Dissertation:
Tyranny of the Terrestrial in
20th Century Illustrated Depictions of
the Extraterrestrial Being
© 2018 Frank Gresham
Introduction
Artists and writers throughout history have delighted us with depictions of life forms on other planets and suggestions of how these creatures might appear —should extraterrestrial life forms exist at all. Yet despite scientific conjecture that alien life forms may bear little resemblance to the complex life forms found on Earth, 20th century science fiction illustrators (and the authors who commission their work) cannot help but rely upon a “terrestrial lexicon” of biological features within their conceptualizations of extraterrestrial creatures. Even as science fiction artists are tasked with describing the utterly exotic, it appears almost impossible for our human artistic minds to invent completely novel visual conventions that do not somehow reconnect with the collectively familiar within our imaginings and descriptions of life on other planets.
Thesis Writing Instructor: Beyza Boyacioglu
Within this treatise I will comparatively analyze a broad selection of 20th century visual depictions of extraterrestrial life created by an assortment of the science fiction genre’s popular illustrators. Through my comparisons of this alien imagery, I will categorize into sub-genres the various visual tropes of this earthly vernacular, and point toward those illustrators whose works manage to stretch the farthest from this terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 45. Méliés, Georges. Selenite, 1902. Extraterrestrials: a Field Guide for Earthlings, by Dickinson, Terence. Camden House, 2001, p.8.
A “Selenite,” or moon-man, created by Georges Méliés for his 1902 film A Trip To The Moon (8).
Mashup: hybrid humanoid/piscine traits.
When I was a young reader, I came to regard the visual illustrations that accompanied science fiction literature as the wildest imaginings of the human mind, especially when the subject of this art was the portrayal of extraterrestrial life. My love and interest in this illustrative genre has not waned over the course of time. In my adulthood as a visual artist, I’m as fascinated by the visual musings of science fiction illustrators as ever.
In my own vocation as a designer and director of animated cartoons, I likewise take great delight in the challenge, when the occasion arises, of inventing strange new utterly unique worlds of landscapes and creatures.
My interest in the genre of science fiction art and literature is underpinned by an abiding curiosity toward the question of extraterrestrial life itself:
Fig. 46:
Brown, Howard V. Cover illustration from publication Astounding Stories, 1936. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.129.
Mashup: hybrid piscine/botanical features.
Does it exist? Where might it be found in our galaxy? Most importantly, if it does exist, what might alien life look like? Might it be divergent in appearance and complexity from the life forms we know on Earth? Or will it bear resemblance to the flora or fauna found within our terrestrial world?
Since the worldwide scientific community remains in general concurrence that life beyond our Earth has yet to be conclusively discovered, the “door is still wide open” for conjecture as to the appearance of extraterrestrial life. Considering the open-ended nature of this question, one might safely assume that those illustrators tasked with visualizing alien life described within science fiction literature would feel free to imagine and suggest life forms quite divergent from Earthbound “terrestrial” flora and fauna within the work they generate. But as I apply my curiosity surrounding the appearance of alien life towards the body of 20th century science fiction illustrated depictions of extraterrestrials, I discover that artists within this genre consistently adhere to a “terrestrial lexicon,” an Earth-centric vocabulary of visual traits, in their attempts to ascribe appearances to alien life. Whatever the extraterrestrial life form described by these illustrations, the alien subject’s visual antecedence can invariably be traced to an earthly animal, plant, fish, bird, etc. Indeed, after a concentrated scrutiny of this sub-genre of science fiction art,
I wonder if it is even possible for our human minds to break free from our vocabulary of the familiar as we seek to visualize the farthest reaches of our imagination.
My research into this question has led to the findings I present within this treatise, a comparative analysis of visual descriptions of extraterrestrial life forms depicted by a range of 20th century science fiction illustrators. As I will show in my curation of images from this period, no matter the popularity or skill of the artist, and no matter where in the timeline of 20th century science fiction illustration the artist is placed,
the artist seems largely unable to step beyond the terrestrial lexicon when a visual depiction of an alien being is attempted.
Fig. 47:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Super Science Stories, February 1943, Fictioneers, Inc. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.167.
Mashup: hybrid humanoid/piscine traits.
Fig. 48:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Super Science Stories, April 1949, Fictioneers, Inc. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.167.
Mashup: hybrid mammalian/insectoid features.
Dr. Frank D. Drake, while still a young astronomer at a federal radio observatory in West Virginia, first laid out statistical probabilities for extraterrestrial life in 1961 in what came to be known as the “Drake Equation.” As William Broad writes of the Drake Equation in a 2000 New York Times article entitled “Maybe We Are Alone in the Universe, After All,”
The equation made educated guesses for the rate at which stars form, the fraction of stars with planets, the number of those planets on which life arises and so on, including the average lifetime of technological civilizations. By his logic, the Milky Way had about 10,000 civilizations capable of interstellar communication.
