Robinson Requests: LOOK at ceratopsians!

Mark Robinson is a long-standing reader of the blog who has contributed a great many very...amusing comments over the years. In his latest, he noted his disappointment that I failed to include any ceratopsians from the so-so '60s children's book LOOK at Dinosaurs in my VDA post. Well, damn it Mark, I hope the following will suffice for you. While (as you correctly pointed out) I just don't have the time to scan every single page of these books, here's every single ceratopsian illustration from LOOK. All three of them!

1990s-style saurians: the winner!

The decision was, as ever, a very difficult one, but in the end I just had to plump for Jessica R's Archaeopteryx. It was a perfect fit for the brief, and I loved Jessica's explanation, particularly as she flipped my advice for entrants on its head:

"...You said that naked maniraptorans would be pretty obvious so I decided to throw you for a loop with a feathered maniraptoran...Archaeopteryx with pebbly head and wings with hands, dry cracked earth underfoot, and a single cycad."

It's well observed too (even without colour), getting a number of Urvogel tropes just so; the ground-dashing roadrunner incarnation became increasingly prevalent in the '80s and '90s* (as opposed to the previously ubiquitous arboreal version), and the 'palaeobotany is for losers' approach to foliage is strongly reminiscent of a lot of early '90s art. The earlier issues of Dinosaurs! certainly gave me the impression that the poor beasts lived in a permanently parched, arid environment. Like Tatooine, only with Triceratops roving around in place of distinguished, bearded, bitter Shakespearean actors.

Well done Jessica! Please send a message to the LITC Facebook page to claim your, er, prize (or if you can't do that, leave a comment below and we'll work something out). Proost!

*Having arguably been popularised by Ostrom - John McLoughlin was also ahead of the curve, as he often was. In fact, McLoughlin's 1979 Archaeopteryx rather resembles Jessica's...

1990s-style saurians: the contenders

I'm a bit prone to tucking away wacky drawing contests in my posts, which the cynical among you might take to be my way of measuring exactly how many people are reading them all the way to the end. But that's a terrible thought, and you are quite awful and horrid people for contemplating it. On the contrary, it's simply the case that I'm well aware of the great many talented artists we have among our readership, and love to encourage them to produce the sort of glorious, preferably very amusing and quite meta artwork that you just wouldn't see pop up on any other blog (except Pteroformer. And possibly Mark Witton's blog. Oh, whatever).

In any case, back in December I requested that readers submit a satirical '1990s dinosaur' - the sort of mildly barking restoration of a dinosaur that would have slotted in nicely inside a popular book from that decade (95% of which were written by Dougal Dixon). The winner will receive my copy of How to Draw Dinosaurs, along with a nice card or something that I'll seal with a kiss. First, however, I'd like to throw the entries out to the floor, to see which one LITC readers is most worthy of being crowned The Glorious Winner. Onward!

A Tardy Pirate

I took a short break from my thesis project work to whip up a scurvy saltasaur of my own, since Marc's post was so much fun and full of so many awesome prehistorical pirates. Here he is, with Polly the dromaeosaur on his shoulder. I suppose I could have put a Psittacosaurus on Captain Salty's shoulder for the etymological pun of it, but I wanted wings and big floofy feathers.

Back to the thesis salt mines! Stay tuned for an announcement about where you can view what I've been working on all semester.

Salty saltasaurs

It recently occurred to me (well, a couple of weeks ago, while writing one of those book reviews) that Saltasaurus just doesn't get the attention that it used to in palaeoart. Twenty years ago, including a Saltasaurus in your Cool Dinosaur Book for Cool Kids was de rigueur - after all, it was a sauropod but with armour! Alas, as the specimens of weirdo sauropods have stacked up, old Salty just isn't fashionable any more.

What could we possibly do to encourage more Saltasaurus art? Why, only groaningly obvious puns could possibly suffice!

