Unquiet
Things

In our world often overcome with noise and clamor, there is a solace of stillness to be found in the art of Julius Sergius von Klever. Step into his hushed canvases, and you’ll be transported to landscapes that whisper promises of peace, perspective, and quiet contemplation. A realm where nature’s quiescence reigns supreme, the only sound is the gentle rustling lullaby of the wind.

Born in Estonia in 1850, von Klever captured the essence of the Baltic landscape. His brushstrokes conjured the hushed majesty of snow-laden forests, the fading light of a winter day as the sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the snow-covered fields. The sky is ablaze with coral and violet, creating a stunning contrast to the pristine white panorama. The trees, their branches laden with snow, stand as silent sentinels, their silhouettes etched against the twilight sky.

And not just the spectacle of wintry splendor! There are autumnal reveries, nocturnal seaside visions, forested mushroom rambles, and thrilling horseback apparitions! All of these scenes are windows into spaces untouched by modern frenzy, the air is crisp and invigorating, the colors muted and yet somehow so incredibly alive, a palette rich with earthy greens, muted blues, and the occasional burst of golden sunlight. The figures, if present at all, are overshadowed by the grandeur of nature, reminding us of our own smallness in the face of something astonishing and enduring. But von Klever’s art is not without its own quiet drama. In the play of light and shadow on a towering oak, in the swirling mist over a distant lake, there is a hidden mystery, a murmuring of secrets waiting to be discovered.

There is a sense of timelessness in von Klever’s work. His landscapes are not frozen moments but rather seem to breathe and evolve with each passing season. They are a reminder that the natural world is a resilient and constant ever-changing entity, and that we are but a small part of its grand narrative, that beauty and wonder still exist in the world–despite our our very worst destructive human tendencies and our everyday commotion and chaos.

I made a playlist many years ago inspired by one of this artists’ paintings. I revisited it the other day, which inspired a closer look at his work and, eventually, this blog post. You can listen to it here: “Holding Up All This Falling.”

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The Art of Darkness has a Spanish-language edition!

I don’t know why this feels like such a big deal. The Art of the Occult has translations in Japanese, German, Korean, Czech, and French, but that all happened without my knowing much about it and with zero fanfare, at least as far as I can tell. But a few weeks ago, I was tagged in this gorgeously eerie reel on Instagram by someone who has a copy of the book, and I was recently interviewed about the book by a journalist in Madrid.

The writer referred to me as an art specialist, which makes me a little nervous because I am definitely not a specialist in anything, merely an enthusiast! And I’m not sure I said exactly what the title of the piece is implying (I think some things got lost in translation) but hopefully, readers will understand the spirit of what I was trying to convey.

I have copied our original Q&A below in its entirety if anyone is interested! I have peppered the paragraphs with a few artworks from the book to break up all the text and add visual interest; please note the published interview on the Solidaridad Digital website, does not include these extra images.

• What is the radical difference between the art of darkness and what we could call art of light?

Light and dark are two of the most fundamental tools that artists use to create their work. They can be used to explore shapes, patterns, movement, and atmosphere. But as viewers, we often notice the symbolism of light and dark before we even realize it. Light is often associated with life, goodness, and hope. Darkness is often associated with doom, gloom, and death. I’m not trying to change anyone’s mind about that, but in my book, The Art of Darkness, I wanted to explore those dark themes and the negative feelings/emotions that they elicit.

I think we can learn a lot from our demons and our darkness if we stop being so scared of it and really listen to what it’s saying. It’s easy to look at a light, beautiful painting. But why not challenge yourself to peer into the discomfort of a “dark” painting and see what you learn? You might learn something about the painting, the artist, or even yourself. So next time you’re at a museum or art gallery, don’t be afraid to check out the dark paintings. They might just surprise you.

• Do you agree with Seamus Heany’s statement that “everything I know is a door to darkness”?

I think it’s a seemingly bleak statement, evoking a sense of despair or hopelessness that might have been true for the poet, it might be true for anyone at some point in their life. When you can’t see beyond the darkened door, you could well imagine that the darkness could go on forever. Limited by our perspective, we can’t see the whole picture. This can be intimidating but it’s also a liberating realization. It’s an extraordinary opportunity to learn and grow and expand your world! You won’t know what’s beyond the threshold until you step through it.

• What does it take for a dream to become a nightmare, for flowers, as you explain, a symbol of life and hope, to become a threat?

That’s such an interesting question! It’s so subjective and personal, really, I mean the nightmare is in the eye (and experience and association and trauma) of the beholder. A flower blooming in the spring sunshine is dreamy, idyllic imagery, indeed…but what of the toxic sap? Or the spiderweb trailing down its stem, what of the writhing snake in its shadow? What of the dark woods looming beyond the grassy meadow?

Dreams can turn to nightmares in the blink of an eye, but if you are an arachnophile, if you are a snake handler, if you love a solitary stroll through a hushed forest–none those are going to seem all that nightmarish to you anyway! It’s fascinating to see how different artists take these ideas of innocent blooms or poisonous petals and create art that can be cheerful or dreadful, or maybe a delightful tangle of both at once–it’s all a manner of perspective.

• Is there a link, as Jaspers maintained, between art and madness?

I am no expert when it comes to matters of psychiatry (nor for that matter, when it comes to matters of art) but I think a link is certainly insinuated and has made its way into our culture, because of artists who did suffer from psychological issues and who did create some of their most renowned works while institutionalized. I think there’s more to it, though, and it’s a harmful conclusion to draw. I don’t know if a troubled individual creates art because of their pain or in spite of it, but I am inclined to believe the latter.

But what of an artist who suffers from severe depression so relentless that they haven’t got the energy or will to create? Because they were not able to produce art, or something of worth from their pain, does that negate their experience? The relationship between mental unwellness and creativity has a long history and I have to imagine there is still a lot to explore. But…from a very human perspective, I don’t accept that we are obligated to draw forth the pearls of art from the anguish of our wounds.

• How does the historical context condition the art of the dark (I think, for example, of the Victorian Era, where, in addition to Jack the Ripper, Dracula, Frankenstein, Hyde…) emerged?

Art, both light and dark, is a mirror of society. It often captures the spirit of the times in which it was created. Art can show us the social, political, and economic conditions of a particular time period. It can also reflect the cultural values and beliefs of a society, as well as the artistic styles and techniques that were popular during that time.

Dark art can be a powerful way to explore the historical context of a particular time period. It can give us a glimpse into the social, political, and cultural forces that were shaping the world at the time. And it can also help us to understand the human experience of living through difficult and uncertain times. For example, during the Black Death, European artists created many works of art that depicted the death and suffering caused by the plague. These works were often deeply religious in nature and reflected the widespread fear and anxiety of the time. (And let’s not forget that a viewer’s understanding of a painting of a skeleton from the Middle Ages may be different from their understanding of a painting of a skeleton from the 21st century!)

To answer your question, the Victorian era, with its Frankensteins and Draculas, was a time of significant social and cultural changes. Britain had become a powerful industrial nation thanks to the technological breakthroughs of the Industrial Revolution, but this also led to rampant poverty and inequality. Grappling with new scientific and philosophical ideas that challenged traditional beliefs, many artworks at that time reflected the religious and intellectual turmoil of the era. And don’t forget the Victorian obsession with death and mourning—historians named this fascination with death “the Cult of Death”—thanks in part to the high mortality rates at the time and to Queen Victoria, who, after the death of Prince Albert, was to spend the next forty years in mourning.

• What types of monsters preside over our time?

