Eye of the Beholder: The Art of Dungeons & Dragons (2019) - full transcript
A documentary that explores the history, influence, stories, and lasting impact behind the art. The film profiles D&D artists - both past and present and also features former company insiders, game designers, authors, and fans.
Dungeons & Dragons
is a game about imagination
but imagination
needs something to work off of.
Dungeons & Dragons
is a fantasy role playing game
and the artwork
is fantastical artwork.
The art and the
game, you can't separate it.
You have to look at both
components working together.
There is suddenly
a beholder in front of you.
"Well, what's a beholder?"
"It's a really angry onion
with eyes and teeth
and 'tentacle-y' stalks."
And then you show them
this picture.
You cannot have
Dungeons & Dragons
without the artwork
that supplements it.
The lack of defined border
to Dungeons & Dragons
and the art form that then
kind of goes along with it,
allows for
an incredible creative
outpouring and expression.
You're developing
and being part of
a whole 'nother world.
Heroines and villains
and dragons and all these
wild fantastic animals.
I know my mother looked at me
a couple of times like,
"You're doing what?"
D&Dwas a perfect fit for me.
I got to not only draw it,
but make stories about it
and scare my friends.
Monsters and fantasy
fused with gaming?
It's just--
How could you resist?
Why wouldn't anybody
be in love with this stuff.
D&Dart is cool.
It's stuff that takes you
into a different world
into a different idea
of, like, how to think.
It empowered my imagination.
All the modules,
all the adventures.
Everything was important,
but the art
was the reason
why I bought a book.
When TSR
and Dungeons & Dragons
came about, yeah,
you'd go to the mall--
Waldenbooks
or something like that,
and you'd go
into the gaming department
and, yeah, you'd just be like,
"Wow look at this new book.
This is--
The cover is awesome."
You know, that artwork
just filled part of that void
that wasn't getting filled
anywhere else.
It was just incredible.
Every time
I would pick something up,
I wanted to be a part
of the game
through the artwork.
What TSR and their artists
were able to do is epic.
You know, it's funny,
you walk into a bookstore now
or you walk into--
really any store now,
and you're gonna see
fantasy art.
You're gonna see a dragon
or a monster or something.
They're everywhere.
D&D art was kind of
the precursor
to all that stuff.
It laid the foundation
for that all to build on.
TheDungeons and
Dragon brand actually went on
to define an entire genre
when art should look like.
Here was this cohesive world
that was envisioned
by all these amazing artists
that creates a groundwork for
where we can
grow our stories from.
Where we can grow
our myths from.
Where we can
grow our heroes from.
These images are more
than just a product.
They're something beyond that.
♪
When my brother Dave
was going to his gaming club
to play, you know,
the latest tank battles game,
Dungeons & Dragons showed up
and they started playing this
and he came back
and told me about it
and just the idea of it
thrilled me.
I can still remember
riding with my mom
in the car to go pick Dave up
from his gaming group
and walking into their game room
and seeing for the first time
a table with people
sitting around it
with sheets in front of them
with numbers on them
and funny dice
and a game master screen
and a guy sitting behind that
running the game.
Dungeons & Dragonswas maybe
six months old at the time.
In the beginning
we were asking miniaturists--
because that's what
this game was aimed at
and people with a sense
of playing with a figure
on the table etc,
We were asking them
to play in their minds.
Up until that point there was
absolutely nothing like it.
We had board games,
but there'd been nothing
that was all about
telling these stories,
these fantasy adventure stories
that we had in our heads.
It came first.
It was the first to tie
rules and interactive play
to dragons and sorcery.
Gary Gygax added magic and
something different happened.
It opened up windows
to creativity that previously,
you know, they weren't windows
waiting to be opened,
they were blank walls.
He knocked windows into them.
Playing role playing games is--
it's almost like
making a movie together.
Everybody's contributing,
whether it's the character
or what path they take.
So, I feel the art is just
one more component of that.
The artwork
forDungeons & Dragons
specifically in
theMonster Manual
and these types of things
offers a concise look
at what to expect
from your foe or your friend
and that unites players
in a way that, I think,
makes it a shared experience.
InD&D you're all
at a table together.
You really do have to
understand what you're seeing
because you're all
experiencing at the same time.
You have to be seeing
the same thing actually
to even communicate
about the game properly.
Having a center rail
so that everybody
at least begins
from the same point.
As a DM you can go on
for literally an hour
describing one,
like, epic monster
that you're about to fight
and yet seven people will
have seven different ideas
of what's going on.
And you can try
as hard as you can
to, like, put the exact idea
of what you're planning
to put in front of your players,
but sometimes it does take
just like holding something up
and showing,
like, the magnitude of it.
If the DM says,
"Well, you see a monster
and, uh, he's got, uh,
ten horns around his head."
"Well, do they go this way
or do they go this way?"
It might not matter,
but it might impact
your decision making
in which spell you choose
or which weapon
or which side of the beast
you want to attack him from.
Sure, there's the--
the technical aspect of it,
but for me, personally,
as somebody who's a gamer,
really good D&Dart sets a mood.
It gives you ideas
as a player
that you might not
have had otherwise.
It's important
because without it,
the narrative
is less interesting perhaps.
I think our imagination
is always going to be,
you know, compelling,
but this makes it
so much more rich.
You know,
none of the scenes that
any of the illustrators do
are necessarily the ones
that you're experiencing,
but they are giving you
the tools--
the mental tools,
the imaginative tools,
that you need to populate
your own experience
in your own world.
I have an idea
of the character
that I want to play,
but it's the art
that fine tunes it
and expounds my imagination
to make me go even deeper
into that character.
The artist can come in
and do that whole
one picture is worth
a thousand words
and show so much more
in a three-by-four-inch picture
on a page
then the designer can do
in two pages of description.
It shows you where you are.
It shows you what you're doing.
It shows you
who you're fighting,
where you're fighting,
what you're fighting.
The landscape,
the time of day,
the seasons where you're at,
the land.
You need visuals.
You need pictures
to be able to go,
"You open up the door
and this is what's inside.
Your friend has something
coating their armor and it's
dissolving their insides.
This is what it looks like."
My goal was always to have
art in the books
that people would grab
and flip up to go,
"And thisis where you are."
And people would go,
"Holy crap."
Great D&Dart is narrative.
And what that means is
it tells a story
all within a single frame.
It might be
to try and, uh...
give some narrative
about a character.
Like, for example,
a warrior who might have
trophy skulls hanging
from his belt or something.
So that there's something
that you can look at
that character and see
that there's a history there.
Then there's also ones
that hopefully are more
entertainment value.
That often you will find
on the cover of a module
where you see
the conflict in progress.
I wanted to show things
going good and bad
at the same time.
It's just how it goes
when you're playingD&D.
Someone might be having
a really hard time over here,
but your buddy's picking up
the slack.
You might win, you might lose.
They wanted this epic scene
of these adventurers
lowering themselves down
into this stone pit.
I think the art direction
for this didn't specify
too much other than
there's goblins at the bottom
and a fighter and a sorcerer.
Like they didn't say
to add these disgusting,
giant centipedes coming out
of the gargoyle mouths,
but I thought
that would just be fun.
Like, "Let's ratchet it up
just a little bit more."
It's not enough
that this is going on.
That's the core
of what we as fantasy artists,
I think, is... is so important
is that we give
the viewers these options.
These Choose-Your-Own-Adventure
images.
The art, especially
in those, like, smaller scenes,
give you the sense
that there is something
bigger happening.
That this is a moment
in time that you're capturing
in the lives
of these characters,
but there's always
little bits and pieces
that show that there is stuff
that's going on
around them, before them,
after them.
That there is a bigger world
that you can find yourself in.
For me it's that moment before
things happen.
It's that moment of time when
things could go either way.
So everything
is like this boulder
sitting on the top of a hill
ready to be pushed off.
That's kind of what
Dungeons & Dragonsis about.
It's about reading into things
and figuring out
the story for yourself.
It's not relaying
a story that's already done
and telling you,
"Well, this happened
and then this happened
and then this happened.
Here's the scene
where it happened."
It's saying, "This happens...
now what are you
going to do about it?"
When there's action,
there's not much emotion
'cause action
is something that happens.
It's very spontaneous.
There's no time for thinking.
You got to react or die or win.
One or the other.
It's before an action or after
an action where emotion is.
And it's like--
there's a painting called
Avalyne the Life Giver.
In the foreground,
it's a snowy scene
and there's a tree,
and at the base of the tree
there is a fighter who's been
laid out, clubbed.
And there's a cleric
preparing to heal him
and then you see footprints
off over the hill
and in the distant treeline
there's a giant
towering above it with
his club over his shoulder.
And the storytelling
in that is so...
epic and intimate
at the same time.
My involvement in games
right now is with
the retro gaming community.
So we're talking with people
who are playing games as
they were played in 1978, 1979.
So they're looking to recreate
that first love experience.
And if you can go back
in time and find an image...
a good image,
that really tells that story
about that first love and
that is that Trampier piece.
When you go
First Edition Dungeons & Dragons
Players Handbook,
he showed you D&D.
I think the reason
why it's effective
is because
this is where I wanna go.
You know,
I want to see this.
I want to steal this jewel.
I think,
"What happened in that room?"
Like,
"What did those people kill?
What is that on the altar?
Why is that on the altar?
Where did they come from?
Where are they going?
What happens when
they take the eyeball out?"
I think that cover
has the most story
wrapped up
in that little picture.
♪
I think that
D&Dart opened up a door
that wasn't
necessarily there before.
I mean, sure, you had
Frazetta, you had N.C. Wyeth,
you had a few notable standouts,
but, um...
you really didn't have
that full genre yet.
Obviously, you know,
imaginative imagery
has been prevalent in art
as long as there's been art.
There there's never
not been a time of fantasy.
It just have had a different--
a different face over the years.
The fantasy art
that we know of today,
as Contemporary Fantasy Art,
goes back to
the Medieval
Renaissance period.
The Baroque Era
of art where you have
visual representations
of good versus evil.
Where there's little demons
creeping out
under the bed next to the woman
who's giving birth
to a demon baby or, uh,
you know, a nobleman
who's slaying a dragon.
It's an illustrator
producing a product for a client
to exact an emotional response
from the audience.
It's all fantasy art.
When we talk about kind of
Contemporary Fantasy
or Imaginative Art
really we're kind of starting
late 1800's moving through
the 19th century
with things like the Romantics,
the Pre-Raphaelites,
some of the Victorian artists,
the Edwardians,
and then really you get
a real flowering
of illustration
right around and shortly after
the turn of the century
which is often known
as the Golden Age
of Illustration.
It's the artists like
Arthur Rackham, Edmund Dulac,
N.C. Wyeth.
World War I.
That's kind of the beginning
of the decline
of the Golden Age
of Illustration.
Particularly imaginative
illustration because
after World War I
the public largely lost
its appetite for light-hearted
fantasy sorts of things.
So at that point,
that tradition kind of stalls
and Frazetta
picks it back up again.
Frazetta's first Conancovers
came out and I saw those
and that was an epiphany moment.
It's...
I thought, "That's it.
That's what I'm trying to find."
Conan,
giant snake coming in
from between his legs
looking at him.
Conan,
on top of a mountain of skulls,
a woman in a slave dress
wrapped around his leg.
Conan--
and friends,
in that big battle
with all of the dead people
underneath him
and he's got, I think,
a sword or axe or something
and he's raising it like this
and there's lightning.
Frank's greatest strength
is his ability to be dynamic.
To produce movement and energy
and suppressed energy
and potential energy.
It just put his paintings
on an entirely different
kind of category
from what people
were used to seeing.
And it had a huge impact
on the public,
on the marketplace,
on publishers,
and on all of the artists
who came after Frank.
Here is a piece of
mine that I did to get the job
at TSR basically
and it was my attempt
at doing a Frank Frazetta piece.
I thought I could draw
like Frank Frazetta at age 19.
- Eat your hearts out.
- Prior to Dungeons & Dragons,
fantasy was almost
a non-element.
The first fantasy
I was ever really introduced to
was when I bought
the Ballantine Edition
of The Hobbit
and it had the Tolkien art
in an oval on the cover
with this weird looking tree
and flamingos.
I was very underwhelmed.
I think in a lot of ways
we took what we considered
that birthplace of fantasy,
literature,
and brought it into D&D
and then created this art form
that took in all the archetypes.
That male thing
of just being the hero
and charging in and maybe
a woman that could kick butt
and take names
right there with you
and just as tough as you were,
it's like ultimate fantasy.
I think once D&Dcame out
and--
and we started
painting the stuff,
it sparked the imaginations
of generations.
It was primed for this.
And suddenly it was this
entire new audience
that we could expose
not only our art,
but just the whole tradition
of fantastical illustration to.
As far as kind of
a market place
that the TSR artists
were coming into
when they're starting.
You know, they're really
kind of starting with--
with kind of a broad stroke.
There really isn't,
you know, an established thing
at that point that everybody
is expecting them to do.
And, "Oh, yes."
You know, "Fantasy art
should look like this."
At that point
there really wasn't
a "fantasy art
should look like this."
When TSR started
they did all their own artwork.
In the very early days,
they were just using people
like right out of high school
or whatever.
Just kids that they knew.
Tracy Lesch or Greg Bell.
I mean, these are people
that are people that--
they were young, young, young,
young high schoolers
or just out of high school,
you know?
I grew up in a little town
in Northern Illinois
in the far,
deep Chicago suburbs,
that was about
a one half-hour drive
south of Lake Geneva,
Wisconsin,
which is where the
Dungeon Hobby Shop was located.
In those days,
they were in a--
basically a converted house.
On the lower floor
was the Dungeon Hobby Shop
and the upper floor
was the offices of TSR.
My first
professionally published work
is in Dragon Magazinenumber six
'cause we used to go up,
say once a month,
to the Dungeon Hobby Shop
and see what was new and
I would show them my drawings
and they were interested.
There were no rules.
If we liked it we ran it.
If I thought he was good
and he sent me a bunch
of Homeric Greek stuff,
but I thought it was good
I might write him and say,
"Hey, how are you at medieval?"
And encourage him to send me
a few medieval-looking guys.
And I found a few guys that way.
So it was really
just for people
who love to do it
and wanted to make something
others could love
to do as well.
It feels like that, you know?
And I think, at the same time,
that's part of the charm.
We would, you know,
get these assignments
generally from Gary
and he'd say,
"I want you to
do this."
And he'd make a little sketch or
something on a piece of paper.
And then we would do whatever
it is he wanted done
to make the monster
whatever he did.
The work was raw.
The work was not really defined
and a lot of times you'd look
at the stuff and go,
"I'm not exactly sure
what I'm looking at."
So it left a lot of room
for the imagination.
Thought,
"What is this rust monster?
What is this weird thing?"
Or, "What is that?"
You know, "A gelatinous cube?"
I think a gelatinous cube
is fantastic.
It's giving you information
about the world.
It's giving you permission
to use your imagination.
I was always
fascinated with
the black and white art
in theMonster's Manual
and the books.
They were so...
small and specific
and they communicated so much.
They fed so much of my
imagination in these
little, tiny drawings.
And especially now
with all these amazing, wicked,
full-color murals
ofDungeons & Dragons.
I prefer that really simple way
of communicating fantasy.
So I think they looked
at them like textbooks
versus this visual guide
to an imaginary world
created by. You know,
Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson.
The manuscript
would just be type
and then it would stop
and there would be
blank space
and we'd be given that and say,
"Okay, here's a blank space.
Fill the hole."
Sometimes we'd want
the illustration to go between
two columns.
Sometimes it would be just
in the column
or we could get a half page
at the bottom or we'd split it
up into small one at the bottom,
small one at the top.
So we got to make that decision.
If there were descriptions
about something
you had to go according
to the description,
but mostly it was,
"Well, we need a picture
of someone holding a staff.
Make it fit."
What I liked to do is...
I didn't have a light table.
So I used paper
that I could see through
and after I'd drawn something
that I didn't quite like
I would then put
another sheet of paper over it
and redraw it
and make it the way I liked it.
The good artists
were just masters at that craft
of creating fantastic
black and white artwork.
To create depth and volume
with black and white.
On and off, there or not.
One piece
that I really remember
that amazed me was
Jim Roslof's full-page drawing
of Thor
fromDeities & Demigods.
He's like swinging his hammer
and there's like mist
or clouds or something
all around him.
And it has, you know,
his style which has always been
this sort of Celtic-influenced
detailed yet abstract
- kind of stuff.
- Jim's artwork was--
first it was unique because
he wasn't constricted
by normal proportions.
He liked to exaggerate.
So he was able to stylize it
more than just to make it
realistic which is, obviously,
what the fantasy was about.
And Jim was already
very good at being able
to do foreshortening
and make it impactful.
This is one of my original
Jim Rosloff's that I have.
Most of the other artists
that you kind of think about
as great painters,
Jim was a great
black and white artist.
I always felt that
he was one of the more
underrated artists,
underappreciated artists at TSR.
It's not like a super tight
drawing, you know?
It's very fluid.
A lot of movement
and feel through it.
That's why
he's one of my favorites.
Dave Trampier--
Tramp, my buddy.
I think he did
as much to fantasy art
as Frazetta did
for heroic fantasy art.
I think Tramp did
for the rest of us gaming art.
He said we get to have fun,
we get to stick
our tongue
in our cheek and still not
break the mold or the milieu.
The wizard galloping
down the street firing off
the magic missile, you know?
And it sort of sells you
something about
those sort of worlds.
Those sort of fantasy worlds.
They weren't Tolkien-esque
in the sense of being
really dark and grim, you know,
there was a lightness in them.
I would watch him
draw things and I would just...
"Oh, my God, he's so good
because, you know,
he'd, just miraculously, what
would look like a little lump,
suddenly turned
into this wonderful thing.
This is one of my
favorite pieces which is
The God of the Lizard Men.
I wanted to do a drawing
that was like
a Dave Trampier drawing.
