The amount of detail in the original paintings was phenomenal, but he also has the imagination to create and bring the author's other worlds into reality. Fantasy art can all too easily be cliched and flat but Taylor's seem to really live and have texture and movement. To see examples of his work go to his website here
Browsing the books I realised that I had one of his first commissions which he was given in 1976 which was Philip K Dick's 'Counter-Clock World'
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Coming out of the exhibition, apart from the prints, they also had some signed bookmarks for sale, and I do like a bookmark. While I was trying to decide which to get I noticed there were also postcards. Geoff Taylor also paints animals, and it would appear from the exhibition these are generally of those types beloved by myth makers as symbols - the deer, wolves and owls. One of the cards was 'The Last Wolf'.
This is the local legend that the last wolf in England was killed in the Middle Ages on Humphrey Head, a promontory on the north shores of Morecambe Bay. My grandmother's family farmed in the area, so maybe this is why she owned the book I inherited called 'The Last Wolf', published, and written, in the Victorian times by Mrs Jerome Mercier. It has some nice black and white plates and sketches of the area.
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It is written as a medieval romance with a poem at the back which describes the legend in verse form. The chase of the wolf, which must have had superhuman, or should I say, super wolf, stamina, covers a huge area, but it all ends badly for the wolf, however true love is found by the human protagonists. For a description of the full story, and other wolves go here
So now my Grandmother's book has a picture it was lacking, a wolf against the backdrop of Morecambe Bay.
Thusslow they strain o'er Humphrey's Height,
When low! a chasm appears,
That dips in darkness to the sight,
And fills the heart with fears.
Begirt with rock on every side,
It slopes in shade away:
But at its base may be espied
Against the light of day
To this black hole the quarry draws,
Now racked with sore distress,
While hard behind, with out-stretched jaws
The yelling bloodhounds press
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