When I was eleven, just starting out with drawing and what-not, my father pulled me into the spare room and shared with me two thin books.
They were art books of one, Mr. Frank Frazetta and my father had been holding onto them since he was about eighteen.
This was my first real art book, this was my first real artist, honestly. And I was helpless to do anything beyond fall instantly in love with his style. It wasn't just his art that I loved, I loved his idea of what made things beautiful. The women of Frazetta were not delicate wisps, but curvy and full figured. And yes, while many of them were
found clinging to some rippling pectoral or another, a great deal of them were solitary, gazing out of the painting with a look of pure superiority. Like they knew
they were gorgeous. It may sound silly, but that really empowered me growing up.
Frank Frazetta is an icon in the art world, his paintings have been used in everything from book covers to album covers, he's been part of countless projects. The man was unstoppable in life, this (NOT SAFE FOR WORK, PLEASE NOTE)
was painted with a set of Mickey Mouse watercolors. He was passionate, peerless, and now he will remain immortal.
He was a childhood icon for me, someone who I was able to bond with my father over, someone who spurred me to be better without realizing it.
Frank Frazetta, the world is a shade paler without you in it.