Vintage Dinosaur Art: Purnell's Find Out About Prehistoric Animals - Part 2

Because I can't in all good conscience review a book with 'Prehistoric Animals' in the title and only cover the dinosaurs, behold various non-dinosaurs from Purnell's 1976 guide to long-dead beasties. (There's also a tiresomely long section on how MAN evolved to DOMINATE the Earth by being SUPERIOR to the other creatures by virtue of having a large brain, dextrous hands, and other noted attributes of MANLINESS. It's as 1970s as an brightly-coloured Ford Cortina, which you'd be far better off looking at. Here you go.) Where better to start than with a pterosaur being munched? Stupid pterosaurs.

As I mentioned last time, none of the illustrations in Purnell's are credited, which is always a real shame. However, it seems a fair bet that the above piece is by Sibbick - just check out that minute detailing. While the pterosaur fuzz is commendably up-to-date for 1976, the plesiosaur's head is way off; it somewhat resembles that of a generic theropod dinosaur. Of course, it could have the mop-haired, bulbous noggin of the Mayor of London stuck on there for all it matters - the sheer Sibbickness of it all makes every last skin fold completely believable. You could take a fuzzy photograph of this, send it to a cryptozoology periodical and become famous. Among a very select group of people. Now there's a thought...

Plesiosaurs may be the most famous non-dinosaurian long-necked reptiles, but Triassic weirdo Tanystropheus has surely made quite a name for itself, too. Given its preposterous proportions, I've got to commend the artist for taking on such a tricky perspective; you've also got to love those bulging red eyes. "This very peculiar animal must have led a difficult life," the accompanying text intones, but the example illustrated here looks like it's having a ball.

Back to plesiosaurs, although Kronosaurus was of the short-necked, big-headed variety. Beautiful shading, but the artist may have given the animal an unduly long neck and tail - the eyes are also misplaced, although at least the nostrils are commendably retracted [EDIT - in fact, the eyes and nostrils are in the wrong holes, as pointed out by Adam Smith in the comments! Can't believe I missed that one]. (Famously, a Kronosaurus skeleton was once reconstructed with far too many vertebrae, leading to hyperbolic size estimates in kids' books that the real animal can't quite match. It was 6 or 7 metres long, akin to Liopleurodon, which itself was once restored as a kaiju, but that's another story.) There's an enjoyable sense of motion about this piece, particularly where the animal is swinging its head around to snap at passing fish.

The same artist (seemingly) also illustrated the giant mosasaur Tylosaurus in full old Chaz Knight mode, complete with darling dorsal crest. Yes, the head is...a bit weird-looking, but, blimey, what a dramatic image. The big old lizard looks positively terrifying as it lunges after Archelon, the only extinct turtle anyone's ever heard of, here depicted seemingly as a skeleton with fins and a face. The deranged look in the mosasaur's eyes as it lunges forth is just fantastic.

While mosasaurs are almost always given a full set of luscious lizardy 'lips', there's a strange tendency in palaeoart for the infamously serpentine whale Basilosaurus to be drawn without them, even to the point of having completely exposed teeth, croc-style (as above). As I understand it, there's no evidence that Basilosaurus had a 'melon' or similar organ, but there's also no reason to suspect that it didn't have lips (readers are welcome to chime in). In any case, this is otherwise a fairly decent reconstruction with a very Burianesque feel, especially with the swirling, inky gloom surrounding the animal.

Purnell's makes plenty of room for extinct mammals of all sorts, of course, and here we have a fine example of an illustrastion of Paraceratherium, aka Indricotherium, aka Baluchitherium, etc. etc. There's a faintly terrifying sinewy muscularity about this beast, somewhat reminiscent of certain '70s illustrations of sauropods, only here it makes rather more sense. Clearly an animal suited to professional wrestling and appearing on the cover of certain...very specialist magazines. Rippling, glistening, and very well shaded, actually. Not that you'd dare insult it, anyway.

