Vintage Dinosaur Art: All About Dinosaurs

Here’s a title that might seem familiar to you – perhaps because I reviewed a completely different book of the same name back in 2014, but more likely because it’s about as generic a 1980s retro-a-thon as one can get. While the Dinosaur Renaissance was very much underway, producing some of the most memorable and iconic (sorry, but it’s true) palaeoart of all time, anyone growing up at the time was far more likely to have their image of dinosaurs moulded by the work of agency artists and generalist illustrators, who necessarily drew upon rather retrograde work from decades prior. What I’m saying is, we’re in for tottering upright theropods, dragging tails and disproportionate body parts. Hurrah!

This All About Dinosaurs was first published in 1983 by Hodder and Stoughton Children’s Books, with this edition published by Treasure Press in 1990. I sincerely doubt that very much changed between the two. All illustrations were provided by Bernard Long, a highly accomplished artist who illustrated children’s books on any number of subjects, including a few others written by Rupert Oliver. Ceratosaurus graces the cover of this edition, sporting a groovy triple-head-ridge setup and a paltry three toes per foot. Retrograde as it is, it’s still very well painted and hangs together as a believable animal, which is more than can be said for a lot of the bargain bin kids’ book material we’ve featured here over the years, and it’s a great deal more dignified than a lot of the stuff that makes it onto sloppier children’s books these days (visit your local garden centre to see what I mean. Actually, don’t, those places are best avoided).

It does all seem very familiar, doesn’t it? ‘Well painted’, ‘retro’, complaints that the cheapo books just aren’t as good these days…sometimes I feel like I’ve been writing the same things, over and over, for the last decade. And right on cue, here’s an obvious copy of a Bernard Robinson illustration of Allosaurus. It’s had a few modifications, but those Richard Nixon jowls and that specific leg arrangement are very distinctive. Long depicts it chasing after Camptosaurus, and while the scaly skin textures are quite lovely, its neck and shoulders seem to merge rather awkwardly. It also looks very displeased with the whole affair, like Allosaurus is less a mortal threat and more a city centre chugger ambushing people to solicit donations for the Benevolent Diplodocus Sanctuary Fund or what have you. Of course, every ornithopod in this book is depicted in the same vein – very upright and awkward-looking – and that includes…

…Iguanodon! Which naturally has arms and hands with suspiciously humanoid proportions, pointed toe claws, no beak, and a great big lolling tongue. It’s the full Neave Parker, with those huge belly scales being the icing on the cake. (Although one wouldn’t normally ice the underside of a cake.) As well as being reminiscent of Parker’s work, this piece also has a Giovanni Caselli feel, although other illustrations in this book are far more obviously Caselli-inspired. The evolution and ecology of the Dinosaurs would appear to have inspired a great many people back in the day.

A great many of the illustrations in this book feature lone dinosaurs standing very upright against often rather impressive backgrounds, with the above Ornithomimus being a very good example. Look at that glorious coastline! I wouldn’t mind taking a stroll along there, although I’d prefer not to have a run-in with an admittedly quite attractively spotted ornithomimosaur. There’s something altogether unsettling about retro depictions of these animals that more modern reconstructions, even those that are pre-feathers, never come close to matching. It’s probably the combination of spindly extremities and oddly rounded, plump bodies. This one’s just waving hello to his mate, though.

If it’s strange bodily proportions that you want, get an eyeful of this Pachycephalosaurus microcephalus, the Tiny Headed Thick Headed Reptile. I’m just being mean, though, since everyone knows that the fragmentary nature of the known material long meant that people had to take haphazard guesses at this animal’s overall form, and it was common for it to be reconstructed as a behemoth. Besides, the background’s very nice, and – hark! – what’s that in the sky? Why, it’s none other than Quetzalcoatlus, no doubt based on Caselli’s own deliberately vague reconstruction (for which he was given the instruction “paint big pterosaur” and basically left to it). It, too, would appear to have a disproportionately small head by modern standards. There’s almost a theme here.

Perhaps the most retro dinosaur reconstruction of all happens to inhabit one of Long’s most beautifully painted, lush, verdant forests. For those unfamiliar, the creature shown here is Palaeoscincus, an animal typically depicted as a stumpy-legged mash-up of Edmontonia and Ankylosaurus with cute little fleshy ears for some reason, which was in fact one of those taxonomic quagmires created quite deliberately by early palaeontologists to infuriate their successors. Yes. In any case, connoisseurs of retro ankylosaur art will surely appreciate this squat little spiny fellow resplendent against a glorious tropical backdrop (I’m thinking of Victoria Arbour, should she still be reading).

While it might not differ as dramatically from modern reconstructions as ‘Palaeoscincus‘, Long’s Triceratops is also resolutely retro. You’ll note the dragging tails, strange backward-pointing jugals and the fact that the juvenile is essentially a miniature adult, although the animals are nevertheless convincingly muscular and hefty-looking and don’t suffer from any terrible perspective errors or bizarro-anatomy. The individual in the background is also firing a rainbow out of its tail, an allusion to the legend stating that an angry 7-tonne reptile will be waiting to gore you to death should you ever dare try and seek the end of a rainbow. So, you know, don’t try it. Lovely foliage and landscape here, as ever.

You knew he was coming – everyone’s favourite dinosaur (those who disagree will be eaten). Long’s T. rex resembles a more energetic take on Neave Parker’s with the head of Caselli’s grafted on, although certain details of the body are also reminiscent of Caselli’s work. While it remains rather upright and isn’t going for a jog like Caselli’s, Long’s version does have a tail that’s well clear of the ground and a foot that’s clearly moving forward quite rapidly (check out the dirt being kicked up). Its opponents are Torosaurus that take a peculiar stylistic turn into much more Caselli-like territory and sport weird frills that I don’t want to think about too much. Are those four fenestrae? Whatever. I do like the idea of this pair staying behind to confront the big theropod bully while the rest of the herd beat a retreat.

And finally – for now – a plesiosaur! For this book does feature more than just dinosaurs, and if at least one person asks nicely I might be persuaded to post some more scans. The particular sauropterygian pictured is Cryptoclidus, which the previous owner of this book has helpfully captioned with “The scery sey manster I haf sing [sic]”. I have no idea what that means – you’ll need to track down Tony Downs to find out. In any case, the spotty patterning on the animal’s skin is again very attractive, and the jellyfish remind me of hot cross buns, which are delicious.

Thanks for reading, and do come back for more, and maybe even a review of that Netflix show narrated by Iggy Pop…