Interview: Sophie Campbell

We here at LITC were pleasantly surprised by Sophie Campbell's art in the recent Turtles in Time #1, which depicted all of its prehistoric creatures with various feathery coverings (including, presciently enough, the ornithischians.) When it turned out that Sophie Campbell is active on Deviantart, well, that was too tempting an opportunity to resist. I reached out with a few questions, and she was kind of enough to reply.

So how did you end up on the Turtles in Time creative team? Did you have much input on the setting and on which dinosaurs were featured?

My editor Bobby asked if I wanted to draw Turtles in Time #1, I said "of course I do," and that was that! The writer, Paul Allor, and I talked a bit beforehand about the setting and which dinosaurs we were going to use. Paul picked the ones neccessary for his script, though, such as the Tyrannosaurus and the Triceratops, although for some of them it was more of a general type, like something that could fly. The specific species was left to me.

Since my mom saves everything, I pulled out a bunch of old dinosaur books I had as a kid and picked out the ones I liked and which fit the time period and setting. I picked all of the background dinosaurs myself, such as the Therizinosaurus and Pepperoni [the baby Protoceratops Raphael takes as a pet]. When I came on board, I was determined to give the Turtles an adorable dinosaur sidekick, and I wouldn't rest until I'd gotten her into the story! For the flying reptile we needed Mikey to ride, I decided on the Quetzalcoatlus, not just because of the time period but because it seemed the most rid-
able.

Pepperoni is a great little side character. Do you have much of an interest in paleontology? Do you see yourself drawing them again in the future?

I don't have a big, active interest in it, other then that I like dinosaurs. I don't read up on the science or the new discoveries that often, but I still enjoy it. I especially love reading about the weird discoveries that shatter the popular image of what people think dinosaurs are. I used to draw dinosaurs a lot as a kid, and I'd love to draw them again in the future. I'm doing a Ninja-Turtles fan-comic right now that I post online, and some dinosaurs might show up in that.

 

 

What was the process you used to do the dinosaur character design? Was it something you had a lot of freedom with?

Paul and I were on the same page before we ever discussed it. I've always loved dinosaurs with feathers since I was a kid, so I knew that was what I was going to do. I wasn't sure how Paul or Nickelodeon would like it, although I was prepared to fight for it. I can get pretty stubborn. But luckily, Paul asked for feathered dinosaurs before I even said anything, so it worked out. Early on I had been planning on coloring the issue myself, so when I did dinosaur sketches I did color schemes for them too. Some of which eventual colorist Bill Crabtree used, like the colors for the Tyrannosaurus and Pepperoni. Nickelodeon didn't like my Triceratops colors, so we had to change that. It was a little too weird, I guess.

 

I love bright and weird colored dinosaurs, though. I get bored of everything always being shown in grey and brown and single solid colors. I wanted the dinosaurs in the background to be more colorful than they ended up being, but there was a bit of concern over my Valentine's Day/Easter-colored dinosaurs, so it was scaled back.

Another thing was that even though I wanted there to be some accuracy, like the feathers, I also wanted it to be cartoony and cute. I love Jurassic Park and all that, but I get a little tired of dinosaurs always being expected to be "badass" and fearsome and ugly all of the time. So I wanted to do something in the middle, which, to me anyway, makes them seem more believable within the world of the comic. And it just fit the tone better.

Was there any kind of dinosaur that you wanted to add but couldn't? 

I would have liked to have drawn some swimming dinosaurs, and it would have been fun to draw the Turtles dealing with something really big, like a Mamenchiasaurus. It would be fun to draw something at that scale.

Finally, what's your favorite prehistoric animal?

I love Glyptodon! And Deinonychus.

Thanks for the interview! OK, Pepperoni, play us out. 

Subsequent to the publication of this article, the artist came out as a trans woman. This post has been edited to reflect her name change.

Vintage Dinosaur Art: The Mysterious World of Dinosaurs - Part 2

In the first part of our examination of The Mysterious World of Dinosaurs, we came upon chubby, oily-looking tyrannosaurs, alarmingly carnivorous-looking stegosaurs, and Godzilla. However - and as the title implies - this book goes beyond the eponymous archosaur clade, taking a look at various other Mesozoic monstrosities. Bring on the zombie-pterosaurs!