That's who I was thinking of
at the time
and I think
I did a pretty good job
on doing something
that kind of looked like
something that
Trampier would do.
I think
Dave Sutherland was probably
actually the strongest
technical artist
in terms of being the best
draftsman among the bunch
from a kind of
a traditional perspective.
I'm thinking of things
like thePaladin In Hell.
That would be a perfectly fine
and effective
black and white
illustration in 2018.
You can read the
Paladin in Hellillustration
in lots of different ways.
Is he some sort of like
completely foolhardy,
reckless guy who--
it's like some sort of
suicide mission.
He's going in there.
It's a kamikaze attack.
So what?
He's gonna go down,
but he's gonna take
so many of these devils
and demons with him.
Or is there actually
something like,
"Wow, this guy must be
so awesomely hard
that he on his own could go
into this environment
and he's gonna
somehow come out?"
♪
So when I got
to TSR's art department,
um, things had changed.
They had gotten
a lot more successful.
There was a place called
the Hotel Claire with a bar
on the main street
that I would go to
and occasionally have a beer.
The hotel was for sale
and TSR was doing well enough.
They bought
the whole darn hotel,
but then the place
that used to be the bar
on Main Street
was the new Dungeon Hobby Shop
and then upstairs,
where the hotel was,
were the TSR offices.
It was an old building
with like slanted floors
and I thought
it was really cool.
Literally rooms where--
that were sagging
that we didn't use
'cause we were afraid
- they were going to cave in.
- There was a false ceiling
and, uh, I can't remember
who it was,
I think it was maybe Erol Otus
was wandering around up there
and he stepped on something
he shouldn't have stepped on
and his feet came down
hanging out from the ceiling.
We were on the third floor.
It wasn't a very large office.
We each had a drawing table.
Um, and it was pretty spartan,
but in the months to come
we added several artists
and moved to the second floor
and that was
a much larger space.
It was never like
we were in this isolated group
or this isolated place.
Our place was always, always
had people coming through.
A woman from the PR department
comes by with this man
and his two boys and the PR lady
starts asking me questions
about
my educational background.
She said,
"So you finished high school
and everything right?"
I said,"Well, you know,
I got out after a year-and-half
'cause I wanted
to go to art school." She gave
me a little frown and just,
"Yeah, so you--you went
to art school
and you finished that right?"
"Well, it was
a three year course
and after a year-and-a-half
I got the job here."
And she kind of like
gave me a sneer and moved on.
I found out later
that what was happening is
this guy's kids
were not doing their schoolwork
because they were playing
too muchDungeons & Dragons.
And I was supposed
to be the voice
of the importance of education.
The culture at TSR
was--was incredible in that
it was very creative
because, again, a lot of this--
nothing had existed before
like this.
So we were creating it
all at the same time.
TSR was just
a wonderful place to be
because it wasn't like
a normal job
because we were all doing
something that we liked.
And everybody was my friend.
The only thing that was at all
kind of corporate about it
is there was a time clock.
So you had to punch in
and out and nobody liked that.
It was very liberating
to be in a position
of where you were basically
given carte blanche
to do what you want to do
if you got your work done.
So some of us would come in
and work regular business hours.
There were several people
that worked from home.
There were several people
that would go on these binges
and put in 10, 12,
uh, 14 hours in a row.
I used to go to work
and get there
before anybody else.
I used to jump on the dumpster,
get onto the fire escape,
and I would leave
my window open to my office
because I didn't have keys
to the place.
And I would let myself in
and I'd be drawing
before anybody else got there.
I can't think
of a better work environment
that I could have been in.
I had nothing to compare to it.
It just seemed like...
it was the only thing
I ever knew.
So it just seemed
totally natural to me.
We all talked amongst ourselves,
joked amongst ourselves.
We all got along even though
some personnel would change up
now and again, you know, most
personalities clicked.
So the artists
kind of fed off each other.
We were certainly pushing
each other to do better
and to do well and to come up
with crazy ideas.
That was a lot of fun hearing
their ideas for creatures.
I remember
The Lost Shrine of Tamoachan
when describing
the Gibbering Mouther
Jeff Leason would make
a strange sound
which was something like,
"Bleee bleee bleee."
So if we were doing
a module, we would get
a full understanding
of the story and the importance
of what illustrations
were the most critical.
And the subject matter
would sometimes be,
"We need
this specific thing from you."
But sometimes it would be
a group of illustrations
that needed to be done
and we would divide them up.
If it was like
the Monster Manual,
very often we were given,
"Okay, here is the next
ten monsters and it's in
under the letter B."
And then you'd finish them, and
by the time you got back in,
it was maybe some other
people had done 'em
and you now had collected
from D into F.
So, when you look
at the Monster Manual
you'll actually see
that there is a series
of illustrations that were done
and then some other artist
would pick them up
and then they would do a series
- and then the next person.
- Through most of the time there
I would just
do anything at all.
It was all great.
I think the one time
that I really, really
had a strong preference was for
the Cthulu mythos
in Deities & Demigods.
Deities & Demigods
included several mythos.
Some from fiction authors
including Lovecraft,
but as it turns out,
TSR didn't actually have
the rights to do some
of those copyrighted materials.
One of the genres
that was removed from
Deities & Demigods
was the Cthulu mythos
and, so, I was disappointed
that more people weren't able
to see it,
but in a way it created
a certain amount
of buzz around it
and so hopefully
some people have sought it out.
The assignments
that I disliked the most
were the maps.
And the maps were very technical
and they had to be very precise
and there were other people
that were better at it
than I was.
I said, "I don't care.
I'll--I'll do maps." You know?
That's the job.
I love coming here
and drawing anything,
you know?
I was starting to come up with
all this different symbology
for the maps.
So, you know, if we needed
a one-way secret door
I had to come up with
what a one-way secret door
was gonna to look like.
If I was gonna, you know,
do a barred window,
"Well, what's that
gonna look like on a map?
And then we had to start doing
different levels
and it's like, "Oh, well,
now we got to deal
with stairways going
up and down or,
what are you gonna
do with that?"
So a large part
of what you see today
is because, you know,
I developed a lot of that.
The Greyhawk Map.
Now that was something
to be reckoned with.
It was so large.
When that artwork was done,
they had to go to Madison
to find a camera big enough
to take a photograph.
And I almost had to fall
on it in order to work.
I mean it--
It was really unwieldy.
All of these colors were done
by pulling the color
off of these sheets.
Now they come apart
and they peel off.
It was a matter of laying down
one thing of color
and then taking
an X-ACTO knife and moving...
cutting it out
and then pulling out
what's not needed and then
laying down another one.
And these are the very ones
I used.
I had little tricks
to make it less cumbersome.
For instance--I can't believe
I'm admitting this...
I would write the names
of the mountains really big.
Can you see how I really
put the--the lettering in here?
Just think how many mountains
I didn't have to do.
Greyhawk really was, um,
something that...
changed my life.
♪
When TSR made
their artistic shift
in the early '80s
and brought in
The Four Horsemen
so to speak,
in relatively short order
the artwork went
from being illustrative
ofD&D,
the things in D&D,
the world of D&D,
what is D&D, you know?
To being
things in and of themselves.
A lot of the folks
in my generation,
this is what they grew up with.
This is, um, their, I guess,
- uh, Picasso you know?
- Those guys were my heroes.
Jeff Easley, Clyde Caldwell,
Larry Elmore, Keith Parkinson.
That's gonna be
'81 to about '88 is when you see
these guys just dominating
Dungeons & Dragonsartwork.
Well, I was, uh,
living in Massachusetts
and working
in a popcorn factory.
I had met Larry Elmore
through a mutual friend.
Basically, I did
a freelance piece for them
and they called me up
later and wanted...
to hire me.
I'd heard
of Dungeons & Dragons,
but I didn't know
very much about it.
So this guy said,
"Well I'm going to submit
some stuff to Dragon Magazine."
Uh, "Why don't you
submit some stuff too?"
My dad was working
in Chicago at a pinball company
doing pinball backings.
And he was a huge gamer.
He's playingDungeons & Dragons
First Edition
and so he'd be
flipping through and thinking,
"I could do better than this.
I can--I can do this.
I should be painting this."
Then he found out,
they're just up in Lake Geneva.
And to me that sounded like
moving to Alaska.
The first couple of times
they offered me a job
I turned it down and then...
I ended up, uh...
being flown out
for an interview and...
And I looked around
at the place.
It was like, "Look like a bunch
of kids running the place."
I only saw about three or four
people older
than me and Gary Gygax
was one of them.
So we just talked
and they were telling me
about TSR and, you know,
it sounded pretty good.
He drove up there and started
talking to the art director
and apparently missed a couple
of big hints
about coming on
full time and left.
Uh, and then when it clicked
months later,
uh, was fortunately able
to still get a position.
Finally the president
of the company at that time
was Kevin Bloom
and he flew down here.
Well, he finally said,
"What do you make?
How much money
do you make a year?"
I told him.
He said, "I'll double it."
I looked at him and said,
"I guess you bought yourself
an artist."
When I first got to TSR
they had just bought
a large, new building
over on Sheridan Springs Road
where they had
already moved all the execs
and so forth out there.
And we knew that they were
eventually going to move us
out there as soon as they
made space available.
We had a large room
all to ourselves
so it was a big bullpen-kind
of area.
And we stayed in
that kind of environment
for pretty much the rest
of... of the history of TSR.
Clyde Caldwell, Larry Elmore,
Jeff Easley, Keith Parkinson
each had a corner of the room.
I tried to kind of
make a barrier
so that it would be hard
for people to come
and walk into my area
and see what I was doing.
It didn't work because
they would just come around
and walk around anyway.
Then the floor was covered,
covered in paint.
And in fact Gail Gygax
took us to visit TSR,
the building,
when we were at Gary Con
a couple of years ago
and we got to go in there
and in the art room there's
still paint on the floor.
We'd be working
in that big room together
it'd be pretty quiet and then--
I know I did this
several times,
I'd break the silence and I'd
say, "Can you believe..."
You know I was 35 years old.
I said, "I am 35 years old.
I'm getting paid
really good money
to paint
monsters and dragons."
Everybody just sort of stops,
says, "I can't believe it.
This is unreal."
Here's a picture of all of us
back in TSR in the '80s
when were all young men.
I think they called themselves
the Art Dogs.
Uh, hard to beat that, right?
Yeah I don't want to say
it was like a big party
all the time because we did
have to sit down and do work,
but it was--they kind of
left us alone, you know?
We had these killer dart games
and the scary thing was
when you come through the door
to come into our department,
you were right in the path
of the dart board.
The board was on this wall,
we would stand over here
throwing and you had
to go through the doorway.
So if someone came through
really quick they could've
easily got a dart
in the side of their head.
It almost happened a few times.
So if anybody's got any...
original TSR art and you see
a little perfectly round hole,
that's a dart hole.
Well some people
made the mistake of, uh,
when they gave us
art supplies
they gave us this big box
of gigantic rubber bands.
I mean, they're like
pieces of inner tube almost.
So like you what do you do
with a rubber band that size?
You shoot it
at somebody of course.
I think it says so on the box.
One day we had our little fight
and Jeff Easley
was not there
and a rubber band
went skipping across
his oil painting
and it left nice little mark
across it, you know?
It's like, "Oh! Oh! Oh!
Oh, no-- Jeff's painting!
Oh, no! We've got to fix it.
Somebody gotta fix it."
So somebody goes over there
and, you know,
tweaks it around,
and fixes Jeff's oil painting.
And, yeah...
I guess he never
even noticed it, you know?
♪
So when Larry joins TSR,
that was probably
the next big step, right?
Here's a guy who's gonna be
doing big color pieces,
oils or, you know,
medium that they hadn't
necessarily had before.
And, so, to really scale up
to be a mass market product--
which is what was the goal
and what they ended up doing
fantastically as it turned out,
you needed to be able
to compete with everything else
on the shelves.
And so that's what they had
to do to get there.
My favorite thing about
Larry Elmore are his skies.
Even if it's a stormy sky,
it's just so--
like he went out
and took a photograph
of the most amazing sky
that you've seen
and he can just put that
in any painting.
Well, Larry Elmore just does
some fantastical environments.
His landscapes
are just beautiful.
The land,
the environment is important.
If it's snow,
if it's mountains,
if it's a desert, water.
This is important to the game.
And on top of that,
I love painting landscapes.
And he loves figure painting,
and he loves story.
When you look at his characters
and they're wearing
unique forms of armor
and interesting weapons
and tools that they're carrying
or the barding on their horse
is really fascinating.
And then in the background
is some landscape.
You know, a castle, ruins,
forest, but you see
the depth of the world.
I made these things.
They hook over there,
they hit this piece of wood here
and they float right above
your painting.
So I use it to brace
my hand on when I paint.
This is how wide that board was
when I got back in 1987.
I worked at TSR, okay?
So I've used this thing.
And what I do,
when I'm painting,
I'll be painting
and I'll clean off my brush
or when I mix my paint
I'll come up here and clean
a little bit of the brush off.
So all this paint here
is made of little dabs of paint
slowly built up.
So that's how every painting
I've done since '87
it's probably got
some of that paint in here.
Larry had this thing
that he would sometimes,
uh, sign under the name
Jack Fred
to some of his paintings
when he felt like
he didn't have time
to do a good job.
It was-- Came from a little
thing he had with his kids.
I would talk sorta funny
and real country
and I'd call myself Jack Fred.
And it's like
I wasn't very smart.
And the kids would laugh
and ask me questions.
I'd answer 'em and it was just a
game we'd play in the car a lot.
I did a painting.
It wasn't very good at all.
I said,
"I can't sign my name to this.
This is not a real painting.
It's, you know,
it's more like a practice piece
or something, a rough."
So I thought,
"I'm not signing my name to it."
So I thought of Jack Fred.
So some of the others of us--
Occasionally when we'd
have to do something that was
really kind of,
not of the best quality
would sign it Jack Fred.
So occasionally you'll find
a Jack Fred
attributed among the credits
in the TSR product line.
His thing is
always, "I didn't know
what I was doing.
I was just doing it
and hoping it turned out cool
and it was fun
and people enjoyed it."
And he never thought of it
as the idea of...
"I'm creating this image
and this is gonna be
the birth of something huge."
This is probably the most
highly-visible piece
I ever did in my life
and it's been seen
all over the world.
If I had known it was
gonna be what it was
when I painted it,
it'd probably scared me to death
and then I'd done something
a lot worse.
I sat down at my desk
and did a big drawing
it took me half a day probably.
The whole party
fighting a dragon
and that drawing
comes back rejected.
No explanation.
Just "No. We don't like it."
I went to go see Gary.
"You can't do that."
Only special people
can see him you know?
"Well, he wants his cover done
for his D&D?
Then I'm gonna have
to talk to him."
And I told him I said,
"What do you want?"
I said, "I've turned in
two or three things already
and you don't like it."
I said"So what are you
wanting out of this cover?"
He looked at me and sort of
bent over and he said,
"I want something
that will reach out and grab ya
like this."
So I was sitting there like,
"Well, okay, I get it.
I understand."
So I went back and drew
this drawing relatively fast.
And showed to him and he said
"That's exactly what I want."
It's not a horrible painting,
but it's not the best painting
I ever done.
I think for the time
and for the game
and to reflect the action
the young people wanted to see
in the game, it did its job.
I don't really remember
ever seeing Jeff paint.
Jeff was always looking
at his canvas...
And he'd rock like this,
and he'd study it...
and he'd study it...
and he'd study it.
You'd walk away
and you'd get a cup of coffee
and come back
and he'd still be studying it.
Then you'd go to work
on your own piece for an hour
and you'd come back
and he'd still be studying it.
You'd go, "What the he--."
You'd go to the bathroom
and you'd come back
and it's half done.
Jeff easily did not rely
on photographic reference
like Keith and Larry did.
So when you look at
a Jeff Easley piece
you feel the energy--
the gestural energy--behind it.
Out of all the artists--
staff artists that were
doing it,
Larry Elmore, Clyde Caldwell,
Jeff's artwork made me feel
like a kid again.
When I saw Jeff Easley's art
for the Monster Manual II,
fighter facing off
against a Hill Giant,
that rocked my world.
It kicked the stool
out from under me
and kicked me in the teeth.
All of a sudden here's real art
on the covers of theD&D books.
With Jeff Easley
it would be the dragons.
He's kind of one of those where
you can look at it
and you know that
it's a Jeff Easley dragon.
Jeff's dragons are just
friggin cool, man.
I mean, look here, you've got
one of Jeff Easley's
incredible paintings
of Verminaard and the dragon.
The scales,
the drooling, you know, mouth,
the teeth.
It's just, you know,
it's just so much life and
detail in it that it's amazing.
Yeah, my holy grail
I would say that, you know,
I still don't believe I have it,
is definitely Jeff Easley's
Big Red Dragon painting.
From what I understand
the art direction that Jeff
got is like, you know,
"We want a dragon
that's kind of in your face
and whatnot."
So you know that's kind of how
I got introduced intoD&D.
I think I have done one pen
and ink drawing of a dragon
before I got to TSR.
I think the first one
I ever painted was
the firstMonster Manual
of the dragon and the Pegasi.
Probably a little overkill
doing all the scales
like that tightly and so forth.
And then, you know,
there's no horns
or any kind of sweep back
on the head here like I would
certainly do nowadays.
Well, luckily, with dragons
being a mythological creature
that there's no--
there is no way to do it wrong.
It's, uh, you know,
there's no--no dragon police
that are gonna come in
and tell you did it incorrectly.
Well, as far as skeletons
and painting undead
and that sort of thing, that
harkens back to my, you know,
lifelong love of monsters
and fantasy.
I mean, I just--
I just I loved skulls
when I was a kid
much to my parents chagrin.
Jeff Easley's undead
are so cool
because there's so much
life in them.
Zombie-like, living,
they've got personality.
And you don't want to mess
with them.
They're pretty frickin bad ass
and, you know,
they scare the crap out of you.
They just have an intrinsic
power to them I think.
