Starstruck

”Go. You should go. And don't do that thing where you stay to the side and don't talk to anyone. Do me a favor; TALK to people. You're not gonna, are you? You never listen....”

So, a month ago, came the sage words of advice from my long time friend Rey. I had received an invitation to a reception for an exhibit opening at the Society of Illustrators, and I was debating whether or not to go. On the one hand, it would be the first ever gathering of science fiction, fantasy, and comic book illustrations seen in Spectrum annuals over the past 12 years. Many artists who've illustrated jackets for me would be there, and it would be great to meet them in person since I've only dealt with them over the phone and via e-mail. On the other hand, it had the unfortunate timing to fall the night before the annual Hoboken Festival. I'll be getting up at 6 AM tomorrow. I may not be home before midnight. In between, I'll be playing music and on my feet most of the day, napping on trains whenever possible. It's the single most exhausting day of the year for me.

Ultimately, and thankfully, I was sensible enough to recognize a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I took the day off to sleep, and so I wouldn't have to rush to a train right after work. I even took an earlier train so I'd have time to walk the 30 blocks or so from Penn Station and get some exercise before tomorrow's big procession. Two nights in a row this week I'd opted to work until 8:30 and miss the gym, in a vain attempt to keep my work on schedule, and I was feeling the lack of activity. Manhattan is so visually stimulating, I can walk miles without realizing it. I can't always say the same about nature trails. Of course™, at one point as I was crossing 5th Avenue the light changed when I was in the CENTER of the intersection. I ran and literally DOVE at the sidewalk, narrowly escaping a cab as an incredulous passerby exclaimed, “How did THAT happen?! The light like JUST turned GREEN!” People are always amazed to see my improbability powers at work.

The gallery wasn't too crowded at first and many of the artists would be wearing name tags. While I'm no stranger to the pieces on display, having seen them in the Spectrum Annuals, and while I've held original paintings in my hands whenever artists have submitted them for my jackets, I was still in awe, seeing so many originals in one room. The only show that held the same impact for me was a collection of Frazetta's I'd seen back in college. There was one of his pieces among the 200 I saw tonight as well.

As I made my way around the room, I checked name tags. I saw Stephen Hickman, who'd done one painting for me about a year ago. He was talking to a group of people, and I began to feel self-conscious about interrupting. I was there tonight as an art director, as someone who'd hired many of the people in the room and placed titles and author names over their illustrations, my typography hardly doing them justice. But I felt like a fanboy, like a teenager at a comic book convention. At some point, I think everyone reaches a point of maturity and/or professionalism in which he or she realizes that all people are just people, human beings and nothing more in spite of their fame. I moved on, Rey's advice and prediction haunting me. Before the night was through, I vowed to say hello and introduce myself to at least one artist, if not more.

The first artist I felt a little more comfortable saying hello to was Bob Eggleton. Last year I collaborated with him on a special set of eight classic novels, and just the other day we discussed ideas for yet another book. After introducing myself and making some small talk about the growing crowd and the volume of talent on the walls, I began to feel more confident. As more people arrived, I began recognizing more and more nametags. Todd Lockwood. Kinuko Y. Craft. Stephan Martiniere. Michael Whelan. It began to get very loud, and very crowded, neither of which are conditions I enjoy. I did get to speak with another artist who's done a number of pieces for me, Bruce Jensen. We both agreed that there wasn't a single work that didn't belong in the exhibit. He told me the last time a collection showcased such science fiction and fantasy artists was back in 1984. I knew then that this was a historic gathering, and one I would have regretted missing.

As I made my way to the door, I passed Boris Vallejo and Julie Bell, whom I recognized without nametags. They might as well have been rock stars or movie stars. Despite working on two jackets with Julie in the past and speaking with her on the phone, I didn't say a word as they walked by. I decided it was worth the risk of missing my train, so I hung around a little longer. Unfortunately, I never did get to break in to any of the conversations and introduce myself, and found myself hanging outside a circle that included Donato Giancola and Tom Kidd. I've worked with them as well, but interrupting four major illustrators at once was something beyond my capabilities.

All in all, it was a fantastic evening and I recommend the exhibit, which is free, to anyone in the area between now and October 1st. My favorite pieces were a Hobbit painting by Donato(which was HUGE), an Entmoot piece by Hickman(which bore insanely detailed brush strokes), and a Rock’em Sock’em Robots painting by Eric Joyner(which was the cover image for the eleventh Spectrum). The whole evening felt like a dream, and it was difficult to break away and come back to my ordinary reality. In college my friends and I had our work exhibited many times. I'm no stranger to this sort of event. But though I've hired many of the people in the room, I'm also a fan of their work, and their work is intimidatingly good, even though they're all regular folks like me.

Don't take my word for it though; check out the various sites I linked to and look at their galleries online. These are quite possibly the best illustrators in the field today.