Now let's be fair - depicting pterosaurs in dessicated, mummy-like fashion was commonplace at the time this book was produced. Contemporary mass estimates had giants like Pteranodon weigh about the same as the shrivelled walnut that sits between Ken Ham's ears. In order to make sense of this, life restorations had to be stripped of all but the most essential bodily tissues, and occasionally even of those. Phillipps' Pterodactylus (above) is not an aberration, but the norm - right down to the erroneous dangling bat-posture. As it happens, I believe this is a rather effective plate - it's striking, nicely composed, and shows the animal's key attributes and overall form rather nicely, without being all dull and diagrammatical about it. So there.

...Having said all that, some of these illustrations are still pretty gruesome. Phillips' Rhamphorhynchus (above) is arguably not as extreme as William Stout's Quetzalcoatlus, but still resembles a nightmarish phantasm, a pitch-black, skeletal wraith ready to descend from the skies with an unearthly screech and peck Daniel Radcliffe's eye out. Rhamphorhynchus (is that really how you spell it?) was rather scary-looking anyway, what with its jagged array of grotesque, jutting teeth. Nevertheless, in the world of palaeoart at least, it has tended to come a distant second in the freakiness stakes to a certain big-bonced basal pterosaur found by Mary Anning...

...Except in this case, where Dimorphodon actually has rather a sad air about it. It's those cow-like chops, but more than that, it's that gaze - a wet-eyed look of wearisome resignation. Life just ain't fair if you're a sunken-headed pterosaur in an out-of-print children's book. Although clearly upset about its general appearance, the bat-like black colour scheme actually looks rather slick; as Christian Bale would tell you in between screaming at film crew, everything looks better in black. (Of course, my own tendency towards sombre attire might, er, colour my views, somewhat.) The fur is noteworthy - in spite of their rather emaciated appearance in the illustrations, pterosaurs are not described as panda-like evolutionary failures in this book. Rather, they are declared to be likely warm-blooded, active, and relatively intelligent.

But brains or no, pterosaurs do have an alarming tendency to end up as somebody's lunch in TMWoD. This particularly applies to Pteranodon, which not only seems to fly directly into a tyrannosaur's mouth on the cover, but is later caught unawares by a very Knightian mosasaur. Phillipps' skill with a brush comes to the fore here, as the swirling, tumultuous seascapes are quite beautifully painted. Given the artists' obvious talents in this area (and, er, rather similar works by Burian and Knight), the following piece seems, quite happily, inevitable...

LET THEM FIGHT! It's the classical scene of crest-backed mosasaur versus impossibly snake-necked, rearing elasmosaur; a retrospectively silly palaeoart trope that nevertheless produced some brilliantly exciting artwork. Like this. Phillipps can't top Burian's more realistic and well-informed approach, but this is still a wonderfully lively and engaging piece - from the furious vortex of the waves, to the creatures' bloody wounds reflecting the crimson sky. This painting, we now know, is fantastical...but you've got to love it anyway.

The illustration that's aged perhaps the most gracefully also features a marine reptile, namely Nothosaurus. No doubt it's not entirely correct (those eyes don't look to be in quite the right place, for one), but the body plan is there, as are the snaggly teeth, correctly showing variation in form. Most importantly*, it's very beautifully painted, with a naturalistic approach that seems to be missing from many of the dinosaurs in this book - maybe because they were thought of more as 'monsters'. I particularly like the eye. Reminds me of pigeons.

Similarly well-painted is this Ornithosuchus. The book follows the once-popular idea that this animal was ancestral to theropods, and the illustration makes the animal appear more theropod-like than it likely was (even if certain Triassic pseudosuchians really did end up looking quite theropodesque). In spite of any inaccuracies, this plate is highly evocative in placing the animal in a very naturalistic-looking environment. It just goes to show that, even when they don't really know the animals they're portraying, decent artists can still pull through in the end. (Whereas Pixelshack never will. Give it up, DK.)

And finally...over on our Facebook page, Fabian Wiggers asked if this post would feature "that duckbill leaning against a tree in an awkward way and trying to chew a droopy branch". Well, here it is. After being all effusive about those other pieces (or at least, I probably was from the point of view of marine reptile bods), I'll have to shrug my shoulders and admit that this one's pretty bad. It's retro in the worst, 'let's copy other artists and insert generic backgrounds and vague trees!' kind of way. It's brown and dull and wrinkly and blah.

