in my own skin was drawing. I loved to draw. I'd draw anytime,
anywhere, on anything.
I'd draw epic detailed pictures of knights and castles on my desk in math class. I'm proud to say I've served detention for my art!
One day, Robert Beck-fellow misfit and vandal brought in a couple of glossy paperback books on the art of Frank Frazetta. I nearly lost my mind! It was like seeing the Sistine Chapel ceiling for the first time!
It was the Renaissance meets Sci-Fi, meets Rock and Roll. I ran home that day and nagged my mother to take me to the book store to buy my own copies. I couldn't take my eyes off these epic images; the heroic figures, the moody landscapes, and the women!
Wow! I've never seen anything like it. Any of it. This was pretty heavy stuff for a twelve year old. What I think really amazed me most was the fact that a living person created this work. The closest I ever came to it was seeing pictures of church walls in Italy. For a twelve year old who loved art more than anything else, looking at these books was like going to church! Albeit church where the nuns were scantily clad, buxom heroines, wielding broad swords.
My love of Frazetta opened a whole new world to me. A world of books I may not had otherwise read; from Tolkien, to Bradbury, to Greek mythology.
For me, Frazetta was an introduction to art history, literature, and classicism all in one. Pretty heavy stuff for a twelve year old indeed!
Frank Frazetta passed away on Monday. He was 82. He was an icon. He made his art on his terms. It's how he made a very successful living. His art, though quite commercial, was masterful in every way-and for that I think he'll be most remembered. As I write this, next to me are the copies of those glossy paperbacks I escaped into thirty two years ago. Tomorrow I'm bringing them to work to show all my nerdy friends.