In 2023, my first thought goes straight to robots, cyborgs, machines becoming sentient, that sort of thing. Beings enhanced with technology, and all the dangers that transhumanism and artificial intelligence represent. There are chilling questions of surveillance and control, the anxiety of living in a world where the line between human and machine is increasingly blurred, and the fear of living in a world where we can be utterly replaced by machines altogether.

Just look at the upsetting conversations that have sprung up around AI-generated art and art theft, with regard to actual artists whose works were used without their consent to fuel image generators. A.I. runs on a database of images harvested without the original creators’ permissions–I think that’s pretty monstrous.

• For a monster to be considered such, what does it require? Because there are monsters that we understand and almost admire (I think, for example, of Hannibal Lecter) and others that we would run away from without thinking)

Monsters are often seen as being outsiders or “other”. They might be physically different from humans in some way, or they may have different values and beliefs. This makes them seem threatening and dangerous; it’s human nature to fear what we don’t understand–and they represent something unknown and uncontrollable. Sometimes those attributes might be just outrageous enough to inspire awe and admiration–not necessarily fear and revulsion. But beliefs and philosophies are one thing; action and behavior is another. There’s a big difference between admiring a monster and actually wanting to hang out with one. If your monster starts doing cruel, sadistic, or destructive things, it’s time to put your admiration on hold and listen to your survival instincts. After all, who knows if you’re next?

Sometimes the most dangerous monsters are the ones who seem charming and harmless at first. They lure us in with their masks, then show us their true colors. All that said, monsters are symbols of and vessels for our fears and anxieties, whatever those might look like for the individual. They represent the things that we are most afraid of, whether it is death, sickness, giant spiders, or dapper cannibals. By confronting monsters in stories, myth–and art–we can explore our fears and anxieties in a safe and controlled environment. So the next time you’re watching a movie, feel free to face your fears and cheer for the monster, but look out for those red flags, too!

• Of all the disturbing artists that wander through these pages, which one do you feel especially fond of and why?

I especially adore Alex Eckman-Lawn’s art, which also happens to be gracing the cover of the book. Deep, dense, full of doom and gloom and dark details, his surreal, lonely collage portraits, on one hand, call forth a sickening dread in the pit of your stomach and give your heart a little lurch. But on the other, and at the same time… they cause an involuntary, choking giggle. As if a shadowy horror had crawled its way from the void to the sanctity of your home, and after an agonizing wait whilst you cower at the peephole, it gives a smart rap on the door and tells you a knock-knock joke. When you think of them in that way, instead of a face-full of nightmarish chaos, they appear wondrously playful, like a funny postcard from the midnight recesses of your soul, just when you need it most. Oh, hey, it’s just your dear old skull peeking out to say hello, that’s all, no worries! Little voids, the faces-within-your face, checking in on you from the inside, popping out to say, “hi!”

I love losing myself in the nocturnal shivers of art that evokes a feeling of darkness, but I also appreciate a keen sense of the absurd. I have massive admiration for artists who can combine these sublime sensibilities in their practice, and these works of the kooky and the macabre, often filled with sly, weird humor are some of my favorite canvases to gaze upon.

• I think of artists that you notice, like Dorothea Tanning or Remedios Varo. What influence did psychoanalysis have on the expansion of the macabre, of the dark in art?

Surrealism was all about exploring the weird and wonderful world of the unconscious mind, inspired by Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalysis theories. Surrealist art often looked like dreams, with strange and sometimes disturbing images that were meant to be spontaneous and free from conscious thought and the restraints of society. But it wasn’t all utopian visions; tapping into the subconscious with its primal human fears and desires sometimes gave rise to violent or nightmarish imagery, which ranged from unsettling to downright shocking.

• In addition to those mentioned, many others such as Bourgeois, Ruth Marten, Nona Limmen… do they differ from them when it comes to representing the dark?

I think they all differ uniquely! Ruth Marten was a pioneer of underground art; the work I included from her Fountains & Alligators series, wherein she has altered a number of somber nineteenth-century French prints to include inexplicable instances of alligators, meshes with that sublime spirit of the absurd that I referenced above. Nona Limmen’s lush, atmospheric photographs bring the otherworldly realm of fairy tales to life– if “once upon a time” always began at the stroke of midnight. Louise Bourgeois’ spider sculptures are an arachnophobe’s biggest nightmare, and though psychologically fraught, they are exceedingly clever in their twistiness. Every artist represented in the book brings a darkness to the table, worthy of delving into –just bring your curious heart and your open mind.

• What role does the supernatural play in our disbelieving society?

Whether a belief in the supernatural provides a sense of comfort and hope, or helps you make sense of the world, or whether you come from a culture heavily steeped in supernatural lore and tradition or maybe you’ve just had a powerful supernatural experience–there are many valid reasons why someone would believe these things. Even if none of the above applies to you, you still might be drawn to the mystery and excitement of it…even nonbelievers may be curious about the supernatural, or even fascinated by it! Look at all the supernatural themes we enjoy across a wide swath of entertainment– all of the vampires, zombies, ghosts, and otherworldly creatures, in our books, movies, TV shows, and video games! Even if you have no use for the supernatural in any other respect, I think you’ll be drawn to them in the art that thrills and delights you–whether it’s spooking you from the pages of a book, scaring you on the big screen, or emerging from an artist’s eerie brushstrokes on a painted canvas.

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Today over at the gorgeously curated, thoughtfully written Thespiai blog, I share some musings and memories on my childhood discovery of imaginative, immersive worlds in Karen Kuykendall’s Tarot of the Cat People–and how it opened my eyes, blew my mind, and shaped my relationship with creativity and the sublime.

Read more: Captivating, Curious, Chimerical: Karen Kuykendall’s Cat People from the Outer Regions.

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In a recent interview with Jessica Chobot of the Bizarre States: Resurrected podcast, I was asked questions about art that might not make it into my books, and why, and I thought I might share that snippet of Q&A here today. It seemed an appropriate segue for a new blog post featuring a whole slew of artworks that I included in earlier drafts of my most recent book, The Art of Fantasy: A Visual Sourcebook Of All That Is Unreal but which never made it into the final pages. There’s practically a whole separate book of works here!

For each work here today, I have included the initial caption I had written for it. These are mostly unedited, because at some point in the process it was determined I was unable to use them, so there was no point in further tweaking what I had written. I know a lot A LOT of folks who have purchased my book or read a review copy (thank you!) are probably thinking, “why is there no Frazetta or Froud in this book?!” and man oh man, I wish there could have been. They were on my wishlist from the very beginning. Brian Froud (above) and Frank Frazetta (below) were in my original drafts but had no accompanying captions because I had hoped to include them in as full-page intro artworks in one chapter or another, and those images didn’t typically include extensive captions. But sadly, we could not acquire those permissions.

You will note the works featured below are almost all exclusively by contemporary artists. There were some older works that did not make the cut, but honestly, those artists are long gone and don’t really need the exposure or the support, so that is a round-up for another time!

**Bonus material!!** If you’re curious about my inspirations, wishes, and dreams in terms of fantastical art, here’s my Pinterest board of ideas!)

Jessica Chobot: For each of the books (Occult/ Darkness & Fantasy) how do you decide what artwork and artists get included and which do not? What’s the process in making the cut?

S. Elizabeth: This is something that happens from almost the very beginning of the process straight up through the end. I’ve worked with the same editor for all three of my books, and from a procedural standpoint, the projects are pretty similar. The first step is to assemble a sort of dream list of artists or artworks I want to include. My editor will go over it and give some feedback, and mostly I’d say it’s 70% “Sure, these are great,” and 30% “No, I don’t think so, it’s too this, that, or the other thing, or not enough of this thing we’re trying to convey.”