Of course, it could be worse.

*What can I say? When I drink, I betray myself.

The TetZooCon was on

So, TetZooCon 2014 happened, and you won't hear a bad word said of it among those of us who attended. The event was a spin-off of the incredi-popular Tetrapod Zoology blog, authored by fish-hating mega-brain Darren Naish, and also the similarly named podcast, hosted by Darren and partner in tapir in-joke crime, John Conway. I'm sure neither will need an introduction around these parts; suffice it to say, the event reflected the incredibly diverse range of topics discussed on the blog and podcast, ranging from Dougal Dixon future-bats to false azhdarchid head nubbins, and from mermaids made from papier mach� and string to having a seabird land on one's head. And there was a quiz. And it was bonkers. But more on that shortly. (All photos by Niroot.)

Darren Naish

I'm afraid to say that I didn't have my onetime-coulda-been-a-journalist hat on for this one; quite apart from the fact that it doesn't fit very well any more, I'd paids my money and the choice I tooks was to sit back and enjoy the show. Therefore, I'll be taking the lazy option and basing my (brief) report on the schedule we were all given. I'm sorry. Sorta.

The Con was held at the London Wetland Centre, and opened with a talk from Darren himself on speculative zoology - its history and why we should give a flying flish about it. In doing so, he drew upon distinct strands of speculative zoology, including horrifying visions of the future, making (scientifically informed) shit up about the past, and inventing alternative timelines in which sapient iguanas won World War II. A personal highlight was a look at the work of Dougal Dixon, whose speculative zoological works included dinosaurs that (more-or-less) have since been discovered, silly dinosaurs, the aforementioned flightless bats, and Man After Man, which is not discussed in polite society. Darren also pointed out how, in spite of its apparently 'nitch' appeal, speculative zoology has proven to be incredibly popular; this prompted perhaps the most in-jokey slide of the show, which got a hearty chuckle from the audience. Here's looking at you, Raven Amos.

Mark Witton

 Darren's talk was followed by Mark Witton's, and the pair gave each other high-fives as their giant medallions swung about their necks (no, not really). Mark was there to discuss the history of research on azdarchid pterosaurs, they of the huge heads, wing spans and, of late, media presence. In doing so, he illuminated the thinking behind a number of palaeoart memes related to these animals, and Quetzalcoatlus in particular (a topic that has been covered on the Tet Zoo blog). Perhaps most notable for readers of this blog, we saw how a very brief paper on bits-and-pieces of pterosaur resulted in illustrator Giovanni Caselli tasked with drawing an animal that was 'really honkin' big', and otherwise left to his own devices. And so, the pin-headed nightmare monster was born. Later came Sibbick's Quetzalcoatlus, itself (like everything else by Sibbick, ever) copied endlessly in spite of mistakes borne of misinterpreted material.

Paolo Viscardi

The following two talks both concerned cryptozoology - a recurring subject on the blog, and also tying in neatly, of course, with the Cryptozoologicon Volume 1, which Darren and John worked on alongside Memo Kosemen. Paolo Viscardi's hugely entertaining history of 'Feejee' mermaids revealed how meticulous scientific analysis can yield surprising results from even obviously fake specimens. Long thought of as 'monkeys sewn to fish', it only took a cursory examination of the teeth to show that this most certainly wasn't the case - they had fish jaws! In fact, while the lower half (or at least the outside) was indeed a fish, the top half of each 'mermaid' - as revealed by CAT scanning - was composed of whatever odds and ends the manufacturers had to hand, including paper, wood and even balls of string. As revealed by Paolo, gullible Europeans parted with unimaginably huge sums of money for these forgeries, and - thanks to PT Barnum famously getting his hands on one - there are now forgeries of forgeries. Of course, there was also a look at the history of mermaids in folklore throughout the world, which gave the talk an intriguing anthropological bent.