Jeff Easley's Magisterpainting
is such an awesome
Dungeons & Dragonspiece.
I mean, you've got
this wizard Magister
who's raising these undead,
you know?
And you're just drawn in
to the picture
and you want to know, "Why?
What's going on?"
Jeff was the best--
the best at doing magic.
Hands down, man.
You just look at an Easley.
When you see an Easley magician
going at it,
the magic,
he just knew how to do that.
And then Jim organized
a lunchtime D&Dgame.
I was playing a magic user.
An elven magic user
named Cragmar from the land
beyond the mountain.
One day after I just turned
sixth level,
we were in a situation where
I thought it would be a cool
thing to do to cast my new
fireball I just got.
Of course,
if you read the rules
you will find out
that if it is thrown
in a confined space
like a dungeon,
a small dungeon room,
that it has to have a certain
area to dissipate
for your fellow characters
can survive it.
Keith says, "Jeff,
are you sure you wanna do this?"
- "Yeah."
- He did everything
he could do to prevent me
from frying everybody,
but I-- I persisted and managed
to kill the entire party.
That kind of ended the game.
♪
Clyde was definitely
a perfectionist
and very particular
about getting everything
exactly right.
I never was really comfortable
with people seeing my work
before it was finished.
I didn't mind showing it
to people after
it was finished,
but I didn't like people
seeing it in progress
since--especially if I was
having trouble with something
or something
didn't look good to me.
Clyde would take
how ever long it took to do
a painting no matter what.
If his world's come to an end
or they threatened to shoot him
he would just ignore them.
Clyde would paint
probably like a Flemish painter
where there's a tremendous
amount of precision and detail.
He knew how to bring out
the concrete shape of a form
describing a sword,
describing armor,
and making you really
understand
the mechanics
and the structure.
His colors were so bright
and vibrant
Everything seemed
blended so well.
Clyde really just put together
a very saturated presentation
and I think that speaks to
the energy that was
the aesthetic that was desired
in art in the '80s.
Ravenloftwas one of my first
assignments when I came to TSR.
And I think it was just
intended to be a one shot.
Evidently it was
a popular module.
As time went on, they decided,
"Well,
let's do a whole campaign."
You know,
Ravenloft the game setting.
I think what Clyde Caldwell
really added to the D&Dlexicon
is his sensuality
for the character.
Clyde painted all women sexy.
If he painted a nun,
if it was a module about a nun
she'd have been the sexiest nun
you ever saw.
The female characters
just always appealed to me
more than the male characters
even though I didn't mind
painting male characters,
either, but, actually, uh,
TSR was pretty conservative
about the female characters
and they thought,
you know, that their audience
was 14-year-old boys.
But for some reason
they didn't think
14 year-old boys
liked sexy women.
She's a smooth, muscular,
- but still weirdly...
- Feminized.
...bodaciously endowed.
Yeah, she's like
an other-worldly creature
because it doesn't make sense
that she could even stand.
I grew up with these artists
who would draw women
in these big-bosomed, like,
little bikinis
and I didn't think
anything was wrong with it
because
there's nothing wrong with it.
Occasionally
I would get a little criticism
for maybe not having someone
in full armor
and that sort of thing.
It didn't cover
a lot of vital areas.
Mostly nipples, I guess,
'cause, I mean--
I was painting for a game
that had magic.
You didn't need
armor for protection.
You could protect yourself
without it.
I don't want armor.
I want to have a wizard
in a bikini,
with, like, wrist cuffs
and, you know,
like a magical shield.
Like I don't need armor.
I have brain armor.
Each of the artists
did four paintings
in the Dragonlancecycle.
So when Clyde was doing,
like, Goldmoon,
I came into the art room
and I saw Clyde's drawing
and I burst into tears.
At some point I decided I wanted
to paint her with bare legs.
She cried a while.
She's looking at it and I said,
"Margaret is something wrong?"
She says, "Yes...
this is not Goldmoon.
Goldmoon is holy, she's not."
I don't know
what words she used.
"She's not this." You know?
After that, Goldmoon always
had pants on in paintings.
♪
Of the group of artists
that TSR brought in
in the early '80s--
Easley, Elmore,
Caldwell, Parkinson,
I've had numerous people
and numerous artists tell me
that Keith Parkinson
was actually
the most influential.
And I have also had numerous
people argue with me
that Keith Parkinson was
the most accomplished painter
of those four artists.
And, in fact, I've had
some of those four artists
tell me that Keith Parkinson
was the most
accomplished painter.
He died way too young
um, and he was--
he was an amazing artist.
He just picked up
like gangbusters man.
I mean he went at it
and he had a voraciousness
to him that he just wanted
to learn, learn, learn,
learn, learn
and he did, man.
He just--
by leaps and bounds.
Everything he did looked better
than the thing he did before.
He got to learn from some--
I mean...
Elmore, Easley, Caldwell.
Like, getting to learn
from those guys?
That's pretty great.
I was showing Keith.
I said, "Look, if you
have a hard time drawing an arm
as a single, get a model.
You know, as long as your model
and you take a picture of it
and look at it and draw it,
I said, "It's yours."
So what we're looking at here
are a bunch of reference photos
mostly from the 1980s
that my dad and Larry Elmore
and a bunch of other,
kind of, TSR alum--
you'll see Diesel
in a few of them,
took to help prepare
for their paintings.
For this one we've got a paper
towel roll being a flute.
Over here we've got
an X-Wingbeing a laser gun.
Riding a park bench
like a horse.
Probably a lot
of confused onlookers
while they are doing this stuff.
I think it's a great
snapshot, literally,
into the history of this
that you don't really see
- this side of it.
- You could see that he obviously
studied classical painters
because he's able to bring
this incredible,
realistic world
to a convincing presentation.
He had
this innate color sense.
I don't think he could explain
what he was doing with color.
I kept thinking like,
"I got a box of crayons.
I only had eight crayons,
you know?"
Whereas Keith seemed like
he had a box of 182 crayons.
So my dad's take
on color was that
color isn't blue.
It isn't red. It isn't green.
It's a mixture of,
you know, everything.
So his palette,
if you looked at it,
would be, you know, glob of this
glob of that, glob of that.
And then just mush
of whatever this was.
It was referred to as the
Parkinson Shit Brown usually
because that's exactly
what it looked like,
but then when you put it up
on the canvas,
"Oh it's a tree.
That's the color of bark."
That is--I mean it worked.
I think Keith Parkinson
came from
a place of storytelling.
There was
always a sense of story
and narrative and everything
that Keith painted.
They're all action shots.
They're all events transpiring.
There is an action happening
and this is a freeze frame
of--of what's going on
in that moment.
And a great example
of that would be, uh,
Parkinson's
What Do You Mean We're Lost?
That has three draconians
arguing in the snow
with trees behind them
and there's no road
to be found anywhere.
And they're all like--
It looks like a family pulled
over on the side of the road
during a car trip
all just yelling at each other.
It's popular with a lot
of people, myself included,
because I think it kind of
shows these terrific,
fantastical, fierce creatures
in a situation
that you wouldn't necessarily
picture them being in.
Which is lost
in the snow and cold,
uh, and just grumpy
and angry about it.
He had,
first and foremost,
probably a fantastic sense
of humor.
He loved
to play practical jokes.
I put all those paintings up
on the wall
and went home that night
and when I came back in
the next morning,
all my paintings
were turned upside down.
I was gonna start painting
and I looked over here,
well, my palette was gone...
my brushes were gone.
Everything was gone!
So I was totally exasperated
and I just slumped back
on my chair,.
I looked up...
All my stuff
was on the ceiling.
The phone was on there,
there's my brushes.
Everything was
all on the ceiling.
It's a pretty amazing feeling
knowing and seeing the impact
my dad has had on the industry,
but, more specifically,
individual artists.
Every kid wants to hear
his dad's awesome, right?
But I've a lot of people
coming up telling me,
you know, as a grown adult
that my dad was awesome
and he's been gone 12 years now.
And the fact that people
are still saying
that kind of stuff
when nothing new has come out
in over a decade,
uh, that's--that's fantastic.
And I think speaks to what
he was able to do
- with time that he had.
- I think what the worst thing
about it--
not only that he's missed,
but the paintings
he would have done...
we'll never see
because before he died
he was doing
some fantastic paintings
and he was only
going to get better.
By the time you get
into the mid-to-late '80s
you really start
to reach a point
where, to an ever increasing
number of people,
when they think of fantasy art,
fantasy imagery,
they start to think of TSR.
They start to think of D&D.
People that
don't even play D&D,
you know, when you ask them,
"What does fantasy art
look like?"
They'll point at
Lord Soth's Charge
even if they have no idea
who Lord Soth is
or anything about Dragonlance
or anything
about the world at all.
In the case ofDragonlance
I really had a sense that
that was gonna be a big thing,
you know,
right from the start.
The Art of the Dragonlance
that's one of my very first
art books I've got.
As you can see that covers off,
third page is almost coming off.
It was well-worn,
looked through
hundreds of times, you know.
I just loved studying
the paintings.
Here's Raistlin in his lab
with all the potions
and everything.
Just beautiful piece.
You got to know
the characters.
After a while you knew 'em.
They might look exactly alike
in each painting,
but you knew who they were.
So it gave you a familiarity.
When they're the one on
the book covers, module covers.
They didn't impose
hard deadlines on us.
You know, they really let us
paint on these
until, you know,
we were satisfied with them.
So we were just really put
everything we could into them.
Dragonlance
was really the thing
that propelled specific style.
So you had Dragonlance
and Birthright and Dark Sun
and Planescape
and all that stuff.
That's when we were
really sitting down
and making, uh,
style guides or at least
a cohesive look to a world.
Normally what would happen
is once the designer
and the editor decide
on what they want
for their product,
and, hopefully, at that point
they have a storyboard
enough where they know
they need three
quarter-page illustrations
and two half-page illustrations
and one full-page.
They will come up with
an art order
or an art suggestion.
And it is important
that the art description
is clear, uh, that
it's-- creates a hierarchy
for the artist to latch onto
about what is important
versus what is not important
and to remember
that you're basically getting
one snapshot.
Oftentimes I think the editors
when they would describe
a scene they wanted to see
oftentimes I got the impression
they were sometimes describing
a five-minute movie trailer.
"We've got this thief
and they're jumping off
this roof
and they're bashing this guy
as they are falling down
to the thing and then
they're tumbling over."
And I'm like,"Guys, guys, guys.
It's a single frame."
I always actually liked it
when I got difficult,
and I still do like it
when I get
quite challenging briefs
because that's part of the fun
of being an illustrator really;
it's about problem solving.
Sometimes it was
even frustratingly simple.
Like, "I really wish
you would have given me
more information rather than
having to make me guess."
We had occasions where we didn't
even really have art directors.
You know, we were just kind of--
and we were kinda divvying.
And they would give us
a big batch of stuff
and we were divvying up
the jobs among ourselves.
Each one of us got the,
you know, we would roll dice
- to see who got to pick first.
- Clyde Caldwell wanted
all the ones
with chicks in them.
He was the--wanted to be
the woman painter.
So he would fight
over all those.
So I guess it depended on
how... how popular the piece--
the--the product line was,
what the elements
of the painting were,
and if it had chicks in it.
And then the stuff
that we couldn't handle in-house
we actually had to
call freelancers ourselves
and coordinate them
and use them on the job
and, you know, do all
the dirty work
that an art director
would do also.
And their Rolodex consisted
of a four-foot square section
of a top flat file
for art was all stored
and the top of that cabinet
was Post-it Notes
and three-by-five note cards
and scraps of paper
with artists names
and numbers on them.
I basically stood there
while they were all working
and just would call out
a name and say,
"Do we keep this guy?"
And they'd say, "Yes."
And then I'd make an index card
and we started
their actual Rolodex.
So I took an existing module
and pasted my artwork
into the module
and then made a print out.
This being a smaller version
of the actual print out
and sent this to TSR
back in September of 1992.
A lot of it I would look at
and send back
to the artist with a nice,
little letter saying,
you know,
"Thanks, but no thanks."
And she's like,
"We loved your stuff."
And I'm like,
"You loved my stuff?"
I'm like, "But you sent
a letter that said, you know,
you didn't like it."
And she's like
"Well, you know, all you sent
were like...
floating images
of monsters and people.
Like, they weren't
doing anything. They're just--
they were just standing there."
There's a Medusa
standing here doing nothing
and a couple of knolls looking
around also doing nothing."
They liked the way I drew,
but the artwork
was clearly I was--
I was doing nothing.
By the end of that year
I was given my first assignment
from TSR which was
a huge box set
called Dragon Mountain
which I remember because
Jennell Jaquays did this
amazing painting
of a red dragon on top
of a mountain top.
My most famous piece,
Dragon Mountain,
was done as a freelance piece.
Around 1990 I had a sea change
in the way I painted.
Suddenly I went from
painting in one manner
to something that was more
rich and colorful and vibrant
and people at TSR noticed that.
And suddenly I started getting
more cover work from them.
Both in the magazines and on,
eventually, the products.
Freelancers,
they bring a vast amount
of difference
within the course of a product.
And you can see a lot
of really cool things
with people having cool, new
ideas about different things,
but you still need a cohesive
Art Direction in there
in a way that you're gonna
put the product forward.
And, I think, that's something
that Dungeons & Dragons
has always been able to do.
Make a product,
make a product line,
- and we identify it.
- In the role of an art director
on D&D,
our biggest joke is
we used to sit here and say
your subtitle was
"Art Director, Cat Wrangler"
because...
in reality your whole job
was about trying to match up
all these different
opposing forces.
So you had the R&D guys
who had a vision of
what the art books
should be, look like
and then you've got
the brand guys
and the marketing guys
who all have this vision
of how it's got to fit
into the world
from a marketing
and business standpoint.
And then you've got all
the partners that you deal with
who have to be able
to communicate the art with
so that they can use it
for licensed products
and stuff like that.
And then you've got the artists
themselves where you're trying
to take the stuff
that the guys in R&D want
and meld that together with
the brand and marketing stuff
and create a piece of artwork
that fulfills on
all their needs, but is also
very useful for the book,
and, oh, yes by the way,
makes the fans very happy.
You went from
generic fantasy setting
to, uh, to suddenly having
this myriad of worlds--
of different realms.
You know, you had Greyhawk,
Forgotten Realms,
Dark Sun.
There's a distinct
definitive feeling
that's different
between all of those.
And that's all drawn from
that creative team.
From those creative forces
behind it
and that creative team
chose the correct artists
- to represent that.
- I love finding...
the perfect piece
to give to the perfect artist.
The first thing
you have to decide is
"What kind of worlds
do you want?"
Um... and define some goals
and then you start,
uh...
working with artists
that can execute
on that and bring
that vision to life.
WithDark Sun they wanted
to try something different.
They wanted a strong look
and feel to identify the world
and to do that they decided
to use one artist
to establish that.
Luckily, I had been spending
a lot of my extra time
doing my own paintings
and these I had brought
into TSR and put on the wall.
One of the paintings
I did was this
muscular woman
on a rock.
It was Neeva with the wings
and the mask and the top.
Uh, little did I know
that they were creating
a new world called Dark Sun
and they were looking for
a completely unique look.
They came in,
saw that painting,
and they just thought,
"This is perfect."
I don't think
it's an exaggeration to say that
Dark Sunis Brom, you know?
Without Brom there would be
no Dark Sunsetting.
It's interesting
'cause to this day
I have people come up
and say, "Dark Sun is why.
Your art is why
I bought this product.
It's what got me
into Dungeons & Dragons.
Brom as a person was a goofball.
I mean, he was always,
always funny.
Diesel, in particular,
would have a Halloween party
and all the creatives
would try to outdo each other
- with their costumes.
- Brom came dressed
as Jeff Easley.
Complete with
theTV Guide in his pocket.
He had on this,
you know, goofy, bald-head wig
with the hair sticking out
and glasses on.
I thought he was
like a clown or something.
And I show up at the party.
So he's as Satan
and I'm as Jeff
and it's kind of
a Good Jeff Bad Jeff.
I just wish
I had known beforehand
that he was going to do that
I probably would've...
uh, retaliated.
A lot of times,
because we did have,
like, a particular artist
for a particular world,
they were really involved
with the designer and the editor
in the beginning.
Especially for something
like Planescape.
When that came around, I mean,
you really remember
the artist being a big part
of all that design
right from the beginning.
Planescape was just
so different.
It was not
typical medieval fantasy.
It was not
a regular fantasy world.
It was interplanar.
The art was fresh.
I--At this point...
was more confident
than I'd ever been
with my illustration for TSR.
So it was a chance,
I felt, to really shine
and rise to the occasion
because the other thing
they told me was
"LikeDark Sun,
you will be
the only illustrator
on these books.
And at least for the first year
as we launch the series,
we want you to be
the only artist
for the core box set,
for the monster book,
and for the first couple
of modules"
I think that came out.
This is one of
the mercy killers.
This would've been from
the original campaign
box setting.
This is all designed
from Dana Knutson's concept art
that would have been
done early on for the game.
The lead game designer,
Zeb Cook, um, he was the one
who said, "Well, we want a kind
of a medieval world, but..."
He said, "We've got
to make it different."
And I was kind of like,
"Well, you know, what do I do,
you know, to make it different?"
And all he said
were the two words,
"Make it spiky and bumpy."
And that was it.
This is called The Mortuary
and these were portals
that actually went
to different planes.
Kind of hidden back there,
but they're there.
And then I just came up
with this creepy look
with some of the spears
and stuff sticking out.
When everybody saw this one,
this pretty much sold the line.
They really wanted to go
in this direction.
We needed to come up with
a logo for Planescape.
And so I came up with
this idea which is the gates
and the bat wings and the owner,
Lorraine Williams,
actually liked this logo
so much she thought it was
actually too good for,
uh, to be used on Planescape
so she wanted
it used on Ravenloft.