From then, I’ll study the works and see what themes jump out at me and what other works share those themes and come up with a sort of structure that connects everything. To me, that’s a little more interesting than a book of art that groups things chronologically or by art movement or some such. At this point, we’ll schedule a series of deadlines where I’ll submit, say, three chapters for review. In review, it’s again possible that my editor might say, “okay, these three artists don’t really fit this theme very well, can you find more appropriate examples?” And so on and so on until I’ve written the whole book. At that point, there might be 50-100 artists who didn’t make the cut!

And then, once we’re all satisfied with everything…we have to reach out and acquire permissions from the artists. Sometimes, it’s pretty straightforward, and that’s great, but sometimes you have to go through an agent or a gallery or an estate if the artist is deceased; sometimes the artist’s fees might be too much, sometimes there’s no way to get ahold of the artist (so many contemporary artists do not have clear-cut ways of contacting them!) and even if you have jumped through a thousand hoops to find a way to email or DM them…they might never respond. Or they might say no! Which while disappointing, is totally fine and understandable, and that is not a complaint on my part. No artist is obligated to do anything with their work once they’ve created it; they don’t have to sell it, license it, or even show it if they don’t want to! So, at this point, I might have to cut another 50 pieces from the book and work on finding 50 new ones! Sometimes there are even issues with the public domain artworks that I’m trying to include, so even these types of works are not a 100% sure thing. Putting together image-heavy art books is A PROCESS.

JC: What’s an example of something that you wish you could have put into one of the collections? Is there something that hit the cutting room floor that, in hindsight, you think maybe should have been left back in?

SE: In The Art of the Occult, I wish I could have included Rosaleen Norton, the infamous Witch of King’s Cross, whose works were bold and beautifully perverse, and hers were some of the very first I thought of in compiling my initial ideas. In The Art of Darkness, I would have loved to include Gertrude Abercrombie’s stark, witchy, enigmatic landscapes and portraits, and in The Art of Fantasy, OF COURSE, I was desperate to include Brian Froud because in a book of fantasy art, how could you not? But it’s not always meant to be, and in the end, I am over the moon thrilled with all of the artworks and artists that we were able to include and who permitted us to use their work. What’s a little irksome is that there will be readers who are like, “I can’t believe that X/Y/Z artist isn’t in here!” And it’s like, “I’m sorry, dudes! I wanted them in there, too!”

Anyhow, so there’s that! See below for a gallery of fantastical art-shaped holes in my heart (and book), as well as some notes/thoughts on each.

Untitled, Yoshioka

This enigmatic mistress of owls was for a time one of those frustrating internet mysteries of the modern age wherein one’s friends or acquaintances or even a stranger’s social media account shares imagery but they don’t know who the artist is or where it came from. Luckily for us, we also live in a time that provides us tools and technology to help us find the answers to questions like this! Not much is known regarding the elusive creator responsible for this work, known only as Yoshioka but we can let our imaginations run wild envisioning the owlish tea-party fantasy magics steeping in this hazy scene.

Morningstar, Lily Seika Jones.

Lily Seika Jones is a full-time artist/illustrator whose highly detailed, whimsical watercolour and ink paintings, take inspiration from her favourite childhood stories and mid-century illustrators, as well as the natural world of the Pacific Northwest. Lily is interested in how myths and fairy tales shape our childhood and the world around us, and sees her art-making as an exploration of the significance of these stories as we grow up.

Untitled, Rachel Suggs.

Rachel Suggs’ brilliantly imaginative work combines inspired colour palettes and tender sensibilities with fanciful flora and fauna for scenes that feel like you’ve had a brush with a fantastical daydream. In the folklore of various cultures and ancient civilizations, rabbits have been known to represent a kind of Trickster figure. In Chinese, Japanese, and Korean mythology, rabbits live on the moon. These bunnies and assorted rabbit-like creatures have hopped down through many years of history into our fantasy stories!

Beauty, Susan Seddon Boulet

Captivated in early childhood with nature, the freedom of animals, and the magic of the moon, Susan Seddon Boulet (1941 – 1997) enjoyed a rich fantasy life on the cattle ranch where she group up and through the folk tales and stories told by her father and caretakers on the farm developed her love of fantasy and fairy tales. Sent to Switzerland once she displayed a talent for drawing, Boulet went on to create over 2000 pieces of art over the course of her life. Influenced by a variety of writers and philosophies, including Ursula Le Guin, and Anais Nin, as well as Jungian psychology,, the Tarot, the I Ching, this artist mined the collective psyches of unseen worlds for the rich vein of wonder and reverie that suffuses her numinous works.

The Witch King, Anato Finnstark

Seekers on a sacred quest to experience epic amounts of the mythical and magical in their art will rejoice in the realms of mystery and wonder wrought by fantasy artist Anato Finnstark. A freelance illustrator based in Paris, in the dark shadows of this thrillingly frightful creation, Finnstark brings us an undying sorcerer of incomparable fear and dread, the Witch King of Angmar. Once a mortal king of men, the Witch King was corrupted by one of the nine Rings of Power, becoming an undying wraith in the service of Sauron from J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic fantasy stories.

The Horus Heresy, Adrian Smith

I have it on good authority that It may be impossible to sum up Warhammer 40k in two sentences. I’m going to try.  A miniature science fantasy tabletop wargame that takes place in the grim darkness of the far future where there is only war; a dystopian vision of the 41st millennium replete with a xenophobic and fascist galaxy-spanning Imperium of Man, fighting innumerable neverending conflicts against various inhuman opponents, among them sadistic space elves, raging interstellar orc hordes, and, of course, their own traitorous comrades. An amalgamation of every science fiction subgenre, trope, plot, etc., all cranked up to 12– it’s a lot and to sum up, the Warhammer 40K universe is a pretty horrible place to live.  Adrian Smith is a British illustrator especially well known for his work depicting the darkly horrific fantasy worlds in the early days of Warhammer and 40k.

Goblin, Itsuko Azuma 1984

To say that Japanese artist Itsuko Azuma  is a bit of an enigma, or a mite elusive–well, that’s certainly a massive understatement. There is not much in the way of information available on this creator, so let us instead examine this creature that they have conjured onto the page. Goblins, or some form of goblin-like creature, are found in cultures the world over, and typically their small stature belies the vast unpleasantness of their disposition. Ill-tempered and gleefully malicious they are! This example, in Azuma’s distinctive dreamlike and trembling style, portrays a little goblin person dancing a furious jig atop a mushroom.

American artist Jeffrey Catherine Jones’ (1944-2011) beautifully haunting images graced the covers of over 150 books through 1976, and fantasy artist Frank Frazetta called Jones “the greatest living painter.”* Jones’ visions of gently contemplative women, awash in atmospheres of solitude and brooding elegance engaged fantasy enthusiasts in a different way, creating a quieter, more reflective, and emotional connection to the art than the era’s more commonly depicted oiled and gleaming muscle-bound, sword-swinging counterparts .

