"When he was young, and he was young for a very long time, he ran with the wind, danced between raindrops to stay dry, hit baseballs so far that he laughed at their disappearance. And when he drew, the Italian Renaissance lived in his hands. He painted in smoke so soft it looked like real light not paint.
His materials were simple, so basic. He hated artistic pretense. With a child's $2 watercolor set, he painted exquisite studies. And with a few worn brushes, he painted masterpieces in his living room beside his TV on a shaky cheap easel. Just last week we laughed on the phone. Hey Frank, you just sold a painting for 1 million dollars that you were paid $150 to do! He loved that. He laughed.
He was fine, happy, still working, proud of the sale. He knew he was good but did he know he was the best ever? Did he know he taught millions of artists how to dream? He never repeated a drawing. He always created anew, discovering again and again what it meant to create, to be a true artist that copied no one, not even himself. A world without Frank Frazetta makes no sense. No one like him will ever appear again. Remember him well."
"It was the whiff of something classical, a merging of the visceral with the timeless, pure comic sensation with the compositional command of a master."
— Geoff Pevere
on Frazetta.
on Frazetta."Good Old Frank. The man loved bodies and hated clothes so much."
—Tumblr user missmollyetc