Lovely as the monochrome plates are, there comes a time when one cries out for a little colour. So here it is, in the form of the slightly strange not-rhinoceros, Arsinoitherium. Although superficially rhino-like, and normally illustrated as such (as above), it was actually more closely related to modern-day elephants; unlike rhinos, its horns had bony cores. While the above piece is probably modelled on modern-day rhinos a bit too closely, the use of perspective is marvellous, as is the quite impressionistic foliage; one feels like it's possible to reach out and touch that wrinkly grey flesh. At which point you'd probably be horribly gored. I don't like the look in its piggy eyes.

And finally...a dinosaur! Because I'm just a terrible, terrible liar. On the other hand, it is Archaeopteryx, which was always filed away under 'non dinosaur' in kids' books back in the day and the Natural History Museum's dinosaur gallery right now. Anyways, this is fairly typical of the genre, what with the individual with outstretched wings and misplaced digits, although I very fond of the rufous red colouration of the plumage, and the animals' wings are quite beautifully drawn otherwise. Not too much of a lizardy git face going on, either, which is always pleasing to see. A salute to you, uncredited illustrator, wherever you are.

Coming up next time: I'm not sure. But I'm off to Berlin next week (finally!), so perhaps I'll write something about that...

Vintage Dinosaur Art: Purnell's Find Out About Prehistoric Animals

Not for the first time, here's a fantastic 1970s book on prehistoric animals from Purnell, purveyors of fine model photography and anachronistic pop-up battles. Find Out About Prehistoric Animals is considerably more hefty than any Purnell to previously feature on this blog, and it's gloriously packed full of wonderfully retro illustrations from a number of artists. While individual pieces aren't credited, we are at least informed that the artists included Eric Jewell Associates, Illustra, John Barber, Angus McBride, Sean Rudman, Dan Escott, Colin Rattray, Vanessa Luff, Gerry Embleton, Phil Green, George Underwood and - oh yes - John Sibbick. Nine years before even the Normanpedia. Blimey.

Could Sibbick have been behind the main cover image? Maybe - the skin textures are certainly quite Sibbickian, but this bizarre, super-'70s Corythosaurus is far from the Sibb we're familiar with. The poor web-fingered freak appears to be stuck in a very painful squat, while its speckled belly resembles an enormous egg. It looks like it should be wearing an oversized white apron (with the legend 'KISS THE KREST') and carrying a spatula.

While there isn't half as much saurian diversity as the previous weeks' '80s fare, we are still treated to some large, often quite imaginative reconstructions of the Usual Suspects. These Diplodocus are beautifully painted,  with lovely dappled skin patterns, and the composition is certainly unusual. Interaction with conspecifics - you wouldn't have seen that in a '60s book. Of course, the animals do appear disoncertingly eel-like (eely? Eelish?), and why does only one of them have a seam-like frill adorning its neck? Sexual dimorphism?

These brontosaurs are altogether more familiar-looking...as well they should be. This is undoubtedly one of Sibbick's; not only is the technique a dead giveaway, but Sibbick would go on to produce a strikingly similar brontosaur piece for WHEN DINOSAURS RULED THE EARTH. While WDRTE's blunt-headed, enormously fat creatures were quite inexplicable in the 1980s, at least the blimp-o-saurs make rather more sense here (given what his contemporaries were producing). Note the hand of the background individual, which sports no fewer than five little claws on its fat stumpy fingers. Of course, none of this is to say that it isn't as astonishingly, intricately detailed and shaded as one would expect from Sibbick - just as in the Normanpedia, he's a dab hand at making what would otherwise be hilariously obsolete-looking creations appear far, far too convincing.



While Sibbick's brontosaurs need to cut down on their pork life, mate, and get some exercise, this artist's brachiosaurs have managed to remain quite svelte - it's a wonder what a diet of low-lying fern cover will do for one's figure. The background individual appears quite conventional, albeit very muscular. The foreground animal, however, has a number of odd touches, not least the remarkably thin neck, smooshed-looking head and neck seam (what is it with those?). The arms remind me of Blackgang Chine's old model, which has now gone to the Great Skip in the Sky (or more likely, at the bottom of the sea). Noteworthy: all of the sauropods here are out on dry land. This was a key evolution of 1970s palaeoart; books that feature swamp-bound sauropods are a sure indicator that the author, artists, or both really didn't know what they were doing.

