covering the late 19th century, and his horses were amazing.

Thure de Thulstrup (1848-1930) was born into the higher end of Swedish society. His father, a high-ranking military official, gave him a solid education, though military-based. Thulstrup's serious interest in art (he also served in the Franco-Prussian War in the early 1870's) did not happen until later on—his earliest illustrative employment was with the New York Daily Graphic in 1876. A part of the Harper staff during the 1880's, he would have been there when Howard Pyle was getting much of his early work for Harper's. What remained with Thulstrup from his earlier life was an understanding of military subjects—what was important to a soldier, what details were necessary—and the guy could draw cavalry like few others at the time. He did apply this same technical understanding to the occasional maritime piece, but military, and battle scenes—especially containing horses, remained his speciality.

Maxfield Parrish makes a lasting mark

2010-02-15T19:48:00.000-08:00

Hello one and all, It's happy birthday to us as V I E W turns one this month. While I have an entry "in the gate," my latest Dover project has hit the shelves, and it has been my habit to grant you a preview of those— so I'll save the other for the next post. Just out from Dover Publications is Worlds of Enchantment; The Art of Maxfield Parrish.

One of my passions in this work is bringing attention to those who have become nearly forgotten; Parrish is certainly not in that category. Parrish (1870-1966) is up there on the list of important American illustrators —his 1922 Masterpiece, Daybreak, (first piece, above) is one of the most copied and utilized images of all time. Parrish was 30 in 1900, and already getting commissions. When he approached Howard Pyle, looking to advance his skills in his young career, Pyle looked through Parrish's work, and basically told him "there was nothing he could teach him. " What does that say about a 30 year-old Parrish? It says he was ready for commercial work, and he did just fine with it. He was a prolific magazine and book illustrator early on in his career, and by 1920 he had found the advantages of working for big corporate clients. He managed to get sponsors—like Mazda lamps and Bigelow tea—to secure images from him for annual calendars, and his imagery took on a quality very distinct from other illustrators of the day. His work possessed a more dream-like, and more realistic approach simultaneously, creating a very believable fantasy setting. The popularity of his work has had unparalleled longevity, as can be seen any December when 2 or 3 Parrish Calenders can be found readily, while one on N. C. Wyeth, or Pyle, might only be available through a Museum shop, if at all. This new book looks at a good deal of Parrish's early illustration in books and magazines, with a sampling of his advertising work as well.

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Also in the news: It came in this week that I will be a guest artist (among many) at November's Illuxcon Convention in Western PA. Not only will I be displaying my own work, but I will be giving a presentation there, in the area of this blog and the books that I put together for Dover. Watch this space for more details.

The upcoming H. J. Ford Book is on the presses...

Happy 201, Mr. Poe

2010-01-25T20:44:00.000-08:00

It has come to my attention that Poe's 201st birthday was this past week (Jan. 19th). I'm a big fan of Poe imagery. In 2007 I put together a book collecting illustrations of his works— it gave me a new avenue to explore in regards to illustration collections, grouping by theme rather than artist. I enjoy this approach, with four titles so far, and a fifth on the way soon. But Poe will always be my first...

There are some stand-out samples in the Poe Illustrated collection. Dulac's pieces are amazing, I showed one just a few weeks ago, and I'll put up a Poe portrait here that appears to be a Dulac etching . There is some nice color work by Byam Shaw, a British Illustrator who went on to found an Art School, and Harry Clarke's nearly definitive work on Poe. Then there are some really inspired ink pieces by a young William Heath Robinson (1872-1944). Robinson was one of three successful illustrator brothers who all did book illustration. Most of William Heath's latter work relied heavily on satire, humor, and some crazy imaginative inventions. I called these images inspired because they are not his usual material or even style, he hadn't really settled on that yet at this point in his career. These pieces are highly influenced by the Art Nouveau movement that would have been going strong at the time (1900), and are more decorative than most of W. H. Robinson's latter works. He pulls off the mix of his own storytelling with the style of the day fantastically. The small book these pieces came from contains scores of beautiful line pieces, Including some incredible full page plates. Here's a couple of my faves, and a link to the whole thing on pdf.

http://www.archive.org/details/poemsillustrated00poeerich

There's a lot more to tell about the brothers Robinson. I'll try to get back to W. H., Charles, and Thomas Heath, in the near future.

Before Rackham, Pyle, and Pogány, there was Crane.

2010-01-11T21:03:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year. I've been away for a bit, holidays and all that. Let's get back to business. Books in the pipe- a selection of Maxfield Parrish imagery is going through final press stages, and my book on H. J. Ford is about ready to head to the printer. A few weeks ago I announced an upcoming project on Walter Crane (1845-1915), and promised a peek at what makes him interesting. Let's get to that now.

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The thing that makes Crane stand out the most, is that he was one of the first—predating H. J. Ford, even. His early children's work changed and developed as printing technology did, with heavy lines and flat color at first, where the work of his last two volumes more closely resembled the fully rendered paintings he produced in the latter part of his career. All throughout, he was a great advocate of the decorated book, and produced many publications that showcased his skills from title-page to end.
He did not look back to the Pre-Raphaelites, they were his contemporaries. While an illustrator trying to enter the fine art market is a rare and difficult task now, Crane did well in both areas, concurrently. His imaginative work ran the gamut between nursery rhymes to classic mythology. His styles ranged from simple line to full-blown oils to design and patterns. He was in-step with the active art scene of the day, but found commercial outlets that made him highly successful.
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There is a LOT of material on Crane out there, but here are a few of the better links to the tip of the iceberg-
Crane at Artmagick
at Artcyclopedia
At the Elizabeth Nesbitt room

The H. J. Ford poster...

2009-12-16T19:57:00.000-08:00

As promised to my "Lucky 13"...you know who you are... I'm excited about the new H.J. Ford project, and I selected an image that showed up here on VIEW a few weeks ago to show just how much intensity still exists in these 100 year old ink drawings... Here's the poster, formatted to 11x17, though posted here as a hi-res jpg. See what you can do with it. And a very Merry to you all.

Jeff

The More Sophistocated works of Dulac

2009-12-15T20:48:00.000-08:00

When looking at the main players in Golden Age illustration, there are a number of different schools to look at. The Brandywine is a school all unto itself. There are illustrators of the same era, like Charles Dana Gibson and Howard Chandler Christy, who created imagery of the day, not the fanciful stuff I tend to look at here. The European group, was a whole different entity. When looking at children's book work, fairy tales, and gift books, the British publishers really had a firm hold on the best illustrators at the turn of the century. Leading that charge was Arthur Rackham. If there was any other persona that might even approach him, it was Edmund Dulac.
Last post I put forth a selection of images from one of Dulac's earliest books—a self-written project at that—which had some great characters, beautifully simple compositions, and brilliant palettes, but lacked the sophistication his later works would obtain. Here I will show you some of that range, from a few of my favorite Dulac books.

Bells is an image I found on a greeting card back in 1979. Even as a teen I found that image riveting. I filed it away, only to come across it decades later, in an AMAZING book of Poe's poetry, that contains dozens of beautiful color plates by Dulac. When the book was handed to me, it sparked the notion that a book of images inspired by Poe might be possible...It was the first book I was able to do on a number of themes.

From the same book is the image from the poem Eldorado— I wanted to use this image on the cover, it was turned down because the publisher wanted a scene that had more recognition as a famous Poe tale....

