Isms, isms, everywhere

M'learned colleague Adam has already posted a couple of times here about surrealism in sf art, most recently in covers for Christopher Priest. As he suggests there, the surreal may be an especially appropriate way to illustrate authors whose work puts in doubt the nature of consensus reality. Which means that we really have to talk about Philip K Dick: in the 80s, Granada published a huge number of his works - sometimes with covers using hyper-detailed spaceships by artists like Chris Foss; and sometimes with art more specific to the book, like these.




That last cover for A Maze of Death is so overloaded with symbols (cross-bow, get it?) that it reminds me of the worst classical music cover ever:



But looking at these, particularly the one for The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, put me in mind of a slightly different tendency in art, towards abstraction per se. Here are the two jackets (by Richard Powers and Ralph Brillhart respectively) for the Library of America's anthologies of 50s sf:





Clearly, there are several things going on here: these are 1950s artworks, chosen and repurposed in 2012 as an appropriate billboard for a very varied selection of novels. In the nature of things, they can't narrowly represent any one of the books within. But I'm struck by how much, in both, those things that might be depicted figuratively in another context are instead pushed towards abstraction. The human (?) figures, the spaceships (??), and even the ground itself. (Are the figures in the Powers standing on anything at all? And what's that weird spirograph thing hovering at the back?) 

But....both these and the Stigmata illustration (by Peter Gudynas) also evoke another gravity-well for sf: the idea of transcendence. Just as, in abstraction, representational forms start to dissolve into pure colour and shape, so (when sf tries transcendence) characters can ascend out of the bodily, fleshly world. Of course, the promise of transcendence in Stigmata (all those orange-shaded worlds in the panels) is a lie. And who knows what kind of realm the figures in the Powers exist in. But they're clearly more abstract than regular humans; there are many more covers out there that link the two (see future posts). I thought it might be worth ending, though, with a cover for a work that breaks the rule I've just articulated: the work is about transcendence of the bodily, but the art (by Mark Salwowski) reads as overwhelmingly surreal.




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