Michael Wm Kaluta

An admirer of Aubrey Beardsley, and Alfonse Mucha, and later Roy Krenkel and Frank Frazetta, these influences can be glimpsed in the work of Michael William Kaluta —and yet the exquisitely elaborate detail depicted in his visions is intensely, unmistakably his own. In the mid-1970s, this artist rented a studio with three other dreamers of fantastical brillance: Jeffrey Jones, Bernie Wrightson, and Barry Windsor-Smith, (some of the names of which may sound familiar because you read about them earlier in this chapter!) Together they formed an artists’ collective, known simply as The Studio, an association lasted which lasted only four years, but an enduring impact on these artists’ works. Known and praised for his Lord of the Rings paintings amongst many other things, Kaulta also contributed artwork to Glenn Danzig’s fourth album, Black Aria. You wouldn’t think I’d try to work a Glenn Danzig reference into a book celebrating the beauty and majesty of fantasy art but I have no shame and here we are.

untitled, MON

I have been losing myself in the lush, lepidopteran shadows of this suit of armor ever since I first espied it. Or is this not a protective carapace but rather a tender cocoon of fragile, filigreed chaos, color, and poetry? Whatever is happening here, this glittering, Baroque haiku of a creature by Japanese artist Mon Mon (b.?) has thoroughly captured my imagination and I am desperate to know their story, how it unfolds and unfurls, and where its glittering mystery ultimately leads us.

Sibyl, Barry Windsor Smith

Whether you reveled in the beauty he brought to the barbarian, Conan, were enchanted by the romance of his dreamy fantasy paintings, or perhaps you were bewitched by the inclusion of one of his most eerie works in my previous book, The Art of the Occult, no doubt Barry Windsor Smith’s art left a lasting impression on your psyche and your heart. Heavily influenced by the art of the Pre-Raphaelites and Art Nouveau, with a fluid penwork and hatching style reminiscent of illustrators of Arthurian legends like Howard Pyle, this Eisner Award Hall-of-Famer, genre-shaping fantasy artist and 50-year veteran of the industry is noted as being the first bring those sensibilities to American comic book art in a significant way.

“Transfiguration” from The Moon Has Come Up, Sulamith Wulfing

Born in 1901 to Theosophist parents, German artist and illustrator Sulamith Wülfing (1901-1989) began drawing her visions of angels and nature spirits at age four. These enigmatic visions continued throughout her life and directly inspired the delicate otherworldliness of her wistful twilight paintings that we still swoon and sigh over today. Wülfing paintings typically conjure a fairy-tale atmosphere, featuring fair-haired, fey young beings in luminous woodland settings, surrounded by brambles and thorns, moths and butterflies, and delicately rendered florals.

Beholder, Scott M. Fischer, Forgotten Realms Monster Manual

Scott M. Fischer. (b.) is an old-school D&D player who loves fantasy art and who has been creating the sort of art he loves for Wizards of the Coast iconic Magic the Gathering game, among other things, since the mid 1990’s. As a matter of fact, in the 4th grade, he had a school assignment about what he wanted to be when he grew up, and he recalls writing “I want to make the art for Dungeons and Dragons.” We must imagine then, having the dream-come-true opportunity to illustrate the Beholder for the Monster Manual, his inner fourth grader must have been over the moon! What’s a Beholder, you ask? Well, I am glad you did, though you may not be glad for the knowledge. A beholder is all head, with a slavering set of jaws, and has ten eyestalks and one central eye, each manifesting nightmarish, deadly magic. Floating through the air, carving out their lairs with their eyebeams, these despotic monsters are terrifically paranoid, megalomaniacal delights.

Thomas Blackshear

African American artist Thomas Richman Blackshear II works are things of wonderment: blessings and lessons. Strange miracles. Heavens and hells. Emotionally powerful,with an extraordinary sense of color, drama, and design, the artist describes his painting style as “Afro-Nouveau” and describes it as artwork that “reflects not only my visions as a black man and the unique visions of black people, it represents visions we all share regardless of the color of our skin. Emotions like hope, love, tenderness, faith, and serenity know no boundaries​.” In the image above a powerful, winged beast pensively gazes out at a rushing waterfall while a flock of white birds pass by, undisturbed. Its intentions are unclear…dare we disturb it to find out?

Cyril Van Der Haegen

Contemporary artist Cyril Van Der Haegen has provided illustrations for an impressive number of board games, and numerous Magic the Gathering and WOW cards. His work is a fascinating combination of vivid, luminous color against grims shadow-shrouded settings, such as this malevolent menagerie of monsters closing in upon a lone adventurer, his lantern aloft, a faint, flickering shield against the encroaching dark.

Sand Worm from Dune, Alexey Shugurov

In contemporary fantasy artist Alexey Shugurov’s work, we are treated to an up-close visit with one of the colossal sandworms of Arakkis from Frank Herbert’s epic Dune. Based on the dragons from mythology that typically guard over some type of treasure, found in such stories as Beowulf and Jason and the Golden Fleece, the sandworms and the space travel “spice” they produced were more or less a plot device to get Paul Atreides where he needed to–that being a state of superhuman ascension. Herbert believed that a memorable myth must have something profoundly moving –a force dangerous and terrifying and yet also somehow essential–that could either empower the hero or overwhelm him completely.

Monstress, Sana Takeda

In the epic fantasy comics series, Monstress, Japanese Hugo and Eisner Award-winning illustrator and comic book artist Sana Takeda brings to life a dark world struggling with the aftermath of a war between humanity and supernatural forces, wherein teenager Maika Halfwolf shares a mysterious psychic link with a violent monster. An entity that takes over both her body and mind, the demon is a source of great power, but presents a terrible struggle for Maika to understand, reconcile with, and control. These twisted realms of magic and chaos are richly imagined and mesmerizing, with creatures that are bring-you-to-tears adorable and terrifying–in marvelous different ways.

The Favorite, Omar Rayyan 2010, oil on panel

Omar Rayyan has illustrated children’s books, provided art for Magic: The Gathering, and helped to create the look for the motion picture The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. His work, steeped in rich, fantastical narratives and the sumptuous settings of old-world aesthetics, draws inspiration and guidance from the great oil painters of the North­ern Renaissance and the Romantic and Symbolist painters of the 19th century. Those expecting to see the traditional portraits and classical subjects of a bygone era may be in for a shock! I think it’s a fun shock, though. Rayyan’s canvases frequently depict whimsical interminglings of animals and humans, and, well, whatever this little beastie pictured above is, in endearing imaginings of companionship and camaraderie. This adorable little girl and her darling favorite even have matching flowers in their hair. Twinsies!

The Faith Militant, Tim Durning 

Drawing inspiration from his love of nature, light, and pattern, contemporary artist Tim Durning works as a freelance illustrator for clients in the editorial, publishing and game markets. This appreciation for form and illumination can seen in cards and illustrations for the Game of Thrones card game, with the rainbow sword and seven-pointed star of the book’s Faithful Militant faction portrayed as a stylized stained glass window. The Faith of the Seven, often simply referred to as the Faith, is the dominant religion in most of the Seven Kingdoms in George RR Martin’s Game of Thrones series. Members of the Faith worship the Seven Who Are One, a single deity with seven aspects or faces. Their Sacred Scripture is called The Seven-Pointed Star.

Tiamat, Tyler Jacobson

In contemporary artist Tyler Jacobson’s work, you will find the drama of fantastical cinematic moments, brilliantly captured and frozen majestically in time. An award-winning illustrator whose work has been featured in magazines, games, and books, Jacobson combines intensely vivid colors, intriguing depths of chiaroscuro, and magnetic composition in the thrilling scenes he creations, such as the massive, 5-headed supremely powerful draconian goddess Tiamat, here. Tiamat is the queen and mother of evil dragons and a member of the Dungeons & Dragons pantheon whose name is taken from Tiamat, a primordial goddess in ancient Mesopotamian mythology.