I really love your tyrant feet

Back at the start of the month, the distastefully talented author, artist, blogger, and nomen oblitum enthusiast Matt Martyniuk posed an interesting question on his Dino Goss blog - namely, does anyone actually have any evidence that non-avian dinosaurs possessed birdlike scutes on their feet? Well, it turns out that, in the form of Concavenator, they do, although that does limit said scutes to tetanuran theropods, and artists frequently depict animals far more distantly related to birds (even ornithischians) with them. As Matt pondered,

"I'm not sure when this meme began, and if it's related to the Dinosaur Renaissance when the link between birds and dinosaurs was re-established...Of course, like many paleo-memes that developed during the 1980s, the main idea seems to be using this as a flourish to make otherwise scaly dinosaurs seem more bird-like."

Those who know me - even those who regularly read this blog - might be aware that I have a 'thing' for theropod feet, particularly those belonging to Manospondylus gigas. With that in mind, I thought it might be interesting, given Matt's musings, to take a look at sexy rexy feet through the decades.

One other thing - I've also decided to turn this into a (very easy) COMPETITION! Hurrah! The first person to leave a comment naming all of the artists will get a rubbish dinosaur book from my out-of-control stockpile. I'll also throw in a card featuring artwork by Niroot, which I will ask him very nicely to sign.

Right, then. For starters, here's the Real Deal - sort of. These belong to a cast of 'Stan' mounted in the Oxford University Museum of Natural History, and they're really quite enormous. Check out the arctometatarsalian condition, whereby the middle metatarsal is 'pinched' between the other two.

Here's an early entry by a highly respected palaeoartist of the classic era. No sign of tarsal scutes here, but check out the rather large, apparently reversed first toe (hallux), jutting out like a spur.

This artist (signature censored, because I'm in denial) has illustrated T. rex with rather more slender, shapely toes and what appear to be weight-bearing plantar pads, in spite of also giving it a bizarre, splayed stance. The left foot in particular appears very birdlike, and the hallux is rather more stumpy.

On the other hand, this artist - working at around the same time, ish - has made the feet considerably chunkier, with soft tissue spreading much wider than the width of the bones and, by extension, the claws. No scutes here - just rounded, non-overlapping scales, like a lizard - although the artist has thought to highlight tendons.

This artist was well known for his excellently observed lizardlike scaly skin textures. The soft tissues on this tyrannosaur's feet are far more snug to the bone, with hardly any sign of fleshy pads to cushion the animal's weight.

Entering the 1970s, and there are still no scutes to be seen on this oddly rectangular-footed individual.

Finally, in the early 1970s, with the Dinosaur Renaissance underway, tarsal scutes appear on the tyrant's feet. Note also that this individual appears to be very energetic indeed - going for a jog, in fact, in stark contrast to its palaeoart predecessors.

While scutes may have started to become de rigueur back in the mid-'70s, it didn't necessarily always mean that the rest of the restoration was particularly birdlike. This model, for example, is highly crocodilian, with all manner of armour scutes covering the body - just check out that tail. The tarsal scutes, therefore, may well be unintentionally birdlike.

The same can't be said for this work; not only has clear attention been paid to the arrangement of the scutes, the general soft tissue profile of the feet (complete with skin stretching between the toes) has clearly been modelled on modern birds (see these, for example). One can obviously see appropriately huge plantar pads taking the strain and spreading as the animal walks forward; there are echoes of illustration #3, but the ankle is far slimmer.

By the time the '80s rolled around, one might have expected that all the big names would had adopted the birdlike style of illustration #8 - however, this wasn't the case. Of course, much about this illustration - from the incongruously wide stance, to the rather shapeless 'tree trunk' legs - has a distinctly retro air. However, the differences in approach are still striking; there is a complete lack of birdlike scutes and plantar pads, and the ankle joint is far less obvious.

And finally, to bring us bang up to date...a fine pair that should look quite familiar. Thoroughly modern, and yet  perhaps closer in appearance to illustration #2 than illustration #8 (without the strange stance, of course).

