In about 1999 or 2000 I met Bob Giadrosich upon Ebay, when I bought a number of his prints.He also was of the same faith as myself, and we talked a great deal. We didn't necessarily agree on whatever we discussed but we enjoyed a friendship, and shared many interests. When I started PopThought.Com I interviewed him but he also did some articles. And when I began to do my own creative work for print he said I needed an art director for the book that became A LIFE OF RAVENS, and he did tons of work on it, and published it. He remembers me asking him to be the art director, but since I didn't really know what one is, I think we can agree that I said huh? What the heck is that, and he stepped forward. In any event his beautiful art was amazing and that book is still remembered for the great art by many people, if not the words. I am happy to offer this interview with him. Thanks Bob. (All images are copyright reserved to their creator, Bob Giadrosich and are used only as fair use. Click them to enlarge them.)
How did you come to learn you had a talent for the art you do? And once finding you had the talent, how soon before you decided that it was what you wanted to spend your life doing?
I find that most people who have a talent for something don't realize it until they gain special attention after having done it, either from parents or peers. One just figures that everybody draws, dances, plays music, etc., and based upon the reaction of family and friends, you start to think, well, maybe not everyone does what I do, and maybe what I'm doing isn't that bad! You do it more because of positive reinforcement, but in reality, you would probably do it anyway, because it is what you love spending time on. I've been told (even though I was there) that I made my first "drawing" at the age of three. Most likely, it was abstract impressionism. I drew all the time growing up, and when I wasn't drawing, I was reading benign stories about adolescent summer adventures and race car drivers; the type of stories found in grade school reading curriculum in the 1960's. One day (around 7 or 8 years old) I discovered one whole row on my parents bookshelves that was filled with almost the entire catalogue of Edgar Rice Burroughs. The covers by Robert K. Abbett (Mars and Tarzan) and Roy Krenkel (Venus, Pellucidar and Caspak) instantly grabbed by attention, and within those pages, I fell in love with the heroes and villains of Barsoom, Amtor, the jungles of Africa and dozens of other worlds he created.
From that day forward, I knew that I wanted to draw these types of characters swashbuckling their way across foreign landscapes. At the time, I lacked the technical skill to invent my own scenes, so I spent a lot of hours trying to faithfully copy the covers and title page illustrations, mimicking the lines and tone work in graphite. Later, I did the same with ink.
I've heard it said, "Do what you love and you'll make money," and while I appreciate the sentiment, it's probably not the best way to plan your future. One can love something, and be so bad at doing it that the marketplace won't reward you for it. So, in that same vein, I would say, "Do what you love, keep getting better and better, and one day, you may make a living at it." Fortunately, in art, you don't have to be the absolute best, just the best at what you do. If it's people, draw people, or landscapes, or abstract, or animals. It really doesn't matter, as long as you make that subject your own and do it with passion, always looking to improve. There are enough varied tastes out there that someone will want it. The trick, of course, is to find them. Sometimes, they find you. Since I've spent my entire life drawing (professionally since 1988), there has never been anything else that I've wanted to do for a living, but along the way, there have been many things I've done besides art, such as short-order cook, landscaper, salesman, ditch-digger and janitor. I spent 7 years as a radio disc jockey. Through it all, I kept drawing, and those experiences also helped me to become a better artist.
Are creative artists in general, and visual artists in particular different than other humans? Why or why not? I've come to believe that humans create to reflect their creation. To aspire to the act of creation is to be as the creator. So parents create, chefs create, but how are you and other creative artists different from those examples?
No really. The skills and abilities that humans manifest in all areas of life are bound by their humanity, not vise versa. If, however, someone could teleport naturally and instantaneously from London to New York, that ability would make them different than other humans, namely because humans can't do that.
However, I do think all creatives see reality through the lens of their chosen medium. For example, I remember a conversation with a friend. We were sitting in his living room, and as we were talking, I told him my mind was busy observing the structure, patterns, colors and lighting of the objects in the room as I went through the mental process of what was needed to get them down on paper. This just happens. It doesn't matter where I'm at or who I'm with. The "artist's eye" starts to translate the scene before me, breaking it down so that I can recall the details when I need them. He remarked, "That would wear me out to have that going on in my heard all the time." But in practice, it doesn't wear me out at all, because most of the time, I'm not even aware that I am doing it! It's become reflex, and a constant source of inspiration. Many good drawings, and some great ones, have come simply by observing what is around me. Especially when what I am seeing invokes an emotion, felt, rather than seen, until the experience is multi-sensory and I'm in the studio trying to capture that emotion once again by what I draw. As a visual artist, I work primarily in the fantasy genre, in that I create characters, critters and worlds that are removed from "normal" reality, but in the process, those same creations take on a life of their own, until they become more "real" that the outside world.
Currently, I'm working on an illustrated novel called "Legends of Xiangbala," and began the conceptual sketches and thumbnails on January 1st, 2020, with the actual writing taking place a few months later. It's been an interesting process as I move through the plot and sub-plots, "seeing" the characters performing some action or task, and then on to the hard part of writing it down.
The tale has grown beyond my initial expectations and has developed into an intricately woven, and I hope, entertaining story.
Does an artist owe anything to his patrons, or clients? If so, what does the artist owe them? Is this any different than other fields of employment? How so?
Great question! I guess the answer would depend on who you are asking, and since you are asking me, I would have to say yes...and no! The retort, "but what would your fans think?" has kept many an artist in ruts, but within those trenches, admittedly, some amazing work has been created. I think that patrons and clients can keep one focused, but the flip side is, it can occasionally lead to a gradual creative demise as an artist keeps creating work that "is expected of them," and it ends up (almost) that a certain look or subject is required for continue success.