Dinosaur Race, John Pitre

Fantasy painter John Pitre materializes entire worlds completely from his imagination, wielding his expressive paintbrush as an instrument of powerful social commentary. Uniting celestial and terrestrial aspects in otherworldly surroundings, the artist establishes a sense of balance and unity between living creatures and their strange planetary surroundings. The Hawaii-based artist’s fantasy canvases echo the real life issues that concern today’s society, including “the threat of overpopulation, the ominous shadow of nuclear war, and the ecological deterioration of our planet.”

Rat people in the Vaulted Chamber in Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, illustrated by Chris Riddell

This strikingly atmospheric, painstakingly detailed black-and-white line art by contemporary artist Chris Riddel depicts ‘London Below,’ the fantastical underground counterpart of the modern city of London in Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. Drawing on the irresistible fascination and morbid curiosity we all have with places of dark, sooty, griminess–subways, sewers, and dark alleys, and mysterious openings to places that are forbidden to us, and perhaps growing out of a wondering what happens to the city’s less fortunate who slip beneath the radar and fall through the cracks of modern life, this is imagery that conjures the feeling of a community fading and forgotten, buried under so much dust and neglect.

The Metropolis of Tomorrow, Hugh Ferriss  

Visionary American architect and master of shadow and light Hugh Macomber Ferriss (1889 – 1962) believed that skyscrapers were the product of a culture devoid of spirituality, and yet the man is now perhaps best known for his drawings of brooding, coldly alien skyscrapers. And if that rings a little strange, even more strange how, though Ferriss evidently never designed a single noteworthy building, it was observed after his death that “he influenced a generation of architects more than any other man.” This inspiration trickles down to influence popular culture, in the elaborate spires and  looming silhouettes that piece the Gotham City skyline.

Paris of the Future, Moebius, Serigraph

The influence of French artist, cartoonist, and writer Jean Giraud/Moebius’ (1938-2012) signature blend of relentlessly imaginative psychedelic fantasy and surrealism stretches as far as the vast, strange horizons of his incredibly heady works.  Contributing storyboards and concept designs to numerous science fiction and fantasy films, Giraud also co-founded Metal Hurlant (translated in English as Heavy Metal) in 1974, a magazine, unlike anything else at the time, and which revived a genre that had been dismissed by critics. The colorful, ecstatic optimism of the futuristic view of Paris, observed both by us, and four onlookers surveying from up high, beautifully illustrates the Antoine de Saint Exupery quote (inscribed beneath their vantage point) which reads: “The future is not to be predicted, but to be permitted.” 

A typical city courtyard with a fountain envisioned by Phillipe Druillet

Known for his explosively detailed panoramic vistas and epic architecture, Philippe Druillet created wildly innovative ways to tell fantastical stories in comic format. Rife with wildly decorated armor, weapons, spaceships, immersive landscapes, and colossal statuary, and detailed to the point of delirium, the more one is drawn into one of his often full-page illustrations, the more one’s mind is thoroughly boggled.

The Great A’tuin, Paul Kidby

 Sir Terry Pratchett was the author responsible for a splendid cannon of literature including the celebrated Discworld series of 41 novels. Great A’Tuin, is the gigantic turtle upon whose back the Discworld was carried through space, although, to be precise, the Disc does not rest directly on A’Tuin; instead, it rests on the shoulders of four immense elephants, Berilia, Tubul, Great T’Phon and Jerakeen, who stand atop the turtle’s shell.  Many things remain unknown about Great A’Tuin; these were matters of constant speculation by philosophers, mystics, and theologians. Nobody knows where it goes, or why, except probably Great A’Tuin itself. Paul Kidby (b.1964) was Pratchett’s ‘artist of choice’ for the award and has designed the ‘Discworld’ book jackets since 2002.

Earthsea, Rebecca Guay 

In Ursula K. Le Guin’s coming-of-age story, A Wizard of Earthsea, we meet Ged, who as a wild and proud young wizard makes a terrible mistake. A major theme in Le Guin’s created world is the ethical and proper use of power; all inhabitants of Earthsea are aware of something called the Equilibrium, and maintaining the Equilibrium means maintaining the pattern and the order of the Earthsea universe. Lush and emotionally charged with vivid languor Rebecca Guay’s Earthsea artwork strikes a compelling balance between the classical and the surreal.

Kushiel’s Dart Donato Giancola

Painter of breathtakingly realistic imaginative narratives, Donato Giancola  balances modern concepts with historical inspirations to create mesmerizing works bridging the worlds of the contemporary and the classical. In this anniversary edition of Jacqueline Carey’s epic fantasy Kushiel’s Dart for the Science Fiction Book Club Giancola has rendered gods-marked courtesan-spy Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève lush in every way an incandescent vision in deep scarlet sangoire, blood spilled by starlight. In Terre d’Ange, where all forms of love are considered sacred, “Love as Thou Wilt” forms the basis of D’Angeline religious belief.  Moving in a world of cunning poets, deadly courtiers, heroic traitor,  Phèdre trained equally in the courtly arts and the talents of the bedchamber, stumbles upon a plot that threatens the very foundations of her homeland.

The Amazon queen Penthesilea, Alan Lee

The daughter of Ares and queen of the legendary Amazons, Penthesileia was a bold, heroic character who famously led her troops to Troy in support of King Priam during the Trojan War. Said to have accidentally killed her sister Hippolyta, it’s possible that Penthesileia was seeking redemption in honor of a warrior’s death, which tragically came to pass at the hand of Achilles in the battles that ensued. Penthesilea’s story is a fascinating study of grief and fate and destiny; just a glimpse into her frank gaze in this haunting watercolor by Alan Lee, and you know that where she’s headed–she doesn’t intend to return.  

A New Hope, The Brothers Hildebrandt

Greg and Tim Hildebrandt, known as the Brothers Hildebrandt, worked collaboratively as award-winning fantasy and science fiction artists for six decades, creating illustrations for some of the most influential comic books, movie posters of a generation–everything from their world-renowned poster for Star Wars to the best-selling calendars illustrating J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. Their imaginations stirred by by comics, stoked by science fiction novels and films, and influenced by illustrators N.C. Wyeth and Maxfield Parrish, their dynamic, delightful works are forever favorites among fans.

Jor-El and Lara Lor Van, Nico Delort 2016

An illustrator working out of Paris, France, Nico Delort creates magnificent pen and ink compositions on their preferred medium of scratchboard, drenched in dramatic lighting, teeming with intricate detail, nuance, and evocative storytelling. In this dramatic work created for French Paper Art Club, we observe with hushed awe the hero Superman is in his Fortress of Solitude, hovering reverently before the miniature city of Kandor, last remnant of Krypton, and the giant statues of his parents, Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van.

Lucid Dreaming for Magic the Gathering, Nils Hamm

What if you could shape your dreams in whatever way you please? Lucid dreaming refers to a special type of dream where you’re consciously aware that you’re dreaming and during which time the dreamer may gain some amount of control over the dream characters, narrative, or environment. What fun! Personally, I’d eat a lot of jelly donuts and go on wild shopping sprees,, but with lucid dreaming, the only limit is your imagination, so your mileage may vary! In this Magic the Gathering sorcery card illustration by Nils Hamm  a player can draw X amount of cards, wherein X is the number of card types in your discard pile. In this lovely bit of fantasy-inspired whimsy, the things you’ve lost along the way work toward granting you a small measure of control in obtaining things that might behoove your future plays.