So we switched it over
to Ravenloftand I don't think
it ever was used, but we had
to come up with a new idea
and that's where we used
one of the faction symbols
which was The Lady of Pain.
I had done
some faction symbols.
These are these symbols
for different clan groups
and stuff and one of them
was this woman's head
with the blades coming out.
She has this dead smile,
the eyes are just, you know,
they stare back at you.
Very mysterious, very creepy.
When we got to Planescape,
there wasn't a lot
of those classic monsters
in Planescape.
There were some secondary
monsters that you might have
seen in laterMonster Manuals,
but none of the real, big,
core monsters were there
and I felt like I had
the freedom
to kind of go nuts.
Tony almost added
a level of aesthetic clutter
is almost what I call it.
You know, like little pouches,
little knickknacks
and things kind of like
squirreled away on figures
or on characters.
And before that, you know,
you'd get like... like a dwarf
in a tunic with pants
and with boots.
Tony comes along
and does his gnome
with a candelabra headset,
smoking a pipe
with a crazy pouch
and platform shoes
and, like,
all this bizarre,
crazy idiosyncrasies
that make those creatures
more than creatures; they make
them individuals and characters.
Everything just worked.
That's--That's--
That's one of the most wonderful
feelings when you work on--
on a world and it--
it turns out the way
you wanted it to
only it turns out even better.
I always think back on those
years working on Planescape
and I always smile because
it was such a great time
in my life.
And those were great people.
During my time at TSR,
it was during Lorraine Williams'
reign, so to speak.
And she hired--or a lot
of people working for her
weren't gamers,
who weren't familiar
with industry, but they had
backgrounds as actual managers.
Sometimes they made decisions
that were not based on reality.
Jeff Easley was pegged to do
this very prominent cover
for a new product and
management wanted to make sure
it's the best it can be.
So they specified,
"Jeff, only use
your most expensive colors
on this painting."
Which is hilarious 'cause, like,
Rose Madder is
the most expensive paint tube
so I can imagine if his whole
painting was Rose Madder.
Another thing that happened
along the similar lines
is another important project
came along and they said,
"This project's important.
Make sure you use
all the colors."
So that just kind of gives you
an idea of the void
between the understanding
between management and creatives
especially the painters, at TSR.
Originally,
we got to keep our art.
Then somewhere along the way,
I'd say right around...
maybe 1980 or so,
um...
they decided that, "Well,
we should keep the art, TSR."
And those works
went into a vault
that was found and opened
when Wizards purchased TSR.
Some of the art
got back into the artists hands,
but some of it didn't.
In the generations that
we're talking about,
D&Dart wasn't
a digital piece on a computer.
It was a real piece of artwork
and those pieces
were everywhere
and we're here today
talking about them because
we love them and we know the
value that these things have.
But at the time, nobody knew.
I get this call
from somebody going,
"Hey, we were cleaning out
the shipping department
'cause they're getting ready
for some construction."
Or something
"We found this painting
behind a big filing cabinet
and we were thinking
about throwing it away,
but we figured since it's art,
we should call you up
and let you know and let--
you could tell us
what to do with it."
Then I went down there,
I was like, "Oh, my God,
this is the original
Trampier cover.
Oh, what is this doing...?
Why is this here?
Why is this behind a thing?"
And totally freaked out.
Realizing that we were, like,
literally moments away
from this thing
ending up in a dumpster
because nobody in shipping
had an understanding
of what it was
and what the importance was
- to this brand.
- For whatever reason
that boggles my mind,
original artwork
somehow was...
confused for trash.
They chucked it away in-- It--
At least three batches
that I know of
and I did not learn about it
until the last batch
that they were chucking away.
And I--I was out of my mind.
I couldn't believe
that they were doing this
so I grabbed a bunch of that.
And if it wasn't for the fact
that there were some people
who happened to be witnessing
at the time
that this was happening,
that artwork
never would have been rescued.
♪
A really good villain,
a really complex, dynamic,
not purely evil villain
is so much more interesting
than a hero no matter
how well he's fleshed out.
I love fantasy art
because of the monsters.
D&Dwas the first niche
to fill the monster market
and give us visual evidence
of what creatures were
that we might have seen
or wanted to go against.
Now you can go on Google
and put in a name of something
and do an image search
and you can get
a million images
that'll come up,
but I bet you they're fromD&D.
WhatD&D did was,
just by the needs
of the game, demanded an image
for every monster.
It became sort of
a compendium or glossary
of every creature that had ever
populated any fiction
most of which may have never
been painted.
There was nothing out there
for what certain monsters
looked like
or certain other things,
so you had to go by
the description.
We were just making the shit up.
It's like being an explorer.
You're the first one
who's gone there
and you're reporting back
to everyone else
what that thing looks like.
So I had to paint a dragon, the
first dragon I ever painted
when I went to work at TSR.
I'm like,
"God,
I've gotta paint a dragon."
I get my encyclopedia out
and I look up dinosaurs
in one book.
Another book I had reptiles.
And a lot of people say,
"Well, why you put
front legs on a dragon?"
You know, you see a lot
of dragons with the wings
and the front legs
tied together.
It's like,
"Well, because TSR said in D&D,
dragons were very intelligent.
They could do things,
they could cast spells.
They need to use the front legs
almost like hands."
I was always a little
intimidated by dragons, though.
I hadn't done a lot of dragons
prior to coming to TSR
and then Dragonlancecame along
and we kind of changed
the look of the dragons.
I got to develop
the Black Dragon
and the Green Dragon.
You know, I think Larry did
the White Dragon
and the Blue Dragon
and Jeff did the Red Dragon.
My version of the dragon
has evolved a little
over the years and I think that
eventually got to the point
where physically a lot
of my dragons are kind of
almost human musculature
in the arms and so forth
and you can get really
kind of an expressive gesture.
The way I do the faces
I think oftentimes,
it's almost caricature approach
in some cases
with the eyes,
maybe a little bit of a grin
or just the way
the nose wrinkles up.
Yeah they're just--
of all the fantasy creatures
I think they're probably
the most iconic.
Lockwood really set the bar
recently for kind of
what's to be expected
of dragons I feel.
You can't have more fun
for money than designing
the dragons for D&D.
Todd just--he really had
a hankering
to, uh, just redesign them
to make them less humanoid
in their anatomy
and more feline,
more bestial
and really gave each one
its own
really distinct differences.
Seeing like the Green
Dragon look very different
from the Black Dragon
look very different from the,
you know, Blue Dragon
was really inspiring
because there was
taking into account
regions and where these dragons
could be found.
Sam Wood and I worked very,
very closely together
on the dragons
and traded pictures
back and forth
and built them up
from the inside out.
We drew skeletons,
we drew musculature diagrams
and then we fleshed them out.
Pulling in a lot
of different textures and colors
from real world objects
like, you know,
for this copper dragon he's got
a really nice patina on it,
but each, again, each dragon
has such a unique head crest
and look about it
that you can really start
to appreciate
the culture of each species.
Dragons have wings.
They don't swing
from tree limbs.
They don't need shoulders
that can brachiate.
A cat can't do this...
but a monkey can.
A dragon doesn't need
to swing from a tree.
So we gave them limbs
more appropriate to the things
it would use those limbs for.
For me
when I'm painting a dragon,
when I'm approaching
the design aspect of it
it's almost like
a personality that you have
to hit, less so than
a physical feature.
Like, for me,
I'm not aiming for scales
on my dragon,
that's not important.
I'm aiming for majesty.
I'm aiming for impact.
I'm aiming for this powerful
feel to them.
The Silver Dragon for
Fifth Edition
was a real treat for me
'cause they're one of my
favorite dragons inD&D.
I wanted it to be something
that sort of takes
your breath away a little bit
when you see
the beauty of this animal
rather than just a monster. You
know, something with just
a couple of hit points and
some loot on it to get later.
When I am designing creatures
I much more prefer
kind of Earth-bound creatures.
Like, if it looks more alien,
I actually--I don't like that.
Because nature looks cool
and really anything that you can
come up with,
nature's already done it.
One of the things that--
that is always in the forefront
of my mind, you know,
outside of the standard art
stuff of, you know,
"Where's the light source
coming from?"
And all that
is "How do
these creatures work?
Like, how do they interact
with their environments?
How do they interact
with each other
and how can I make
that look believable?"
I am every monster
in all of my work.
I use this medium in this forum
to do a series
of self-portraits.
Root the Goblin
was one of the assignments
that I had to do for
Halls of Undermountain
and it was one
of my favorite self portraits
that I've done
for Dungeons & Dragons
and I really wanted to get
a really nice piece of reference
that I was going to use
to help the piece along.
I just wanted to create
a really happy, excited
little goblin that wanted
to help the players out
and he's gonna carry
all their stuff.
As long as you have 90 %
of a truth with a monster
that ten percent can be
as crazy as weird
and as much of a lie
as you want and you will create
something that is believable.
So, you know, there's the--
the age old answer
of like,
"Well, how does that work?"
And it's like,
"Eh, a wizard did it."
You know, it's like,
"It's magic."
You can... you can delve
into the realm of magic.
That's what gets me excited
about making art
for Dungeons & Dragons
is that I get to create
something that has
never existed before.
It's an ogre slingshot
that's sling-shotting goblins.
There has to be some type
of guide who says,
"All right, sling it."
You know?
So we have one goblin
in there who's kind of like
the leader who's saying,
"Sling away!"
You know?
So then he can yank his chains
down and sling
this goblin covered in
spiky armor into an enemy.
I hope it inspires the gamer
to come up with a scenario
that he can put his people up
against, to fight this thing.
The best D&Dmonsters,
I think, are these...
the ones that have maintained
their uniqueness
over the years
and that's probably like
The Beholder and they're
wholly bizarre creatures.
The Beholder
was just sort of an accident.
I seem to have gotten
all sorts of credit
for The Beholder.
And even though I didn't
think of it.
I mean, Gary probably thought
the damn thing up,
he just described it to me.
You know, ten eye stalks
and a big eye
and it floats in the air.
If you look at the way
a Beholder looked
in the very first illustration
like on the cover of Greyhawk
that is one look
for that creature,
but if you look at the way
they're being depicted now,
they've got much bigger mouths
full of much sharper teeth.
And every place
where the artist feels
that they can make that
Beholder a little bit cooler
they're doing it.
Beholders were terrifying.
That was the monster that
if it didn't turn you to stone,
it could disintegrate you
or turn your magic off
or just kill you outright
with a glance.
So when I got a chance
to redesign The Beholder
forThird Edition,
I tried to make him more real
and more visceral and scary.
And, well, I suppose
maybe I pictured
a Trampier-like Beholder
or maybe I pictured
one of the things
that had been done
shortly before that which was
just kinda a beach ball
with penises coming out of it.
And so instead of penises,
they were like slug eyes
that would stretch out
like a slug's eye and retract.
There's nothing phallic
about the eye stalks
on The Beholder
I don't think.
Those are just eyes stalks.
It's kind of like little animals
with eye stalks that get up
and look at you.
He's just got a lot more of
them than most creatures have.
Uh, if anything was phallic
in anything I did,
it would have been Snits
because they're just
a penis and balls... with feet.
A writer of an adventure
can come up with
a great idea for a monster,
but if you make it look dumb
it's not gonna have
the reputation that it deserves
from the writing.
So it's, uh--
There's an awesome
responsibility
- that comes with it.
- There's tons of fear
messing with those monsters.
Especially, like,
classic ones because
you don't want
to disappoint the fans.
I don't think the audience
forD&D has had any problem
with the fact
that some of the depictions
have changed over time.
It's like everything else
in a role-playing game.
Even the rules there,
uh, they're guidelines
only at a certain level.
I mean, the Game Master
is there so that any time
the rules fail to do the job,
the Game Master can step in
and make things work
the way it needs to.
Same thing goes with the art.
Here are all the monsters
for D&Dthat we wanna feature
in Fifth Edition.
These are all the ones
that are gonna be relevant.
And we went through each one
and said "Okay, Owlbear."
And then we grab every piece
of art we've ever shown
of an owl bear
of the different major styles,
threw 'em up on a board,
and then went through
this analytical list and said,
"Okay, this is what works.
This is what doesn't."
Through all this work
that I've done for the past
20 some odd years has been...
there's a certain level
of challenge.
Like, "How am I gonna
make this ridiculous-sounding
monster that's a cross between
a bear and an owl?
How am I gonna
make that look cool?"
After drawing
thousands of creatures,
it always comes back to
"They have to have a lot
of teeth and drool
and there should be some
spikes somewhere."
Like the easiest way to make
a creature meaner
is to add more horns or spikes.
The Carrion Crawler
was a bit of a challenge because
it's a huge
insectoid-like creature
that resides in dark places
and eats dead things
that have
kind of ended up there.
Of course it kind of
made sense at first
to maybe have it
have large eyes.
In my own understanding
of the creature,
I thought it would be
interesting for it to kind of
feelaround which the tentacles
that were traditionally drawn
on the Carrion Crawler
could totally do.
So that was nice
that those were there.
So in my final rendition
of the creature
I've made those tentacles
a lot more whip-like in a way,
so they're a lot more agile
and kind of able to sort of
feel around its environment.
Cool thing about
the Goblinoids
what was an interesting
challenge was to make them all
feel like they're kind of
from the same DNA pool.
They're all structurally
humanoid from the neck down,
but where their character is
gonna lie, is in their faces.
I mean,
they all have pointed ears,
but they're all varying shape.
For the most part
their noses kind of lock them in
as being--that's the--
the key the carryover
that came from that gene pool.
The character
of the Bugbear is furry,
animalistic, ferocious.
The Hobgoblin, again,
the same nose,
kind of the same jaw line,
but Hobgoblin had to be
more intelligent
and the Goblinoids--
Hey, look at him.
He just looks like
he's gonna steal all your stuff
when you're sleeping.
Probably cut your throat, too.
♪
These characters,
these creatures,
these monsters,
these places are like
a fairy tale or, like,
folklore or mythology.
They can be reinterpreted
over and over again
for each generation.
And that is incredibly
exciting to see.
The evolution of
the art itself is interesting
and almost from edition
to edition you can kind of
find a little bit
of a different template,
a different flavor
of kind of how the art looks.
And I know withFifth Edition,
that seemed to go back
to a little bit of that
earlier--the earlier quality.
The direction
I'd given to the art directors
is I want everything
to look like
it's been done traditionally.
I want it to have love
and reverence
for the pages again.
As Dungeons & Dragons
has moved and evolved,
I feel like there has been
a conscious effort
for the game players
and the game designers
to become more aware
of the people playing
their games and very conscious
in including them
and depicting
people that look like them.
Fantasy in general
suffers from being
very European
and there are so many more
amazing cultures and stories
and worlds out there
that I think are starting
to kind of penetrate
into fantasy realms.
One of the things that the
Fifth Edition Players Handbook
has received a lot of positive
acclaim around
is this idea that
it's--it's kind of gotten away
from some of the design tropes.
A really good example
of this, I think, is this.
The entry for the human race.
We have a woman of color
in really effective armor.
People of all genders, races,
everything have always been
playingDungeons & Dragons.
It's who we start
to feature more.
When we got the descriptions,
they were very adamant.
They were like, "Try not to make
it like a white blonde guy."
Like,
"Please, we love 'em,
but there's, like,
500 million of them."
The diversity that the
characters need to have
needs to reflect
the gaming world now.
The mix of people
that are playing these games,
you know,
it's not the, you know,
13-year-old white boys
held up in their basements.
It's a very diverse crowd.
You know, males and females,
all nationalities.
So, you know,
this was a great opportunity
to mix that up a little bit.
Really thinking
about the people
that are reading these books
and, like,
understanding this media
and having them see themselves
portrayed in that,
gives a lot of hope
that fantasy can be
a genre for everyone.
♪
Dungeons & Dragonsart
is important
because it has had
a tremendous impact
on both the imaginative art
consuming public
as well as the artists
who are producing it.
WithoutD&D,
just eliminating that game,
eliminating all of that work,
the landscape would look
very, very different.
There would not be
the expectation
for this kind of art
and of this kind of art
that you see today in things
like video games orMagic.
I don't think
it's been everything,
but if you look
at who's creating these mediums
I bet you...
that a high percentage of them
areD&D players.
The artwork has solidified
a place in common culture
that somehow speaks
to the nature of adventure.
We've closed all our frontiers,
but not in Dungeons & Dragons.
At the time
I don't think any of us
really grasped
what a big deal this all was.
I was way too busy
feeling how lucky I was
to have the opportunity
to do the kinds of art
that I wanted to do.
That was what
I was thinking about,
not, "Hey, 40 years from now
there'll be people looking back
on this and thinking
- of it as historical.
- God, it is 40--No, it's 30.
No! It's 40 years!
I had to do the math.
That's crazy!
It's exciting
to be part of this
big universe
that everyone knows
and everyone's been enjoying
for 40 years.
It's not kind of exciting,
it's really exciting.
It's a dream come true.
It's something that I never
thought I would be here.
It was
a springboard for my career
when what I really was looking
for was a lifeline.
It turned out to be
so much more.
I certainly do realize
how lucky I am to have been
in the right place
at the right time
and, you know,
forge a little bit of
the history of the TSR
roleplaying universe.
I think it's a legacy
and it's humbling.
Seeing the work that was done
way back with TSR
and then work that's being done
now and in the future,
it's only gonna get better
and better and better.
Being able to contribute
to so many people's experience.
You know,
you're contributing not just
to a book that's going to sit
on the bookshelf.
For me,
I'm contributing to somebody's
imaginative experience.
Dungeons & Dragons
is about imagination.
It's about storytelling.
It's about
creating something together.
And these depictions,
these drawings of characters
that someone draws
on their player character sheet
or that aMonster Manual shows
us what we're going to fight
or a module shows us
the room we're about to enter.
These are all parts
of that narrative.
They're all pieces that fuel
our collective imagination.
And I'm very,
very honored and thankful
that I got to be
a part of that.
I'm happy that my art
got to pull people
into a game or a book
that made them happy.