Dulac loved to do work with Eastern influence. Later in his career, his style actually resembled that of Asian print works and paintings. He did many versions of The Arabian Nights, and stories that originated there. These are two of my favorite plates. Notice the smile on her face as she boils the thief alive... many wouldn't even notice his writhing hand...

In all his fairy tale work, this piece from Andersen's "The Wind's Tale" really catches me. The space, the soft color, and the way he has actually managed to draw the wind. How cool is that?

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I've kept you all waiting a while. Tomorrow there will be a small Seasonal gift from V I E W to you—I have a mini-poster for my new book on H. J. Ford's work. It was designed to print 11x17. Let me know if the post works, I may be able to do more in the future.
Ring out those Solstice Bells!!

Jeff

Edmund Dulac, Man of Letters

2009-11-27T20:29:00.000-08:00

Surprisingly enough, I've managed to elude Edmund Dulac as a topic here on VIEW, up to this point. Let it be addressed, here and now.

Let me say a bit about the idea of the gift-book. Primarily in Britain, but also to some extant in the US, there was a kind of publishing boom that went on from 1905 to the middle of WWI. Full color printing was just coming into being, but it was still a rare treat to obtain these miniature prints...and reading as a form of entertainment was at a peak it will never enjoy again, unless all the power goes out. There was no better gift during the holidays, than to receive a book of the best stories, with color illustrations by the best artists. For that decade and a bit more, publishers were like today's movie studios, looking to contract the big names to work exclusively for them. While Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) was the number one draw in producing this kind of book, there is little argument that Edmund Dulac (1882-1953) was his closest competitor.

Dulac was French born, and settled in London in late 1904 in the hopes of finding work in publishing. This was a case of being in the right place at the right time. Dulac worked on some fantastic titles over his career; The Arabian Nights, The Works of Poe, Grimm, Andersen, and Treasure Island. His work can be moody, sensitive, his draftsmanship is top notch. His color palette is still revered today.

In discussions elsewhere, I mentioned that Dover had recently released a reprint of one of Dulac's earlier books, that he also wrote. This isn't a book that normally enters a list of his top 10 books, but it has some great little gems of characters, and the color is beautiful. I wanted to give those interested a peek at these specifically, and in a few days I'll follow up with some of my favorite Dulac works.

Here's a few spots to get a deep look at a wide range of his work.

Jim Vadeboncouer's Dulac Bio
Surlalune's Dulac Collection
Artpassion's Dulac Collection

So here, from
Lyrics Pathetic and Humorous, Frederick Warne & Co., 1906—

Dover's reprint

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News from the Fall 2010 Dover list. Announced on Amazon this week, so I can state it here as well—Currently slated for late Sept. `10 release is
The Art & Illustration of Walter Crane. Look mid- December for a peek at this project!

Laurence Housman, the illustrator

2009-11-01T19:12:00.000-08:00

Among many of those whose illustrations grace these "pages", a good number of them at one point or another have taken up the the pen for words, as well as picture. Howard Pyle practiced both with great expertise. On the other side of the pond, one inker who has caught my attention more than once is Lawrence Housman. (1865-1959)

Housman is better remembered today for his writing, it occupied the latter two thirds of his working life. He began writing with poetry in the 1890s, and then literary tales, and plays. As for his art, his inking style was incredibly intricate, and by the time he was in his mid-thirties, his eyesight had begun to fail, and with that he turned more to writing.

For about a decade, 1890-1900, he did some very beautiful line work. His style had an organic kind of flow- it reminds me of the kinds of pattern and warp you might find in wood grain, or the foam on the water. It is this natural kind of texturing that really make his work distinct. The pieces and the tales he worked with were often fantastic, with a bit of the supernatural. In the latter half of that decade, Housman did some books that, like Pyle, he wrote and illustrated. I am not aware of any illustration work that Housman did in color, but if you know of some, please let us know.

If there is work of Housman's that you are familiar with, it is likely the work from Christina Rosetti's Goblin Market. Originally published in 1893, it has been reprinted frequently and has been in print until just recently. Housman's edition is full of illustrations and decorations, and has become the definitive illustrated version of the poem. The first two images are from his Goblin Market. If there is a piece of writing of Housman's out there that you are familiar with, it may very well be his version of the Arabian Nights, a version which is frequently used for any modern reprint. Originally, it was the edition that introduced us to the Arabian Nights illustrations of Edmund Dulac.

Other images here are from Jonas Lie's Weird Tales of Northern Seas- 1892, Scandinavian folk tales

Jane Barlow's The End of Elfintown, 1894

and
The Field of Clover, 1898, one of the four collections of literary fairy tales that he wrote.

Before the books and their illustrators, there were these folks-

2009-10-18T19:40:00.000-07:00

In the late Victorian age, when printing technology had yet to catch up with the wild imaginations of an incredible group of creatives, there was a lot of great narrative painting going on. Pre-Raphaelites and Symbolists, some being influenced by impressionists, some sticking with great painting traditions. Realist painters colliding with mythical subjects. Throw in some Art Nouveau influence, and we have some very interesting imagery.

Some of them, like Walter Crane (1845-1915) and Frederick Sandys (1829-1904), would manage to defy convention, and flourish in both the gallery world and in the commercial goings-on in early illustrated books. Most professors will tell you this isn't a possibility today. Regardless of opinion, they pulled it off pretty well then.

Over a year ago I began the selection process for the images that would result in this book, and though it went through a great deal of transformation since then, it is a terrific group of images that seldom get a moment to shine in most art collections.

It's not all (strictly) Victorian, but what's not is rooted in what started there. It's not all fantasy, there is some Mythology and some romantic history as well. All of it is very influential material that would shape the imagery produced in the Golden Age of illustration.

Top to bottom-
Edmund Blair Leighton, The Accolade, 1901

Evelyn De Morgan, Earthbound, 1897

John William Waterhouse, Ulysses and the Sirens, 1891—maybe my favorite depiction of this story, the ship and the treatment of the Harpies are fantastic.

George Frederic Watts, The Angel of Death, c. 1870s. Watts is a dreamer's painter, and in my book should get a lot more attention.
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Also- Coming up next month is a convention in Altoona, PA, by the name of Illuxcon. This show is for fantasy illustrators and fans of that material. It's a professional level show, and I imagine a few of the folks who look over this site might be there. If you're going, let me know, I'll see you there!

New Pogány Book out from Dover

2009-09-29T18:53:00.000-07:00

As promised...
When I started posting these entries back in February, my first comments were on a book that I have the highest regards for, as a book design, and as a collection of illustration—Willy Pogany's edition of Rime of the Ancient Mariner. It was nearby because I was in the midst of a large project to pull together some of Pogány's best illustration work. This week the book was just made available on Dover Publishing's website, and within a few days, it will be available elsewhere.

If you are not familiar with Pogány, (1882-1955) you are not alone. (Jim Vadeboncoeur's Pogany bio at Bud Plant is a good start) His most revered works are nearly a century old, and I am not aware of any serious attempt to reprint them, largely do to the complex methods originally used to achieve a wide variety of full color and partial color images. The cost of printing with these methods today would be astronomical. As I said months ago, if you can find a copy (in that rare-and-out-of print-bookstore) , ask to take a look at it. You will not go away without a new appreciation for Pogány.

What makes Pogány remarkable, is that whatever creative path he went down in his life-long career, he made it work. When British publishing was looking for the best new talents in book illustration, enter Willy Pogány. When art-deco was the look the public craved, he had no trouble simplifying and streamlining. When Hollywood became the next big means of visual storytelling, Pogány was there. Some will argue that his work feels more dated than that of his contemporaries, I think his work is more period. It reflects the taste of the era it was done in. It was Pogány's ability to change with the times that kept his career healthy his whole life.