Carole Jahme

 Similarly, Carole Jahme's talk - 'Was Caliban an Orang Pendek?' - was a concise, but thorough, look at the history of legendary 'wild men', supposedly happened upon by European explorers in Southeast Asia. So authoritative were such accounts, Linnaeus saw fit to include the likes of 'Homo sylvestri' in his Systema Naturae, albeit under the 'Paradoxa'. The title alluded to the notion that, given that Shakespeare moved among the circles of explorers, sailors and scientists, and often incorporated the latest scientific ideas into his plays, perhaps it wouldn't be too fanciful to suppose that Caliban was inspired by accounts of 'ape men' cryptids from exotic lands.

Then there was lunch, with fine company and a nice, cool beer. My first of many that day (I'm like that when I get chatty).

Helen Meredith

The beer was a tough act to follow, but Helen Meredith did an admirable job. Her talk posed the question: "What have amphibians ever done for us?" (Yes, there were Monty Python references.) Determined to convince us of the worthiness of the squishy-skinned ones, Helen made the case on several very important grounds. They're an important part of countless ecosystems throughout the globe, of course, and they're far more diverse and crazy than many people realise - ranging from terrifyingly gigantic Japanese giant salamanders to minuscule, limbless caecilians, which excite the herpy types no end (as Helen demonstrated with photos of herself and colleagues in the field). But there's more - we can still learn so much from amphibians that can be applied, in particular, to the field of medicine. Of course, there was also a highly entertaining sojourn into the world of frogs secreting psychotropic substances from their skin. You know, licking toad, man. All in all, brilliant stuff.

Mike Taylor

 You'd be forgiven for thinking that Mike Taylor (of SV-POW!) was tripping on frogs when he was reeling off facts and figures pertaining to the awesomeness of sauropod necks, but then such is the ridiculous massiveness - and neckiness - of those most preposterous of dinosaurs. Mike was there to reveal the secrets of sauropods' success; a combination of a big, sturdy gut-platform, a small head, an efficient, avian-like respiratory system, and highly specialised (and numerous) neck vertebrae. It's something that mammals, limited as they are by their evolutionary inheritance, will never manage - even if Mike conceded that giraffes do a pretty good job given their unfortunate circumstances. Oh, and he apologised again for the whole Giraffatitan thing. He hates the name, you know, but what can ya do...

The workshop - the audience could view the artists' progress on-screen. L-R: MC John Conway, Mark Witton, Bob Nicholls.

Dinosaurs continued to dominate in the palaeoart workshop, during which the audience - along with artists Mark Witton, Bob Nicholls, and John Conway - were asked to fashion a life restoration from a jumbled set of bones. With scientists in the audience chipping in with additional anatomical info, the three palaeoartists were able to conclude that the creature was an archosaur with long, sturdy hind limbs and a fat behind, but nevertheless came up with three very different imagined creatures.

Niroot's creation. ROTTEN CHEATER!

And no wonder - the illustration they were working from was of the Mantell-piece. Of course, quite a number of people in the audience realised this (including me), and consequently handed in any number of variations on an 'old-school Iguanodon'. And yeah, I contributed one of them. I'm a git.

Neil Phillips

 Photographer Neil Phillips was next, and what a treat he had in store - a series of stunning photos and videos of British wildlife, with all the entertaining anecdotes to match. Neil's been climbing around rocky islands, scrambling about in the darkness, freezing his arse off in a hide in the depths of winter, had birds run at him, attack him and land on his head, and smugly beat fellow photographers with expensive kit to the best shot. What a guy.

Then there was the quiz. The first question was easy - Tyrannosaurus rex, duh. Then it got difficult. Then it got stonkingly difficult. Niroot and I bashed our heads together and managed to walk away with third prize. First prize - a domestic pig skull - went to Kelvin Britton, who managed a frankly absurd 23 out of 30, the swine (djageddit?), while Richard Hing took second. The quiz ranged from the generic names of plesiosaurs, to shrews, to crocs, to bats, to whatever the hell the 10,000th comment on the blog was. (I still can't remember.)

Oh boy. (This photo courtesy of Darren.)

And finally - we went on a tour of the wetland centre. Then went to the pub, where I probably had one too many. You can't blame me - they had Fuller's ESB on cask. Fantastic beer.

NOT THE DUCKLINGS!