I don't feel famous.
I don't feel anything.
I just feel lucky.
I'm still learning
and I'm still trying to get...
one painting right, you know?
♪
is a game about imagination
but imagination
needs something to work off of.
Dungeons & Dragons
is a fantasy role playing game
and the artwork
is fantastical artwork.
The art and the
game, you can't separate it.
You have to look at both
components working together.
There is suddenly
a beholder in front of you.
"Well, what's a beholder?"
"It's a really angry onion
with eyes and teeth
and 'tentacle-y' stalks."
And then you show them
this picture.
You cannot have
Dungeons & Dragons
without the artwork
that supplements it.
The lack of defined border
to Dungeons & Dragons
and the art form that then
kind of goes along with it,
allows for
an incredible creative
outpouring and expression.
You're developing
and being part of
a whole 'nother world.
Heroines and villains
and dragons and all these
wild fantastic animals.
I know my mother looked at me
a couple of times like,
"You're doing what?"
D&Dwas a perfect fit for me.
I got to not only draw it,
but make stories about it
and scare my friends.
Monsters and fantasy
fused with gaming?
It's just--
How could you resist?
Why wouldn't anybody
be in love with this stuff.
D&Dart is cool.
It's stuff that takes you
into a different world
into a different idea
of, like, how to think.
It empowered my imagination.
All the modules,
all the adventures.
Everything was important,
but the art
was the reason
why I bought a book.
When TSR
and Dungeons & Dragons
came about, yeah,
you'd go to the mall--
Waldenbooks
or something like that,
and you'd go
into the gaming department
and, yeah, you'd just be like,
"Wow look at this new book.
This is--
The cover is awesome."
You know, that artwork
just filled part of that void
that wasn't getting filled
anywhere else.
It was just incredible.
Every time
I would pick something up,
I wanted to be a part
of the game
through the artwork.
What TSR and their artists
were able to do is epic.
You know, it's funny,
you walk into a bookstore now
or you walk into--
really any store now,
and you're gonna see
fantasy art.
You're gonna see a dragon
or a monster or something.
They're everywhere.
D&D art was kind of
the precursor
to all that stuff.
It laid the foundation
for that all to build on.
TheDungeons and
Dragon brand actually went on
to define an entire genre
when art should look like.
Here was this cohesive world
that was envisioned
by all these amazing artists
that creates a groundwork for
where we can
grow our stories from.
Where we can grow
our myths from.
Where we can
grow our heroes from.
These images are more
than just a product.
They're something beyond that.
♪
When my brother Dave
was going to his gaming club
to play, you know,
the latest tank battles game,
Dungeons & Dragons showed up
and they started playing this
and he came back
and told me about it
and just the idea of it
thrilled me.
I can still remember
riding with my mom
in the car to go pick Dave up
from his gaming group
and walking into their game room
and seeing for the first time
a table with people
sitting around it
with sheets in front of them
with numbers on them
and funny dice
and a game master screen
and a guy sitting behind that
running the game.
Dungeons & Dragonswas maybe
six months old at the time.
In the beginning
we were asking miniaturists--
because that's what
this game was aimed at
and people with a sense
of playing with a figure
on the table etc,
We were asking them
to play in their minds.
Up until that point there was
absolutely nothing like it.
We had board games,
but there'd been nothing
that was all about
telling these stories,
these fantasy adventure stories
that we had in our heads.
It came first.
It was the first to tie
rules and interactive play
to dragons and sorcery.
Gary Gygax added magic and
something different happened.
It opened up windows
to creativity that previously,
you know, they weren't windows
waiting to be opened,
they were blank walls.
He knocked windows into them.
Playing role playing games is--
it's almost like
making a movie together.
Everybody's contributing,
whether it's the character
or what path they take.
So, I feel the art is just
one more component of that.
The artwork
forDungeons & Dragons
specifically in
theMonster Manual
and these types of things
offers a concise look
at what to expect
from your foe or your friend
and that unites players
in a way that, I think,
makes it a shared experience.
InD&D you're all
at a table together.
You really do have to
understand what you're seeing
because you're all
experiencing at the same time.
You have to be seeing
the same thing actually
to even communicate
about the game properly.
Having a center rail
so that everybody
at least begins
from the same point.
As a DM you can go on
for literally an hour
describing one,
like, epic monster
that you're about to fight
and yet seven people will
have seven different ideas
of what's going on.
And you can try
as hard as you can
to, like, put the exact idea
of what you're planning
to put in front of your players,
but sometimes it does take
just like holding something up
and showing,
like, the magnitude of it.
If the DM says,
"Well, you see a monster
and, uh, he's got, uh,
ten horns around his head."
"Well, do they go this way
or do they go this way?"
It might not matter,
but it might impact
your decision making
in which spell you choose
or which weapon
or which side of the beast
you want to attack him from.
Sure, there's the--
the technical aspect of it,
but for me, personally,
as somebody who's a gamer,
really good D&Dart sets a mood.
It gives you ideas
as a player
that you might not
have had otherwise.
It's important
because without it,
the narrative
is less interesting perhaps.
I think our imagination
is always going to be,
you know, compelling,
but this makes it
so much more rich.
You know,
none of the scenes that
any of the illustrators do
are necessarily the ones
that you're experiencing,
but they are giving you
the tools--
the mental tools,
the imaginative tools,
that you need to populate
your own experience
in your own world.
I have an idea
of the character
that I want to play,
but it's the art
that fine tunes it
and expounds my imagination
to make me go even deeper
into that character.
The artist can come in
and do that whole
one picture is worth
a thousand words
and show so much more
in a three-by-four-inch picture
on a page
then the designer can do
in two pages of description.
It shows you where you are.
It shows you what you're doing.
It shows you
who you're fighting,
where you're fighting,
what you're fighting.
The landscape,
the time of day,
the seasons where you're at,
the land.
You need visuals.
You need pictures
to be able to go,
"You open up the door
and this is what's inside.
Your friend has something
coating their armor and it's
dissolving their insides.
This is what it looks like."
My goal was always to have
art in the books
that people would grab
and flip up to go,
"And thisis where you are."
And people would go,
"Holy crap."
Great D&Dart is narrative.
And what that means is
it tells a story
all within a single frame.
It might be
to try and, uh...
give some narrative
about a character.
Like, for example,
a warrior who might have
trophy skulls hanging
from his belt or something.
So that there's something
that you can look at
that character and see
that there's a history there.
Then there's also ones
that hopefully are more
entertainment value.
That often you will find
on the cover of a module
where you see
the conflict in progress.
I wanted to show things
going good and bad
at the same time.
It's just how it goes
when you're playingD&D.
Someone might be having
a really hard time over here,
but your buddy's picking up
the slack.
You might win, you might lose.
They wanted this epic scene
of these adventurers
lowering themselves down
into this stone pit.
I think the art direction
for this didn't specify
too much other than
there's goblins at the bottom
and a fighter and a sorcerer.
Like they didn't say
to add these disgusting,
giant centipedes coming out
of the gargoyle mouths,
but I thought
that would just be fun.
Like, "Let's ratchet it up
just a little bit more."
It's not enough
that this is going on.
That's the core
of what we as fantasy artists,
I think, is... is so important
is that we give
the viewers these options.
These Choose-Your-Own-Adventure
images.
The art, especially
in those, like, smaller scenes,
give you the sense
that there is something
bigger happening.
That this is a moment
in time that you're capturing
in the lives
of these characters,
but there's always
little bits and pieces
that show that there is stuff
that's going on
around them, before them,
after them.
That there is a bigger world
that you can find yourself in.
For me it's that moment before
things happen.
It's that moment of time when
things could go either way.
So everything
is like this boulder
sitting on the top of a hill
ready to be pushed off.
That's kind of what
Dungeons & Dragonsis about.
It's about reading into things
and figuring out
the story for yourself.
It's not relaying
a story that's already done
and telling you,
"Well, this happened
and then this happened
and then this happened.
Here's the scene
where it happened."
It's saying, "This happens...
now what are you
going to do about it?"
When there's action,
there's not much emotion
'cause action
is something that happens.
It's very spontaneous.
There's no time for thinking.
You got to react or die or win.
One or the other.
It's before an action or after
an action where emotion is.
And it's like--
there's a painting called
Avalyne the Life Giver.
In the foreground,
it's a snowy scene
and there's a tree,
and at the base of the tree
there is a fighter who's been
laid out, clubbed.
And there's a cleric
preparing to heal him
and then you see footprints
off over the hill
and in the distant treeline
there's a giant
towering above it with
his club over his shoulder.
And the storytelling
in that is so...
epic and intimate
at the same time.
My involvement in games
right now is with
the retro gaming community.
So we're talking with people
who are playing games as
they were played in 1978, 1979.
So they're looking to recreate
that first love experience.
And if you can go back
in time and find an image...
a good image,
that really tells that story
about that first love and
that is that Trampier piece.
When you go
First Edition Dungeons & Dragons
Players Handbook,
he showed you D&D.
I think the reason
why it's effective
is because
this is where I wanna go.
You know,
I want to see this.
I want to steal this jewel.
I think,
"What happened in that room?"
Like,
"What did those people kill?
What is that on the altar?
Why is that on the altar?
Where did they come from?
Where are they going?
What happens when
they take the eyeball out?"
I think that cover
has the most story
wrapped up
in that little picture.
♪
I think that
D&Dart opened up a door
that wasn't
necessarily there before.
I mean, sure, you had
Frazetta, you had N.C. Wyeth,
you had a few notable standouts,
but, um...
you really didn't have
that full genre yet.
Obviously, you know,
imaginative imagery
has been prevalent in art
as long as there's been art.
There there's never
not been a time of fantasy.
It just have had a different--
a different face over the years.
The fantasy art
that we know of today,
as Contemporary Fantasy Art,
goes back to
the Medieval
Renaissance period.
The Baroque Era
of art where you have
visual representations
of good versus evil.
Where there's little demons
creeping out
under the bed next to the woman
who's giving birth
to a demon baby or, uh,
you know, a nobleman
who's slaying a dragon.
It's an illustrator
producing a product for a client
to exact an emotional response
from the audience.
It's all fantasy art.
When we talk about kind of
Contemporary Fantasy
or Imaginative Art
really we're kind of starting
late 1800's moving through
the 19th century
with things like the Romantics,
the Pre-Raphaelites,
some of the Victorian artists,
the Edwardians,
and then really you get
a real flowering
of illustration
right around and shortly after
the turn of the century
which is often known
as the Golden Age
of Illustration.
It's the artists like
Arthur Rackham, Edmund Dulac,
N.C. Wyeth.
World War I.
That's kind of the beginning
of the decline
of the Golden Age
of Illustration.
Particularly imaginative
illustration because
after World War I
the public largely lost
its appetite for light-hearted
fantasy sorts of things.
So at that point,
that tradition kind of stalls
and Frazetta
picks it back up again.
Frazetta's first Conancovers
came out and I saw those
and that was an epiphany moment.
It's...
I thought, "That's it.
That's what I'm trying to find."
Conan,
giant snake coming in
from between his legs
looking at him.
Conan,
on top of a mountain of skulls,
a woman in a slave dress
wrapped around his leg.
Conan--
and friends,
in that big battle
with all of the dead people
underneath him
and he's got, I think,
a sword or axe or something
and he's raising it like this
and there's lightning.
Frank's greatest strength
is his ability to be dynamic.
To produce movement and energy
and suppressed energy
and potential energy.
It just put his paintings
on an entirely different
kind of category
from what people
were used to seeing.
And it had a huge impact
on the public,
on the marketplace,
on publishers,
and on all of the artists
who came after Frank.
Here is a piece of
mine that I did to get the job
at TSR basically
and it was my attempt
at doing a Frank Frazetta piece.
I thought I could draw
like Frank Frazetta at age 19.
- Eat your hearts out.
- Prior to Dungeons & Dragons,
fantasy was almost
a non-element.
The first fantasy
I was ever really introduced to
was when I bought
the Ballantine Edition
of The Hobbit
and it had the Tolkien art
in an oval on the cover
with this weird looking tree
and flamingos.
I was very underwhelmed.
I think in a lot of ways
we took what we considered
that birthplace of fantasy,
literature,
and brought it into D&D
and then created this art form
that took in all the archetypes.
That male thing
of just being the hero
and charging in and maybe
a woman that could kick butt
and take names
right there with you
and just as tough as you were,
it's like ultimate fantasy.
I think once D&Dcame out
and--
and we started
painting the stuff,
it sparked the imaginations
of generations.
It was primed for this.
And suddenly it was this
entire new audience
that we could expose
not only our art,
but just the whole tradition
of fantastical illustration to.
As far as kind of
a market place
that the TSR artists
were coming into
when they're starting.
You know, they're really
kind of starting with--
with kind of a broad stroke.
There really isn't,
you know, an established thing
at that point that everybody
is expecting them to do.
And, "Oh, yes."
You know, "Fantasy art
should look like this."
At that point
there really wasn't
a "fantasy art
should look like this."
When TSR started
they did all their own artwork.
In the very early days,
they were just using people
like right out of high school
or whatever.
Just kids that they knew.
Tracy Lesch or Greg Bell.
I mean, these are people
that are people that--
they were young, young, young,
young high schoolers
or just out of high school,
you know?
I grew up in a little town
in Northern Illinois
in the far,
deep Chicago suburbs,
that was about
a one half-hour drive
south of Lake Geneva,
Wisconsin,
which is where the
Dungeon Hobby Shop was located.
In those days,
they were in a--
basically a converted house.
On the lower floor
was the Dungeon Hobby Shop
and the upper floor
was the offices of TSR.
My first
professionally published work
is in Dragon Magazinenumber six
'cause we used to go up,
say once a month,
to the Dungeon Hobby Shop
and see what was new and
I would show them my drawings
and they were interested.
There were no rules.
If we liked it we ran it.
If I thought he was good
and he sent me a bunch
of Homeric Greek stuff,
but I thought it was good
I might write him and say,
"Hey, how are you at medieval?"
And encourage him to send me
a few medieval-looking guys.
And I found a few guys that way.
So it was really
just for people
who love to do it
and wanted to make something
others could love
to do as well.
It feels like that, you know?
And I think, at the same time,
that's part of the charm.
We would, you know,
get these assignments
generally from Gary
and he'd say,
"I want you to
do this."
And he'd make a little sketch or
something on a piece of paper.
And then we would do whatever
it is he wanted done
to make the monster
whatever he did.
The work was raw.
The work was not really defined
and a lot of times you'd look
at the stuff and go,
"I'm not exactly sure
what I'm looking at."
So it left a lot of room
for the imagination.
Thought,
"What is this rust monster?
What is this weird thing?"
Or, "What is that?"
You know, "A gelatinous cube?"
I think a gelatinous cube
is fantastic.
It's giving you information
about the world.
It's giving you permission
to use your imagination.
I was always
fascinated with
the black and white art
in theMonster's Manual
and the books.
They were so...
small and specific
and they communicated so much.
They fed so much of my
imagination in these
little, tiny drawings.
And especially now
with all these amazing, wicked,
full-color murals
ofDungeons & Dragons.
I prefer that really simple way
of communicating fantasy.
So I think they looked
at them like textbooks
versus this visual guide
to an imaginary world
created by. You know,
Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson.
The manuscript
would just be type
and then it would stop
and there would be
blank space
and we'd be given that and say,
"Okay, here's a blank space.
Fill the hole."
Sometimes we'd want
the illustration to go between
two columns.
Sometimes it would be just
in the column
or we could get a half page
at the bottom or we'd split it
up into small one at the bottom,
small one at the top.
So we got to make that decision.
If there were descriptions
about something
you had to go according
to the description,
but mostly it was,
"Well, we need a picture
of someone holding a staff.
Make it fit."
What I liked to do is...
I didn't have a light table.
So I used paper
that I could see through
and after I'd drawn something
that I didn't quite like
I would then put
another sheet of paper over it
and redraw it
and make it the way I liked it.
The good artists
were just masters at that craft
of creating fantastic
black and white artwork.
To create depth and volume
with black and white.
On and off, there or not.
One piece
that I really remember
that amazed me was
Jim Roslof's full-page drawing
of Thor
fromDeities & Demigods.
He's like swinging his hammer
and there's like mist
or clouds or something
all around him.
And it has, you know,
his style which has always been
this sort of Celtic-influenced
detailed yet abstract
- kind of stuff.
- Jim's artwork was--
first it was unique because
he wasn't constricted
by normal proportions.
He liked to exaggerate.
So he was able to stylize it
more than just to make it
realistic which is, obviously,
what the fantasy was about.
And Jim was already
very good at being able
to do foreshortening
and make it impactful.
This is one of my original
Jim Rosloff's that I have.
Most of the other artists
that you kind of think about
as great painters,
Jim was a great
black and white artist.
I always felt that
he was one of the more
underrated artists,
underappreciated artists at TSR.
It's not like a super tight
drawing, you know?
It's very fluid.
A lot of movement
and feel through it.
That's why
he's one of my favorites.
Dave Trampier--
Tramp, my buddy.
I think he did
as much to fantasy art
as Frazetta did
for heroic fantasy art.
I think Tramp did
for the rest of us gaming art.
He said we get to have fun,
we get to stick
our tongue
in our cheek and still not
break the mold or the milieu.
The wizard galloping
down the street firing off
the magic missile, you know?
And it sort of sells you
something about
those sort of worlds.
Those sort of fantasy worlds.
They weren't Tolkien-esque
in the sense of being
really dark and grim, you know,
there was a lightness in them.
I would watch him
draw things and I would just...
"Oh, my God, he's so good
because, you know,
he'd, just miraculously, what
would look like a little lump,
suddenly turned
into this wonderful thing.
This is one of my
favorite pieces which is
The God of the Lizard Men.
I wanted to do a drawing
that was like
a Dave Trampier drawing.
That's who I was thinking of
at the time
and I think
I did a pretty good job
on doing something
that kind of looked like
something that
Trampier would do.