Labyrinth movie poster, Ted Coconis

The legendary Ted Coconis has been painting and drawing for over 70 years and capturing our imaginations (well, I speak for the Gen X imaginations, at any rate) with pencils paint and ink, art, ever since we were children. Weaving together sensuality, emotion, memory, and fantasy has appeared in every major magazine and has been featured on dozens of iconic book covers and movie posters such as The Princess Bride and, of course, the hyper-gorgeous, ultra-memorble visuals for Jim Henson’s dark-hearted childhood dream, Labyrinth.  

Little Nemo tribute: Dream Another Dream, Toby Cypress

Little Nemo in Slumberland was a full-page weekly comic strip created by the American cartoonist and animator, Windsor McCay in 1905. In each installment, a boy named Nemo dreams up an adventure which always ends with him waking up at home, in bed. We begin with King Morpheus of Slumberland commanding one of his Oomps to bring Nemo to Slumberland and eventually learn that Nemo has been summoned to be the playmate of Slumberland’s Princess–although this dream-quest is constantly interrupted. In contemporary artist Toby Cypress’s gloomy, glorious tribute, the delirium of Nemo’s dreams abound.

The Sandman, Yoshitako Amano

Yoshitaka Amano’s ethereal paintings of magical creatures, spirits, goblins, and apparitions have been praised and admired the world over, with influences that include Western comic books, art nouveau, and Japanese woodblock prints. The artist has won awards for his work, including the 1999 Bram Stoker Award for his collaboration with Neil Gaiman, Sandman: The Dream Hunters. Featuring striking painted artwork, this love story, set in ancient Japan, tells the story of a humble young monk and a magical, shape-changing fox who find themselves drawn together. As their romance blooms, the fox becomes aware of demonic intrigues threatening the life of her love; with the help of Morpheus, the King of All Night’s Dreamings, the fox must use all of her wiles to thwart the evil scheme. Written for the tenth anniversary of Sandman, it was no fairy tale adaptation, as some believed, but rather an original story posing as an adaptation, with Gaiman himself providing the misdirection in the form of an unreliable Afterword in which he cites his cheeky, fabricated sources.

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A full moon hangs low in the sky, its eerie glow casting flickering shadows in the tangled, overgrown gardens. Ancient trees loom like spectral sentinels, their gnarled branches tangling the curls of an anguished heroine, her hair whipping in the wind as she flees an unseen menace. Hark, a lone candle beckons from a distant window–but is it in welcome, or in warning?

In the shadowy realm where danger and desire entwine, George Ziel’s (1914–1982) haunting brushstrokes captured the essence of the genre, bringing to life its dark and captivating world. Ablaze with passion and peril and replete with the gothic imagery of crumbling castles, abandoned ruins, and overgrown cemeteries, these works were mesmerizing bewitchments, both beautiful and terrifying, invitations into a world of mystery and suspense.

An artist in his very soul regardless of circumstance, Ziel (born Jerzy Zielensky) survived the atrocities of WWII and the Warsaw Ghettos with his powerful need to create art intact; after his liberation and during hospital convalescence, he turned the desperate scrap paper and charcoal sketches of his fellow prisoners in the notorious camp into new drawings which were then collected into stark, unforgettable books and published in 1946.

After the war, Ziel moved to New York City and embarked upon his incredibly prolific career as a commercial artist, creating countless pulp paperback novel covers. He left behind a legacy of many hundreds of lurid book covers– brooding gothics, macabre horror, even lush romances– a lifetime of painterly visions and shivery wonderments to capture the imagination and transport readers to mysterious realms of secrets and darkness.

Read more of George Ziel’s biography and career over at Lynn Munroe books, and see below for a small gallery of my favorites from among his beautiful nightmares.

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Back in the dark ages of 2010, I found this intriguing gal on a wunderkammer of a website called Ectoplasmosis, and shared it on my own Tumblr.  The span of internet years is akin to vast aeons, so of course, thirteen years later, the Ectoplasmosis blog has long since crumbled to dust …but it has not exactly blown away in the wind as if it never existed at all. I just checked, and there is an Ectoplasmosis Tumblr, and it looks like one of the co-founders is still around. At the time of my initial queries, they never answered my questions about who this mysterious headdress gal was, so it’s doubtful they know anything more over a decade later, so I never bothered following up over the years.

I probably saw her image, sans context, online right around the same time I was doing some digging on the mysterious, similarly dramatic-headdressed woman who turned out to be Maria Germanova, a Russian actress. I don’t know if I can take credit for putting Maria’s name to that enigmatic face, but there was nothing online connecting her name to that carte de visite until I found it, so I think I can!

I do make a point of sharing the above image on social media every year or so because I am hopeful that it will eventually hit a pair of eyeballs that know something about the provenance of the image. It’s been pretty dismal pickings, though. Everyone always confidently asserts, “It’s Theda Bara!!” (probably because they are thinking of this image), and while I don’t consider myself an expert in identifying things like this, I have never agreed with that assessment. Many other people often suggest the Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (who strangely enough is erroneously noted as having Maria Germanova’s face, such as in this Wide Walls article, which is going to annoy me until the day I die, but oh well, I guess.)

At any rate, many years have passed since I first began the quest for the identity of the horned headdress woman, and it has remained frustratingly fruitless… until now.

I was recently involved in another mystery, that of the cover artist for a particular edition of A Wrinkle in Time (if you don’t care to read the transcript or listen to the excellent podcast, it’s Richard Bober), and the NYT picked up and reported on the story as well. In asking me a few questions about it, the reporter inquired if I had any more mysteries I needed help with, and I thought EUREKA! Here’s a chance to get way more eyeballs in my arsenal!

Earlier this year, I made a little meme with this image, and on that post an Instagram commenter by the moniker of “doctorstockton” pointed me to the UF site, where someone was curating and highlighting “Gems of the Archive” –and unholy towering headdresses, there she was in this collection of  Cuban Cigarette Cards of Erotica. According to the information here, apparently, in order to sell cigarettes to Cubans still wedded to hand-rolled cigars, Cuba’s earliest cigarette companies began including images of scantily clad and sometimes even bare-breasted women in every box. This collection dates from the early 1920s and advertised the company Cigarros Nacionales on the back of every card; every card invites the smokers to collect all ten series of cards. So…our mysterious headdress woman was a collectible trading card? Like a Garbage Pail Kid?

I immediately reached out to the Cuban Studies Department to see if anyone was able to share any additional information, and I received the most marvelous email back from Lillian Guerra, Ph.D., a Professor of Cuban & Caribbean History at the University of Florida. Professor Guerra generously offered that:

“The whole bunch of these cards are available in an archival collection under my name at UF and is open for viewing to the public. That will not necessarily get you any further on who this female model was, but I am fairly certain that her name was “Geraldy” and that she is also featured in the card that we placed right next to the one with the horned crown: I-7. Her real name was Geraldina, although I don’t know her last name. She was quite famous in the 1910s and 1920s. I have always wondered if she starred in the Cuban theatre of the time as she clearly appears in that guise, rather than simply in lingerie like many others.”

She then goes on to add:

“…The women in these cards were not sex workers, per se; they did generally work in the cabaret business and may have been free-lance sex workers, but the quality of the imagery here speaks to the notion that they were not of the lowest licensed class of sex workers. (In Cuba, there were five categories of licensed prostitutes under Spanish colonial rule in the 19th century.) It is likely that these women modelled for expensive lingerie stores that catered to the women of the highest elite class on the side of main professional occupations as elite cabaret dancers, singers and waitresses.”