Pogány did book work throughout his whole career, producing an amazing list of titles, and a unique portfolio of images. With this new title from Dover, I hope to bring him a bit of the respect I think he is due, and bring his vision to a generation of illustration fans that would have previously found it very difficult to obtain.

Top to bottom-
The title page of Tannhauser, 1911. Scanned and printed in 4-color process today, it was printed in 6 colors on a dark gray stock back in the day.

They instantly changed into snow-white birds, The Fairies and the Christmas Child, 1912. Makes me want to read the story....

Siegfried captures Ludegast, Myths and Legends of the Middle Ages, 1909. DIAGONALS.

Cadmus followed the Brindled Cow, from A Wonder Book and Tanglewood Tales, 1909. Great illustration of an ordinary thing...

On the hill-top stands one old Oak-tree.... The Tale of Lohengrin, 1913. What a tree!

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Next week- another new release, over a year in the making....

The Beginnings of Modern Fantasy: H. J. Ford

2009-09-15T20:22:00.000-07:00

This entry comes as a bit of a preview. Come next February, I have a title slated to release on Ford—Maidens, Monsters, and Heroes, The Fantasy Art of H. J. Ford.
I've given his work a look or two in relation to a given subject, (There is a nice color plate on mermaids, from a few weeks ago) but I haven't really focused in on him yet, so now is the time. What I cannot understand about Henry Justice Ford's (1860-1941) work, is how much it is overlooked. There is a ton of it out there, much of it still in print today. While Ford did some beautiful watercolor work, I find his best moments are rendered in ink. He had an understanding of contrast and placement that seems to nearly vanish from his color work. Ford's career didn't really spark until 1890, when he first collaborated with Andrew Lang on The Blue Fairy Book. This was the first in a set of fairy tale collections that he worked on with
Lang; originally with other artists as well, but once they got it down, Ford and Lang became a powerful tandem with successes that few artist/writer teams enjoy. There were 12 Fairy books, and all sorts of other anthology collections as well. Hundreds and hundreds of illustrations.

One thing I have really taken note of as I've leafed through many of the Ford editions, is that he really had a handle on the idea of a dragon—especially for the time. I cannot recall seeing other images of dragons as early as 1905, that still have the characteristics we place on them today. If Ford were working today, he would definitely be in the fantasy market—Ford's dragons hold up remarkably well, design-wise. I can't help but think that factors like wing design, head shape, and claws all still carry some of the look that Ford was using a century ago, and I imagine that most writers of Fantasy in the last hundred years, were influenced in some way by the Fairy books put out by Lang and Ford. I thought I'd share a bit of what I mean by that with these images, from the score of years that Ford was most active, from 1900-1920.

———
Top to Bottom-
St. George. Who takes on drawing a dragon from the back? I have to imagine he spent some time looking at some sort of lizard in a zoo, and that was the angle he got.

Beowulf. Holy cow. What a crazy wonderful piece.

A Danish Raid in Britain. In 1916 Ford took on a series of "historical" works for a school book. He must have had some luxury of time, or maybe he took the subject more seriously—these pieces are far more developed than his earlier color works, and full of details that usually only survive in his ink work.

The Giants shadow. One of my very favorite Ford inks. There is a whole story going on here, if you just take the time to look. The Giant(s) shadow, with his hand on the far left. Low in the composition is the fair damsel, standing in the rocks...and is that a prince hiding under the horse? Nice storytelling. I love the way the shape of the piece makes your eyes travel to read it.

___Next week, I'll have some images from my new title on Willy Pogány, hitting the stores any day now!

When the Hero is a Heroine

2009-09-01T21:26:00.000-07:00

Let me pick up that train of thought, started in the last post. It has been said that the field of illustration had been a decent place for women to advance, "back in the day".
So then why is it when you think of, say, the top ten "Golden Age" illustrators, chances are still good that you'll think of 10 men first? Let me restate slightly—women could do well in illustration, while it was extremely difficult in other professional fields—odds were still stacked against them. But if you look at other high profile professions of the day, there are few that had as many women in the top ranks as illustration. Today it is more balanced than many fields, and there are many great women designers and illustrators.

While Elizabeth Shippen Green (last post)is on my list of favorites, this illustrator is a real rare find, and likely unknown to more of you. Maybe a decade ago, I came across a book of Russian Fairy Tales. Though I saw some really great work in it, it passed quickly through my hands, and I lost track of it—but found it again this past month. The author's name is R. Nisbet Bain, and the illustrator is listed as Noel L. Nisbet. (1887-1956) That "Nisbet" seems a strange coincidence, but I don't know if there is anything really to that—regardless—The book is from about 1916(?), it has 16 plates, 4 of them color. Wow. These pieces really knock me out. How could I not know this person? How come I can't find (more) info on them? Well, I looked, and dug, and I did find some info. Noel, is actually Laura Noel Nesbit. I was also able to find that she was an active Victorian painter, married to painter Harry Bush in 1910, and only spent a short time in the field of illustration, working on books from about 1910-1917, and then returning to larger works.

But what great stuff she put out. Rarely have I come across successful black and white work that exhibits this level of complexity (maybe only Bernie Wrightson in the last 50 years). The use of values achieved through line-work is stellar, each ink piece feeling like it was studied and prepped as a full blown painting. The color work has a very smooth and even pallete, warm, but not overdone. A small book she did in 1917, The Enchanted Lochan, has just 4 color plates, but feels as if it could easily have inspired a character like Conan. (Check out that last image with the Druid...)
I will be digging for more of her illustration work. Here's a larger than usual sampling, from Russian Fairy Tales, Cossack Fairy Tales, and The Enchanted Lochan. Again—Wow.

Elizabeth Shippen Green, 1871-1954

2009-08-18T20:00:00.000-07:00

A century ago, there were not many professional fields in which a woman was welcome to advance—
As high-profile as illustration was (at that time), it was a fair career choice for men and women. Howard Pyle's art classes at Drexel had a great deal of women in attendance, and many of those got strong illustration careers off the ground. Among those students—Jessie Wilcox-Smith, Violet Oakley, and Elizabeth Shippen Green.

Shippen Green's work has always been compelling to me. Her early work has something of a
"stained glass" quality to it—not that it is full of flat areas, like Harry Clarke's work, but it does have two features about it that are reminiscent of stained glass—the brilliant areas of clean color, and heavy blacks that separate them. (Watercolors over charcoal drawings) While her subjects are consistent with those of a score other active illustrators of the time, Shippen Green had a style that made her work readily identifiable, and nearly unique. I imagine it did not grant her the satisfaction she was looking for, for later in her career she strayed to be more mainstream, taking up opaque paints to produce work more in keeping with that of her contemporaries, and certainly more common in appearance. Most of her illustration work was done for Harper's Magazines, with whom she had an exclusive contract for twenty-three years, 1902-1924. Later she did occasional magazine covers and some book work as well.

Jim Vadeboncoeur Jr.'s Bio of ESG at Bud Plant

A terrific collection at Paul Giambarba's 100 Years of Illustration.