I think
Dave Sutherland was probably
actually the strongest
technical artist
in terms of being the best
draftsman among the bunch
from a kind of
a traditional perspective.
I'm thinking of things
like thePaladin In Hell.
That would be a perfectly fine
and effective
black and white
illustration in 2018.
You can read the
Paladin in Hellillustration
in lots of different ways.
Is he some sort of like
completely foolhardy,
reckless guy who--
it's like some sort of
suicide mission.
He's going in there.
It's a kamikaze attack.
So what?
He's gonna go down,
but he's gonna take
so many of these devils
and demons with him.
Or is there actually
something like,
"Wow, this guy must be
so awesomely hard
that he on his own could go
into this environment
and he's gonna
somehow come out?"
♪
So when I got
to TSR's art department,
um, things had changed.
They had gotten
a lot more successful.
There was a place called
the Hotel Claire with a bar
on the main street
that I would go to
and occasionally have a beer.
The hotel was for sale
and TSR was doing well enough.
They bought
the whole darn hotel,
but then the place
that used to be the bar
on Main Street
was the new Dungeon Hobby Shop
and then upstairs,
where the hotel was,
were the TSR offices.
It was an old building
with like slanted floors
and I thought
it was really cool.
Literally rooms where--
that were sagging
that we didn't use
'cause we were afraid
- they were going to cave in.
- There was a false ceiling
and, uh, I can't remember
who it was,
I think it was maybe Erol Otus
was wandering around up there
and he stepped on something
he shouldn't have stepped on
and his feet came down
hanging out from the ceiling.
We were on the third floor.
It wasn't a very large office.
We each had a drawing table.
Um, and it was pretty spartan,
but in the months to come
we added several artists
and moved to the second floor
and that was
a much larger space.
It was never like
we were in this isolated group
or this isolated place.
Our place was always, always
had people coming through.
A woman from the PR department
comes by with this man
and his two boys and the PR lady
starts asking me questions
about
my educational background.
She said,
"So you finished high school
and everything right?"
I said,"Well, you know,
I got out after a year-and-half
'cause I wanted
to go to art school." She gave
me a little frown and just,
"Yeah, so you--you went
to art school
and you finished that right?"
"Well, it was
a three year course
and after a year-and-a-half
I got the job here."
And she kind of like
gave me a sneer and moved on.
I found out later
that what was happening is
this guy's kids
were not doing their schoolwork
because they were playing
too muchDungeons & Dragons.
And I was supposed
to be the voice
of the importance of education.
The culture at TSR
was--was incredible in that
it was very creative
because, again, a lot of this--
nothing had existed before
like this.
So we were creating it
all at the same time.
TSR was just
a wonderful place to be
because it wasn't like
a normal job
because we were all doing
something that we liked.
And everybody was my friend.
The only thing that was at all
kind of corporate about it
is there was a time clock.
So you had to punch in
and out and nobody liked that.
It was very liberating
to be in a position
of where you were basically
given carte blanche
to do what you want to do
if you got your work done.
So some of us would come in
and work regular business hours.
There were several people
that worked from home.
There were several people
that would go on these binges
and put in 10, 12,
uh, 14 hours in a row.
I used to go to work
and get there
before anybody else.
I used to jump on the dumpster,
get onto the fire escape,
and I would leave
my window open to my office
because I didn't have keys
to the place.
And I would let myself in
and I'd be drawing
before anybody else got there.
I can't think
of a better work environment
that I could have been in.
I had nothing to compare to it.
It just seemed like...
it was the only thing
I ever knew.
So it just seemed
totally natural to me.
We all talked amongst ourselves,
joked amongst ourselves.
We all got along even though
some personnel would change up
now and again, you know, most
personalities clicked.
So the artists
kind of fed off each other.
We were certainly pushing
each other to do better
and to do well and to come up
with crazy ideas.
That was a lot of fun hearing
their ideas for creatures.
I remember
The Lost Shrine of Tamoachan
when describing
the Gibbering Mouther
Jeff Leason would make
a strange sound
which was something like,
"Bleee bleee bleee."
So if we were doing
a module, we would get
a full understanding
of the story and the importance
of what illustrations
were the most critical.
And the subject matter
would sometimes be,
"We need
this specific thing from you."
But sometimes it would be
a group of illustrations
that needed to be done
and we would divide them up.
If it was like
the Monster Manual,
very often we were given,
"Okay, here is the next
ten monsters and it's in
under the letter B."
And then you'd finish them, and
by the time you got back in,
it was maybe some other
people had done 'em
and you now had collected
from D into F.
So, when you look
at the Monster Manual
you'll actually see
that there is a series
of illustrations that were done
and then some other artist
would pick them up
and then they would do a series
- and then the next person.
- Through most of the time there
I would just
do anything at all.
It was all great.
I think the one time
that I really, really
had a strong preference was for
the Cthulu mythos
in Deities & Demigods.
Deities & Demigods
included several mythos.
Some from fiction authors
including Lovecraft,
but as it turns out,
TSR didn't actually have
the rights to do some
of those copyrighted materials.
One of the genres
that was removed from
Deities & Demigods
was the Cthulu mythos
and, so, I was disappointed
that more people weren't able
to see it,
but in a way it created
a certain amount
of buzz around it
and so hopefully
some people have sought it out.
The assignments
that I disliked the most
were the maps.
And the maps were very technical
and they had to be very precise
and there were other people
that were better at it
than I was.
I said, "I don't care.
I'll--I'll do maps." You know?
That's the job.
I love coming here
and drawing anything,
you know?
I was starting to come up with
all this different symbology
for the maps.
So, you know, if we needed
a one-way secret door
I had to come up with
what a one-way secret door
was gonna to look like.
If I was gonna, you know,
do a barred window,
"Well, what's that
gonna look like on a map?
And then we had to start doing
different levels
and it's like, "Oh, well,
now we got to deal
with stairways going
up and down or,
what are you gonna
do with that?"
So a large part
of what you see today
is because, you know,
I developed a lot of that.
The Greyhawk Map.
Now that was something
to be reckoned with.
It was so large.
When that artwork was done,
they had to go to Madison
to find a camera big enough
to take a photograph.
And I almost had to fall
on it in order to work.
I mean it--
It was really unwieldy.
All of these colors were done
by pulling the color
off of these sheets.
Now they come apart
and they peel off.
It was a matter of laying down
one thing of color
and then taking
an X-ACTO knife and moving...
cutting it out
and then pulling out
what's not needed and then
laying down another one.
And these are the very ones
I used.
I had little tricks
to make it less cumbersome.
For instance--I can't believe
I'm admitting this...
I would write the names
of the mountains really big.
Can you see how I really
put the--the lettering in here?
Just think how many mountains
I didn't have to do.
Greyhawk really was, um,
something that...
changed my life.
♪
When TSR made
their artistic shift
in the early '80s
and brought in
The Four Horsemen
so to speak,
in relatively short order
the artwork went
from being illustrative
ofD&D,
the things in D&D,
the world of D&D,
what is D&D, you know?
To being
things in and of themselves.
A lot of the folks
in my generation,
this is what they grew up with.
This is, um, their, I guess,
- uh, Picasso you know?
- Those guys were my heroes.
Jeff Easley, Clyde Caldwell,
Larry Elmore, Keith Parkinson.
That's gonna be
'81 to about '88 is when you see
these guys just dominating
Dungeons & Dragonsartwork.
Well, I was, uh,
living in Massachusetts
and working
in a popcorn factory.
I had met Larry Elmore
through a mutual friend.
Basically, I did
a freelance piece for them
and they called me up
later and wanted...
to hire me.
I'd heard
of Dungeons & Dragons,
but I didn't know
very much about it.
So this guy said,
"Well I'm going to submit
some stuff to Dragon Magazine."
Uh, "Why don't you
submit some stuff too?"
My dad was working
in Chicago at a pinball company
doing pinball backings.
And he was a huge gamer.
He's playingDungeons & Dragons
First Edition
and so he'd be
flipping through and thinking,
"I could do better than this.
I can--I can do this.
I should be painting this."
Then he found out,
they're just up in Lake Geneva.
And to me that sounded like
moving to Alaska.
The first couple of times
they offered me a job
I turned it down and then...
I ended up, uh...
being flown out
for an interview and...
And I looked around
at the place.
It was like, "Look like a bunch
of kids running the place."
I only saw about three or four
people older
than me and Gary Gygax
was one of them.
So we just talked
and they were telling me
about TSR and, you know,
it sounded pretty good.
He drove up there and started
talking to the art director
and apparently missed a couple
of big hints
about coming on
full time and left.
Uh, and then when it clicked
months later,
uh, was fortunately able
to still get a position.
Finally the president
of the company at that time
was Kevin Bloom
and he flew down here.
Well, he finally said,
"What do you make?
How much money
do you make a year?"
I told him.
He said, "I'll double it."
I looked at him and said,
"I guess you bought yourself
an artist."
When I first got to TSR
they had just bought
a large, new building
over on Sheridan Springs Road
where they had
already moved all the execs
and so forth out there.
And we knew that they were
eventually going to move us
out there as soon as they
made space available.
We had a large room
all to ourselves
so it was a big bullpen-kind
of area.
And we stayed in
that kind of environment
for pretty much the rest
of... of the history of TSR.
Clyde Caldwell, Larry Elmore,
Jeff Easley, Keith Parkinson
each had a corner of the room.
I tried to kind of
make a barrier
so that it would be hard
for people to come
and walk into my area
and see what I was doing.
It didn't work because
they would just come around
and walk around anyway.
Then the floor was covered,
covered in paint.
And in fact Gail Gygax
took us to visit TSR,
the building,
when we were at Gary Con
a couple of years ago
and we got to go in there
and in the art room there's
still paint on the floor.
We'd be working
in that big room together
it'd be pretty quiet and then--
I know I did this
several times,
I'd break the silence and I'd
say, "Can you believe..."
You know I was 35 years old.
I said, "I am 35 years old.
I'm getting paid
really good money
to paint
monsters and dragons."
Everybody just sort of stops,
says, "I can't believe it.
This is unreal."
Here's a picture of all of us
back in TSR in the '80s
when were all young men.
I think they called themselves
the Art Dogs.
Uh, hard to beat that, right?
Yeah I don't want to say
it was like a big party
all the time because we did
have to sit down and do work,
but it was--they kind of
left us alone, you know?
We had these killer dart games
and the scary thing was
when you come through the door
to come into our department,
you were right in the path
of the dart board.
The board was on this wall,
we would stand over here
throwing and you had
to go through the doorway.
So if someone came through
really quick they could've
easily got a dart
in the side of their head.
It almost happened a few times.
So if anybody's got any...
original TSR art and you see
a little perfectly round hole,
that's a dart hole.
Well some people
made the mistake of, uh,
when they gave us
art supplies
they gave us this big box
of gigantic rubber bands.
I mean, they're like
pieces of inner tube almost.
So like you what do you do
with a rubber band that size?
You shoot it
at somebody of course.
I think it says so on the box.
One day we had our little fight
and Jeff Easley
was not there
and a rubber band
went skipping across
his oil painting
and it left nice little mark
across it, you know?
It's like, "Oh! Oh! Oh!
Oh, no-- Jeff's painting!
Oh, no! We've got to fix it.
Somebody gotta fix it."
So somebody goes over there
and, you know,
tweaks it around,
and fixes Jeff's oil painting.
And, yeah...
I guess he never
even noticed it, you know?
♪
So when Larry joins TSR,
that was probably
the next big step, right?
Here's a guy who's gonna be
doing big color pieces,
oils or, you know,
medium that they hadn't
necessarily had before.
And, so, to really scale up
to be a mass market product--
which is what was the goal
and what they ended up doing
fantastically as it turned out,
you needed to be able
to compete with everything else
on the shelves.
And so that's what they had
to do to get there.
My favorite thing about
Larry Elmore are his skies.
Even if it's a stormy sky,
it's just so--
like he went out
and took a photograph
of the most amazing sky
that you've seen
and he can just put that
in any painting.
Well, Larry Elmore just does
some fantastical environments.
His landscapes
are just beautiful.
The land,
the environment is important.
If it's snow,
if it's mountains,
if it's a desert, water.
This is important to the game.
And on top of that,
I love painting landscapes.
And he loves figure painting,
and he loves story.
When you look at his characters
and they're wearing
unique forms of armor
and interesting weapons
and tools that they're carrying
or the barding on their horse
is really fascinating.
And then in the background
is some landscape.
You know, a castle, ruins,
forest, but you see
the depth of the world.
I made these things.
They hook over there,
they hit this piece of wood here
and they float right above
your painting.
So I use it to brace
my hand on when I paint.
This is how wide that board was
when I got back in 1987.
I worked at TSR, okay?
So I've used this thing.
And what I do,
when I'm painting,
I'll be painting
and I'll clean off my brush
or when I mix my paint
I'll come up here and clean
a little bit of the brush off.
So all this paint here
is made of little dabs of paint
slowly built up.
So that's how every painting
I've done since '87
it's probably got
some of that paint in here.
Larry had this thing
that he would sometimes,
uh, sign under the name
Jack Fred
to some of his paintings
when he felt like
he didn't have time
to do a good job.
It was-- Came from a little
thing he had with his kids.
I would talk sorta funny
and real country
and I'd call myself Jack Fred.
And it's like
I wasn't very smart.
And the kids would laugh
and ask me questions.
I'd answer 'em and it was just a
game we'd play in the car a lot.
I did a painting.
It wasn't very good at all.
I said,
"I can't sign my name to this.
This is not a real painting.
It's, you know,
it's more like a practice piece
or something, a rough."
So I thought,
"I'm not signing my name to it."
So I thought of Jack Fred.
So some of the others of us--
Occasionally when we'd
have to do something that was
really kind of,
not of the best quality
would sign it Jack Fred.
So occasionally you'll find
a Jack Fred
attributed among the credits
in the TSR product line.
His thing is
always, "I didn't know
what I was doing.
I was just doing it
and hoping it turned out cool
and it was fun
and people enjoyed it."
And he never thought of it
as the idea of...
"I'm creating this image
and this is gonna be
the birth of something huge."
This is probably the most
highly-visible piece
I ever did in my life
and it's been seen
all over the world.
If I had known it was
gonna be what it was
when I painted it,
it'd probably scared me to death
and then I'd done something
a lot worse.
I sat down at my desk
and did a big drawing
it took me half a day probably.
The whole party
fighting a dragon
and that drawing
comes back rejected.
No explanation.
Just "No. We don't like it."
I went to go see Gary.
"You can't do that."
Only special people
can see him you know?
"Well, he wants his cover done
for his D&D?
Then I'm gonna have
to talk to him."
And I told him I said,
"What do you want?"
I said, "I've turned in
two or three things already
and you don't like it."
I said"So what are you
wanting out of this cover?"
He looked at me and sort of
bent over and he said,
"I want something
that will reach out and grab ya
like this."
So I was sitting there like,
"Well, okay, I get it.
I understand."
So I went back and drew
this drawing relatively fast.
And showed to him and he said
"That's exactly what I want."
It's not a horrible painting,
but it's not the best painting
I ever done.
I think for the time
and for the game
and to reflect the action
the young people wanted to see
in the game, it did its job.
I don't really remember
ever seeing Jeff paint.
Jeff was always looking
at his canvas...
And he'd rock like this,
and he'd study it...
and he'd study it...
and he'd study it.
You'd walk away
and you'd get a cup of coffee
and come back
and he'd still be studying it.
Then you'd go to work
on your own piece for an hour
and you'd come back
and he'd still be studying it.
You'd go, "What the he--."
You'd go to the bathroom
and you'd come back
and it's half done.
Jeff easily did not rely
on photographic reference
like Keith and Larry did.
So when you look at
a Jeff Easley piece
you feel the energy--
the gestural energy--behind it.
Out of all the artists--
staff artists that were
doing it,
Larry Elmore, Clyde Caldwell,
Jeff's artwork made me feel
like a kid again.
When I saw Jeff Easley's art
for the Monster Manual II,
fighter facing off
against a Hill Giant,
that rocked my world.
It kicked the stool
out from under me
and kicked me in the teeth.
All of a sudden here's real art
on the covers of theD&D books.
With Jeff Easley
it would be the dragons.
He's kind of one of those where
you can look at it
and you know that
it's a Jeff Easley dragon.
Jeff's dragons are just
friggin cool, man.
I mean, look here, you've got
one of Jeff Easley's
incredible paintings
of Verminaard and the dragon.
The scales,
the drooling, you know, mouth,
the teeth.
It's just, you know,
it's just so much life and
detail in it that it's amazing.
Yeah, my holy grail
I would say that, you know,
I still don't believe I have it,
is definitely Jeff Easley's
Big Red Dragon painting.
From what I understand
the art direction that Jeff
got is like, you know,
"We want a dragon
that's kind of in your face
and whatnot."
So you know that's kind of how
I got introduced intoD&D.
I think I have done one pen
and ink drawing of a dragon
before I got to TSR.
I think the first one
I ever painted was
the firstMonster Manual
of the dragon and the Pegasi.
Probably a little overkill
doing all the scales
like that tightly and so forth.
And then, you know,
there's no horns
or any kind of sweep back
on the head here like I would
certainly do nowadays.
Well, luckily, with dragons
being a mythological creature
that there's no--
there is no way to do it wrong.
It's, uh, you know,
there's no--no dragon police
that are gonna come in
and tell you did it incorrectly.
Well, as far as skeletons
and painting undead
and that sort of thing, that
harkens back to my, you know,
lifelong love of monsters
and fantasy.
I mean, I just--
I just I loved skulls
when I was a kid
much to my parents chagrin.
Jeff Easley's undead
are so cool
because there's so much
life in them.
Zombie-like, living,
they've got personality.
And you don't want to mess
with them.
They're pretty frickin bad ass
and, you know,
they scare the crap out of you.
They just have an intrinsic
power to them I think.
Jeff Easley's Magisterpainting
is such an awesome
Dungeons & Dragonspiece.