Of course, you were all wondering what that caption was about in the top right. Well, here's your answer. Apropos of nothing, brachiosaurs at play! Take that, All Yesterdays! Who's to say that pea-brained twenty tonne lummox-o-pods were bereft of a touch of mischief, or even sportsmanship? A brachiosaur would be ideally suited to the fine game of rugger. Werner at the back is currently playing for the Welsh side. Of course, such horseplay comes with more than a little rib-crushing danger, but it's nothing that your average pro rugby player isn't used to.

The same artist (or so it seems; again, individual pieces aren't credited) provides an illustration of a marauding horde of Iguanodon, off on their way to carelessly fall into a crevasse in Belgium and die (too much Gulden Draak?). While some of the background animals strike amusing poses, at least they've managed to unflex their elbows - the two in the foreground are afflicted by an unfortunate case of Chronic Palaeoart Trope. As was seemingly quite often the case in '70s illustrations of Iguanodon, they also have very thick vertical creases running down their stout necks, although they are not exaggerated as much here as elsewhere. If anything, the muscularity of these creatures is to be commended given the time. Furthermore the shading is, again, quite lovely. I'm even quite fond of the gnarled-looking noggin of the beast on the left. Who's to say that Iguanodon was a noble-looking reptilo-horse? Maybe it really was a bit offensive to look at.

Now, everyone knows that Iguanodon had its famous stabby thumbs - in addition to its (no doubt) terrible complexion - with which to ward off the great predators of its day. But what of other dinosaur prey items? Happily, Purnell's is on hand to explain, and with illustrations, too! In the above piece, we see a superb example of a cryptically camouflaged Camptosaurus, hiding from a salivating glove puppet with tiny, creepy, humanoid arms. Beautifully done with the camptosaur, but that warty spindle-armed fellow is one creepy brute. He needs a monocle.

Elsewhere, we see herbivores get a little more 'proactive' in their defence, 'taking the initiative' and showing that they can 'work well independently as well as part of a team'. In the above piece, clearly heavily inspired by Burian, a sprawled, squat scolosaur defends itself from a seriously wide gauge Gorgosaurus, the victim of a lack of three-dimensional references available to the artist. Remember, kids - tyrannosaurs did not resemble a ripe squash. Although if you did enter this tyrannosaur into your local village fete, it'd win first prize every time. Take that, Scolosaurus! Your peculiar nose horn won't save you from landing the wooden spoon.

Gorgo might be a little lardy, but at least he doesn't suffer the fate of Rexy, who inevitably ends up getting a little too close to the problematic end of everyone's favourite extinct horned beast that didn't have any hair, Triceratops. While images of T. rex v Triceratops face-offs - even gory ones - are more common than rock doves in a labyrinthine multi-storey car park, it's rare that Rexy ends up with a metre-long horn stabbing him right in the neck. Ouch.

And finally...because one simply can't have enough Rexy-on-Trike action, Purnell's gives us Round 2. Here, Rexy just looks like he wasn't looking where he was going - no doubt distracted by what an unusually beautiful day it was, the poor chap has managed to stumble straight into a multi-tonne animal with a big beak and a bigger temper. This appears to be another early Sibbick (although I could be wrong), in which case the differences between this, the Normanpedia, and his '90s work are very interesting. If anything, the head on this Tyrannosaurus makes more sense than the croco-rex of the Normanpedia, but is worlds away from his '90s work. Nice neck seam, though.

Next time: Purnell's non-dinosaurs! Because I can't not include pterosaur-nabbing plesiosaurs.

Vintage Dinosaur Art: The Superbook of Dinosaurs

Given the despairingly awful recent parliamentary election result in the country in which I happen to live, it's a good thing that Vintage Dinosaur Art is on hand to cheer everyone up. Especially as I've been quite looking forward to writing about this one - it might mostly be a fairly typical book of the period (1985), but it features a few tropetastic pieces that definitely raise a smile. Furthermore, much of the art is actually pretty good - at least at a technical level - and there are one or two early pieces from now well-established names. It's no less than The Superbook of Dinosaurs!