Professor Guerra notes that they will not be uploading the new material for the site until October 1, but will run new material every month from Oct 1 until the end of May 2024. She says hat she will be featuring female figures in the first set of Gems of the Archives, mostly teachers, and that she is trying to make it more intimate in the history it tells this year. I, for one, will be checking in often to see what fascinating individuals she will feature in the future.

So…I think that may be as solved as this mystery is going to get for the time being! What do you think?  Many, many thanks to doctorstockton for the tip and Professor Guerra for the knowledge,  insight, and stories. No thanks at all given to the people with an overinflated sense of confidence who keep insisting this woman was Theda Bara, with absolutely no proof or evidence at all.

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I am very much a creature of habit.

So, much as I did for the two previous books, I was compelled to create a “How To Wear” for my newest offering, The Art of Fantasy! These items were pieced together to create an ensemble full of *immaculate vibes* and not because I’m trying to get you to buy any of these things; my sartorial daydreams are opulent and not inexpensive, so yes–many of these things are stupidly pricey, I am well aware of that! Also, I apologize if some of these things are sold out or discontinued, but you can often find the same or similar items on resale sites.

Ulla Johnson Fiona Dress (no longer available) // Dita von Teese bra and panties // Valentino shawl (no longer available) // Cecelia Hibiscus Heels //Jennifer Behr butterfly pin set // Braccacialini snail handbag // Renaissance cameo pendant // bloodmilk Dreaming Underground ritual strand (no longer available) // Porter Gulch Marie Ring // Rituel de Fille Anthelion Gold Luminizer // Amali carved dove ring // Pillar opal ring // Imaginary Authors Whispered Myths fragrance // Florasis Goddess palette

BONUS! Here are the ensembles I assembled for the previous two books…

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Whether you tumbled down a rabbit hole, traveled via a traumatic tornado or magic train ride, or perhaps even found yourself caught up in the machinations of an artist’s daydream of strange terrains, opulent palaces, and enchanted forests– the very idea of wonderlands where adventure dwells sends the imagination soaring and sets the scene for unforgettably dramatic visuals.

Artists construct worlds and invite us to enter. A painterly brushstroke is a door left ajar, a peek behind the rustle of a curtain or in the mirror’s depths, through which we catch a glimpse of another world. In that spirit, here are some unbelievable views from the lush, imaginative neverworlds found in my forthcoming book, The Art of Fantasy (to be released into this realm in less than a month’s time on September 12, 2023!)

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This interview originally appeared on the Haute Macabre blog on May 25, 2017. It references some things that were happening in the artist’s life at that time, and looking back, I wish I’d been a bit more sensitive in my phrasing—many apologies to Tyler, who graciously and generously fielded my boorish questions with enthusiasm and aplomb.  I think back upon his responses and am inspired anew, over and over again.  

Since this interview, Tyler has become a very cool plant guru on Instagram AND has begun a project called Moonbeam Flora, creating gorgeous glow-in-the-dark bouquets out of invasive plants for meditative relaxation.

When I was in the sixth grade and it was the dreaded Science Fair projects time of the year (did everyone hate this as much as I did? Or was I just a really awful student?) my grandfather hit upon the grand idea that we were going to grow crystals in both salt solutions and sugar solutions and see which one was more successful. If I recall, the sugar solution yielded a better crop: small, but beautiful, delicate crystalline structures climbing upwards along a damp string tied to a wooden Popsicle stick, which hung across the top of a garage sale-scavenged glass mason jar. Absurdly proud of the results, I brought the project to school a few days before it was actually due, and was horrified as our classroom’s most popular girl, Mary Lisa Howell, entirely unprompted by me, reached into the jar of sugar crystals, snapped off a particularly lovely specimen, and started munching on it. I quite clearly remember her guileless face, looking at me as if she thought she was doing me a favor. Ugh! I locked myself in a bathroom stall, sobbed for twenty minutes straight, and vowed I was done with science forever.

Crystals, however, I shall forever be obsessed with. And when I discovered Tyler Thrasher’s exquisite creations in late 2014, my obsession reached a fever pitch. Tyler collects lifeless creatures and found objects and bestows upon them new life by growing shimmering crystal clusters on them. And I don’t know if his crystals have ever been eaten by an overzealous fan, but if he was able to bounce back, better than ever, after a devastating house fire – then he’s sure not going to let an eleven year-old bully with a sweet tooth get in his way.

As it turns out, Tyler Thrasher is a handful of things, including artist, scientist, music producer, traveler, rare plant collector, photographer (and even just a handful, period), and I was delighted that this goofball alchemist agreed to chat with me. Read on for our interview about life after the fire, creation in dark times, and the importance of curiosity, experimentation, and living your own goddamn story.

S. Elizabeth: First, I wanted to check in and see how you’ve been doing after the terrible fire that destroyed your home and belongings last December? I am a fervent checker of your instagram, and it seemed you didn’t stop creating, not even for a second. What propelled you forward during what must have been a pretty dark time for you? I realize that it must have been a nightmare, and I hope this isn’t a callow question, but I’m wondering if, through that heartache and loss, you drew inspiration for current or future work?

Tyler Thrasher: The first thing that helped during and directly after the fire would probably be my dark sense of humor. I’m no stranger to dark and pretty fucked up situations, and that sense of humor is what seems to keep me together sometimes and has in the past. After the fire I didn’t even consider a break from my work or from creating, it seemed to have the opposite effect, and looking back in my life that urge to create was birthed during one of the most traumatic moments in my life. I found myself as a kid creating and making art as a means to cope, and that urge seems to have persisted over the last 15 years. I did lose all of my work. All of the music I was working on, photos I had taken, and some of my favorite drawings and paintings.

I was/ am currently working on my first ever artbook, “The Wisdom of the Furnace”. One thing that propelled me forward was the title of the book. Before the fire, I had shot hundreds of images for my book of work that I will never see again, and oddly enough, before the fire, the book was titled “The Wisdom of the Furnace”. The next morning while I was sitting in my in-laws home, I was thinking about the book and everything I had lost for it, and the title sang. It was the same title it had always been, but it had realized itself and proclaimed its new purpose. The fire gave the title of my book some prestige and some well-earned prestige at that. The new and realized title of the book is what propelled me forward.

I know the “The Wisdom of the Furnace” is a hefty and mystical-sounding title, but if I could just defog its meaning a little bit, it might help some to understand why I was propelled forward. I chose the title in early 2016. I was thinking about old alchemical works and some of the advancements and progress that ancient study led us to. During my research I found lots of illustrations, code, and text that would reference or highlight the importance of fire and its vitality. The flame and the furnace were so essential for the alchemist’s Magnum Opus and the art of transmutation.

So much of what we know today regarding modern and practical chemistry came from the furnace. So much of what we know today regarding physics and modern science, in a sense, took place in the furnace. At first, the title of my book had a pretty straightforward meaning. But after the fire, I realized it was not just the furnace that gave us so much insight, but it was also the alchemist who boldly reached into it. The fire wasn’t going to give me answers; it wasn’t going to be an end result for the book or my work. The fire was just a catalyst, as most flames in the laboratory are. I realized that this book hadn’t even begun. Everything I shot beforehand was empty and vapid before the fire. It would take an effort from me beyond pointing a camera and shooting, but to get up and realize this catalyst and respect the potency of nature and the furnace.

I realized that despite losing everything for the book in the fire, the book would still be the thing I pulled out of the soot and the remains. And in essence, that sense of transformation is the vital core of alchemy.

Shit like this happens to me all of the time. I don’t think I believe in destiny, but every now and then, the universe gives me a little wink and a nudge.

