I just watched the now-classic movie The Dark Crystal again for the first time since it was released in 1982. Conceived by Jim Henson, the fantasy adventure features a cast consisting entirely of puppets and animatronic creations. A cutting edge achievement for its time, while it does suffer from just a little bit of muppety mawkishness, it also excels in one of the essentials of fine art, integrated stylization. Visually, the film is a cinematic benchmark. 
A critic of the director Fritz Lang (Metropolis, M) said of his 1924 silent film Siegfried that the director's insistence on the use of man-made sets, where entire forests were created from papier-maché, lent the film a stylistic perfection where virtually each of the movie's frames could be appreciated as if it were a painting, complete unto itself.
The same can be said of the lovingly crafted works of Jim Henson and crew in The Dark Crystal. The movie is set on a world, Thra, orbiting three suns, where an alien race of wingless vultures, the Skeksis, have wiped out the indigenous human-like race, the Gelflings, whom they enslaved for labor and sustenance. The orphan, Jen, believing himself the last of his race, sets off upon the death of his master to find the lost shard of the Dark Crystal in order to end their rapacious tyranny. Not only do Hensosn and his crew create several human- and beast-like alien races. They create and entire landscape and an alien ecosystem with which to populate it. The effect is marvelous. While a few real but exotic plants such as papyrus sedges are used, almost all of the plants and funguses and indeed all of the animal species are creations of the human imagination. The filmmakers' performance as creator gods results in a visual feast that leaves the audience of this 93 minute film only wanting more. While the film was a success, especially overseas, it was unfortunately viewed as too dark for its target audience. Henson's followup work, Labyrinth, with David Bowie was a silly, saccharine, derivative flop. His death in 1990 prevented a followup.
But Henson's vision lived on in the Jim Henson Company. Purposefully designed with an adult audience in mind, their science fiction show Farscape, with its lavish designs and ingenious alien creations, was the artistic heir to The Dark Crystal. While Farscape did resort to the expedient of CGI for scenes such as ship maneuvers in outerspace, once again its use of puppets and puppetwork to portray aliens gave the series a unique stylistic feel. Farscape as art is comparable, perhaps, only to the earlier episodes of the original Star Trek before budget cuts required its producers to replace lovingly crafted matte paintings with obscure red skies and innumerable episodes shot on the Vasquez Rocks. At its best, the visually dense and highly layered imagery of Farscape achieved, as an act of will made real, the level of fine art of The Dark Crystal and the manmade forests of Fritz Lang.
Primed by such thoughts, seeing the painter Michael Newberry's recent work, Bromeliad (below), my first impression was as if once again I was viewing an alien landscape, created not by nature, at random, but by the focused mind of an otherwordly demiurge. I am particularly fond of Newberry's still lifes. His Big Fish, Little Bird (left), is cool, sleek, modern, technological. In startling contrast, Bromeliad is warm, textured, intimate, organic. Color and form are emphasized visually. But the effect is tactile. Newberry the shaman induces synesthesia. We can feel the mineral sand dollar shell like some delicate skeleton. The waxy leaves of the sharrp-bladed bromeliad are like the cold, thick, scaly flesh of some caged reptile. The softness of the cloth is rivaled only by the erect carnality of the blossoms, like blood-flushed lips, both Hermes and Aphrodite, inviting our embrace.
While the bromeliad is green, the painting itself is quite warm. The outcome of having nothing beside the foreground leaves in actual green tones is to give the plant an almost animal-like vibrancy. Theoretically, dark cool colors retreat. Here, paradoxically, they pounce. Like the serpent heads of the hydra or the tendrils of some alien man[eating plant we can see the bromeliad reaching out of the canvas. The effect is savage. The plant is not located in space. There is no horizon. It is reaching out into space. And we are its prey.
Visit Michael Newberry on line at MichaelNewberry.com
Watch the trailer for The Dark Crystal:
Watch the teaser for the 2011 sequel, Power of the Dark Crystal:
Watch a clip from Fritz Lang's classic, Siegrfried:
President Crockerman asked, "Do you believe in God?" Without a moment's hesitation, the Alien replied "We believe in Punishment." 
One of his best reviewed books, 
Bear is not only a great story teller, he is an artist of literary caliber. His works feature complex interwoven plots with twists that surprise the reader yet fit seamlessly together without resorting to the arbitrary deus ex machina. His characters are well developed, strongly individuated. In Forge of God, the president, a likeable man, is driven to the edge of insanity by the revelation that the world will soon end. His response is religious in form, but Bear does not portray him as some mindless religious stereotype, and, in a touch of sophistication, the populist preacher that Crockerman summons to advise him in fact doubts the appropriateness of a religious response to the physical threat and turns to the president's science advisors to admit that he is out of his league and that the Presdient could perhaps use some more conventional strategic advice.
Whether likening squiggles of toothpaste to little blue tadpoles in the sink or graphically comparing the City of Los Angeles, its citizens transformed into blobs of jelly and sentient fungal growths by a plague, to a vision from a Max Ernst painting, Bear uses vivid concrete images that often approach the poetic in their evocativeness. One can form a detailed mental image of his characters' physical traits and their bearing and gestures. Conflict is well motivated, antagonists act not just out of opposition, but because of an alternate, if mistaken view of the good. Psychology is made apparent through telling thoughts and dialog. Yet facts not known to the characters are not revealed to the reader until they become clear to the protagonists. This maintains a sense of realism and especially of suspense. Is the dying alien in league with the supposed robot benefactors? Is the earth truly at risk? The aliens provoke paranoia in some and disbelief in others. What, we ask, are the plots within the plots? 