The cover (also featured inside) is instantly recognisable as a Bernard Robinson piece, what with its hyper-detailed scalation and distinctly reptilian dinosaurs. We've looked at Robinson's work plenty of times before, but to recap, he was largely active in the '70s and '80s and produced a great deal of illustrations featuring convincingly detailed and fleshy dinosaurs that were nevertheless of a rather old-school, lizardy bent. This is mostly evidenced in their rather puny Knightian limb musculature; note the toothpick arms on the T. rex above. Hopelessly outdated as it now is, his work still has a palpable solidity and 'reality' about it, and certainly left a great impression on many childhood dinosaur enthusiasts. Plus, I can't help but feel that more people should try giving Tyrannosaurus glassy black eyes. Like a doll's eyes...

As is typical, the book covers more of Palaeozoic life than is really necessary for a title that is ostensibly about dinosaurs, and so we are presented with a highly detailed Dimetrodon basking on what appears to be the surface of Mars. It's tempting to ascribe this to Robinson too, but a signature in the bottom right informs us otherwise - why, it's none other than J. Sibbick himself! These days, Sibbick has developed a unique style that is recognisable from forty paces, but one would be hard-pressed to pin this piece on the palaeoillustration stalwart; it's clear that his technique evolved quite quickly between this and the Normanpedia, which is still recognisably 'Sibbick'. It's also interesting to compare this work with a later illustration that appeared in Dinosaurs: a Global View, particularly in terms of how the palaeoenvironment in the latter is far more richly realised.

Onwards to the Triassic, and back to Bernard Robinson. A spread on the 'rise of the dinosaurs' is dominated by a Robinson illustration of a Plateosaurus being mauled by a, shall we say, rather fanciful-looking Ornithosuchus (not a dinosaur, but a croc-line archosaur). Although armour-plated, the latter still suspiciously resembles some sort of basal theropod dinosaur here; not surprising, as the text describes it as such, reflecting what was for a long time the consensus view on the animal's phylogeny. In any case, I love that the Ornithosuchus-thing has managed to grab a great wad of plateosaur flesh in its jaws. Looks painful.

Curiously, this spread also features a photograph of a nicely made model Ornithosuchus that is proportioned rather more like how it is envisaged nowadays, i.e. with a shorter neck and larger head, more croc-like than dinosaur-like. This looks like something that might have come out of The Age of Dinosaurs: a Photographic Record, although I can't find my copy to confirm [EDIT: it isn't - see comments].

Happily, it's not all hyper-detailed scaliness all the time here, and as the book enters the Late Jurassic we are treated to this monstrosity. Darren Naish looked at this piece back in 2010 as part of his examination of the 'freaky giraffoid Barosaurus meme' - it dates to 1975, and unfortunately I can't shed any more light on who the artist was (as none of the pieces in the Superbook are credited). As Darren noted, this illustration seems to take the famous Bakker barosaurs as its starting point, and then splices in elements of racehorses for a thoroughly horrifying beastie mish-mash.

While the giraffe-like flexi-tongue is troublesome enough, it's that steroidal musculature that truly unsettles. It's almost certainly an example of Dinosaur Renaissance thinking taken rather too far - an over-reaction to the outdated views of the palaeontological 'old guard'. Yes, sauropods certainly weren't blobsome fatties that floated around in fetid swamps all day, their eyes glazed over, barely good for anything except reliably being elected as the Tory MP for Mid Sussex. However, they also weren't out declaring that they, in fact, had the power, battling Skeletor and making rubbish friends designed to pad out the action-figure range. What I'm saying is, it's creepy. Really creepy.

As the Superbook moves on in to the Cretaceous, so it wheels out the marginocephalians, the headbutting, tyrannosaur-foiling heroes of the children. The illustration of two pacycephalosaurs having at it (above) is intriguing, and may well be another very early Sibbick (although don't quote me on that; it's not credited). The striped blue and orange colour scheme is rather natty, and I like that they're placed in a topographically varied setting. On the other hand, there's something rather odd about their necks, which seem distinctly sinewy rather than necessarily muscular. The two animals also seem to be missing each other, although that could well be intentional. Not too bad for the time, in any case.

It's probably best you don't pay too much attention to that Triceratops skeleton. Here's looking at you.

Elsewhere, we have this rather poor Burian knock-off, in which the ankylosaur has been slightly repositioned in order to be delivering a mild reprimand to its classically well-fed gorgosaur opponent. Take that, fatso!