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Something of a setback this last week, as my scanner is "no longer with us"... (These images were already "in the bank") I won't be long without one, but, please stand by...(Hum Girl from Ipanema in Bossa Nova beat...)
JM

Mermaids and Other Inhabitants of the Deep

2009-08-03T21:35:00.000-07:00

2009, Dover Publications. Here is my latest collection on a theme, due out any day now—
There is an incredibly sensual draw that compels one towards mer-imagery. Take the things that modern psychology would say about water visuals, compound that with beckoning forms of scantily-clad maidens, and you have the major ingredients to lure many viewers into a painting....
The components lend themselves well to the tastes of the visual artist—The seascape is one of the most practiced and best-sold landscape subjects, while the nude-form is champion on many artistic levels. At some point in their career, almost every Golden-Age artist has done a mermaid. John William Waterhouse did a few, and he did some of the best-known and most revered. Howard Pyle's last (and unfinished) major work—sitting on the easel at the time of his death, was his mermaid. H.J. Ford, Rackham and Dulac did many of them, both color and line.

For quite some time I considered a collection of this material too narrow to attain, even though interest in the subject is great. Then I started collecting work for Andersen's Fairy Tales for an unrelated project. I began to find that almost every artist who would do Andersen's Tales, had a field day imagining "The Little Mermaid". I looked into tales like Undine, Peter Pan, and Midsummer Night's Dream, and uncovered more and more mer-imagery. I had some solid images that anchored the project tucked to the side, and marked up whatever I could find to be scanned. With a big hand from Christina at Dover, the layout came together, and I'm very pleased with the book. And then I found those images I had tucked away. Oh well... , that happens sometimes.

Top to bottom are some choice ones-

H. J. Ford from the Orange Fairy Book
Herbert Cole's Sphynx-like Mercreature
A rare Kelpie Illustration from Warwick Goble
A beautiful group of scales and tails by Walter Crane

Back soon—and good luck to all heading out to Gen Con (Gaming Convention) in Indianapolis in the next week or so. Looking forward to your reports.

Jeff

Drivers and Lampmen

2009-07-22T20:14:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I posted some images from Century Magazine—some J. C. Leyendecker illustrations that have impressed me for a long while.

As if imagery like that wasn't enough for one issue of a magazine in 1920, there is an amazing pictorial piece that follows it on the next few pages. It's grayscale work, but it is gorgeous drawing, and the subject is very interesting as well.

Thornton Oakley (1881-1955) was one of Howard Pyle's crew. Nineteen years old in that magical year of 1900, he was the right age to join Pyle's school, and the right age to take full advantage of it. Not only did Oakley get a career, but he also found a wife among Pyle's students, whose name may now be more famous than his—Violet Oakley—but we'll look at her work another time.

Thornton Studied with Pyle for three years. (After studying architecture—This combination of skills helped out a few very successful illustrators, including Maxfield Parrish) The work Oakley did afterward often had a real industrial bend to it, and there was lots of work with the War efforts in both World Wars. Shipyards, Railroads, Utilities, and some mural work. A writer/Illustrator, he did work on many of the periods best magazines, and like Pyle, he became a teacher, staying in the Philadelphia area his entire life.

This particular group of images in on rail-yard work. Titled "In The Railway Yard, Pictures by Thornton Oakley." FOUR FULL PAGES of a popular magazine, devoted to nothing other than displaying some beautiful narrative drawings. Can you imagine?

I imagine they were fairly large charcoal drawings. If anyone out there knows anything about them, what became of them, where they are now, please drop a line and let us know. I leave you with this quote—

"Illustration is the highest type of pictorial art ... because illustration is simply a pictorial MAKING CLEAR, and if a picture makes clear a message in a big way, it is an illustration, whether it be made for magazine, book, mural decoration, or exhibition."
Thornton Oakley, 1923

More info on Oakley —
Papers from the Delaware Art Museum, and source of a good deal of this info-

A look at a color Oil Tanker,

Kind of makes me want to draw the old switch Tower at Mineola....

See ya next week.

Jeff

Some scarce Harry Clarke

2009-07-15T21:31:00.000-07:00

If the name Harry Clarke (1890-1931) triggers any visual memories for you, it is likely that the images are a bit on the disturbing side. While Clarke did a number of projects in his short career that are worth recalling, there is one that stands head and shoulders among the rest. Clarke did an amazing illustrated edition of Tales of Mystery and Imagination, by Edgar Allan Poe, in 1919. It sold so well that the original publisher released an expanded edition with even more art by Clarke just a few years later. (The top image is from this second run at Poe) It has become the measuring stick against which all other illustrated versions of Poe are measured. It is also Clarke's biggest claim to fame. Not that he didn't do other great work. His primary interest in his creative career was stained glass design, and his work is greatly prized by many locations in his native Ireland where it can still be found today. One look at the large flat areas in his ink work will lead an educated viewer to an understanding of why.

The work of Clarke's that remains largely accessible, however, is his book illustration. Clarke also did a Faust, a Hans Christian Andersen's Tales, and a Fairy Tales of Perrault. Most of these are scarce at best, with only his Poe seeing a reprint edition now and again. Unless you happen to live in the United Kingdom, it is pretty unlikely that you have seen any of his glass design. (*see below) Then I found this article—In a 1920 edition of The Studio—Not a very large text, but it did offer a look at three color panels of Clarke's glass work. The color is not great, but I can't pass up a chance to share these-The third and fourth images are from smaller, private glass commissions, and the last is a line drawing from The Playboy of the Western World. (Very last being a close up of the figures on top—just look at that patterning!) The oval piece is especially nice. Alas, like Poe himself, (and eerily, so many other brilliant creatives) Clarke would not live long into his 40's, dying of tuberculosis in 1931.

Find a bit more here-
http://www.bpib.com/illustrat/clarke.htm

The only authoritative work on Clarke-
http://www.irishacademicusa.com/acatalog/info_IAP025.html

* And keep an eye on this!-
http://www.harryclarke.net/glass/

Back soon-

Jeff

Get Your Little People in Line

2009-06-25T17:56:00.000-07:00

This week I have a new book that hit the Dover Site. This is a CD-ROM and Book collection; called Imps, Elves, Fairies and Goblins. For those of you unfamiliar with what exactly this is, I'll give you a short explanation—Dover publishes hundreds of books, that have an accompanying CD in the inside back cover. These "CD-ROM- Books" contain royalty-free images, everything from vintage fruit crate labels, to Victorian fashion photography, to, well, Imps, Elves, Fairies and Goblins. An average disc might contain 200 or more images, for use on whatever you can think of. The book gives you easy reference, and the disc gives you the convenience of having a digital file without having to scan the clip-art. Most of the work in this line of books comes from the public-domain, meaning that original copyrights have expired, leaving these images free to whoever wants to reproduce them.

The V I E W interest in this title is that the images in Imps, Elves, Fairies and Goblins are all from books from as early as Daniel Maclise's pieces, probably from the 1850's, and on through children's stories, folk, and fairy tales for the next half century and then some. This collection is all black and white line work, but there are some great drawings and characterizations here that may lead you elsewhere. Here are a few of my favorites:

Reginald (1879-1950)and Horace Knowles- from their edition of Norse Fairy Tales, 1910
H. J. Ford (1860-1940) -He did so much terrific line work—this scene is jammed with great characters—that goblin on the turtle looks as if it could have come straight from a modern fantasy role-playing book—
Walter Crane (1845-1915)-The animation of these figures and the clever design of this chapter head are a real statement to the depth this artist had to offer, far different from the often static scenes he is known for. From his adaptation of Grimm.
Laurence Housman, (1865-1959)— I cannot put my finger on what makes this guys work so compelling- something about the flow of his compositions—really outstanding stuff. It has been documented that he gave up illustration due to failing eyesight, understandable when you study his line work... These works are from his rendition of Rossetti's Goblin Market, which Dover published for years, though sadly, no more.