So there you have it - my worrisome theropod foot fetish laid bare. Is this my barrel-scrapingest post yet? Not by half (have you seen some of the desperate rubbish I've come out with before?). Remember, if you can name all the artists, there's a book in it for you. Get cracking! Oh, and don't forget to buy a copy of Matt Martyniuk's superb Field Guide to Mesozoic Birds and other Winged Dinosaurs, if you haven't already - it's worth it for the beautiful artwork, with an uncommonly realistic portrayal of feathered dinosaurs, alone.

Dinosaurs in the Bible

While preparing this week's Vintage Dinosaur Art post, I was struck by how the illustrations were reminiscent of those in a certain other book that I'd owned as a child. A book that I hadn't seen for a long time, but was sure that I still had stashed away in a dark corner of my wardrobe. Eventually, it dawned on me...it was an illustrated Bible that I'd been given for my christening in 1988.

Hang on - didn't that Bible have dinosaurs in it? I just had to go and check it out - and oh yes, it has dinosaurs all right.

Well, OK, it has a Burianesque amphibious brachiosaur, sharing its habitat with a black marine reptile thingy and some pterosaurs (one of which is unmistakably Pteranodon). They pop up while the book's main character, a sort of all-powerful supernatural lunatic, is poofing things into existence as is his wont. There's no mention of them anywhere in the text (excepting birds, obviously), which is essentially a light simplification of the King James version (this isn't an attempt to lure in the kids by some Ken Ham-alike).

Furthermore, this is the only appearance made by any prehistoric animals in the entire book; there are no banana-munching tyrannosaurs gambolling in the Garden of Eden, nor any distressed-looking Triceratops being swept up in the swirling waters of a global flood. Nor, indeed, are the angels depicted as pterosaurs, although they should have been. And that's what's wonderful about these beasties - they're here apropos of nothing.

I should probably get back to that other book, though. See you later in the week!

I Wrote a Song About Triceratops

Ceratopsidae family crest by yours truly; it could be yours, truly.

I'd like to invite you all over to my tumblog, The Gallant Cannibal, to feast on a song I wrote several years ago as an ode to that iconic three-horned juggernaut, Triceratops. It's short and sweet. I tell the whole story of its creation over there, so I won't repeat it here. Suffice to say: if you like Triceratops, this is definitely a song about Triceratops.

"Dinosaurs...on a spaceship!"

For the first time since it was revived back in 2005, Doctor Who featured some tasty nonavian dinosaur action last night. Not only that, but they were dinosaurs in space (one has the distinct feeling that the title of Dinosaurs on a Spaceship came before the script). It was an absolutely brilliant episode that moved at a scorching pace, bringing together not only the Ponds but also Rory's dad alongside Queen Nefertiti and an Edwardian big game hunter. Of course.

Now, don't get me wrong; while I am a massive geek - as is evidenced by my writing about Doctor Who on a dinosaur-related blog - it would be really daft to seriously critique the show's dinosaurs based on their scientific accuracy.

Of course, I am never serious. Never knowingly. (As usual, all images are copyright The Beeb and used under the perhaps naive assumption that they'll be OK with that.)

The first two dinosaurs in the show (in the pre-credits sequence, in fact) were ankylosaurs, which I thought was an excellent move. Although well known by those with even the slightest interest in dinosaurs, ankylosaurs are certainly not as familiar to the public at large as The Usual Suspects (Tyrannosaurus, Velociraptor, Stegosaurus etc. etc.) Moreover, they are certainly very dramatic-looking animals, and capable of wreaking a suitable amount of destruction. The animals in the show were clearly modeled on Euoplocephalus tutus, although they were never referred to as anything more specific than 'dinosaurs'. In spite of this, they were remarkably well done - although only enjoying a brief screen time, one could see that they had been accurately given wide-gauge hips and the right sort of armour even if they were probably a bit oversized. Check them out on YouTube.