And before you know it, we've reached The End of an Era. There are a few palaeoart memes present in this illustration, not least those of the 'gangly dork hadrosaur' and the disturbing, tiny-handed, stilt-legged ornithomimosaur. Absolutely any reference material on ornithomimosaurs will tell you that their fingers were actually quite long, so how exactly they kept ending up with miniscule, often disturbingly humanoid hands in palaeoart is something of a mystery. Equally, the 'gangly dork' hadrosaur, with its peculiarly long, thin legs, truncated arms and determinedly upright posture, is arguably just as far from the mark as even the Burian-era tail-draggers. But then, such is the power of the palaeoart meme.

Having said all that, I do like that the illustrator of the above piece thought to include (what I take to be) a champsosaur rather than a generic 'modern-style' crocodilian; it's a nice reminder of that oft-forgotten reptile group that survived the K/Pg event, only to go extinct later. The poor sods.

So, the dinosaurs are gone, but the book goes on to remind us of all the wonderful institutions in which we can view their fossilised remains and even, occasionally, the odd lovingly-created diorama...such as the one above. Granted, the grey colouration is a little dull, but the model Rexies still have a pleasingly lean, 'modern' appearance for the era. The book only mentions these as being on display in 'a museum', so I'd love to hear from any readers who have any inkling as to exactly which museum this was displayed in [EDIT: it was the Smithsonian! Again, see comments].

And finally...seemingly from the same artist who brought us the 'giraffoid barosaur', here we have a classic 'size comparison chart' featuring a procession of disturbingly veiny, oily brutes, including one of the oddest Iguanodon I've seen since that one with the theropod head. I shared this picture over on the Facebook page, and comments on the spiky-thumbed one's neck compared it to "an Egyptian-style hair piece" (Saka Haumavarga) and "a squash" (Blake � Murch�). Talcott Star, meanwhile, remarked on the animal's proximity to Procoptodon, "just in case there was any doubt as to where that pose came from", while Benjamin Hillier remarked that the human had to be (British actor, TV host and archaeological dig enthusiast) Tony Robinson (owing to his diminutive stature). I don't know, Benjamin - based on the below comparison, I think they might be on the money...

Photo by Niroot.

Vintage Dinosaur Art: WHEN DINOSAURS RULED THE EARTH

With 1980s-style dinosaurs once again grabbing everyone's attention, thanks to the recent trailer for the long-delayed instalment of a certain cinematic franchise, it's only fitting that my latest book is a seminal specimen from the era. Hailing from around the same time as the Normanpedia,WHEN DINOSAURS RULED THE EARTH (which absolutely must be written in all-caps) sees Norman and Sibbick team up again, but this time the results are a little more fun (while avoiding anachronistic humans and dinosaurs made up by Ray Harryhausen). The cover says it all.

While Sibbick's artwork for the Normanpedia was very beautiful and hugely influential (to say the least), it was also a little retrograde in depicting rather static, shapeless flesh mountains, and fudging a lot of the finer anatomical details. This may well have been due to the constraints inherent in the need to produce 'spotter's guide'-type diagnostic illustrations, because the broadly similar-looking dinosaurs in WDTRE show a lot more dynamism. Just take a look at the cover - as if the brutal scene of predation (and tyrannosaur leering out at the viewer) weren't enough, everything's ON FREAKIN' FIRE thanks to a spot of obligatory Mesozoic volcanic activity. Note the tottering Corythosaurus in the background; the illustrations here continue to depict bipedal dinosaurs (or, those walking bipedally) in a largely upright posture. Still, at least Rexy is looking a lot more Sexy than in the Normanpedia, if a little sinister. As well he might.

