Vintage Dinosaur Art: Giant Dinosaurs of the Jurassic – Part 2

Gregory Wenzel’s gorgeous Giant Dinosaurs of the Jurassic is well deserving of a second entry, especially as I showed my terrible theropod bias last time. Given the predominance of carnivores in the previous post, why not kick off with the completely harmless, very innocent and almost certainly meek and impeccably well-behaved Dryosaurus this time?

While certainly not a Giant Dinosaur, Dryosaurus helps flesh out the wider ecosystem surrounding Brachiosaurus, Diplodocus and the rest. While it maintains the same rather sleek, Paulian aesthetic as the other reconstructions in this book, it still possesses a convincingly rotund herbivore’s gut (not to mention a very attractive and plausible countershaded colour scheme). We’re also treated to a collection of short-snouted, big-eyed baby dryosaurs, the appearance of which is actually based on fossil evidence (rather than perfectly reasonable conjecture). Of course, this is a world filled with frightening reptilian carnivores, and it’s not too long before one of them strikes…although perhaps not one of the ones you were imagining.

For it’s not a dinosaur, but Fruitachampsa –a small crocodylomorph – that “snatches a hatchling”. It’s another example of Gregory Wenzel providing a picture of the Morrison Formation ecosystem beyond just the usual saurian suspects. It’s also one of the superb supplementary illustrations (as mentioned last time) that depict scenes from the narrative in a more sketchy style, and provide the perfect excuse to bring a theropod in…

…For while I mentioned the book’s Ceratosaurus successfully killing a Camptosaurus in my last post, it isn’t made explicit in the main illustration, but rather in the text and supplementary piece. For all that certain aspects of the animals’ anatomy would be reconstructed differently today, these remain impressively well-researched and beautifully painted illustrations. They’ve aged exceptionally well, which is more than can be said for a lot of the smeary CG art that was all the rage at the time. I’d love to see a model Ceratosaurus in those colours. (Haolonggood and PNSO, are you listening?)

Like the family member you don’t particularly like but feel compelled to invite to your wedding reception to avoid an upheaval in family politics (oddly specific? What do you mean?), everyone’s favourite ugly ugly mid-sized sauropod, Camarasaurus, is also from the Morrison and therefore must be included. Here, Wenzel shows a cruel side and subjects us to a close-up of this unlovely member of Clan Macronaria. It’s perhaps not helped by the slight shrinkwrapping of the face, with highly-positioned nostrils and all, but then again modern depictions in which it has brightly-coloured balloons strapped to its forehead often look even worse. There’s just no making a silk purse from a sow’s ear, it seems. At least the foliage here is typically gorgeous; we could really do with a bit more of it, the better to hide the unfortunate animal’s misshapen noggin.

(No, I’m not serious. Why, I even have multiple models of the thing! In my front room!)

The supplementary illustration for Camarasaurus depicts it knocking foliage to the ground, which is then hoovered up by Othnielia and Camptosaurus. This piece is a great example of Wenzel doing an admirable job of depicting dinosaurs from a number of somewhat tricky perspectives, indicating not just access to good 3D reference material, but a seemingly intuitive grasp of how these animals fit together. Notably, the sauropods all have correct digits and columnar, concave hands, which artists continue to get wrong even when unbelievably good reference material is just seconds away on their phones.

Speaking of sauropods, the sheer size of the mighty Brachiosaurus is emphasised by giving the viewer a human’s-eye-view of the scene, close to the ground, with the animal’s head far away in the treetops. Its imperious, almost contemptuous expression is reminiscent of the Invicta model and Ian Coleman’s art based on it. While it’s obviously quite skinny in a Dinosaur Renaissance sort of way, its most striking contrast with more modern reconstructions comes in the complete lack of speculative spines and skin flaps, and its almost uniformly grey skin (even if those neck stripes are rather fetching). It’s ‘modern’ in the sense of being anatomically rigorous and not screamingly retro, but it’s clear that palaeoart has moved on a great deal in the last 20 years. Which is not to denigrate any of the art here at all, of course, as I’ve hopefully made clear –  it’s all beautifully done. It’s just interesting to reflect on how much palaeoart has changed in methods and culture since this book was published.

Because of that merciless march of time, some of the most timeless pieces here are those that hardly feature dinosaurs at all. The above piece is used to set the scene near the start of the book, and apart from a couple of sneaky Othnielia  that have managed to creep in, doesn’t feature any dinosaurs at all – even if, cleverly, their presence is implied by the huge footprint one of the Othnielia is drinking from. Rather, it’s an atmospheric depiction of the landscape, foliage, crocodylomorph Goniopholis, pterosaur Comodactylus, and some anonymous turtley guys, all of which are helping to flesh out this world. It’s an image that rewards closer inspection, too – did you notice the little frogs in the foreground when you first looked at this? All right, perhaps you did, but I’ll bet that many people won’t have. All in all, a wonderful piece and another that contributes to Wenzel’s admirably comprehensive overview of the Morrison, especially given that this is a children’s book.

And finally…corpses! Of course, this is to illustrate the first stage of how animals are fossilised, and you’ll note that many of the skeletonised remains are highly incomplete and/or broken up – a far cry from the pristine skeletons that appear in other kids’ books to illustrate the first stage of fossilisation. They also look convincingly dessicated and disgusting, which is a real plus; the whole scene feels real as a result, furthering the sense of immersion. Wenzel’s a wonderful artist, for sure.

Thanks again to Herman Diaz for sending me this book. Who fancies sending me a copy of Feathered Dinosaurs of China?