Oops, I guess it’s been a while. I promised you part three of that big Czech book from 1993, and here it is. If you need a refresher, and I imagine you do, here’s part one and part two again. So far, we’ve seen sauropods with trunks, theropods with fish heads, more sauropods with trunks, attempts at feathering and lots of mood and atmosphere. Also sauropods with trunks. Let’s see what other strange wonders Barbora Kyšková has in store for us.
Here’s a sauropodomorph, without a trunk, Anchisaurus. Anchisaurus has a four-fingered, kind of human-looking hand which carries over into this reconstruction, making it a bit awkward, like an inexperienced public speaker who doesn’t know what to do with their hands. You can tell this was illustrated more quickly than some of the page-filling pieces, but it’s still expressive and nicely coloured.
Here’s a wonderfully moody portrait of two Parasaurolophus singing together. Apart from the fairly typical reconstruction, it’s just so expressive. These two are really singing their hearts out. Combined with the gloomy colours and the dead trees in the background, one can’t help but feel that they sing a lament. Maybe it’s a dirge for the end of the dinosaur age. I love how muted but elaborate the colour palette is.
Crashy bashy pachys. Kyšková probably took some inspiration from Caselli here, though there isn’t one flying into the air this time. I love the red head domes. The spiky backs of their heads are lovingly rendered.
These styracosaurs are probably Kyšková’s best looking dinosaurs, just nice and crisp in that Greg Paul, Wayne Barlowe, Donna Braginetz way. Problematic though the comparison is, they do kind of remind me of those old-fashioned, outdated images of Native Americans with colourful, feathered headdress, giving them a noble and dignified look. The add of water splashes gives the piece some action. And this Styracosaurus is clearly good-looking enough to get another appearance!
This one’s awesome! Styracosaurus rears up to intimidate the tyrannosaur. The markings on the styracosaur’s frill look a bit like eyes, an inspired choice for colouration. Look beyond the surface action and there’s quite a lot to pick apart here. Compared to the straightforward side-on views above, Kyšková is clearly on less firm ground with a tricky pose like this. Especially the ceratopsid’s face looks suspect. The body, feet and skin are very obviously mammalian. And the tyrannosaur is the same generic theropod design she used for both Epanterias and Nanotyrannus. I love the sky. Psychedelic sunset colours gives a palaeo piece a surreal feeling, as if to emphasize how alien the dinosaur world is.
This one’s hilarious! T. rex bites Triceratops on the bum, grinning evilly as it does. Triceratops looks indignantly at the viewer. What hijinks! Kyšková is mostly serious but her style lends itself well for something more exaggerated like this. This Rexy looks like such a fat glutton, it has to be funny on purpose. The stalking Rex in the background has a big evil grin, as well.
The hadrosaurus look nice and lumpy. This happens to be Shantungosaurus, the biggest non-sauropod dinosaur. I’m beginning to appreciate how in the heyday of the Dinosaur Renaissance there were artists like Kyšková who were rejecting the slick sleekness of Greg Paul. This dinosaur has bumps and wrinkles and a pot belly. A Donnasaur this is not, but it’s still up to date with the science. Kyšková is no Burian, but she keeps some of his gritty, earthy spirit alive in a time of dinosaur glamour.
As a goodbye to this book, let’s end with the hadrosaurs under the Northern lights. That’s beautiful.
And that’s Záhada Dinosaurů, The Mystery of the Dinosaurs! A book I can’t actually read always takes me back to my childhood, looking at the pictures and imagining the stories that go with them. The trunked sauropods and especially the fact that there’s an entire chapter dedicated to the Dinosauroid tells me that this Jaroslav Mareš must have been quite an interesting character (he passed away in 2021). But even if I can’t read it (and I still don’t think any translations into any other language are available), the wonderfully expressive, moody, and sometimes appropriately eccentric, illustrations of Barbora Kyšková are something we can all enjoy. Although the book is not well known outside of Czechia, it is still fondly remembered in its home contry, and it’s easy to see why. Here’s hoping we find more obscure gems from Europe! Do příště!
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