.....
In illustration today-
I wanted to comment that though I look deep into illustration's past here, I am an active and practicing illustrator currently— and thought I would share this with others of similar situation-
longtime friend and fellow illustrator Jeremy McHugh and his buddies at http://ninjamountain.blogspot.com/ have put together an informative and entertaining podcast on the trials and tribulations of the profession today- with special regard to the fantasy and sci-fi markets, they cover everything from references to techniques; dealing with contracts, and book reviews. It has become weekly listening both in studio and on occaisional commutes.

See ya next week. Jeff

The Man and the Myth

2009-06-15T20:25:00.000-07:00

Most of what fills this blog are comments on book illustration. It is the form of illustration that I'm the closest to— both by virtue of the books that I compile, and the illustration I do myself. There are tons of great illustrators out there, that did very little (if anything) for the book market—for many reasons. Book work does not pay the best. In books, you have to produce a large body of work—it is a bigger commitment. Magazines are faster, usually pay a bit more, and it's normally 1-3 pieces. Advertising is king in regards to a paycheck. Do a job for a corporate client or ad agency, those jobs can really pay some bills.

One of the best known advertising illustrators of the early 20th century was J. C. Leyendecker (1874-1951). J. C., or Joe, was the older of two brothers—Frank was also a fairly successful illustrator. The brothers Leyendecker were born in Germany, raised and apprenticed in Chicago, studied in Paris, and became a huge stars in New York. (Again, that magic date...where was he in 1900? Moving from Chicago to NY, 26 years old, a year after painting his first Saturday Evening Post cover...)

J. C.'s major contributions—Preceding Norman Rockwell, he was the leading illustrator of the Saturday Evening Post (321 Covers!) and his ability to produce a smart, strong, male image led more than one clothier to his studio door. The product that his art would carry and sell for decades was the Arrow Shirt collar. (Top image, Arrow Collar ad, 1912) Advertising clients like Arrow made Leyendecker a wealthy man, and he went through money as fast as it came in.

Both brothers painted in a similar style, having some tell-tale features that separate a Leyendecker work from others. STRONG brush strokes. Lines often look chiseled; sculpted, almost. Beautiful directional qualities. Contour of the primary figure is the most important design element. Keeps the statement strong and simple, and that attention to profile makes the image communicate efficiently.

While doing research for a project, I came across a box of clipped illustrations, mostly from Century Magazine. In the bottom of this pile, I found three Leyendecker pages—far less commercial than what I had known him for. Two were from an article (Written by Teddy Roosevelt, no less) on the Ancient Irish Sagas (January, 1907 issue). The pieces depict Cuchulain in Battle, and Queen Meave, both leading figures in Celtic mythology. The Cuchulain piece has always captivated me- great details, while getting in real close, showing the chariot, with only a hint of the horse. The other image is Old Testament— also from Century, it is for a poem called The Death of Eve, by William Vaughn Moody. This depiction of Eve—and son Cain—is unlike any I have ever seen, with the low mist making the figures feel like giants. A big step from an Arrow shirt. I have to wonder if J. C. enjoyed such imaginative diversions from his bigger, commercial clientele. I certainly appreciate them.

Jim Vadeboncoeur's bio of JCL at Bud Plant
American Art's great Leyendecker page

Back soon

Jeff

Knightly Inspirations

2009-06-02T21:48:00.000-07:00

Ah, the summer months are almost upon us. The challenges of commitment have made some appearance recently, with some lapse in regular posts. I have a full dance card at the moment, with many projects relating to things here. In the last few weeks I sent a collection of Fairy images to press, wrapped up a very interesting set of images on Mermaids, and am about to finish the "polishing" steps of my new book on Willy Pogány. Throw in a few illustration assignments, my full-time job and a four-day fishing trip, ok, I'm busy. I have two big treats for the next two entries, so sit back and get set-

Maybe 20 years ago,Time-Life Books came out with a series on folklore and mythology called "The Enchanted World" This series of large-size hardcovers were richly illustrated, both with classic public-domain imagery, and brand new illustration from some of the big name illustrators of the day. Having just graduated art school, this was great material, and great reference- I signed on to receive all the books as they came out. I found a few inspirations among the artists in those pages, but one that really floored me was William Russell Flint. (1880-1969)

Flint was Scottish by birth, spent most of his life in Britain, and was knighted(!) for his artistic achievements in 1962. As usual, there is a good look at his work in relation to illustration at Jim Vadeboncouer's site at Bud Plant-
There is plenty of info on him scattered about the web, and he still has a healthy and active representation marketing his prints today.

There are a few things about Flint that drew me to his work—First was his design sense. The early picture that I saw in the Time-Life volume was the opening image on the page here, from the "Odyssey". These figures and visual devices are assembled in a way that continuously leads the viewer around the image area. The second thing that almost perplexed me was the use of medium—namely, watercolor. Really? Watercolor? It was these Flint pieces that convinced me that it could be used as a serious medium for illustration, that it could be used with accuracy and control.

Unfortunately for us illustration junkies, Flint's career in illustration was comparably short to his many years of creative output. He started with the Illustrated London News in 1903, and gave us some great plate books for about 25 years, including The Odyssey, Le Morte D'Arthur, The Canturbury Tales, and a number of editions on the works of Gilbert and Sullivan's operas. In the early 1930's, he made the leap that so many attempt, but so few succeed—he became accepted in gallery art; both for his landscapes, and his exquisite figure work. It is primarily this latter work that drives interest in his art today, but his illustration is still held in high esteem, from all quarters.

Brandywine, continued

2009-05-10T21:15:00.000-07:00

After mulling over the last post, I believe it might be good to supply some background information on the "Brandywine school." I've been knee-deep in the works of its participants for a good many years now, but I know that may not be the case for everyone, especially someone in school now, or just coming to know this group of illustrator/painters. So even though we touched base with Howard Pyle last entry, I want to explain a bit about the movement he was such a catalyst for.

"Brandywine" refers to a valley, and a river, that exist in southeast PA (just west of Philadelphia), and the northernmost part of Delaware. The "Brandywine School" is a phrase talked about frequently in circles concerning early American illustration. It is a movement, not literally a school, though there were two schools that had a great deal to do with this movement getting off the ground, Drexel University, from 1894-1900, and Howard Pyle's own school, from the years 1900-1905.

Geography. This area was a real breeding ground for fertile imagination. It was far enough removed, that it still had very wild and native looking forest, perfect backdrops for images concerning the early history of our nation. At the same time, it was close enough to two of the biggest publishing cities in the northeast, New York (by train) and Philadelphia, so that an aspiring illustrator could maintain business contacts.

History. Not only is the area steeped in Revolutionary history, but a generation before Howard Pyle, Felix O'Darley was working in these parts. O'Darley was one of the earliest illustrators to break from stayed, dry poses in search of action. Howard Pyle spent some time in New York at the early part of his career, but longed for and eventually returned to the Brandywine Valley. After teaching at Philadelphia's Drexel University, he decided to open his own school, where he went on to hand pick his own students. The goal here was not financial, it was about Pyle passing on his trade, and his success, to the next generation of artists. The Howard Pyle School of Art ran from studios that Pyle had built in the Wilmington area, and held summer classes out of an old Mill in Chadd's Ford PA. This mill is the very building you will visit today, if you head on down to the Brandywine Museum. If this material speaks to you as it does to me, this experience borders on religious. It is truly a pilgrimage for any student of illustration.

