"According to George Lucas, the design is inspired by a hamburger..."

Just this past week, two of my favorite artists died: Ralph McQuarrie, and Jean Giraud, also known as "Moebius."

Ralph McQuarrie I first got into when Star Wars had captured my imagination. I was listening to the soundtracks over and over on my walkman. I got a couple used books: "Inside the Lucasfilm Archives" and a "making of" book about Episode 1. The Lucasfilm Archives book had photos of some early concept art work for Episodes 4, 5, and 6, including many paintings by Ralph McQuarrie. I later discovered that Ralph McQuarrie was one of the first people George Lucas hired to develop his film, and that Ralph's paintings were key in getting 20th Century Fox to produce the film. Ralph originated the designs for R2-D2 and C-3P0, Darth Vader, Stormtroopers, and many others. Some of his production paintings were copied almost exactly as shots in the films.

The drawings themselves were colorful and exciting. They fascinated me by their mix of the familiar and unfamiliar, that is, in each piece you found both aspects that were key to the "final" version, and those that were scrapped along the way.

Of course, being a fanboy, it was really fun to speculate about alternate versions of iconic designs. "Would if the Millenium Falcon had looked like this? Would if Darth Vader's helmet had these original lines to it?" It excited me that such seemingly trivial decisions had shaped icons that would become recognizable the world over. I thought, how awesome would it be, if I drew something that was made into a film, that little kids would get toys of for christmas? That entire generations would recognize in a millisecond? I guess I've always had some lust for fame. Then again, I would probably be just as happy to draw something, and have someone look at it, and say "Wow, that's cool!"

I was kind of wrapped up in my own head at that age, and often times while riding my bike I would pretend that I was flying on some kind of speeder, like in Return of the Jedi. It was fun, but later I would come to regret somewhat having been so inroverted...I came to realize that personal relationships were essential to any real enjoyment in life, and that you need to invest in them.

The "Making of" book for Episode 1 also included lots of concept art. The artist that stood out most to me was Doug Chiang. I even spent some time on his studio website on the computer during high school.

As I got inspired, I got into sketching myself. I thought maybe I would become a concept artist when I grew up.

Jean Giraud I didn't get quite as into directly, and to be honest I'm not a huge fanboy, I'm bandwagoning a little bit with the fact that he just recently died. But the little that I have read of him has stayed with me, and I considered it very personal. While spending time on a Comics message board, I stumbled across a digital copy of his story "The Goddess," and read it all in one sitting. The spiritual themes and fantastic setting struck me, and I began to research who it was who had written it, at which point I discovered Moebius and his huge influence of science fiction and fantasy in the 20th century. He worked on "The Fifth Element," which is one of my all time favorite movies, both for its visual style and its message. He worked with H. R. Gieger on "Alien," and was concept artist and writer for "Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland" which I had seen a few years before and scared the heck out of me, but still had a bizzare fantastic feel that appealed to me. Jean Giraud also was behind the design of the probe droid that landed on Hoth in "Empire Strikes Back."

Just last night I went ahead and read his story "Le Garage Hermetique," which was just as mind blowing as I remembered the other story was.

To me, Jean Giraud's work is a great example of the philosophy that stories are a way for us to "dream while we are awake." What's interesting about dreams is that they are often bizarre and lack any "real world" logic to them, yet they can still be emotionally profound, and sometimes even help create insight. I believe that this fact should remind us that a good story need not be fanatically devoted to "reality" in order to be compelling.

Through theatrical and film history, there has been a tug-of-war in storytelling between trying to mimic reality, and trying to use more abstract means to communicate. Certainly which tools you use depends on your audience and the type of story you are trying to tell, as well upon your skill as an artist.

I was going to say that art that mimics reality faces a grave danger of bogging down in that attempt, but I think at this point I'm mostly projecting my internal struggles with what I value, and what I think I "should" value. I'm trained as an artist, and I really enjoy it, but sometimes I'm disappointed with how little my work seems to mean.

Sometimes it seems to me that science is the only worthwhile pursuit, because the biggest changes in our world have all come from science, have they not? How else besides with science can a society achieve "progress?" You don't really need culture, even the most monumental of cultural achievements are ultimately a sideshow, an escape.

But then again, art does provide a means to learn about ourselves. And I think that learning more about ourselves is important. Art is good for that, at least until the mysteries of the human brain are deciphered, at which point art will become obsolete.

(the final paragraph is from an earlier draft of this post, which is why it doesn't connect super well to the rest of it.)

We all have needs, both physical and non-physical, and they are not always able to be met. We fill needs in other's lives, we use others to fill our needs. We rely on each other. We rely on the thousands and thousands of people who work in our society, for the electricity to run, for the stores to open. And we rely on musicians and artists to create things that speak to us in ways that nothing else will. Society is like a massive beast, with thousands of eyes, ears, arms, mouths, and fingers. Unlike our individual bodies, this large body has only had a few thousand years to develop and refine itself. The "self" of society is like a newborn baby, wailing in pain and flinging its arms about in desperation. Over time, and through much sacrifice, it has developed and changed, and it is learning who it is, and where it belongs. With the perseverance, inspiration and beautiful acts of its members, it will continue to do so, and grow into its beauty.

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Some more art:

Jean Giraud:

 Ralph McQuarrie:

Doug Chiang: