Wilma Deering Looks Like ...?

The appearance of comic strip characters usually evolves from the first time they are shown until a definitive look is arrived at. The early Dick Tracy, Li'l Abner and Terry Lee (of Terry and the Pirates) were but wispy hints of the boldly-drawn evolved versions familiar to comic-strip buffs and those old enough to recall their heyday.

Occasionally, a character's look never quite settles down. Consider Wilma Deering, longtime girlfriend of Buck Rogers, the pioneering space-faring comic strip hero of "Buck Rogers in the 25th Century."

The Buck Rogers strip evolved from a science-fiction magazine story, appearing in newspapers early in 1929 (the Wikipedia entry on Buck Rogers is here). The original artist was Dick Calkins, an Army Air Service pilot and flight instructor in the Great War who went on to a career as a newspaper artist.

In my judgment, Calkins was never much of an artist, and the strip probably succeeded more on the novelty and glamor of space travel and strange other worlds (along with standard-issue swashbuckling in sci-fi guise) than in the quality of Calkins' drawing.

Eventually, Calkins' imagery became fairly consistent. But in the early months of the strip, the appearance of Buck, Wilma and supporting characters varied considerably. In fact, it almost seemed like more than one artist had a hand in the strip -- though as far as we know, help in the form of Rick Yager didn't appear for another four years.

The Wikipedia entries above disagree as to when and to what degree Yager took over from Calkins. Yager had responsibility for the Sunday strips, and his style there was definitely different from that of Calkins by the 1940s. I'm inclined to agree with the Calkins entry that Calkins did the dailies as late as 1947 or so. That's based on drawing style. On the other hand, Yager was able to mimic the flowing style of "Lichty" in the Grin and Bear It cartoon, so perhaps he indeed drew dailies in the brittle idiom Calkins had evolved as the 1930s wore on.

Below are examples of Calkins' version of Wilma Deering, four from the first year of the stip, and one from ten years later.

Gallery

This is from the second-ever panel, in which Wilma encounters Buck for the first time. He had just emerged from a 500-year hibernation in a cave, that sleep induced by a mysterious gas.

Wilma hasn't evolved much at this early point. For example, she still seems to be a brunette, though her anatomy is drawn more surely.

The images above are in the same day's panel from a few months later. Calkins' artwork has improved. Characters' features edge towards the suggested, rather than the laboriously drawn. So far as I'm concerned, from an aesthetic viewpoint, the seated Wilma is the best that Calkins ever did. Since her depiction was inconsistent day-by day, week-by-week, I suppose that, statistically, Calkins had to nail it once in a rare while.

Here's Wilma probably from a mid-1930s panel. Calkins' style is now more harsh -- a brittle feel. This was probably just a natural evolution on Calkins' part, though it's possible he was urged to make bolder, darker, more structured images so that the strip would stand out better on the cheap newsprint it was printed on. And Wilma, now a blonde for sure, isn't as well done as in the selections above.

This is from 1939. The crisp effect continues (as it will well into the 1940s). The Wilma to the left rates an okay, but the face-on view at the right is pretty bad. Try clicking on this image for a larger view.


If I have to characterize Calkins, I would call him inconsistent -- occasionally coming up with a satisfying image, but usually dishing out the level of hack-work that was acceptable to 1930s newspaper readers. This last point takes into account the average artistic competency demonstrated in adventure strips of the time. Far, far above that level was the talent exhibited by Alex Raymond (Flash Gordon), Hal Foster (Tarzan and Prince Valiant), Burne Hogarth (Tarzan) and the rapidly improving Milton Caniff (Terry and the Pirates).

Malczewski: Death as a Woman

Polish Symbolist Jacek Malczewski (1854-1929) was one of that nation's finest painters. I think he should rank high on a worldwide measure because his works combine a high level of skill with the capacity to fascinate the viewer.

Perhaps unfortunately, Malczewski is best known for including himself in many paintings, often in costumes such as a suit of armor. These self-references have more to say than "Hi! It's me!" if the viewer can get past the artist's image and consider the rest of the painting. I might someday post a gallery of this phase of his work, but for now I thought I should deal with Malczewski's treatment of the symbolism of death.

In Western culture, death is often personified as the Grim Reaper, a hooded skeleton carrying a scythe. The Greeks personified death as a man, though not necessarily an old or dead one; his name was Thanatos.

Malczewski appropriated the name Thanatos as well as the scythe for some of his death paintings. But instead of a man, he depicted death as a beautiful, sometimes kindly woman.

Here are some of Malczewski's death-paintings:

Gallery

Smierc (Death) - 1902
Here Death gently closes the eyes of the man. It strikes me that Malczewski left Death slightly incomplete; note the lack of surface detail on her face in the general area of the nose.

Thanatos I - 1898
This is perhaps the best-known Malczewski Thanatos. His anatomical depiction skill can be seen on the treatment of light falling on the shoulder, chest and hip. Click on the image for a better view (if your system allows it).

Thanatos - 1898-99
Another Thanatos from about the same time. A more dramatic scene, but not as visually interesting as the painting above. Click on the image for a larger view (if your system allows it).

Thanatos - 1911
A reprise of the 1902 Death painting.

Self-Portrait with Thanatos
Some of Malczewski's self-portraits included charaters from other paintings. Here he's joined by Thanatos. Click on the image for a larger view (if your system allows it).

Zmartwychwstanie (Resurrection) - 1920
Later in his career Malczewski moved beyond Smierc and Thanatos to provide an up-beat note, as the title of this painting indicates. Click on the image for a larger view (if your system allows it).

Molti Ritratti: Anna Akhmatova

Anna Akhmatova, born Anna Andreyevna Gorenko (1889-1966) was a Russian poet who failed to flee the country following the Bolshevik takeover and suffered for that mistake. The sorry details are summarized in the Wikipedia entry here.

Anna's appearance was -- how shall I say it -- distinctive, her face dominated by a beak of a nose. According to Wikipedia, this did not prevent her from accumulating a small host of admirers including the likes of Boris Pasternak the writer and Amedeo Modigliani the painter. Little doubt that intelligence, charm and a tall, willowy figure compensated for appearance defects.

Moreover, Anna was portrayed, as can be seen below. I wanted to include a Modigliani depiction, but failed to find anything that is known for sure to have been Anna. Whereas some of his paintings of nudes incorporated tall, slender figures, those paintings omitted the Akhmatova nose. Might Amedeo have discretely camouflaged his subject? Given that Anna was newly married at the time, perhaps he did.

Please set me straight in Comments if my conjecture is off the track.

Gallery

Photo of Anna Akhmatova

A more flattering photo

Drawing, unknown artist
The Internet has this image flipped both ways. I have no clue whether the original had Anna facing to our left or our right. For what it's worth, Wikipedia has her facing to the left. Not that this really matters....

By Nikolai Tyrsa

By Olga Della Vos Kardovskaya - 1914

By Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin - 1922

By Yiri Annenkov - 1924

By M. Sarian - 1946

By Nathan Altman - 1914
This is the best-known portrait of Anna -- the merest whiff of Cubism to catch the spirit of her angular features.

Spitfire Bests Hurricane, Hunter Bests Swift

Life has its ups and downs. This was even the case in the aircraft industry back in the days when that industry had a lot of firms (as opposed to the comparative handful operating today). In some cases government ministries would try to balance contract awards amongst companies so as to keep a reasonable number in business should a war erupt and large production of aircraft be required.

In other cases fortunes of aircraft manufacturers rose and fell according to the quality of the airplanes they designed. That was to some degree the case for fighter plane builders Hawker and Supermarine in England.

By the mid-1930s, fighter production was dominated by Hawker with its Fury which competed mostly with Gloster with its Gladiator, Bristol with its Bulldog, and to a lesser degree Fairey and Blackburn. Supermarine formerly specialized in flying boats and high-speed racing floatplanes, but now was entering fighter design competitions.

In 1936 production was ordered for the Royal Air Force's first "modern" fighters -- the Hawker Hurricane and the Supermarine Spitfire -- the latter based on the racing-craft knowledge gained by designer Reginald Mitchell who died the following year of cancer, age 42.

Mitchell was succeeded by Joe Smith who presided over as series of modifications that kept the Spitfire competitive and in production throughout World War 2. He also led Supermarine's jet age design teams that created several production fighters, including the Supermarine Swift of the 1950s.

The Hurricane's designer was Sydney Camm whose teams produced outstanding aircraft over a period of decades, including the Hawker Hunter jet fighter that was developed about the same time as the Swift.

I'm not an aeronautical engineer, so I can't offer a professional assessment of the three men. From what I read, the consensus is that Mitchell and Camm rank among the "great" designers and Smith does not.

Given this background, how did the Hurricane, Spitfire, Swift and Hunter stack up? In brief, Supermarine won the first round, Hawker the second. Let's take a look:

Hawker Hurricane Is, 111 Squadron - late 1930s
The Hurricane was "modern" in that it had the following features that characterized fighters designs that emerged in advanced industrial countries starting in the mid-1930s: It was a monoplane (as opposed to biplane or triplane styles of the Great War), its landing gear retracted, the cockpit was fully enclosed, and its construction was largely of metal. In the case of the latter feature, the Hurricane lagged its equivalents in that the part of the fuselage aft of the cockpit was fabric-covered and not aluminum-skinned. This might have been because in some respects the Hurricane was a monoplane evolutionary step beyond the Hawker Fury biplane which also had its fuselage clad in metal to the front and fabric to the rear.

The Hurricane had a thick wing (compared to the Spitfire), was chunkier and had other features that resulted in lower top speed and inferior maneuverability. It was also inferior to opposing German fighters such as the Messerschmitt Bf 109E and the later Focke-Wulf FW 190. Hurricanes represented the majority of the RAF's fighter strength during the Battle of Britain in the late summer of 1940, but the somewhat sad experience of British and Belgian Hurricanes against the Germans in the Battle of France in the late spring of that year resulted in the RAF opting to send Hurricanes against attacking bombers rather than the escort fighters -- where possible, Spitfires were to attend to the Messerschmitts. Hurricane production ended in 1944 (Spitfire variants were built as late as 1948), being succeeded by Typhoon and Tempest fighter-bombers.

Speaking of being slightly behind the times, note the formation shown in the photo above. The six Hurricanes are in V ("vic" in RAF-speak) formations of three aircraft each. This formation was intended for interceptors, the three fighters attacking a similar formation of bombers. It proved inferior in fighter-to-fighter combat, so the British and American eventually adopted the German schwarm or "finger-four" formation comprised of two two-plane elements, each with a lead plane and a protective "wing-man."

Early Supermarine Spitfire I
The Spitfire was Britain's outstanding World War 2 fighter. Thanks to its wing design, it was both fast and maneuverable. Rolls-Royce kept it competitive by providing ever more powerful motors. Joe Smith eventually replaced the original wing with one that reduced the plane's potential maximum speed (the new wing had a greater thicknes-chord ratio) but allowed additional armament.

The main defect of the Spitfire was that it was designed as an interceptor tasked with defending geographically-small England from bomber attack and therefore it traded range for limited fuel-weight. The result was that the Spitfire could not accompany bombers on missions to targets as distant as Germany; that role fell to the American P-51 Mustang.

Supermarine Swift F.1, (or possibly an F.2), 56 Squadron - 1954
Whereas the Spitfire glows in glory, the Swift was an expensive failure. Like the Hunter, it was ordered into "superpriority" production once the Korean War started. But it only briefly served in fighter service. Years later, a version was moderately successful in the reconnaissance role.

The Swift's nearly endless teething problems centered around handling characteristics and difficulties introduced by one of its engine manufacturers. Its portly shape stemmed from the original intent to power it with a chubby centrifugal-flow Nene engine. But the Nene was bypassed in favor of the slimmer axial-flow Avon; the fuselage bulk then became a useful place for extra fuel tanks.

Hawker Hunter in Swiss service: 25th anniversary commemoration paint-job
The Hunter had its initial problems too, the worst being engine-surge and flame-outs when the 30-mm Aden cannon were fired. Once teething was taken care of, the Hunter proved to be an excellent fighter; nearly 2,000 were built and it served in many air forces besides the RAF

Thus were the tables turned, Hawker emerging from second-fiddle to First Violin and Supermarine becoming an aviation footnote.

In the Beginning: Juan Gris

Juan Gris (1887-1927), born José Victoriano González-Pérez in Madrid, moved to Paris in 1906 where he made his mark as a Cubist painter before his death at age 40. His Wikipedia entry is here and a similar reference on a site containing many images of his work is here.

His training was at Madrid's Escuela de Artes y Manufacturas when he was in his mid-teens and then studied for a while under José Maria Carbonero, an academic-oriented artist.

To help support himself, he did commercial illustration at a very competent level. His draftsmanship was good, as was his craftsmanship. These traits are also found in his cubist paintings, most of which are carefully composed and painted still-lifes that often featured musical instruments. Even his Cubist portraits -- which tend to echo portraits by Picasso made during his Cubist phase -- seem more organized and disciplined than what Picasso did.

Aside from one commercial piece, early, non-cubist works by Gris are hard to locate on the Web (I found some illustrations of popular dances, but they were undated).

Below are examples of Gris' Cubist and representational work.

Gallery

Flattery - 1908

Marcelle la Brune - lithograph - 1921

Portrait of Pablo Picasso - 1912

Pierrot with Guitar - 1925

A still life featuring musical instruments and related items

You can click on some images to get larger and sometimes sharper results if your computer and browser permit.


I find it sad that so many good artists never lived to age 40 and were unable to demonstrate further evolution. Gris, who lived less than two months beyond his 40th birthday, also presents the question of unfulfilled potential. For example, what would have been his reaction to Surrealism or Abstract Expressionism? Might he have eventually abandoned modernism?

Gris strikes me as being a highly competent artist who probably could have worked in any genre. But I doubt that he could have abandoned his craftsman-like approach to art.

The Best Spaceship Artist Ever?

The Wikipedia entry for John Berkey (1932-2008) is way too brief so far as I'm concerned. That's because he painted imaginary spaceship scenes that were astonishing when they first appeared on covers of science fiction paperbacks and continued to astonish in the years thereafter.

You need to understand the context. Pre-Berkey, sci-fi spaceships were usually depicted as (1) Buck Rogers style open-cockpit jobs, (2) Flash Gordon spindle-like craft, (3) variations on the German V-2 rocket of World War 2, (4) extrapolations of Apollo-era spacecraft or (5) combinations of these with some other details added.

Berkey introduced to the genre huge spacecraft that often combined delicate equipment detail with large, smooth, reflective surfaces. His style was basically loose, yet when reduced to book cover size, gave the impression of monster machines.

As for Berkey himself, he was a Minnesotan who from age 15 was determined to become an illustrator. His training was on-the-job at commercial art studios. In 1955 he hit the big time, being hired by Brown and Bigelow, the large St. Paul calendar company. From then to 1963 he produced around 500 illustrations for the company. After that he went freelance, continuing calendar work while moving into magazine and book cover illustration -- his long-term goal. By the early 1990s he had done about 200 book covers, most in the science fiction field.

Looking at reproductions of his work, an observer might guess that Berkey worked in oil. Not so. Most of his paintings were done in casein or a combination of casein and acrylic; occasionally he used tempera.

I used to paint in casein when doing commercial art projects in college and never came remotely close to what Berkey was able to do with it; creating smooth (non-water blotched) areas was something I found difficult and illustration board curling when the paint dried was another annoyance. Clearly Berkey's work in commercial art studios allowed him to get lots of useful tips from professional artists regarding casein-handling and other needed skills.

As for the combined casein-acrylic work, my guess is that he used acrylics to block in large areas, reserving casein for the details. If I'm wrong, please let me know.

Below are examples of Berkey's science fiction art.

Gallery

Untitled - tempera - 1971

Ships

Suspended Moment - casein - 1990

Battle of the Spiral Star - casein - 1977

Intrusion, an Unpleasant Visitor - casein and acrylic - 1990

Lines Through the Horizon - casein - 1977

If your browser allows it, click on the images for larger (and sometimes clearer) views.

Disappearing Car Marque Books

I suppose it's yet another generational thing.

Up until maybe five or ten years ago I used to see quite a few books dealing with automobile brands on bookstore shelves. Now, not very many.

I bought a lot of those histories of brands (Ford) and models (Mustang). Of course, once I'd gotten a pretty good grip regarding a subject, I'd have little need for another book. After a number of years I found that I was buying few car books. Most of my recent purchases were made while traveling in Europe and had to do with English, French and German brands.

This business about the trend toward fewer car history titles (shop manuals and similar books excluded) came to my attention over the last few months. In November I stopped by the Blackhawk museum in Danville, California and noticed that there were hardly any books on the shelves of its store. Instead I saw mostly model cars of different sizes and prices. A few weeks ago I was in the shop of the "National Automobile Museum" in Reno, Nevada (I added quote-marks because I find the name pretentious). Car books had all but disappeared. New car books, that is; what they had was lots of used books and magazines.

The conclusion that makes most sense to me is that younger people aren't as car-nutty, on average, as previous generations. When I was a kid, getting a car was a huge deal. Perhaps nowadays the Huge Deal is having an iPad.

Any thoughts and commiserations are appreciated by this confused, blind-sided blogger.