To conclude; a wonderful time was had by all, and I'd sincerely like to thank Darren, John and everyone involved in organising the day, not to mention everyone who put up with my inebriated ramblings at the pub. It was a rewarding day, I met wonderful people, and I hope to see even more there next year. (Oh yes, there'd better be a next year!)

Interview: Paleoartist Maija Karala

"Forest Green." A dandy paravian, � Maija Karala and used with her permission.

I'm always excited to see new work pop up in Maija Karala's DeviantArt gallery. A Finnish biologist and writer, her enthusiasm for biology also finds voice through her illustrations, which range from fleshed out scenes to charming sketches. I can't remember exactly when I began following Maija's illustrations, but I do remember being particularly struck by her Tarpan fending off a lion.


"Don't Mess With Tarpans." � Maija Karala and used with her permission.

Maija writes:

Here, a young cave lion is about to learn why one should be careful with tarpans. It's July somewhere close to the edge of the ice and the steppe-tundra is blooming. The plants depicted include Betula nana, Viscaria alpina, Rhododendron lapponicum, Orthilia secunda, Pedicularis sceptrum-carolinum and Dryas octopetala. Yes, the latter is the plant that was so common at the time at gave its name to the Dryas climatic periods.

It's a great example of the qualities I admire in much of her work: a sense of drama, subtle and naturalistic color, dedication to research, all wrapped up in an eminently approachable aesthetic. I was happy when Maija agreed to do an interview for Love in the Time of Chasmosaurs, so I could ask her more about how she works.

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What is your background as an artist? Is it your profession or hobby?
For me, art is mostly a hobby. I make my living as a science writer, mostly writing for newspapers and magazines. I do paid illustrations whenever I get a chance, but it's not very often. I'd love to do more of it, but the fact that I always thought it as just a hobby now hinders me a bit. As I haven't really practised my skills systematically, I only became good at the things I like doing.


"Hamipterus." � Maija Karala and used with her permission.

Do you get many opportunities to cover paleontology in your science writing?
I get to cover paleontology fairly often, though not as often as I'd like. A few articles per year or so. On my blog (which is unfortunately in Finnish, but can be found at http://planeetanihmeet.wordpress.com/) I do write a lot about paleontology and use my own illustrations as well.

Do you plan on continuing to do illustration as a hobby, or do you have professional aspirations?
I'm working to become a better artist, and I'd love to do more professional illustrations too. Though writing is probably still going to be my main occupation.

Was illustrating extinct animals always something you did or did you come to it later in life?
I drew dinosaurs as a kid, like everyone else, but stopped somewhere in my early teen years and only started again when I began my university studies, seven years ago (I studied biology). During the gap, I mostly drew fantasy creatures, dragons and elves and stuff. I think the main reason I started making paleoart was to find sort of a compromise between drawing fantasy creatures and being a science student. Illustrating extinct animals is firmly rooted in science, but also lets you use your imagination in a way not really possible with bioillustration.


"Eye Contact." Anurognathus ammoni, � Maija Karala and used with her permission.

At what point in an illustration do you focus on the eyes? It's often a striking element in your work, whether fantasy or paleoart.
I have never really thought about that. I do tend to think the eyes and expressions as the most important part of my drawings, as that's also what I pay the most attention when looking at live animals (or people, for that matter). Though I have no idea if everyone else does that too. After making a general sketch on what I want there to be and where, the eyes (or the facial areas in general) are usually the first thing I focus on.

You seem to be especially drawn to feathery theropods. Is this due to a bird interest or is there some aspect of their form that is especially fun to draw?
I think it's a bit of both. I like birds, sure. I also like drawing small and pretty animals. And feathers are always fun. Anyway, the main reason is probably that there's plenty of references and easily accessible knowledge available on feathered dinosaurs. It was an easy place to start back when I started making paleoart, and once I was familiar with them, it was also easy to continue.

Lately, I have been moving on to other critters as a part of trying to learn new things. My DeviantArt gallery is now starting to have more things like fossil mammals and non-dinosaurian archosaurs than feathered theropods on the first pages.