The real saurian star of the show was a Triceratops, nicknamed 'Tricey' by the Doctor. It was realised by a combination of CGI and animatronics, with the Doctor and crew even hitching a ride on a real puppet front half. Any faults that it had were quite minor, all things considered - the hands weren't quite right, and the neck frill wasn't exactly the right sort of shape, but it certainly could've been a lot worse. Some people may have flinched at its characterisation as an adorable dog-like beast, but it's Doctor bloody Who. I thought it was wonderful, and was really quite sad when (spoilers!) the villain's two childlike pet robots exterminated it.

In fact, the only rubbish dinosaurs in this show were theropods - surprise, surprise. Amy, Nefertiti and Big Game Hunter Man stumbled upon a sleeping juvenile tyrannosaur early on in the show, and it appeared to be a bit tubular, without shoulders to speak of. Far more important than that, however - in that they actually had a significant role to play - were what everyone referred to as 'raptors'. Alas, Doctor Who trotted out the usual silly Jurassic Park-esque bunny-handed monstrosities, virtually devoid of feathers. It is worth noting, however, that they were not the same CGI models as used in Primeval, as some people have concluded - they were made from scratch by a different special effects studio. Any similarities are a result of the convergent need to rip off Jurassic Park.

Of course, the dinosaurs had spent over 65 million years on board that spaceship, in which time they might well have evolved bunny hands and a sparser feather covering. Stranger things have evolved.

Removing my tongue from my cheek, though, I must reiterate that this was an excellent episode - an absolutely inspired maelstrom of time and space-spanning lunacy. Also, I absolutely LOVED that Earth's primary space agency was apparently Indian.

Oh, and there were some pterosaurs too. But nobody cares about pterosaurs, especially Pteranodon longiceps. Yawn.

"It seemed quite likely that the Stegosaurus and Triceratops wouldn't reach Southampton on time"

Back in May I paid a visit to Blackgang Chine, a theme park of sorts located on the Isle of Wight (off the south coast of England), and wrote of my exploits with the park's charmingly vintage and hideous dinosaur models.

It recently occurred to me that the transportation of Blackgang's dinosaur models, from the factory where they were made in Yorkshire all the way down to Blackgang, was covered by the enduringly uncool children's TV show Blue Peter back in 1972, and that someone must have uploaded the footage online. Happily, they have! (Unhappily, they've also disabled embedding, so you'll have to jump over to YouTube.)

While only the Stegosaurus and Triceratops are shown in the video, the amusing narration - complete with handy route map and the presenters stumbling over those tricksy dinosaur names - makes this short clip definitely worth watching. Hell, I'd say it's worth it for the 1970s fashions alone.

Interestingly, it seems that the Triceratops as originally shipped to the park was fang-free. Which begs the question...when did it gain that set of sinister, carnivorous toothy pegs?

Caption Competition!

I realise that I've been very light on the content recently and I can only apologise. Please, accept this gift of a book cover of such flabbergasting wrongness that you won't sleep well for several nights. Because it'll haunt you. Its toothy grin and flouncing posture will lurk in the darkest recesses of your bedroom. You won't be able to see it, but it'll be there...waiting.

Once seen, never unseen.

And hey, Niroot had a good idea recently - a caption competition! Please, devise the best captions for the dancing dinosaur above, and the winner will receive fame beyond the wildest dreams of anyone ever mentioned on some blog about dinosaurs.

By the way, this is the work of Adrian Chesterman and forms the cover of The Explorer's Guide to Dinosaurs. Since most of the rest of the book consists of blatant copies of Sibbick illustrations and DK models from the 1990s, I'll let him off on the basis that he doesn't know dinosaurs too well. Although this book did have no fewer than two 'picture researchers', and you've gotta wonder about that...

Super Vintage Dinosaur Art Funtime Bonus Content

Yesterday, Mark Robinson commented that I'd missed one of the funniest illustrations in the Pocket Book of Dinosaurs - what he called the "'roid Iguanodon". Subsequently, Niroot requested that I scan it. So here it is. (Also, I felt the sudden urge to publish a blog post with a silly title.)

