Dinosaurs: A Fantastic New View of a Lost Era (1981), by William Stout, is the first in what would become a series of books and sketchbooks by the famed artist. Unlike The Flight of Dragons, the foundation of this book was real, cutting-edge paleontology of the day that was radically changing the way scientists viewed dinosaurs. But, either by design or coincidence, the book fits into the wider web of Larkin’s white books and their imitators — it’s a complete field guide, covering behavior, social group, various types of dinosaurs and prehistoric lizards and the physiological features that made each unique, accompanied by a near-decadent amount of Stout’s artwork and wrapped in a, well, beige cover, but it sits next to the white dust jackets just fine.
Stout’s art is phenomenal. His dinos tend to be a bit gaunt and knobby, often emphasizing a kind of monstrousness. I’ve no idea how plausible his designs are, but they convey a lot of personality, as well as size and power, which is maybe just as important as accuracy — these guys are more alive than the ones in the Princeton field guides. Stout balances this with a design sense that leans heavily into Art Nouveau conventions, which subverts that monstrousness. It’s an interesting, exciting choice.
I was ga-ga about dinosaurs when I was a kid and I am genuinely a little bit annoyed I only got this book for the first time a couple years ago. My annoyance is assuaged somewhat by the fact that my second-hand copy happened to be signed and accompanied by a sketch of a brontosaurus! (Brontosaurus forever!)
There are ten trillion pictures of flowering trees to the point where they sometimes seem trite and overdone. But then you see a tree in full flower and go holy shit this rules and I’ve gotta show this to everyone so they can experience the same magic and wonder and there are ten trillion and one pictures of flowering trees
Do you wanna play mermaids? Yay. Okay so my tail is light blue and I have ice powers. And I live in the Arctic sea and watch British sailors die horrible deaths while trying to find the Northwest Passage.
every year around christmas me and my grandma play this fun family game called “maybe you want to put jesus in your room instead, sweetie? :)”. now, it’s important to note that the jesus referred to in our game is not actually the real jesus christ, but instead a wooden figure i made in 2011 that has an uncanny resemblance to the lord and savior himself
so what happens is that i place jesus in our living room, and my grandma smiles and asks me if i don’t want to decorate my room with him instead. i ask her in return if she thinks my jesus figure is ugly (which he is), but she reassures me that this is not the case. however, a couple of days later jesus mysteriously disappears from our living room, and appear in my room instead
now, the real jesus christ might have been able to perform a miracle like this, but please remember that the jesus in our story is only a figure made out of wood. he can not move on his own, so i think we can safely say that my grandma is the prime suspect here
the first year i would often confront my grandma about this, but she would always make up an excuse and never straight up tell me she moved him because he’s so ugly it’s an embarrassment to the family
eventually i grew tired of her lies, so now we only move jesus around in silence. one second he’s in the living room, the next he’s back in my room. in a way i think this adds an extra element of excitement to the holiday season, because you never know for sure when jesus is going to be moved again
and so it begins..
i was not fucking ready for this photograph
I’m NEVER ready for the fucking photograph, holy shit.