When illustrating an animal that has been covered by other illustrators, in what ways do you try to make it your own?
I always try to find other sources of inspiration besides other people's depictions of the same animal, sometimes actively avoiding looking at them when planning to make my own reconstruction. I often look up modern animals with somewhat similar ecology and use their soft tissues and behaviour as inspiration, but try never to directly copy anything. I mostly avoid using the most obvious colour themes or soft tissue ideas. That's not to say I never stumble on paleoart memes, but I do try to avoid it.


"The Feathered Yeti." Xiaotingia zhengi, � Maija Karala and used with her permission.

How much do comments on dA influence your work? For instance on your "Feathered Yeti," the comments get into some serious detail about integument. When posting work do you post with the expectation that you'll receive critique on areas you're not sure about?
To be honest, DeviantArt comments have probably been the most important thing pushing me to get better at making paleoart. These days I usually do my research before drawing, but especially earlier it was a great motivator to make embarrassing mistakes and get someone tell it to me. I'm pretty sure I never made the same mistake twice.

As I have mostly learned paleontology and anatomy on my own (for years, I had no paleontologically oriented friends nor any education on either subject), the criticism has been invaluable. I still greatly appreciate all the experts who go through the trouble to nitpick on amateur drawings.


"I Immediately Regret This Decision." Thalassodromeus attempting to eat Mirischia, � Maija Karala and used with her permission.

So, who are some of your favorite expert paleoartists? Is there a particular piece of advice or critique you received that has stuck with you?
I really like the works of people like Alain B�n�teau, Ville Sinkkonen, Carl Buell and Mauricio Anton, just to mention a few. My favourites are the people who can combine an expert understanding of science with truly beautiful art and get the animals to really come to life. I also really like Niroot's style. And John Conway's. And... ok, I'll stop here before the list becomes ridiculously long.

I don't think there's any particular piece of advice that has been especially memorable. It has been more about the general message that I need to know more. It's something I simply didn't get elsewhere for most of the time. As nobody I knew personally had the expertice to tell me the feet of my Quetzalcoatlus are wrong, most feedback was more like "oh, a nice dinosaur. What do you mean it isn't a dinosaur?".

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Thank you to Maija for answering my questions - and patiently waiting for me to have time to put the post together! I hope you'll stop by her DeviantArt gallery and leave some support and constructive criticism on her illustrations. Also check out the recent post at i09 featuring Maija's Protoceratops/ Griffin illustration.


"Go Home, Evolution." Atopodentatus, � Maija Karala and used with her permission.

Vintage Dinosaur Art: The Mysterious World of Dinosaurs

Contrary to the beliefs of some - who seem to think that I collect these books by holding a net out of the window and reciting an arcane incantation until obsolete illustrations start falling from the clouds - I do actually physically own the vast majority of the books I review in Vintage Dinosaur Art. As time goes on, finding fresh old books and not paying through the nose becomes increasingly difficult. Praise be, then, to the Amnesty International book shop in Brighton, which is where I happened to find this gem of a book on sale for a single quid. Stumbling across something like this, and being able to walk out of the shop with it in my clutches, is a real joy. And believe me, this book is a corker.

The unmitigated, gleeful pulpiness begins on the cover, where a tyrannosaur with a rather salamandery face is depicted effortlessly snagging a (rather small) Pteranodon from the sky. Or Pteranodon is shown to be a hopelessly careless flyer, depending on your point of view. It's the kind of dino-kitsch that I can't miss from a mile away. Can the rest of The Mysterious World of Dinosaurs (1980) be this wonderful? Of course it can.

The majority of the illustrations in this book are by W Francis Phillipps, who proudly signs each of his works...while notably failing to add 'after [insert name]' on each occasion when he is clearly, uh, borrowing from another artist. Typically it's Burian, although the above illustration, depicting Allosaurus attacking one of those cheapy hollow sauropods you decapitated as a kid (just me?), seems to be based far more on a classic work by Knight. (EDIT: Terry N Thielen, on Facebook, reminded me of a Rod Ruth painting that this is a dead ringer for. Of course, it's not like I reviewed Ruth's work before...oh, wait.) The painterly (take a shot!) style is certainly attractive, and Phillipps is excellent at evoking a forbidding, ominous mood in his pieces; the muted, swampy browns and greens are both sombre and primordial, not to mention very reminiscent of Burian. It's a shame, then, that he doesn't really know his dinosaurs much. At all. Case in point: the next time Allosaurus appears in this book, it is depicted sneaking up behind a happily browsing Stegosaurus. But wait...isn't that...? Hang on a minute!