If you have not read Bear, you can think of him as combining the fast-paced plots of Larry Niven and his knack for contemporary social commentary with the analytic depth and literary quality of Frank Herbert. While I have not been able to get into his 
Born in Toulouse, France, in 1882, 
Dulac originally studied law, which he found boring. His dramatic artwork is anything but boring. His use of complex natural, especially floral designs is typical of the Art Nouveau style. Today we would recognize the fractal complexity of such patterns. Typical motifs were nature scenes from fairy tales or the beautiful garden scene for the poetry of Omar Khayyam. 
His use of vivid color and dramatic themes and dynamic compositions is stylistically romantic. But he avoids contemporary imagery. He draws no battles, no buildings, no modern achievements. His romance is of a different world or a distant age. Yet it is the romance of human drama - not the folksy corniness of Norman Rockwell nor the landscapes of Maxfield Parrish. His work compares favorably with that of 
You can see many of Dulac's prints for sale on line. 
Glancing through the news the other day, my eye was caught by the headline "The Mountains of Madness." The article was about an expedition to the Gamburtsev Mountain Range in central Antarctica. The mountains were discovered 50 years ago in the International Geophysical Year of 1958. This year (2008) is the International Polar Year, and a team of scientists has returned to the Gamburtsevs to try, among other things, to explain their formation. But the headline itself, "Mountains of Madness," is an allusion to a novella by science fiction author H. P. Lovecraft, At The Mountains of Madness, written in 1931.
First I read 
Next, I decided to read the longer work, 
Nicholas Roerich (1874-1947) was a painter, archeologist, philosopher and Orientalist from St. Petersburg, Russia. An accomplished illustrator and folklorist, he suggested the subject, collaborated with the composer, and did the stage designs for the riotous Paris debut of Stravinsky's 
Roerich travelled through Asia and the Russian Orient. He documented the area's geography and cultural artifacts and painted real, historical, and mythological landscapes and events. His style is notable for its stylization, color, clarity and dynamic themes. He is not a great figurative artist. His human figures are simple. Nature, rather than man, plays the central role in his works. But he does depict themes which evoke wonder and awe, and subjects of epic beauty. Here in 
The Arcadian painting 
Well, I got a great response to my prior post, and a lot of advice and comments. It turns out that the 
The first painting in this post, in blue above, is 
You won't find him listed at Wikipedia in either English or his native Spanish. You won't find him hanging in the Met. You won't find much of anything about him nowadays. But his work was collected by the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. He painted the portrait of the future King Juan Carlos of Spain. Ayn Rand praised his clarity and sense of the essential, describing him as a favorite. During his time he was compared with Picasso and Dalí. Today he is all but forgotten. He is José Manuel Capuletti, 1925-1976, painter, photographer and designer.
Capuletti's style resmbles Salvador Dalí in execution, but his sense of life is more positive, lacking Dalí's frequent fascination with the morbid. He painted flamenco dancers, bull-fighters, sports figures and performers. Most of his work is privately held. Books on him are out of print. Some of his art was recently sold by Quent Cordair Fine Art. Very little is available on the web. Above is a portrait of his wife, Pilar. To the right is his "Mujer de los Caracoles" (Women of the Snails) which is the only painting that has ever made me laugh out loud. Read about him at Peter Cresswell's 
Offered the crown by his troops, George Washington declined, and retired from the Continental Army once the War of Independence was won. Elected his nation's first president, Washington served only two terms, setting a precedent for the peaceful transfer of power which has lasted for two centuries, even through civil war. 
Have you ever wondered where the author Ayn Rand got her name? The origin is disputed. Rand told acquaintances that the last name came from the Remington-Rand typewriter. But letters with the nom de plume Rand (her Birth name was Alisa Rosenbaum) exist from before the existence of the Remington-Rand company. Perhaps she simply liked Rand and chose it to match the initial of her last name.
In the Kalevala, Aino is a maiden who is promised unwillingly to marry the magician Väinämöinen. Rather than wed him she drowns herself and becomes a water nymph. The Kalevala was compiled from folk songs by Elias Lönnrot in the 19th Century, a verse translation into English was made by John Martin Crawford, and the work greatly influenced J.R.R. Toliken, author of 
John Collier 1850-1934 was a famed portrait painter and figurative artist of the 
Ayn Rand, famous for her depiction of strong heroines, held that hero worship is the essence of femininity. But Collier's portraits of women tend rather to make them the object of adoration. I am not presenting here a criticism of Rand's theory but upon first seeing Tannhäuser, with the knight-poet kneeling before Venus, I spontaneously uttered "the essence of femininity."
Mankind has made first contact and among the four researchers sent to investigate the garden-world Lithia and its reptilian inhabitants is Father Ramon Ruiz-sanchez, SJ. The Jesuit botanist and doctor is the only member of the research team to oppose opening the world up for human intercourse. The Lithians, he suspects, may be too good to be true. Indeed, with their peaceful and proseprous society, more advanced in many ways than man, and in their total lack of any idea of faith or the divine, they imply that a sentient species can live the good life without religious revelation. These "unfallen" beings are not angels. Indeed, he fears, they may be a creation of the Devil, meant to tempt man into abandoning religion in light of their enlightened example.
Father Ruiz-Sanchez returns to Earth with a precious and frightening cargo, the unhatched egg of a Lithian. Blessed with a genetic memory, his passenger will hatch and mature without Lithian care. But what will happen to an alien raised among men?
While contemplating the serene and pastoral works of 
Repin, a native of Ukraine who lived from 1844 to 1930, had a long and storied career. Painting in a colorful and dramatic style, he illustrated themes from religion, Russian history and Slavic myth, painted scenes of courtly life and of the common people, still-lifes and portraiture of great skill, and became a propagandist for revolution, the object of a Soviet cult in the 1930's.
In explaining the influences for his recent painting, 