I mean, you've got
this wizard Magister
who's raising these undead,
you know?
And you're just drawn in
to the picture
and you want to know, "Why?
What's going on?"
Jeff was the best--
the best at doing magic.
Hands down, man.
You just look at an Easley.
When you see an Easley magician
going at it,
the magic,
he just knew how to do that.
And then Jim organized
a lunchtime D&Dgame.
I was playing a magic user.
An elven magic user
named Cragmar from the land
beyond the mountain.
One day after I just turned
sixth level,
we were in a situation where
I thought it would be a cool
thing to do to cast my new
fireball I just got.
Of course,
if you read the rules
you will find out
that if it is thrown
in a confined space
like a dungeon,
a small dungeon room,
that it has to have a certain
area to dissipate
for your fellow characters
can survive it.
Keith says, "Jeff,
are you sure you wanna do this?"
- "Yeah."
- He did everything
he could do to prevent me
from frying everybody,
but I-- I persisted and managed
to kill the entire party.
That kind of ended the game.
♪
Clyde was definitely
a perfectionist
and very particular
about getting everything
exactly right.
I never was really comfortable
with people seeing my work
before it was finished.
I didn't mind showing it
to people after
it was finished,
but I didn't like people
seeing it in progress
since--especially if I was
having trouble with something
or something
didn't look good to me.
Clyde would take
how ever long it took to do
a painting no matter what.
If his world's come to an end
or they threatened to shoot him
he would just ignore them.
Clyde would paint
probably like a Flemish painter
where there's a tremendous
amount of precision and detail.
He knew how to bring out
the concrete shape of a form
describing a sword,
describing armor,
and making you really
understand
the mechanics
and the structure.
His colors were so bright
and vibrant
Everything seemed
blended so well.
Clyde really just put together
a very saturated presentation
and I think that speaks to
the energy that was
the aesthetic that was desired
in art in the '80s.
Ravenloftwas one of my first
assignments when I came to TSR.
And I think it was just
intended to be a one shot.
Evidently it was
a popular module.
As time went on, they decided,
"Well,
let's do a whole campaign."
You know,
Ravenloft the game setting.
I think what Clyde Caldwell
really added to the D&Dlexicon
is his sensuality
for the character.
Clyde painted all women sexy.
If he painted a nun,
if it was a module about a nun
she'd have been the sexiest nun
you ever saw.
The female characters
just always appealed to me
more than the male characters
even though I didn't mind
painting male characters,
either, but, actually, uh,
TSR was pretty conservative
about the female characters
and they thought,
you know, that their audience
was 14-year-old boys.
But for some reason
they didn't think
14 year-old boys
liked sexy women.
She's a smooth, muscular,
- but still weirdly...
- Feminized.
...bodaciously endowed.
Yeah, she's like
an other-worldly creature
because it doesn't make sense
that she could even stand.
I grew up with these artists
who would draw women
in these big-bosomed, like,
little bikinis
and I didn't think
anything was wrong with it
because
there's nothing wrong with it.
Occasionally
I would get a little criticism
for maybe not having someone
in full armor
and that sort of thing.
It didn't cover
a lot of vital areas.
Mostly nipples, I guess,
'cause, I mean--
I was painting for a game
that had magic.
You didn't need
armor for protection.
You could protect yourself
without it.
I don't want armor.
I want to have a wizard
in a bikini,
with, like, wrist cuffs
and, you know,
like a magical shield.
Like I don't need armor.
I have brain armor.
Each of the artists
did four paintings
in the Dragonlancecycle.
So when Clyde was doing,
like, Goldmoon,
I came into the art room
and I saw Clyde's drawing
and I burst into tears.
At some point I decided I wanted
to paint her with bare legs.
She cried a while.
She's looking at it and I said,
"Margaret is something wrong?"
She says, "Yes...
this is not Goldmoon.
Goldmoon is holy, she's not."
I don't know
what words she used.
"She's not this." You know?
After that, Goldmoon always
had pants on in paintings.
♪
Of the group of artists
that TSR brought in
in the early '80s--
Easley, Elmore,
Caldwell, Parkinson,
I've had numerous people
and numerous artists tell me
that Keith Parkinson
was actually
the most influential.
And I have also had numerous
people argue with me
that Keith Parkinson was
the most accomplished painter
of those four artists.
And, in fact, I've had
some of those four artists
tell me that Keith Parkinson
was the most
accomplished painter.
He died way too young
um, and he was--
he was an amazing artist.
He just picked up
like gangbusters man.
I mean he went at it
and he had a voraciousness
to him that he just wanted
to learn, learn, learn,
learn, learn
and he did, man.
He just--
by leaps and bounds.
Everything he did looked better
than the thing he did before.
He got to learn from some--
I mean...
Elmore, Easley, Caldwell.
Like, getting to learn
from those guys?
That's pretty great.
I was showing Keith.
I said, "Look, if you
have a hard time drawing an arm
as a single, get a model.
You know, as long as your model
and you take a picture of it
and look at it and draw it,
I said, "It's yours."
So what we're looking at here
are a bunch of reference photos
mostly from the 1980s
that my dad and Larry Elmore
and a bunch of other,
kind of, TSR alum--
you'll see Diesel
in a few of them,
took to help prepare
for their paintings.
For this one we've got a paper
towel roll being a flute.
Over here we've got
an X-Wingbeing a laser gun.
Riding a park bench
like a horse.
Probably a lot
of confused onlookers
while they are doing this stuff.
I think it's a great
snapshot, literally,
into the history of this
that you don't really see
- this side of it.
- You could see that he obviously
studied classical painters
because he's able to bring
this incredible,
realistic world
to a convincing presentation.
He had
this innate color sense.
I don't think he could explain
what he was doing with color.
I kept thinking like,
"I got a box of crayons.
I only had eight crayons,
you know?"
Whereas Keith seemed like
he had a box of 182 crayons.
So my dad's take
on color was that
color isn't blue.
It isn't red. It isn't green.
It's a mixture of,
you know, everything.
So his palette,
if you looked at it,
would be, you know, glob of this
glob of that, glob of that.
And then just mush
of whatever this was.
It was referred to as the
Parkinson Shit Brown usually
because that's exactly
what it looked like,
but then when you put it up
on the canvas,
"Oh it's a tree.
That's the color of bark."
That is--I mean it worked.
I think Keith Parkinson
came from
a place of storytelling.
There was
always a sense of story
and narrative and everything
that Keith painted.
They're all action shots.
They're all events transpiring.
There is an action happening
and this is a freeze frame
of--of what's going on
in that moment.
And a great example
of that would be, uh,
Parkinson's
What Do You Mean We're Lost?
That has three draconians
arguing in the snow
with trees behind them
and there's no road
to be found anywhere.
And they're all like--
It looks like a family pulled
over on the side of the road
during a car trip
all just yelling at each other.
It's popular with a lot
of people, myself included,
because I think it kind of
shows these terrific,
fantastical, fierce creatures
in a situation
that you wouldn't necessarily
picture them being in.
Which is lost
in the snow and cold,
uh, and just grumpy
and angry about it.
He had,
first and foremost,
probably a fantastic sense
of humor.
He loved
to play practical jokes.
I put all those paintings up
on the wall
and went home that night
and when I came back in
the next morning,
all my paintings
were turned upside down.
I was gonna start painting
and I looked over here,
well, my palette was gone...
my brushes were gone.
Everything was gone!
So I was totally exasperated
and I just slumped back
on my chair,.
I looked up...
All my stuff
was on the ceiling.
The phone was on there,
there's my brushes.
Everything was
all on the ceiling.
It's a pretty amazing feeling
knowing and seeing the impact
my dad has had on the industry,
but, more specifically,
individual artists.
Every kid wants to hear
his dad's awesome, right?
But I've a lot of people
coming up telling me,
you know, as a grown adult
that my dad was awesome
and he's been gone 12 years now.
And the fact that people
are still saying
that kind of stuff
when nothing new has come out
in over a decade,
uh, that's--that's fantastic.
And I think speaks to what
he was able to do
- with time that he had.
- I think what the worst thing
about it--
not only that he's missed,
but the paintings
he would have done...
we'll never see
because before he died
he was doing
some fantastic paintings
and he was only
going to get better.
By the time you get
into the mid-to-late '80s
you really start
to reach a point
where, to an ever increasing
number of people,
when they think of fantasy art,
fantasy imagery,
they start to think of TSR.
They start to think of D&D.
People that
don't even play D&D,
you know, when you ask them,
"What does fantasy art
look like?"
They'll point at
Lord Soth's Charge
even if they have no idea
who Lord Soth is
or anything about Dragonlance
or anything
about the world at all.
In the case ofDragonlance
I really had a sense that
that was gonna be a big thing,
you know,
right from the start.
The Art of the Dragonlance
that's one of my very first
art books I've got.
As you can see that covers off,
third page is almost coming off.
It was well-worn,
looked through
hundreds of times, you know.
I just loved studying
the paintings.
Here's Raistlin in his lab
with all the potions
and everything.
Just beautiful piece.
You got to know
the characters.
After a while you knew 'em.
They might look exactly alike
in each painting,
but you knew who they were.
So it gave you a familiarity.
When they're the one on
the book covers, module covers.
They didn't impose
hard deadlines on us.
You know, they really let us
paint on these
until, you know,
we were satisfied with them.
So we were just really put
everything we could into them.
Dragonlance
was really the thing
that propelled specific style.
So you had Dragonlance
and Birthright and Dark Sun
and Planescape
and all that stuff.
That's when we were
really sitting down
and making, uh,
style guides or at least
a cohesive look to a world.
Normally what would happen
is once the designer
and the editor decide
on what they want
for their product,
and, hopefully, at that point
they have a storyboard
enough where they know
they need three
quarter-page illustrations
and two half-page illustrations
and one full-page.
They will come up with
an art order
or an art suggestion.
And it is important
that the art description
is clear, uh, that
it's-- creates a hierarchy
for the artist to latch onto
about what is important
versus what is not important
and to remember
that you're basically getting
one snapshot.
Oftentimes I think the editors
when they would describe
a scene they wanted to see
oftentimes I got the impression
they were sometimes describing
a five-minute movie trailer.
"We've got this thief
and they're jumping off
this roof
and they're bashing this guy
as they are falling down
to the thing and then
they're tumbling over."
And I'm like,"Guys, guys, guys.
It's a single frame."
I always actually liked it
when I got difficult,
and I still do like it
when I get
quite challenging briefs
because that's part of the fun
of being an illustrator really;
it's about problem solving.
Sometimes it was
even frustratingly simple.
Like, "I really wish
you would have given me
more information rather than
having to make me guess."
We had occasions where we didn't
even really have art directors.
You know, we were just kind of--
and we were kinda divvying.
And they would give us
a big batch of stuff
and we were divvying up
the jobs among ourselves.
Each one of us got the,
you know, we would roll dice
- to see who got to pick first.
- Clyde Caldwell wanted
all the ones
with chicks in them.
He was the--wanted to be
the woman painter.
So he would fight
over all those.
So I guess it depended on
how... how popular the piece--
the--the product line was,
what the elements
of the painting were,
and if it had chicks in it.
And then the stuff
that we couldn't handle in-house
we actually had to
call freelancers ourselves
and coordinate them
and use them on the job
and, you know, do all
the dirty work
that an art director
would do also.
And their Rolodex consisted
of a four-foot square section
of a top flat file
for art was all stored
and the top of that cabinet
was Post-it Notes
and three-by-five note cards
and scraps of paper
with artists names
and numbers on them.
I basically stood there
while they were all working
and just would call out
a name and say,
"Do we keep this guy?"
And they'd say, "Yes."
And then I'd make an index card
and we started
their actual Rolodex.
So I took an existing module
and pasted my artwork
into the module
and then made a print out.
This being a smaller version
of the actual print out
and sent this to TSR
back in September of 1992.
A lot of it I would look at
and send back
to the artist with a nice,
little letter saying,
you know,
"Thanks, but no thanks."
And she's like,
"We loved your stuff."
And I'm like,
"You loved my stuff?"
I'm like, "But you sent
a letter that said, you know,
you didn't like it."
And she's like
"Well, you know, all you sent
were like...
floating images
of monsters and people.
Like, they weren't
doing anything. They're just--
they were just standing there."
There's a Medusa
standing here doing nothing
and a couple of knolls looking
around also doing nothing."
They liked the way I drew,
but the artwork
was clearly I was--
I was doing nothing.
By the end of that year
I was given my first assignment
from TSR which was
a huge box set
called Dragon Mountain
which I remember because
Jennell Jaquays did this
amazing painting
of a red dragon on top
of a mountain top.
My most famous piece,
Dragon Mountain,
was done as a freelance piece.
Around 1990 I had a sea change
in the way I painted.
Suddenly I went from
painting in one manner
to something that was more
rich and colorful and vibrant
and people at TSR noticed that.
And suddenly I started getting
more cover work from them.
Both in the magazines and on,
eventually, the products.
Freelancers,
they bring a vast amount
of difference
within the course of a product.
And you can see a lot
of really cool things
with people having cool, new
ideas about different things,
but you still need a cohesive
Art Direction in there
in a way that you're gonna
put the product forward.
And, I think, that's something
that Dungeons & Dragons
has always been able to do.
Make a product,
make a product line,
- and we identify it.
- In the role of an art director
on D&D,
our biggest joke is
we used to sit here and say
your subtitle was
"Art Director, Cat Wrangler"
because...
in reality your whole job
was about trying to match up
all these different
opposing forces.
So you had the R&D guys
who had a vision of
what the art books
should be, look like
and then you've got
the brand guys
and the marketing guys
who all have this vision
of how it's got to fit
into the world
from a marketing
and business standpoint.
And then you've got all
the partners that you deal with
who have to be able
to communicate the art with
so that they can use it
for licensed products
and stuff like that.
And then you've got the artists
themselves where you're trying
to take the stuff
that the guys in R&D want
and meld that together with
the brand and marketing stuff
and create a piece of artwork
that fulfills on
all their needs, but is also
very useful for the book,
and, oh, yes by the way,
makes the fans very happy.
You went from
generic fantasy setting
to, uh, to suddenly having
this myriad of worlds--
of different realms.
You know, you had Greyhawk,
Forgotten Realms,
Dark Sun.
There's a distinct
definitive feeling
that's different
between all of those.
And that's all drawn from
that creative team.
From those creative forces
behind it
and that creative team
chose the correct artists
- to represent that.
- I love finding...
the perfect piece
to give to the perfect artist.
The first thing
you have to decide is
"What kind of worlds
do you want?"
Um... and define some goals
and then you start,
uh...
working with artists
that can execute
on that and bring
that vision to life.
WithDark Sun they wanted
to try something different.
They wanted a strong look
and feel to identify the world
and to do that they decided
to use one artist
to establish that.
Luckily, I had been spending
a lot of my extra time
doing my own paintings
and these I had brought
into TSR and put on the wall.
One of the paintings
I did was this
muscular woman
on a rock.
It was Neeva with the wings
and the mask and the top.
Uh, little did I know
that they were creating
a new world called Dark Sun
and they were looking for
a completely unique look.
They came in,
saw that painting,
and they just thought,
"This is perfect."
I don't think
it's an exaggeration to say that
Dark Sunis Brom, you know?
Without Brom there would be
no Dark Sunsetting.
It's interesting
'cause to this day
I have people come up
and say, "Dark Sun is why.
Your art is why
I bought this product.
It's what got me
into Dungeons & Dragons.
Brom as a person was a goofball.
I mean, he was always,
always funny.
Diesel, in particular,
would have a Halloween party
and all the creatives
would try to outdo each other
- with their costumes.
- Brom came dressed
as Jeff Easley.
Complete with
theTV Guide in his pocket.
He had on this,
you know, goofy, bald-head wig
with the hair sticking out
and glasses on.
I thought he was
like a clown or something.
And I show up at the party.
So he's as Satan
and I'm as Jeff
and it's kind of
a Good Jeff Bad Jeff.
I just wish
I had known beforehand
that he was going to do that
I probably would've...
uh, retaliated.
A lot of times,
because we did have,
like, a particular artist
for a particular world,
they were really involved
with the designer and the editor
in the beginning.
Especially for something
like Planescape.
When that came around, I mean,
you really remember
the artist being a big part
of all that design
right from the beginning.
Planescape was just
so different.
It was not
typical medieval fantasy.
It was not
a regular fantasy world.
It was interplanar.
The art was fresh.
I--At this point...
was more confident
than I'd ever been
with my illustration for TSR.
So it was a chance,
I felt, to really shine
and rise to the occasion
because the other thing
they told me was
"LikeDark Sun,
you will be
the only illustrator
on these books.
And at least for the first year
as we launch the series,
we want you to be
the only artist
for the core box set,
for the monster book,
and for the first couple
of modules"
I think that came out.
This is one of
the mercy killers.
This would've been from
the original campaign
box setting.
This is all designed
from Dana Knutson's concept art
that would have been
done early on for the game.
The lead game designer,
Zeb Cook, um, he was the one
who said, "Well, we want a kind
of a medieval world, but..."
He said, "We've got
to make it different."
And I was kind of like,
"Well, you know, what do I do,
you know, to make it different?"
And all he said
were the two words,
"Make it spiky and bumpy."
And that was it.
This is called The Mortuary
and these were portals
that actually went
to different planes.
Kind of hidden back there,
but they're there.
And then I just came up
with this creepy look
with some of the spears
and stuff sticking out.
When everybody saw this one,
this pretty much sold the line.
They really wanted to go
in this direction.
We needed to come up with
a logo for Planescape.
And so I came up with
this idea which is the gates
and the bat wings and the owner,
Lorraine Williams,
actually liked this logo
so much she thought it was
actually too good for,
uh, to be used on Planescape
so she wanted
it used on Ravenloft.
So we switched it over
to Ravenloftand I don't think
it ever was used, but we had
to come up with a new idea
and that's where we used
one of the faction symbols
which was The Lady of Pain.
I had done
some faction symbols.