Up from the depths! Thirty stories high! Go go iffy perspective!

Fortunately, Allosaurus looks a little more like a normal (non-mutant, non-rubbery) theropod in the next scene. Unfortunately, that theropod is a tyrannosaur.

There's an awful lot to love about this image, and I might just have to have it printed on a t-shirt. I mean, Stegosaurus is often depicted flailing its spiny bits around in the faces of assailing theropods - after all, what else is supposed to do? Sprout pointy teeth and attack with the other end, too? But of course! In this scene, it's hard to tell who's attacking whom - which has a lot to do with the look of relish on the face of the stegosaur, angry eyebrows and all. It's all Allosaurus' fault for taking that oddly spreadeagled approach, which looks like it would be about as effective for attacking opponents as a member of the Brazilian football team.

Rather more successful in the predatory stakes is (not so) Sexy Rexy himself, here depicted in a guise about as aesthetically pleasing as a Range Rover Evoque. Classic old school palaeoart tropes on show here are the generic head that pays little heed to the skull, including uniform teeth; the lumpen, wrinkly body; and the upright posture. It's also - yet again - depicted tackling Styracosaurus, an animal from millions of years prior. Still, the massiveness of the thighs is at least a step up from the weed-o-muscles depicted in earlier artworks, and that lighting is fantastic. Just look at the gorgeous sunset reflecting on Rexy's chops! You can almost feel it. Lovely.

As an aside, there are very few depictions of bones in this book. (Hey, bones are boring, right? Who needs 'em?) One exception is this painting of a T. rex skull that has gone, er, a little awry. Clearly, the artist had reference material available to them, as the basic shape is there - but they might have been better off just pulling off a tracing job. That mandible...yeesh.

But back to the life restorations. Rexy might be a little tubby, but he has nothing on Gorged-o-saurus (below), who resembles the lovechild of Godzilla and that weird turd monster he battled once. The overall shininess of this creature's latex-like hide and its rotund shape are both reminiscent of some of Burian's work, although Burian tended to avoid the mistake of giving his theropods 'wide gauge' hips. I should point out again, however, that that background really is quite something; imagine a Wayne Barlowe dinosaur in there, and you'd have an instant classic.

Gorgo's gormlessness is matched by Iguanodon, here depicted in classic upright guise, and with erroneous extra teeth. The overall look of the creature is, again, highly reminiscent of Burian, while the obligatory dewlap is a trope that probably originated in Neave Parker's work. Nice sky, mind.

Perhaps the most blatant Burian rip-offs of all occur in the book's sauropod section. Not only is there a snorkelling brachiosaur that's a straight-up (mirrored) copy, the below 'brontosaur' is also derivative of a Burian painting, with a few modifications. Still, I love the head. Is this proof that artists working on copycat palaeoart in the late '70s and early '80s had the foresight and anatomical intuition to realise that sauropods' fleshy nostrils likely resided near the ends of their snouts, in spite of the bony nasal openings being above the eyes? No.

And finally...Archaeopteryx. Because you've got to have Archaeopteryx. It's a fairly typical effort that includes the usual slight misunderstanding of how primary feathers attach to the hand. Aside from that, and the oft-utilised blue/green colouration, and the strangely curving mouth (moreso on the one I had to crop out), it's not too bad. I haven't mentioned the text of this book yet; perhaps I should have done, for not only is it dramatic and slightly florid in the tradition of vintage kiddies' dinosaur books, it also features such wonderful lines as this:

"It [Archaeopteryx] was about the size of a pigeon and although feathered, had reptilian scales on its legs..."

I suppose if you don't count feet as part of the legs...there's still not a great deal of evidence that Archaeopteryx had scaly legs. Not to mention the fact that the legs are feathered in the illustration. Birds: someday, nobody will have a problem with the idea that they're reptiles.

And that's all for now. But I haven't finished with this book yet; far from it. Next week, zombie pterosaurs, and Knightian plesiosaurs rise again!