Results. Pyle saw about 110 students in those few years. Their timing, and his, was very fortuitous—Publishing was going through its biggest boom, and there was plenty of work, in books, magazines, and newspapers, to go around. It seems that most of the students that possessed any serious ambition had little or no problem finding work after training under Pyle, and publishers were happy to have them.

Style and Content. When an image is described as being from the Brandywine school, it usually means it comes from Pyle, one of his students, or one of their students. Many, many of Pyle's pupils admired him enough to feel a need to carry on, and do as he had done for them. His ethics and methods have been impressed upon generations of artists. Pyle's love for historical subjects, from early Norse myths to the American Civil War—comprise a large percentage of his work, and there are few historical painters who do not claim the Brandywine group as influential. Palette, composition, focus, accuracy of details (especially historical) are all features that may lend to a piece being called "of the Brandywine school".
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The Brandywine Tradition by Henry Pitz, the definative history of what makes a piece from the Brandywine school-
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A shot of Pyle and a group of students at the Mill at Chadd's Ford, in 1902. What I would give to have had that opportunity. Pyle is the one in the hat, standing in the doorway.

Jeff

Where it all started (American illustration)

2009-04-22T20:21:00.000-07:00

It is a bit surprising to me that we've gotten this far down the road without looking at Howard Pyle (1853-1911) yet. If I hadn't been knee deep in Willy Pogány books at the time, it very likely would have been Pyle we kicked things off with. There are two very good reasons.

The first is personal; my own fascination with Golden-age illustration began in the late 70's, at a yard sale in Rahway, New Jersey. A rather large Victorian household had rows and stacks of stuff all up and down its long driveway. Here I found incredible amounts of what I now believe to be press proofs, from the printing presses of Harpers magazines. I bought all I could afford at the time, which unfortunately wasn't much. (If I came across this sale nowadays, I can't imagine the financial stress it would cause me...) I beleive these were proofs because I now know the publications these images came from. The sheets these prints are on, while being either similar to press stock or tissue, are noticeably larger than the publications were....

This is where I first found Howard Pyle, and a number of his contemporaries, but Pyle's work captured my attention the most. The plate that really got me; is this one at the top right. This engraving so far surpassed other work I was familiar with... it had real emotion, character, storytelling, ATTITUDE. And that was all in one piece of black and white work. Check out the guys in the background, and their reaction to this yankee privateer—

Fast forward to 1984. After seeing the work I was producing, my second year painting teacher asks me to bring in some of what I think is good work. I bring him books of the hottest science fiction and fantasy book-jacket guys of the day. He asks if I 've ever heard of the Brandywine school, and sends me to the library. Thanks, Mr. Fritz.

The second (and far less personal) reason Pyle is so important, is; I do not believe there has been a single more influential artist than Pyle on American illustration. (listen for feathers ruffling) He was the biggest rock to go in the pond. Ripples? Practically immeasurable. During an immensely successful career, Howard Pyle decided it was his calling to teach his craft, not to numb masses filing through modern art schools, but to a select group, the best of the best, hand-picked by Pyle himself. He had a great eye for talent, apparently, because his first-generation students are among the tops in all of American illustration, during the first half of the 20th century. Cream of that crop? Frank Schoonover, Harvey Dunn, Stanley Arthurs, Elizabeth Shippen-Green, Jessie Wilcox Smith, Anton Otto Fisher, William James Aylward...whew. Pyle crossed brushes with a young upstart by the name of Maxfield Parrish—already taking on big jobs before he got to Pyle's school—Pyle told him he was already well on his way, and was in no need of his teachings. Oh, yeah, then there was that N. C. Wyeth fellow. Nice guy. And many of Pyle's students became teachers as well, spreading it on down. Ripples.

Any of these artists warrant a page of their own here on VIEW. Most have had a page or three elsewhere, hence the links. (Again, Jim Vadeboncouer has blazed the trail here) Most will get one. Pyle will get a few, for different aspects of his work; Wyeth and Parrish, yes, they are also a multi-page guys. More to follow on this soon-

Jeff

That's a Whole Lotta Bull . . .

2009-04-13T21:21:00.000-07:00

. . .and that's a great thing. René Bull (1872-1942) is not an instantly recognizable name, even here among fans of illustration. Born in Dublin, Ireland, he had a fair career in the trade, with a good deal of time as a war correspondent, covering stories from 1896 up into WWI (including time in the mid-east and India). A generous portion of his work resides in periodicals of the day, and what was not war art, might have been early humorous cartoons. But IF you have come across his name, there is an excellent chance it is in association with this book—The Arabian Nights—

Bull did sizable jobs on a few books, including a nice Rubáiyat of Omar Khayyám in 1913, but it is hard to compare even that otherwise beautiful collection to his work in The Arabian Nights.

The better editions of Bull's The Arabian Nights (First editions being from 1912) contain 20 full color-tipped in plates, and 98 black and white pieces. Some full-page, some worked into the text, some done in an early halftone method . . . all of them top-notch. How he maintained such a high degree of quality on such a large amount of work astounds me. It is the book that his name will go on living for, and in my opinion, makes him one of the two best illustrators of these tales that I have had the pleasure of looking through. While his color work here is bright, well-balanced, and full of all of the life and details we want to imagine, the line work is out of this world. Rarely have I seen line look more fluid, more natural in its description, or more efficient in its ability to convey a form. Bull captures character, light, and climate in his amazing use of nothing other than black ink. Put this whole package together, it stands up to the very best books of the period.

Information on Bull is hard to come by. He went on to do Andersen's Fairy Tales and a Gulliver's Travels, also A book of The Russian Ballet, and an adaptation of Carmen, but they fall short of the brilliance he achieved with The Arabian Nights and to some extant, his Rubáiyat. Perhaps it was his personal interest in the east and his own experiences there that gave those projects their dynamic spark. Bull did work into the 1930's, though the work wasn't as plentiful, his name comes up on dust jacket art on numerous juvenile projects.

If you haven't come across him before, remember his name for this 1912 edition.

See you next week—Jeff

Visions of Camelot

2009-03-31T21:36:00.000-07:00

Visions of Camelot: Great Illustrations of King Arthur and his Court

My relationship with Dover Publications goes back almost 11 years. Much longer if you look at the time their books have been influencing me. Dover prides itself in making available the hard-to-find, both in texts, and in images.

Having put together a handful of books for Dover— my favorites have been those connected by a central theme. The first like this was Poe: Illustrated. The idea and format were well enough received that we've been able to do a few more, the latest having hit Dover's site this week. This theme is a selection of Arthurian imagery.

Visions of Camelot, (now available here on Dover's site) is my fourth title with this approach. There are classic images you might expect, like a selection of Aubrey Beardsley's iconic line pieces from the 1894 Le Morte D'Arthur ; and a generous sampling of Howard Pyle's decorative ink style. Color works from such illustration giants as Walter Crane (one of his last books), Arthur Rackham, and N.C. Wyeth. In keeping with Dover's history, there are some rare gems as well—a nice group by British watercolor legend, Sir William Russell Flint, from early in his career, and seven pages of art-deco styled Arthur by Thomas Mackenzie. If Arthurian legend interests you, this collection of over 140 images gives you some of the best imagery created from 1893-1923, stylistically ranging from Victorian to Art-Deco.

From top to bottom on the right- The Crane plates are from 1911.They are less decorative, and more illustrative than his typical work, but they perform the task admirably. This plate, "Beaumins wins the fight at the ford," breaks from Crane's usual stoic poses, to throw the viewer full into the action.