It didn't scan too well, alas, but I think one can still see what Mark was getting at. Looks like a terrible attempt at imitating Neave Parker...

Give them a big hand

More Deinocheirus goodness for you (and also toy news, ahem). The good people at Collecta, who make respectable animal figurines for us discerning collector-folk (or toys, if you prefer), have unveiled their new sculpt of Deinocheirus mirificus - hitting the shelves in 2012. D. mirificus, as any fule kno, is only known from a single pair of partially complete giant arms. Hypotheses as to what the whole animal looked like have varied over the years, but the most plausible idea currently appears to be that it was a giant ornithomimosaur, although a primitive one. Collecta have run with this idea, and produced what appears to be one of the best ornithomimosaur toys to date.



Not only is it bipedal (rather than leaning on its tail), it has a lovely covering of 'protofeathers' and a suitably attractive colour scheme - I particularly like the head. Being a primitive ornithomimosaur, the animal still has a first toe (or hallux) on each foot.

Perhaps most importantly, this figure marks the zenith of what has been a stunning turn-around by Collecta. Until quite recently they were widely derided as being producers of crudely sculpted, anatomically incorrect, child-friendly dreck, but now they're really upping their game, just as other manufacturers appear to be losing it. They're definitely one to watch for dino figures in 2012, especially if their other recently-announced (and somewhat less hypothetical) theropods can match this one.

This article was by no means just an excuse to use that pun-tastic headline. Also, apologies for bringing toys up once again. You can blame Taranaich for encouraging me. Kidding, kidding...

Alas, poor Papo

As some of you may already be aware (and if not, then sit up straight and pay attention at the back), I have a certain hobby that involves collecting certain plastic/resin figures and sometimes reviewing them for a certain website based on their aesthetic qualities, anatomical accuracy and so on. It's a fun way to acrue a large collection of colourful tat and fritter away money that, let's face it, I'd probably just be splurging on booze otherwise.

Anyway, one of the most popular manufacturers of dinosaur collectibles is the French company Papo. While they make no claim to scientific authority or accuracy, their models are nevetheless stunningly sculpted and painted, and often pretty decent anatomically anyway (I particularly like their Styracosaurus). There have been some howlers, but in those cases it's easy to see where they've gone wrong - basically, the sculptor has followed popular, but mistaken palaeoart memes.

And then recently, this was announced.



Oh boy.

The question I wish to put to you, o Love in the Time of Chasmosaurs readership, is this - where on Earth do you think the inspiration for this thing came from? This wouldn't be an issue if Papo were just churning out lazy, poorly-made figures - but they're not. In fact, the fine details and immaculate paintwork on most Papos can't really be matched at their price point. Even when they produce anatomically dubious figures, they at least look pretty.

But this one - it looks like a Crystal Palace plesiosaur with a mosasaur head grafted on, Frankenstein-stylee. Some people have excused it on the grounds that it's 'retro', but Charles Knight was painting more accurate Tylosaurus restorations back in 1899.

Naturally, the figure has sparked off a lively discussion among the prehistoric-animal-toy-collecting community (stop laughing), with some even questioning why Papo are bothering to attach scientific names to figures like this.

However, I'd like a little outsider opinion, especially as I know a number of artists read this blog. As always, please do comment.

Finally, I'm sorry for dragging this silly toy nonsense over to Love in the Time of Chasmosaurs. Superior content (from David) will resume shortly.

Thanks to Christophe for acquiring the catalogue scan.

What's Wrong with this Picture?

I'd driven by this theropod, leering over a fence at passing motorists (and an unfortunate bullock), so many times that eventually I just had to stop and have a closer look. It's located at SK Camping and Leisure near South Godstone, Surrey (South East England), a shop that sells tents and camping equipment, garden furniture and, er, a menagerie of resin and fibreglass animals (including the two pictured above). The bigger ones - including the lunging theropod pictured below - have eye-watering price tags, but one of the dinkier brachiosaurs is a snip at a mere £199.99. Bargain.