Vintage Dinosaur Art: The Mighty Giants

Welcome back to the wonderful world of old-school dinosaur books - hey, it's been a while. The Mighty Giants - part of the Dinosaur World Pop-Up Books series (which ran to at least two books, apparently) - was published in 1988, but for all its scientific infidelity, it might as well have been published in 1978...or 1968. Yes, it's one of those. Hold on to your pear-shaped tyrannosaurs and oddly uniform teeth, everyone!

Long-term readers of the blog - who are so committed that we should probably all gather together for a cult-like mass marriage ceremony, before downing a fittingly toxic cocktail - may well remember that I am very fond of pop-up books. Sadly, there's nothing particularly inventive about the paper engineering in The Mighty Giants - some parts of the scene are raised up above others, and that's about it. In other words, it feels like an unnecessary gimmick, rather than genuinely adding to the enjoyment of turning the pages. This being so, it is left to the illustrations to entertain on their own merits. The cover, with its ever-so-shy tyrannosaur coyly sidestepping an extremely shiny-beaked Triceratops, is a good start, but there's much better inside.

The Mighty Giants doesn't waste any time in the rubbish Triassic, when dinosaurs were forced to elbow aside freakish psuedosuchians and the like for attention. Instead, we're immediately presented with a full-spread Apatosaurus - which, let's not forget, was also known as Brontosaurus (mostly thanks to books like this) - being accosted by four-toes-forward Allosaurus. I like the wartiness of Allosaurus, and at least there's a hint of a horn there. Still, this is seriously retro stuff for 1988, helped in no small part by the blatant Burian nod in the upper right.

Among the onlookers are this pair of rather man-in-suit Ceratosaurus, who as usual are loitering around on the sidelines while Allosaurus does all the hard work. Poor Ceratosaurus - its pop culture reputation has hardly improved since.

Then there's this thing. Good grief. I think this was intended to represent Ornitholestes, in which case it's still bloody odd-looking, if not so anachronistic. Its peculiar, no-neck appearance reminds me of the equally bizarre Coelophysis present in the first book I ever reviewed for this blog. Ah, those were the days.

Following this single Jurassic scene, The Mighty Giants moves on to the Late Cretaceous, by far the best part of the Mesozoic because, well, tyrannosaurs. In spite of this ostensibly being a scene of predatory chase, the animals here appear oddly static. The landscape is quite beautifully painted, but the dinosaurs are rather dreadfully retro, perhaps none more so than the foreground hadrosaurs.

While both follow the 'gangly dork' and toothy-beaked tropes, the "Trachodon" (read Edmontosaurus) gains an edge by further sporting webbed fingers. Both hadrosaurs look quite disgusted at the prospect of having to wade further into the water, which actually looks quite inviting, if I dare say so myself. Meanwhile, Polacanthus is just happy to be alive. Blimey, it's been hanging around for a while. I'm sure that suffering the indignity of being referred to as a 'giant lizard' was quite worth it.

The inevitable T. rex-and-foes spread is a little underwhelming, with assorted Hell Creek herbivores appearing understandably unconcerned by the presence of an ineffective, doddery, wrinkly, monarchical lurker, the dinosaur equivalent of Prince Charles. With a colour scheme that harkens back to (superior) Bernard Robinson illustrations and a misplaced earhole reminiscent of poorly-researched '70s crapness, Rexy is rather less than Sexy here. Still, I do enjoy the painterly foliage, moody sky and effective composition. The quality of the painting adds to my overall impression that illustrator Mike Peterkin probably produced some much better work, and that this dinosaur thing was just a job. Sorry for dragging it up again, Mike.

What Pachycephalosaurus thinks it's doing is anyone's guess. Perhaps it's trying to attack Rexy, in which case it's fatally misjudged just how far into the background it is. That's what you get for closing your eyes when you aim at people.

The background of the scene is occupied by a gaggle of Parasaurolophus in curiously John McLoughlin mode; check out the pins on the running individual to the right.

And to cap off what has, admittedly, been a rather brief post...marine reptiles. Meh. These ain't no dinosaurs! Still, there are plenty of memes to be had here, from the crested mosasaur to the craning, pterosaur-grabbing elasmosaur. Kronosaurus resembles a hollow plastic toy crocodile, while there's a fish for every Pteranodon in this utopian vision. Wonderful stuff.

Coming up next time: something far more substantial!