Rexy's predatory exploits continue inside, where he's pictured standing like a big game hunter atop an unfortunate baby chasmosaur. One noteworthy aspect of the art in this book is the use of sloping and uneven ground, which isn't as common in palaeoart as you might think; in fact, Mark Witton specifically critiqued how illustrations often make the Mesozoic appear fit for Dalek conquest. While rocky mesas quickly become a bit of a trope, the scenes show a lot more variety than those in the Normanpedia, and the action quotient is ramped up considerably. Rexy is quite resplendent here, especially when compared with the weirdo, croc-headed Normanpedia version

Of course, the world's favourite theropod movie star can't have everything in his own way, and upon demanding a jacked-up salary and 30% of the proceeds from Jurassic World, he is promptly felled by an inaccurately rendered Euoplocephalus. Illustrations like this were quite common back in the day, but this is definitely one of my favourites - Sibbick's hyper-realistic style combines with the unfortunate perspective to make the puny-armed one look quite hilarious. One can almost picture the legs flailing around in the air while the creature screams like Wario.

Ankylosaurs spend a lot of time squatting around on the ground in WDRTE, as demonstrated by Scelidosaurus here. This piece is a particular favourite of mine for the depiction of Megalosaurus which, while a little on the chubby side, nevertheless has a convincingly mad, stupid look in its eyes. It's the piercing gaze of a slightly dim reptilian animal, and it's amazing how little palaeoart manages to nail that. The relatively 'modern' posture of the individual in the centre contrasts with the more upright posture of those in the foreground (which I've had to crop off, unfortunately) and background. Palaeoart was still going through that awkward transition, with the tail-dragging behemoths still persisting even as leaner, meaner tiresome clich�s were emerging...

...Like this one! Anyone's who's visited the Natural History Museum in London will probably remember how dark, cramped and scientifically outdated its dinosaur gallery was. They'll probably also remember the giant reproductions of spectacular John Sibbick artworks, one of which depicts a gang of Deinonychus athletically leaping onto an unfortunate Tenontosaurus. This similar piece can perhaps be considered a 'prototype'. While both works feature scaly Deinonychus (as was still considered acceptable at the time), the animals in the NHM piece appear more birdlike and sleek. Even so, the Deinonychus in the above painting are still a progression from the Normanpedia's disturbing, aye-aye fingered lizardy fellow, astonishingly convincing though it was at the time.

WDRTE clearly freed Sibbick to explore more unusual perspectives in his work, as demonstrated in the above piece, where the viewer takes on the perspective of an encroaching allosaur (note the shadow) and hence gains an idea of what it would be like to take on the spiky-tailed one. There are certainly problems here (not least the stegosaurs' drastically shortened tails), but this different approach is commendable, as is the unusual depiction of a rearing, tripod Stegosaurus. Note also the curling fingers of the Allosaurus - there is a tendency for artists to depict theropods with permanently extended digits, in spite of the fact that they often retained a lot of flexion in them.

Not every scene features a fight to the saurian death - herbivores are allowed to just do their own thing now and then. The pretty panorama above features a herd of Camptosaurus, without a hungry predator or scene-stealing sauropod in sight. The curling black tongue of the foreground individual might be a nod to old illustrations of Iguanodon, which often depicted it with a giraffe-like prehensile tongue for no good reason. There's a fair amount of awkwardly limp tail-dragging, but by and large it's aged better than...

...the book's depiction of Apatosaurus, a blunt-headed, Burianesque, proper brontosaur of a beast, decked out in drab Elephantine Grey and hanging around a generic Jurassic oasis. It might be 'cos I grew up in the 1990s (and was thus duly brainwashed with images of relatively spritely sauropods), but I really can't stand these things. At least Baby Bronto is quite the cutie. D'awwww.

I couldn't end on such a note, however, so here's another of my favourites - Plateosaurus in a thunderstorm. With Sibbick, it's all about the superfine details, and the way the rain palpably lashes against the plateosaur's skin in this illustration is simply marvellous. This illustration was one of many by Sibbick that really brought the Mesozoic alive for me as a kid, and fired my fascination with prehistory (that went away, and then came back again). I should mention that I know these illustrations from another source - namely, a promotional tie-in for PG Tips teabags. Sections of the illustrations were printed onto collectible cards, which could then be pasted onto the full illustration in an album, thus completing the picture. One could also buy a plush T. rex, and my mum's boss acquired one for me - I named him T. Tips (geddit?). Ah, thems were the days.

But enough shameless dino-nostalgia - there's enough of that being peddled by Hollywood these days. I'm off to eBay to try and find a new old dinosaur book. See you when!