Willy Pogany here is at his best- I love his work on Wagner's Ring Trilogy. 1911-1915. The plate from Parsifal places a classic grail knight at the throat of a dragon, complete with damsel and grail-shield. Note the tremendous restraint on Pogany's part—the image is two colors, only the thin halo around the knights head is printed in Brown-gold.

Howard Pyle's work (#3) got me into all of this. Like Gordon Grant, mentioned last week, (see below) Pyle uses ink to make lines that read as areas of values, an inking technique brought over from the days of preparing plates for engravers.

The last plate, is one of those scarce William Russell Flint pieces. Originally from a two-volume set, "She was a great huntress and daily she used to hunt, and ever she bare her bow with her." This piece has some great design qualities, and Flint's whole group reads to me as a powerful influence on the watercolor work of modern day master Alan Lee.

See you next week—Jeff

Gordon Grant, Down to the Sea in Ships

2009-03-23T21:53:00.000-07:00

OK, lost my way for a bit there. As an illustrator and a freelancer, sometimes the workload gets busier than others. Busy, is generally a good thing. There does come a time when some form of sacrifice is made to make a deadline, and it has been that kind of time, so the V I E W took a little break. If I am lucky, it will happen again . . . but I'm back, and here is a bit of an intro to an illustrator who for most of his career worked in an area which greatly interests me— marine illustration. For all those who know my recent works, it is apparent that the sea has taken up a good amount of my attention as a painter/illustrator. This is one of the guys whose work inspires me—

Gordon Grant

Grant (1875-1962) was right in the thick of the Golden Age, being 25 in 1900. He found a specialized market and a personal strength in nautical subjects that gave him a path divergent from many of his contemporaries. There was a good deal of work with this theme at that time, both in fiction and in the reporting of the day; so much so, in fact, that there was more than one illustrator that made quite a good name for themselves even with this very narrow focus—W. J. Aylward and Anton Otto Fisher both come to mind immediately. Each of them may get a deeper look from VIEW down the road.

Grant's work has a very personal look to it, it often retains a lot of the freshness of a direct sketch. It's this drawing quality that separates him from most of the other marine illustrators out there at the time, and still to this day gives his work a first-person authenticity. In many of the publications he produced, a sketchbook style page is presented as the end product, with a certain degree of looseness, bold strokes, and solid inked-in shadows. As an inker, he is superb. His understanding of light and the limits of the ink line are woven in and out of each other to form some fantastic interpretations. Many years ago, I said to a friend that in a great ink drawing, the viewer no longer "sees" the line. ( I was describing Howard Pyle's work at the time) Grant's work does that, he paints values with ink lines.

The book that I found Gordon Grant in was The Book of Old Ships by Henry B. Culver. This book is in print today and is readily available. It contains no less than 80 line drawings by Grant, recording most of the major sailing-ship designs from Egyptian galleys to the Clipper. They are accurate, remarkably efficient ink drawings backed with good research; they make for great reference. Grants' book work with Culver would continue, from The Book of Old Ships in 1924, to Forty Famous Ships in 1936. This book has some of Grant's color work as well, which are for the most part finely colored drawings. Again, solid research, even with notes and specs on the ships in the appendix. Two other titles I own, that have the sketchbook approach, are 1932's Greasy Luck; A Whaling Sketchbook. This book tells a great tale in its images and notes, of an occupation no longer practiced. And last is the Gordon Grant Sketchbook. This little Watson-Guptill book is really a facsimile sketchbook, full of floating characters, side-turned compositions, and no text. Spontaneous, energetic studies.

Check out Jim Vadeboncoeur's bio of Grant here. (In connection with Bud Plant)

And here is work by a great modern-day maritime painter, (R. C. Moore) also inspired by Grant, who is the primary force behind the great ship work on a certain ship based card game-

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Next week I expect the release of my latest book with Dover Publications, Visions of Camelot, Great Illustrations of King Arthur and His Court. When the book is posted, I'll give a little sample of what's in it. The topic has been one I've wanted to compile for as long as I've been putting books like this together.

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Thanks to all those who have said hi, signed on, and like what they've seen. Keep the comments coming, it will help shape what we are looking at here. Jeff

Visiting Vernon Hill

2009-03-04T20:35:00.000-08:00

I apologize for being late this week. I've been occupied hanging (and gathering, and framing...) a show of my own work. After a Northeast snow-day delay, it was finally put up on the night of the 3rd, and hopefully things will resume their normal frantic pace, instead of the frenzied crisis pace I've been on this past week. Onto discussion-
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Vernon Hill

Maybe five years ago, I came across a great book—
Fantasy by Brigid Peppin, Subtitled; Book Illustration, 1860-1920. The book came out in 1975, and it has a wealth of information—both on the stars of the era, like Arthur Rackham and Edmund Dulac, and the nearly forgotten; those who put out one or two real solid entries, and then faded into obscurity. Like many, my own interests had led me to become familiar with the bigger names, but some of these lesser-known artists and works were gold! Many illustrators have had a peak moment, when they were firing on all cylinders and producing some stunning stuff. But what if you can't maintain that standard, for 20, or even 10 years? What if it was two books? These folks don't have collections of their work in print. A book like Peppin's opened a door for me to find a huge new group of influences in my work, and it also contributed to my wanting to share some of these artists with others, through my own book work, and now with this blog—

One artist I "met for the first time" within the pages of Peppin's book, was Vernon Hill.

Hill (British, 1887-?) appears to have been busy as an illustrator for just a few years, 1910-1912—though he remained tied to the art field for some time. Through the 20's and 30's Hill produced etchings, and designed (and produced?) sculpture for numerous buildings, mostly religious. A good look at his sculptural work can be seen here. The work on the sculpture link tells us that he was working at least until the 50's. No record of his passing could be found. WHAT AN INCREDIBLE SHAME this man didn't do more illustration. The mixture of symbolism, personal style,(taste for material) and technique (meaning his use of wide value-range graphite medium) produce some work here that is nearly unique. The samples I found in the Peppin book are from a limited edition book produced in 1912, called Ballads Weird and Wonderful, which I was eventually able to get my hands on. The scans at the right, are from this book.

While digging up material to explain who Hill was and what he did, I came across one site that had already done a lot of this digging, in a similar fashion to my own intent. Moment of dilemma ... do I go on as planned, at the risk of being redundant? I came to the decision that the web is a strange and complex netting, and it is unlikely (though not impossible) that many of you who are here, have also been there. So I show you Vernon Hill, but I also will refer you to this excellent blog, where Vernon Hill caught the attention of another illustrator, Mr. John Coulhart. It is on Mr. Coulhart's site that I found out, like last week's entry, this book is available as an entirely free pdf download. Tip of the hat to you, Mr. Coulhart.

The other fantastic site I found, featured incredible scans of Hill's 1910 Arcadian Calendar. Nearly the whole thing, and good quality images- This is very cool stuff that Tim Burton would love. Although Hill's work is fairly consistent at this time, both in style and substance, there is precious little of it—enjoy it here.

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I also thought it would be worthwhile to show another sample of the great scanning dilemma. (Faithful reproduction vs. "correction") Color, as mentioned last week, is not alone in this issue—shown here are two files of the same image, the left being a direct scan, the right being a "corrected" file, with a fuller range of contrast and tone. While most will find the right image more appealing, how do we know that it wasn't intentional that the values were limited? It all comes into opinion, and how an image like this is reproduced today is very subjective.