These are these symbols
for different clan groups
and stuff and one of them
was this woman's head
with the blades coming out.
She has this dead smile,
the eyes are just, you know,
they stare back at you.
Very mysterious, very creepy.
When we got to Planescape,
there wasn't a lot
of those classic monsters
in Planescape.
There were some secondary
monsters that you might have
seen in laterMonster Manuals,
but none of the real, big,
core monsters were there
and I felt like I had
the freedom
to kind of go nuts.
Tony almost added
a level of aesthetic clutter
is almost what I call it.
You know, like little pouches,
little knickknacks
and things kind of like
squirreled away on figures
or on characters.
And before that, you know,
you'd get like... like a dwarf
in a tunic with pants
and with boots.
Tony comes along
and does his gnome
with a candelabra headset,
smoking a pipe
with a crazy pouch
and platform shoes
and, like,
all this bizarre,
crazy idiosyncrasies
that make those creatures
more than creatures; they make
them individuals and characters.
Everything just worked.
That's--That's--
That's one of the most wonderful
feelings when you work on--
on a world and it--
it turns out the way
you wanted it to
only it turns out even better.
I always think back on those
years working on Planescape
and I always smile because
it was such a great time
in my life.
And those were great people.
During my time at TSR,
it was during Lorraine Williams'
reign, so to speak.
And she hired--or a lot
of people working for her
weren't gamers,
who weren't familiar
with industry, but they had
backgrounds as actual managers.
Sometimes they made decisions
that were not based on reality.
Jeff Easley was pegged to do
this very prominent cover
for a new product and
management wanted to make sure
it's the best it can be.
So they specified,
"Jeff, only use
your most expensive colors
on this painting."
Which is hilarious 'cause, like,
Rose Madder is
the most expensive paint tube
so I can imagine if his whole
painting was Rose Madder.
Another thing that happened
along the similar lines
is another important project
came along and they said,
"This project's important.
Make sure you use
all the colors."
So that just kind of gives you
an idea of the void
between the understanding
between management and creatives
especially the painters, at TSR.
Originally,
we got to keep our art.
Then somewhere along the way,
I'd say right around...
maybe 1980 or so,
um...
they decided that, "Well,
we should keep the art, TSR."
And those works
went into a vault
that was found and opened
when Wizards purchased TSR.
Some of the art
got back into the artists hands,
but some of it didn't.
In the generations that
we're talking about,
D&Dart wasn't
a digital piece on a computer.
It was a real piece of artwork
and those pieces
were everywhere
and we're here today
talking about them because
we love them and we know the
value that these things have.
But at the time, nobody knew.
I get this call
from somebody going,
"Hey, we were cleaning out
the shipping department
'cause they're getting ready
for some construction."
Or something
"We found this painting
behind a big filing cabinet
and we were thinking
about throwing it away,
but we figured since it's art,
we should call you up
and let you know and let--
you could tell us
what to do with it."
Then I went down there,
I was like, "Oh, my God,
this is the original
Trampier cover.
Oh, what is this doing...?
Why is this here?
Why is this behind a thing?"
And totally freaked out.
Realizing that we were, like,
literally moments away
from this thing
ending up in a dumpster
because nobody in shipping
had an understanding
of what it was
and what the importance was
- to this brand.
- For whatever reason
that boggles my mind,
original artwork
somehow was...
confused for trash.
They chucked it away in-- It--
At least three batches
that I know of
and I did not learn about it
until the last batch
that they were chucking away.
And I--I was out of my mind.
I couldn't believe
that they were doing this
so I grabbed a bunch of that.
And if it wasn't for the fact
that there were some people
who happened to be witnessing
at the time
that this was happening,
that artwork
never would have been rescued.
♪
A really good villain,
a really complex, dynamic,
not purely evil villain
is so much more interesting
than a hero no matter
how well he's fleshed out.
I love fantasy art
because of the monsters.
D&Dwas the first niche
to fill the monster market
and give us visual evidence
of what creatures were
that we might have seen
or wanted to go against.
Now you can go on Google
and put in a name of something
and do an image search
and you can get
a million images
that'll come up,
but I bet you they're fromD&D.
WhatD&D did was,
just by the needs
of the game, demanded an image
for every monster.
It became sort of
a compendium or glossary
of every creature that had ever
populated any fiction
most of which may have never
been painted.
There was nothing out there
for what certain monsters
looked like
or certain other things,
so you had to go by
the description.
We were just making the shit up.
It's like being an explorer.
You're the first one
who's gone there
and you're reporting back
to everyone else
what that thing looks like.
So I had to paint a dragon, the
first dragon I ever painted
when I went to work at TSR.
I'm like,
"God,
I've gotta paint a dragon."
I get my encyclopedia out
and I look up dinosaurs
in one book.
Another book I had reptiles.
And a lot of people say,
"Well, why you put
front legs on a dragon?"
You know, you see a lot
of dragons with the wings
and the front legs
tied together.
It's like,
"Well, because TSR said in D&D,
dragons were very intelligent.
They could do things,
they could cast spells.
They need to use the front legs
almost like hands."
I was always a little
intimidated by dragons, though.
I hadn't done a lot of dragons
prior to coming to TSR
and then Dragonlancecame along
and we kind of changed
the look of the dragons.
I got to develop
the Black Dragon
and the Green Dragon.
You know, I think Larry did
the White Dragon
and the Blue Dragon
and Jeff did the Red Dragon.
My version of the dragon
has evolved a little
over the years and I think that
eventually got to the point
where physically a lot
of my dragons are kind of
almost human musculature
in the arms and so forth
and you can get really
kind of an expressive gesture.
The way I do the faces
I think oftentimes,
it's almost caricature approach
in some cases
with the eyes,
maybe a little bit of a grin
or just the way
the nose wrinkles up.
Yeah they're just--
of all the fantasy creatures
I think they're probably
the most iconic.
Lockwood really set the bar
recently for kind of
what's to be expected
of dragons I feel.
You can't have more fun
for money than designing
the dragons for D&D.
Todd just--he really had
a hankering
to, uh, just redesign them
to make them less humanoid
in their anatomy
and more feline,
more bestial
and really gave each one
its own
really distinct differences.
Seeing like the Green
Dragon look very different
from the Black Dragon
look very different from the,
you know, Blue Dragon
was really inspiring
because there was
taking into account
regions and where these dragons
could be found.
Sam Wood and I worked very,
very closely together
on the dragons
and traded pictures
back and forth
and built them up
from the inside out.
We drew skeletons,
we drew musculature diagrams
and then we fleshed them out.
Pulling in a lot
of different textures and colors
from real world objects
like, you know,
for this copper dragon he's got
a really nice patina on it,
but each, again, each dragon
has such a unique head crest
and look about it
that you can really start
to appreciate
the culture of each species.
Dragons have wings.
They don't swing
from tree limbs.
They don't need shoulders
that can brachiate.
A cat can't do this...
but a monkey can.
A dragon doesn't need
to swing from a tree.
So we gave them limbs
more appropriate to the things
it would use those limbs for.
For me
when I'm painting a dragon,
when I'm approaching
the design aspect of it
it's almost like
a personality that you have
to hit, less so than
a physical feature.
Like, for me,
I'm not aiming for scales
on my dragon,
that's not important.
I'm aiming for majesty.
I'm aiming for impact.
I'm aiming for this powerful
feel to them.
The Silver Dragon for
Fifth Edition
was a real treat for me
'cause they're one of my
favorite dragons inD&D.
I wanted it to be something
that sort of takes
your breath away a little bit
when you see
the beauty of this animal
rather than just a monster. You
know, something with just
a couple of hit points and
some loot on it to get later.
When I am designing creatures
I much more prefer
kind of Earth-bound creatures.
Like, if it looks more alien,
I actually--I don't like that.
Because nature looks cool
and really anything that you can
come up with,
nature's already done it.
One of the things that--
that is always in the forefront
of my mind, you know,
outside of the standard art
stuff of, you know,
"Where's the light source
coming from?"
And all that
is "How do
these creatures work?
Like, how do they interact
with their environments?
How do they interact
with each other
and how can I make
that look believable?"
I am every monster
in all of my work.
I use this medium in this forum
to do a series
of self-portraits.
Root the Goblin
was one of the assignments
that I had to do for
Halls of Undermountain
and it was one
of my favorite self portraits
that I've done
for Dungeons & Dragons
and I really wanted to get
a really nice piece of reference
that I was going to use
to help the piece along.
I just wanted to create
a really happy, excited
little goblin that wanted
to help the players out
and he's gonna carry
all their stuff.
As long as you have 90 %
of a truth with a monster
that ten percent can be
as crazy as weird
and as much of a lie
as you want and you will create
something that is believable.
So, you know, there's the--
the age old answer
of like,
"Well, how does that work?"
And it's like,
"Eh, a wizard did it."
You know, it's like,
"It's magic."
You can... you can delve
into the realm of magic.
That's what gets me excited
about making art
for Dungeons & Dragons
is that I get to create
something that has
never existed before.
It's an ogre slingshot
that's sling-shotting goblins.
There has to be some type
of guide who says,
"All right, sling it."
You know?
So we have one goblin
in there who's kind of like
the leader who's saying,
"Sling away!"
You know?
So then he can yank his chains
down and sling
this goblin covered in
spiky armor into an enemy.
I hope it inspires the gamer
to come up with a scenario
that he can put his people up
against, to fight this thing.
The best D&Dmonsters,
I think, are these...
the ones that have maintained
their uniqueness
over the years
and that's probably like
The Beholder and they're
wholly bizarre creatures.
The Beholder
was just sort of an accident.
I seem to have gotten
all sorts of credit
for The Beholder.
And even though I didn't
think of it.
I mean, Gary probably thought
the damn thing up,
he just described it to me.
You know, ten eye stalks
and a big eye
and it floats in the air.
If you look at the way
a Beholder looked
in the very first illustration
like on the cover of Greyhawk
that is one look
for that creature,
but if you look at the way
they're being depicted now,
they've got much bigger mouths
full of much sharper teeth.
And every place
where the artist feels
that they can make that
Beholder a little bit cooler
they're doing it.
Beholders were terrifying.
That was the monster that
if it didn't turn you to stone,
it could disintegrate you
or turn your magic off
or just kill you outright
with a glance.
So when I got a chance
to redesign The Beholder
forThird Edition,
I tried to make him more real
and more visceral and scary.
And, well, I suppose
maybe I pictured
a Trampier-like Beholder
or maybe I pictured
one of the things
that had been done
shortly before that which was
just kinda a beach ball
with penises coming out of it.
And so instead of penises,
they were like slug eyes
that would stretch out
like a slug's eye and retract.
There's nothing phallic
about the eye stalks
on The Beholder
I don't think.
Those are just eyes stalks.
It's kind of like little animals
with eye stalks that get up
and look at you.
He's just got a lot more of
them than most creatures have.
Uh, if anything was phallic
in anything I did,
it would have been Snits
because they're just
a penis and balls... with feet.
A writer of an adventure
can come up with
a great idea for a monster,
but if you make it look dumb
it's not gonna have
the reputation that it deserves
from the writing.
So it's, uh--
There's an awesome
responsibility
- that comes with it.
- There's tons of fear
messing with those monsters.
Especially, like,
classic ones because
you don't want
to disappoint the fans.
I don't think the audience
forD&D has had any problem
with the fact
that some of the depictions
have changed over time.
It's like everything else
in a role-playing game.
Even the rules there,
uh, they're guidelines
only at a certain level.
I mean, the Game Master
is there so that any time
the rules fail to do the job,
the Game Master can step in
and make things work
the way it needs to.
Same thing goes with the art.
Here are all the monsters
for D&Dthat we wanna feature
in Fifth Edition.
These are all the ones
that are gonna be relevant.
And we went through each one
and said "Okay, Owlbear."
And then we grab every piece
of art we've ever shown
of an owl bear
of the different major styles,
threw 'em up on a board,
and then went through
this analytical list and said,
"Okay, this is what works.
This is what doesn't."
Through all this work
that I've done for the past
20 some odd years has been...
there's a certain level
of challenge.
Like, "How am I gonna
make this ridiculous-sounding
monster that's a cross between
a bear and an owl?
How am I gonna
make that look cool?"
After drawing
thousands of creatures,
it always comes back to
"They have to have a lot
of teeth and drool
and there should be some
spikes somewhere."
Like the easiest way to make
a creature meaner
is to add more horns or spikes.
The Carrion Crawler
was a bit of a challenge because
it's a huge
insectoid-like creature
that resides in dark places
and eats dead things
that have
kind of ended up there.
Of course it kind of
made sense at first
to maybe have it
have large eyes.
In my own understanding
of the creature,
I thought it would be
interesting for it to kind of
feelaround which the tentacles
that were traditionally drawn
on the Carrion Crawler
could totally do.
So that was nice
that those were there.
So in my final rendition
of the creature
I've made those tentacles
a lot more whip-like in a way,
so they're a lot more agile
and kind of able to sort of
feel around its environment.
Cool thing about
the Goblinoids
what was an interesting
challenge was to make them all
feel like they're kind of
from the same DNA pool.
They're all structurally
humanoid from the neck down,
but where their character is
gonna lie, is in their faces.
I mean,
they all have pointed ears,
but they're all varying shape.
For the most part
their noses kind of lock them in
as being--that's the--
the key the carryover
that came from that gene pool.
The character
of the Bugbear is furry,
animalistic, ferocious.
The Hobgoblin, again,
the same nose,
kind of the same jaw line,
but Hobgoblin had to be
more intelligent
and the Goblinoids--
Hey, look at him.
He just looks like
he's gonna steal all your stuff
when you're sleeping.
Probably cut your throat, too.
♪
These characters,
these creatures,
these monsters,
these places are like
a fairy tale or, like,
folklore or mythology.
They can be reinterpreted
over and over again
for each generation.
And that is incredibly
exciting to see.
The evolution of
the art itself is interesting
and almost from edition
to edition you can kind of
find a little bit
of a different template,
a different flavor
of kind of how the art looks.
And I know withFifth Edition,
that seemed to go back
to a little bit of that
earlier--the earlier quality.
The direction
I'd given to the art directors
is I want everything
to look like
it's been done traditionally.
I want it to have love
and reverence
for the pages again.
As Dungeons & Dragons
has moved and evolved,
I feel like there has been
a conscious effort
for the game players
and the game designers
to become more aware
of the people playing
their games and very conscious
in including them
and depicting
people that look like them.
Fantasy in general
suffers from being
very European
and there are so many more
amazing cultures and stories
and worlds out there
that I think are starting
to kind of penetrate
into fantasy realms.
One of the things that the
Fifth Edition Players Handbook
has received a lot of positive
acclaim around
is this idea that
it's--it's kind of gotten away
from some of the design tropes.
A really good example
of this, I think, is this.
The entry for the human race.
We have a woman of color
in really effective armor.
People of all genders, races,
everything have always been
playingDungeons & Dragons.
It's who we start
to feature more.
When we got the descriptions,
they were very adamant.
They were like, "Try not to make
it like a white blonde guy."
Like,
"Please, we love 'em,
but there's, like,
500 million of them."
The diversity that the
characters need to have
needs to reflect
the gaming world now.
The mix of people
that are playing these games,
you know,
it's not the, you know,
13-year-old white boys
held up in their basements.
It's a very diverse crowd.
You know, males and females,
all nationalities.
So, you know,
this was a great opportunity
to mix that up a little bit.
Really thinking
about the people
that are reading these books
and, like,
understanding this media
and having them see themselves
portrayed in that,
gives a lot of hope
that fantasy can be
a genre for everyone.
♪
Dungeons & Dragonsart
is important
because it has had
a tremendous impact
on both the imaginative art
consuming public
as well as the artists
who are producing it.
WithoutD&D,
just eliminating that game,
eliminating all of that work,
the landscape would look
very, very different.
There would not be
the expectation
for this kind of art
and of this kind of art
that you see today in things
like video games orMagic.
I don't think
it's been everything,
but if you look
at who's creating these mediums
I bet you...
that a high percentage of them
areD&D players.
The artwork has solidified
a place in common culture
that somehow speaks
to the nature of adventure.
We've closed all our frontiers,
but not in Dungeons & Dragons.
At the time
I don't think any of us
really grasped
what a big deal this all was.
I was way too busy
feeling how lucky I was
to have the opportunity
to do the kinds of art
that I wanted to do.
That was what
I was thinking about,
not, "Hey, 40 years from now
there'll be people looking back
on this and thinking
- of it as historical.
- God, it is 40--No, it's 30.
No! It's 40 years!
I had to do the math.
That's crazy!
It's exciting
to be part of this
big universe
that everyone knows
and everyone's been enjoying
for 40 years.
It's not kind of exciting,
it's really exciting.
It's a dream come true.
It's something that I never
thought I would be here.
It was
a springboard for my career
when what I really was looking
for was a lifeline.
It turned out to be
so much more.
I certainly do realize
how lucky I am to have been
in the right place
at the right time
and, you know,
forge a little bit of
the history of the TSR
roleplaying universe.
I think it's a legacy
and it's humbling.
Seeing the work that was done
way back with TSR
and then work that's being done
now and in the future,
it's only gonna get better
and better and better.
Being able to contribute
to so many people's experience.
You know,
you're contributing not just
to a book that's going to sit
on the bookshelf.
For me,
I'm contributing to somebody's
imaginative experience.
Dungeons & Dragons
is about imagination.
It's about storytelling.
It's about
creating something together.
And these depictions,
these drawings of characters
that someone draws
on their player character sheet
or that aMonster Manual shows
us what we're going to fight
or a module shows us
the room we're about to enter.
These are all parts
of that narrative.
They're all pieces that fuel
our collective imagination.
And I'm very,
very honored and thankful
that I got to be
a part of that.
I'm happy that my art
got to pull people
into a game or a book
that made them happy.
I don't feel famous.
I don't feel anything.
I just feel lucky.
I'm still learning
and I'm still trying to get...
one painting right, you know?
♪