So many folks describe your creations as “macabre”; I’m curious though, as to if you feel that’s an accurate representation of the work that you do?

I think macabre is a fair and accurate description. When I first started exploring this theme and medium, a lot of my friends and family thought it was a little disgusting. I mean I went from drawing landscapes to submerging dead insects into chemicals. I get it. I think parts of my work are rightfully macabre. My favorite thing EVER is when people ask what I do. When I describe what I do to others, yes its macabre. Description alone, I sound like a fucked-up mad scientist.

My other favorite thing EVER, is when I show them pictures, because they usually look very confused. And the response is usually the same, “OH! I had no idea what to expect! That’s so *Insert compliment here*”. And, of course, that always feels good! I think visually, it’s not so macabre. It is a celebration of life and an homage to what nature can do with one’s remains after life. In a way, it addresses a sense of purpose after consciousness, a purpose on earth and under the laws of nature. And I love that. It’s spiritual without being too much so, and it gives nature the respect it deserves. So much of what I do is a collaboration with nature.

The overwhelming theme of your work, even as it evolves, is “ curiosity and experimentation”–and that seems to be a code you wholeheartedly live by. I’m remarking on this having just seen some photos you posted on your instagram, a gorgeous series of nudes; your tender, graceful 2d illustrations, and after having listened in on your SoundCloud channel over the past week, it seems you are something of a musician, too! Not to mention those “Raise Some Heck” tee shirts you created! (Currently sold out, but I nabbed one!) Can you share with a bit about these different passions of yours, and what keeps you focused on the true essence of your work , whatever you might consider that to be?

To put it shortly, I get bored easily. HAHAHA. I always have. I don’t know why, but as a kid, boredom was literal hell for me. Mental anguish. Maybe I’m just mentally deficient, but I couldn’t and still can’t handle boredom. I’m also fiercely protective of what I like and what I enjoy doing, as I think most people should be. I think curiosity and experimentation are just vital for being human. We can’t run away from it, and I think whether or not you conform to that, we all, in some way are controlled by these urges.

The first thing I ever did was draw. It’s funny now because everyone knows my work by the crystallized pieces, and whenever I post an illustration, people are like “Wait you can draw?!” I don’t blame them! That’s a downside of social media, people see whatever they see first, and that’s their impression. I’ve been posting more of my 2D work lately because I want it to get some light and recognition. I enjoy doing them, and at some point, I would love it if those illustrations made me some money too!

Music has always been a passion of mine as well. I LOVE LOVE LOVE electronic music, specifically progressive house and trance music. I don’t know why, but I am compelled to believe they are the two most inspiring and motivating genres both mathematically and emotionally. I listen to these genres when I work out, drive, longboard. Anything that requires any type of movement towards an end goal. The repetitive elements and rhythms are just enough to shut my brain off and pull me into a zone of “get shit done”. The music I make is somewhere in this area with a little bit more “funk” every now and then. I’m still learning A LOT but I freaking love making music.

I think the fact that I make sure I do so many different things and keep my mind and spirit happy by trying new things is the “true heart of my work”. There’s so much out there, so much humans have created and discovered and explored and I would be a pretty lousy human if I didn’t give my brain the drug it needs and explore and discover more than just what’s immediately in front of me. (This is just the definition for a human for myself.) I have always lived by the code of “curiosity and experimentation,” and I hope this persists til I die because it’s been very good for me so far.

I saw you quoted in the Daily Dot from an article in 2016 where you stated that, “I don’t want to be working on anyone else’s story or art”. This is such a powerful declaration, and I’d love to hear more.

Well, who would?! I don’t mind helping others with their story or popping in as a side character that dies off in the next chapter, but there’s not enough time to help someone else live their story and try to pop back in for my own. I won’t and cannot be a sidekick in the story of “Tyler Thrasher,” and it breaks my heart when I see someone being a sidekick in their own story. This doesn’t mean you should live selfishly and have a complete disregard for others. It’s the opposite. I don’t think all good stories could exist without others. We need other people, creatures, and entities to help us along, and we need to help others along. Just make sure you aren’t living someone else’s story and neglecting your own. That sounds a little preachy. hahaha.

Another thing I meant by this is in regard to my degree. I got my degree in Computer Animation at Missouri State University. I was wildly convinced that I wanted to be an animator and make stories. That was until my school made the tragic mistake of bringing in an animator to talk about his career and life. And it was miserable. Possibly the saddest artist I had ever listened to. We were told that animators often work 60+ hours a week on average and on projects that meant absolutely nothing to them. This particular animator mentioned how he spent most of his conscious week working on Dora the Explorer and Zhu Zhu pets and I could’ve wept for him. I asked him if he had time for his own work and with a very tired sigh, he said “no.” I knew immediately that this was a bullshit scam and I wasn’t having any of it. I declared that day that I would be a freelance self-employed artist who would not work on anyone else’s story. I would work my ass off if I had to in order to make sure that part of my work remained pure and untouched by Dora and her evil companions.

I told my professors my goal, and they gave me a very nervous look. We had an assignment to come up with a four-year plan outside of school, who we wanted to work with and for, and what we wanted to be doing. I didn’t even turn in the paper. I just said, “I want to work for myself.” I, of course, failed that assignment, but I was honest and true to myself. I didn’t and don’t want to live selfishly. I want to inspire and help those around me, and I want to be inspired by those around me. I just don’t think the world needs more people working on Dora the Explorer. We’ve given her too much of our time, and I guarantee you no kids are waiting around for the newest story-breaking episode. They’re not even played linearly. The kids will be ok with the same 200 episodes we’ve made already, haha. I have a deep respect for the animations and projects individuals all agree to work on together and with passion. I have very little affinity or respect towards the studio or warehouse that pumps out the same empty project just to keep the artists busy, children distracted, and parents spending money.

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Here are some more peeks for you at various image spreads tucked into the pages of The Art of Fantasy. I can’t tell you how much fun I had curating this collection coaxed forth from myth, magic, fantasy, and art history. Maybe I had a little too much fun because one reviewer said they did not appreciate my attempts at humor. Ah, well. Sillies are gonna silly. I can’t help it!

Were they referring to my caption for Witold Pruszkowski’s Dragon?

“The hazy, dying embers of a setting sun sets up the moody backdrop and contributes to an uncanny sense of romanticism in 19th-century Polish painter Witold Pruszkowski’s (1846-1896) golden hour portrayal of this fearsome beast. Is this dreadful dragon violently twisting toward an armor-clad foe in advance of an incendiary last stand, one which will either end with a barbecued knight or beast with a sword in its heart? Or is this merely a benevolent beast discharging a fiery belch, goggle-eyed with embarrassment? Whether we’re quivering with terror or with barely-repressed giggles and Fremdschämen, the artist’s fondness for fantasy and fairytale archetypes, combined with a keen eye for weird detail and mystical atmosphere, paints a curiously evocative picture of this mythical monster.”

(The monster was burping, okay? I said what I said!)

I read somewhere that “reviews are not for authors; they are for other readers,” and I kinda like that attitude. I try not to read reviews for my books–I am anxious enough as it is, and I don’t need another source of dread. Although when the first few start showing up, it’s hard to resist! But I got it out of my system for this go-round, and now I am done.

Anyway! Although today is certainly not the last day you can preorder The Art of Fantasy, it *is* your last opportunity to nab some artsy preorder goodies! Find the link to do so in my bio, and in the meantime, feast your eyes upon these wonderments by the following artists.

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