See you next week—Jeff

Little known, Frederic Richardson throws out some great Dragon

2009-02-23T21:52:00.000-08:00

This one is a bit off the beaten path, even for me. Not too long ago I happened upon a copy of a book called: The Queen's Museum and Other Fanciful Tales, by Frank R. Stockton. It was an old book in a juvenile section, ripe for illustration possibility ... but what made me pull it down was the author—Frank R. Stockton. I had done a cover (illustration) for a book Stockton wrote on pirates. He had gone over a good deal of the available source material on the subject, and made it a bit more readable to the average person in or around 1908. I had understood him to be a fairly successful writer of that time, and here was something else he had done.

The Roman numerals on the front cover place this book at 1906. it has 10 color plates, with additional full color title page and cover plate. I will be the first to admit here, that not all of the plates in this book made me jump. Richardson was primarily an illustrator of children's stories, and his work usually has a simplified, flat look to it. Perhaps it was the success that some of the British book illustrators were having at this time that encouraged him to put a little more into these pieces. There are a few that really, really shine— see The Griffin and the Minor Canon, second plate, or The Bee-man of Orn, third. Each chapter is decorated with a line head-piece, showing Richardson as a solid enough ink artist, but with nothing like Arthur Rackham's fluidity, or William Heath Robinson's outstanding sense of contrast within space. Still, his characters show true personality, and some solid design.

The scans here are shown with minimal repairs to the copy I was working from. I have had to consider here some adjustment of color. It's a huge issue, actually, that could easily cover a few entries. I will make a point here though— when working from printed material that is a century old, you can't just adjust the color levels like it was some snapshot at your uncle's retirement party. Well, you can, and a lot of people do, but I do not feel that is proper in respect to the work. There is fade to consider, paper acidity, printing accuracy and artistic intent. All of these contribute to the subtlety of color in these old images.

While I sometimes like to push up to a rich black, or a clean white, it is not always the best way to represent an illustration. (Without seeing the original, there is no way of knowing the artist's intent, period) I practice compromise, with a slight lean to additional contrast. This means I don't print or display exactly what I scan, nor will I push the paper tone to white, but I will bring the tone to about halfway between what it was, and white. While it is truly a compromise, and I've heard comment that "better" images are available online than some of what my books have put out there, I believe this approach presents a cleaner image that is truer to what might have been produced at the time. I can easily make it look better to my eye, but I can't know how far that might be from what was intended. If there is interest in this topic, we'll revisit it ...

Until then, to find a bit on Frederick Richardson, try these sites-

http://www.violetbooks.com/gal-newfound-plates.html
http://learning2share.blogspot.com/2008/06/frederick-richardson-illustrations-for.html

An amazing thing is beginning to happen:
I can share these images with you freely because at 103 years old, they are in what is known as "Public Domain". This means that all copyright protections on them have expired, and it is now information that belongs to anyone who cares to work with them. The amazing part, is that this ENTIRE BOOK is available online, illustrations and all, for free download. Type—Stockton, The Queen's Museum—in a Google search, and the first hit should get you there. (OK, Just hit the link, I'm learning as I go here, folks...) You can catch the rest of the plates, and the story too.

See you next week—Jeff

Fantastic Color Works by Franklin Booth

2009-02-15T20:16:00.000-08:00

The Flying Islands of the Night.

Title sounds interesting, doesn't it? The story is a fantasy, written in the form of a play, by American poet James Whitcomb Riley. (1849-1916) I am a great fan of a fantastic story, and I will not pretend to have read this—but the format alone removes it from standard comparisons. The story carries a feeling of Shakespeare colliding with Jules Verne. The writing is © 1891, but what makes this something worth commenting on, is an edition that was put out by the Bobbs-Merrill company in 1913.

Franklin Booth (1874-1948) is fairly well-known among fans of Golden-Age illustration. He created a style for himself while trying to imitate the art he was seeing printed at the turn of the century, mostly as wood-engravings. Only Booth did not know this was a printing technique ... he sought out to create pen and ink work that gave this effect of tone from lines. It is both maddening and brilliant, and he became great at it.

Like many illustrators who excel in their black and white work, Booth never gets the praise for his color work that it might otherwise deserve. Booth put out some beautiful color work, with a great sense of space, and very dynamic compositions that push the viewer all over that rectangle. And he had a good sense of color, as well. While I may see some influence of Edmund Dulac in the plate "So empty are my arms, so full my heart" (last of the four images), I also see parallels between Booth's color work and the brilliant graphic novel work of Charles Vess, who is kicking out great stuff today.

I had the good fortune to come across a copy of this volume, with 15 of the 16 plates in place. (As a collector of books, this is a travesty, but as a collector of illustration, this–and perhaps a library stamp–may allow you to obtain early images that you might not otherwise be able to afford...)

To start digging on Booth, try these sites-

http://www.bpib.com/booth.html
http://www.linesandcolors.com/2007/03/31/franklin-booth/

and there are two very good books of his work, currently in print-
Franklin Booth; American Illustrator, Manual Auad (contains 3 color plates from Flying Islands)
and
Franklin Booth; Painter with a Pen, John Fleskes (focuses on Booth's great line work)

Hats off to two incredible blogs I have found since starting this project.
The above mentioned
http://www.linesandcolors.com
and another recently pointed out to me (which knocked me over...)
http://goldenagecomicbookstories.blogspot.com/

See you next week—Jeff

Willy Pogány's Masterwork

2009-02-08T17:59:00.000-08:00

VIEW has come into being because I am constantly immersed in and searching for new material concerning vintage illustration. While there is a lot of information out there, much of it is scattered, fragmented, and some of it is difficult or expensive to access.

This blog is about what I happen across that makes me say WOW!—Things I find that I may have not seen before, find in a rare or forgotten place, and a few things will surface that simply continue to interest me again and again. It will be about what I'm working on, looking at, or finding inspiration in. Mostly, I am hoping to make some of this great work accessible again, to those who will truly appreciate it.

With that being said-

Most of the past month has been spent combing over the work of Willy Pogány. As an art student in NYC twenty some-odd years ago, I found a book with his illustrations in a used book shop, which I ponied up the funds for because it had a potentially interesting story, and some very interesting illustration, and I had never heard of this guy before. Fast forward nearly a quarter of a century, and I am going through almost 30 volumes that contain his work for an upcoming project.

Pogány is not a household name, though he was very successful throughout his career. There are some good (though concise) biographies of him online, and opinions of his work vary almost as much as his styles and mediums do. I've been a fan of his work almost since I picked up that book those many years ago, but it was very recently that I had a chance to explore his work in Samuel Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Pogány's take on this long poem, published in London in 1910 by Harrap, is easily one of the most impressive books I have ever seen. Pogány's line work is among the best of the period, but what really makes this book something special is his own book design. Book manufacturing just before WWI was at a peak that we will likely never see again. Harrap pulled out all the stops for this book, and Pogány created a work that has to be seen from title to tailpiece. Entirely hand lettered. Art and decoration throughout. Tipped-in plates as well as pages printed with multiple color passes. Perhaps the best part, a sense of composition that really makes you want to travel over every spread.

Here is some of what I mean.

I later found a good deal of images from the volume posted on this site-
http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illustration/pogany/index.html

This book is very hard to find, and very pricey when you find one. But take a look at it if you can. It is an incredible visual feast.

To start digging on Pogány, try these sites-
http://www.bpib.com/pogany.htm
http://www.animationarchive.org/2007/07/life-drawing-willy-poganys-drawing.html

See you next week—Jeff