The Art and The Passion: Frank Frazetta

Master comic artist Frank Frazetta passed away Monday, May 10^th, 2010, at the age of 82. As I read the news notice of his death, I was struck not only by the sudden embarassing realization that I didn’t even know that one of the artists I idolized in my youth had still been living, but I was also struck with a flood of memories of Frazetta’s work, and the impact it had on my life as an aspiring young artist. I was also taken back to the first time I was exposed to Frazetta’s work.

Because television was still in its relative youth when I was growing up on Chicago’s south side, and personal computers were little more than the subject of science fiction stories, I entertained myself by reading, mostly with comic books or heavily illustrated books like the Mother Goose and Brothers Grimm tales, or Maurice Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are.” As I got a little older, I found both an imaginative outlet and artistic inspiration in the comic books of DC and Marvel, and the brilliant artists that illustrated them- Jack Kirby, Neal Adams, Joe Ordway, Steve Ditko, and many others. I began to use these masters as guidelines to self teach and hone my artistic skills. Simply by studying the exceptional use of lines, shadow, contrast and color that these artists employed, I found my skill level, and my sheer enthusiasm for drawing growing rapidly. I could even actually envision the day that I might even match or exceed the talent of these great illustrators. What I didn’t see at the time was where I might flesh out my visions and stories, which were ones of horror, not heroism, inspired more by magazines like Famous Monsters of Filmland, and the legendary EC horror comics from the 1950s (that were by then no longer being made).

Then one day, after showing some of my artwork and some of the comic books that inspired it to the girl next door that I had a mild crush on, she took me to the magazine stand at our local grocery store and pointed out a magazine called Creepy. It wasn’t technically a comic book (it was a “magazine” put out by Warren Publishing, the same company that put out Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine), but everything about it appealed to me the same way that conventional comic books did. I took to it immediately and bought the magazine, ignoring the fact that it cost several times what regular comic books cost. I had begun to stop collecting comic books and saved all my spare money to buy not only the new Creepy magazine each month, but its companion magzine, Eerie. I relished in the dark tales and even greater variety of expert illustrators found in these magazines- people like Wally Wood, Reed Crandall, Angelo Torres, and many others that I later came to find were once some of the core artists for the EC comic books that I cherished.

Several months into building my new collection, I came upon the new Creepy magazine at my trusty grocery store magazine section- Creepy #32. The cover was different from anything I had seen on the previous issues….or on any comic or magazine cover, for that matter. It was a very simple scene- a hulking demon or ape like creature overlooking a distant town from a high cliff on a gloomy night- but it was visually striking, a true painting with rich textures and colors that created subtle but dynamic light and shadow contrasts that themselves suggested motion and activity. The picture seemed alive, and I found myself studying the magazine cover as much as I was reading the contents. When I saw that the cover artist was a man named Frank Frazetta, I looked for other issues of Creepy and Eerie (and Warren’s recently launched sister magazine to them, Vampirella) that featured Frazetta art covers. When I found that Frazetta had painted a number of the early issues of Creepy and Eerie, I began ordering as many as I could afford. Not suprisingly, most of those issues were no longer available from the publisher, but I was fortunate to find many of them at the annual Chicago Comicon (now known as Wizard World), and snatched them up as quickly as I could.

Suddenly, I began to notice Frazetta’s work on other publications- covers of Tarzan paperback novels, compilations of renowned comic book artists and the like. I marveled at Frazetta’s depiction of the human form, especially the female form, at once voluptuous and athletic. His ability to make warriors like Conan the Barbarian look like they themselves were chiseled from stone, slaughtering opponents as if the lead dancer in a bloody ballet. His scenes had a way of compelling me to imagine what must have come before, and what might occur after. I could sense his passion for all of these things in his work. Frazetta’s paintings attracted me in a way that no other pop culture artist’s work did- not (Boris) Vallejo’s, not (Gil) Elvgren’s, not even (Norman) Rockwell’s. From studying Frazetta’s work, I not only developed a passion for acrylic and oil painting, but I learned about picture composition and how to use light and shadow, foreground and brilliant color contrast to guide, and hold the viewer’s attention. Most importantly, I learned about how those qualities could give the illusion of complexity and detail to an otherwise simple painting when applied effectively.

I spent countless hours teaching myself how to paint with acrylics and oil, trying in vain to capture what Frazetta seemed to be able to capture so effortlessly. My work and skill improved, and my love of the creative process was never stronger, but I was missing that certain “magic” that Frazetta seemed to be able to instill in his work. The quality of my paintings never seemed to be able to even approach his, and I eventually trashed numerous uncompleted paintings out of frustration. What I had not yet learned at that still early stage in my artistic development was the reason that Frank Frazetta appeared to be the only one able to do what he did- it was, simply, his uniquely personal style. Frazetta could almost certainly have done what Rockwell and his other contemporaries did, and vice versa. But it simply wouldn’t have been Frazetta. If I worked at it long and hard enough, I could eventually do what Frazetta and the other comic book masters did. But I would only be imitating him, and them. And that was perhaps the most important, and liberating thing I ever learned as an artist….to seek and find my own uniquely personal style, not try to be the latest version of someone else- granted, a thing easier said than done. It is almost certainly what other comic book masters, and cover painters, already knew.

I learned these things primarily from studying Frazetta’s work. As I got older, and life’s curveballs detoured me away from my artistic ambitions, the memory of Frazetta, his work, how it affected me and what I was able to learn from it as an artist, remained. And as I now embark on my long overdue quest to finally fulfill my artistic promise, I am saddened to know I will never get to meet one of my artistic idols in person, let alone share with him what he would have inspired me to create. But I remain inspired to continue to reach for the magic that Frank Frazetta showed us could be achieved with an artist’s passion, some sound basic skills, a bit of imaginative vision and dedication to one’s own personal style.