However, there are artists whose work changes regularly over the years (Bill Senkevich comes to mind), exploring medium and style with fresh results. There are other artists, such as Bill Nelson, who continues to work within his preferred medium (colored pencil) with excellent results. I've known some artists who develop two or three "styles," depending on what type or genre of art/illustration they are doing and are able to switch it up on command!
There is always a balance. If an artist has been "out there" for any length of time and developed a clientele that seeks after their work, then obviously buyers are looking for an established status quo. If one has been known as a realistic landscape painter for years and years, and then suddenly starts producing abstract work, there would probably be a disconnect among established patrons as they waited to see what was done in the future.
In retrospect, an artist owes their clientele a promise that they will keep striving to be better than the day before, and that they will continue to pursue avenues that will advance the work that they are engaged in. I don't think this is so much different than other professions, in that we all owe our buying public great quality in product, and excellent customer service.
What artists move you and inspire you to be more than currently are? Do those influences change you, or do they nudge you along a path of artistic evolution and growth?
I think the list could truly be endless, as I still look at renderings of favorite artists, as well as continue to discover new artists whose work I didn't know about. I am a huge purveyor of art, and love most of what I come across, whether in person or on the internet. All styles, subjects, treatments and temperaments, it's an ever re-filling bowl of eye candy!
Years ago I did an "artist influence meme" that was making its way across DeviantART, where I've had an account since 2005. It was images of artists work that you enjoyed, and in the post description you could tell about that artist or image. The per-designed meme format was about the size of an 8.5x11 sheet of paper, and one could only fit 10 to 12 images with any clarity, so the hardest part was deciding who not to include. For mine, I wanted to feature artists whose work I actively sought out to look at when I was going through an artistic challenge, needed inspiration, or just wanted to marvel at what they had created!
When it came down to it, I had to acknowledge (in no particular order) Larry Elmore, members of The Studio (Barry Windsor-Smith, Bernie Wrightson, Jeff Jones, and Michael Kaluta), "Painter with a Pen" Franklin Booth, The Wyeths (N.C., Andrew, and Jamie), Alphonse Mucha, Keith Parkinson, Roger Dean, Brian Froud, and of course, Frank Frazetta. I also included two authors and one musician who have inspired me greatly, being Edgar Rice Burroughs, JRR Tolkien and Loreena McKennitt.
In the beginning of my career, when I was still struggling with anatomy, textures and shapes, I would turn to these artists and look at how they tackled a certain problem, emulating their technique and strokes. This was foundational for my own growth until I finally found my own "voice, " and as time progressed, I felt the need to go to their works less often, and their treatments receding into the background, still there, but muted.
And then I moved overseas to China, and was gobsmacked by not only traditional elements of Asia, but also, all the young, outstanding contemporary digital artists of Japan, China, and Korea (among others). Not being fluent in the language, art books were pretty much all I bought while I lived there. Over time, some favorites emerged that shaped my work in small ways as I continued to explore their work.
So, for my Chinese influence map, I included oil realist Jiang Guo Fang, digital painters Dezhen and Benjamin, calligrapher Wang Dongli, traditional painter Zhang Wen Xin, abstractionist Li Xubai, and in general, traditional Chinese ink paintings. One singer named Sa Dingding became my "eastern" muse.
There have been so many artist's work I admire and have studied over the years in fantasy literature, comics, games, and movies, spilling over into other types of art from many different countries and cultures. I think that's the way with most artists, as we struggle to learn what works and what doesn't. Practice and repetition bears this out as one develops their "bag of tricks." Very few want to be a clone, but influences do creep in, and one can look at someone else's work and usually tell who they have been looking at, or at the very least, who they remind you of.
As one becomes more confident in their own ability, influence turns into deep admiration of others work. I look at some of it, and wonder how the heck they do that! Then I study it, and study it some more, only to realize that some paintings never reveal all their secrets in examination, but are what they are because of the hand and eye of the original artist.
Where are you working out of, does the local visual look affect your work? Does an artist necessarily reflect, or do they create something new?
For me, location really doesn't affect me. When one is at the board, it's all the same. I think local comes into play when it's time to take a break, and you have to step outside for a while. I would much prefer to be surrounded by nature, but when I was overseas, I lived about a mile from the city center in a town of 9 million people. I find inspiration and refuge in each environment, enjoying the solace of woods, beach or mountain, but also feeling invigorated by the colors, sounds and smells of an urban landscape.
In the art world, I think that most everything has been done before, yet technology seems to have opened up new applications, such as CGI, holograms, and robotics. For the artist, everything is a tool, and in the future, they will use whatever is available to create their works. When digital art first came out, there was a great debate about whether that was "art" or not. Nowadays, the point is moot, as thousands of illustrators have turned to painting and designing with computers. 20 years ago, I explored doing art digitally as that seemed to be the direction that illustration was moving, but in the process, found that I missed the feel and smell of whatever I was using, and since my return from China, now only used tradition mediums because it is what I'm best at. I'm the guy who gets excited by having a blank sheet of illustration board in front of him, thinking of all the possibilities!
It was once written that there is nothing new under the sun, and while that may be true, there are untold ways of looking at things. Individual perception becomes the vehicle which achieves this, as the artist brings that vision into reality.
One of my goals is to create characters and settings that invoke a sense of story, and as I invite the viewer to wander around a bit, they will find that sometimes, things aren't exactly as they appear. I want each piece to stand alone, but then, when the body of work is considered, one begins to find connections between the pieces. As the artist, quite often I feel myself as the conduit for how that world becomes manifest in this one.
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