Now revised upward by astronomers, notably the late Carl Sagan (1934-1996), and astro-biologists (scientists who study the possibilities surrounding extraterrestrial life), Drake’s equation asserts the statistical possibility that our own Milky Way galaxy alone harbors up to a million exoplanets potentially suitable for the existence of life. And by extrapolation, “since the cosmos holds hundreds of millions of galaxies, by that analysis the total number of alien societies could be astronomical, one estimate putting the number at roughly 10 trillion” (Broad). But since no one has ever so far proven the existence of life anywhere in the universe beyond the confines of our Earth, much less provided concrete images of such life, my polemic concerning alien appearance must still purely reside within the province of the hypothetical. By this very fact that artists are in no way (yet!) bound by constraints of logic, truth, or science in their ideations of the extraterrestrial, one would reason the spectrum of such representations would be vast and at some point altogether transcendent from our Earthly vocabulary of life forms.
After all, isn’t “imagining the unimaginable” what artists do best?
Fig. 49:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Spawn of Space, Franz Harkon 1952, Scion. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.147.
Mashup: hybrid reptilian/dinosaurian/humanoid traits.
The revelation to my eyes that artists cannot successfully divest themselves of an Earth-bound vocabulary in describing other-worldly forms reminds me of the parable of the young elephant chained to a stake driven into the ground by its owner: the young elephant grows up, perpetually unable to break free from the geographical confines —the circular range of motion —dictated by its shackling to its stake. Then one day the elephant is liberated from its manacle and stake. But the elephant’s conditioning having been so restrictive, its universe having been so narrowly defined for so long, it still will not —or does not think to —venture beyond its former circumscription. So it may be with the conditioning of the artist —if not humanity at large, regarding adherence to such familiar motifs as we are now considering.
Fig. 50:
Barlowe, Wayne D. The Thing, 1979. Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas, and Ian Summers. Methuen of Australia, 1980, p.99.
Mashup: hybrid mammalian/piscine/insectoid features.
It must be said that there may be salient scientific logic behind an artistic adherence to a terrestrial lexicon in calculating the physical appearance of the extraterrestrial. If carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, often called the chemical “building blocks of life” (and by extension, the physical forces exerted upon planetary life —temperature, gravity, radiation, etc.) are universal —not specific to Earth alone, then by extrapolation life on other planets will probably also inevitably bear resemblance to our terrestrial life forms. Terrestrial life forms —however divergent —evolve with similar basic requirements: eating, reproducing, locomotion, etc. These universal needs give way to features and appendages for all known earthly creatures that, while divergent in appearance, are analogous in function. Would an extraterrestrial creature be constrained by these same basic needs, and would its shape and form reflect such constraints? Many scientists believe so. Writes Astrobiology Center at Columbia University director Caleb Scharf,
Not to say that life can always manage to evolve to a complex level, but if the window of opportunity is large enough, it will . . . Life like us (that is, complex-celled, dexterous, cerebral, linguistic, and technological) was going to happen given the slightest chance.
However, there is an opposing camp of astrobiologists whose belief contradicts that of universality. These scientists ally themselves behind postulations such as the “rare earth” theory, first codified in the book Rare Earth, co-written by paleontologist Dr. Peter D. Ward and astronomer Dr. Donald C. Brownlee. The rare earth theory asserts that the conditions necessary for life forms any more sophisticated than microbes to evolve on a planet are “complex and precarious, and thus unlikely to arise in many other places, if at all” (Frazier). Astrobiological “universalists” might counter such postulations by noting the existence of terrestrial organisms known as “extremophiles,” earthly life forms that are capable of living in ranges of pressure, temperature, and radiation previously thought impossible to sustain life, thus lending further credence to the idea that complex life forms can flourish even in extreme planetary environments.
Fig. 51:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Old One, 1979. Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas, and Ian Summers. Methuen of Australia, 1980, p.69.
Mashup: hybrid piscine/insectoid/microbial traits.
But if the rare earth camp of theorists are indeed correct, our terrestrial menagerie of life forms is distinct to our planet alone, and that while it is statistically probable that “simple” (microbial) life forms exist elsewhere in the universe, our own singularly ideal planetary diameter, chemical constitution, optimal proximity to a star, shielding from cosmic radiation, etc. allow for varieties of biological life on Earth that will never find equal elsewhere in the universe.
Further supporting my hypothesized collective human “terrestrial myopia,” some astrobiologists --and psychologists --further postulate that if there is evidence of extraterrestrial life in the universe, we might altogether miss it because of our “human biases and attentional limitations” (Ghose).
Fig. 52:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Eosapien, 1997. The Alien Life of Wayne Barlowe, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas. Morpheus International, 1997, p.55.
Mashup: hybrid reptilian/dinosaurian/placental features.
This lends credence to my argument that we are searching for evidence of life elsewhere in the galaxy, but our own preconceived notions of what forms this life might take (as evidenced by the constrained visual imaginings and representations of extraterrestrial beings I am examining in this dissertation) may blind us to existing evidence of such actual life even if we were looking squarely at it. In a 1959 treatise published in the journal Nature, physicists Giuseppe Cocconi and Philip Morrison suggested that astronomers should scour radio waves for signals of extraterrestrial communications, since radio waves are the
electromagnetic emissions with the most optimal range for traveling “undisturbed through the universe” (Ghose). Since the time this theory was put forth, a small but persistent sub-genre of astronomical science known as the “Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence” (SETI) has evolved, with adherent scientists actively scouring radio-telescope data for anything resembling beacon signal-like radio receptions. But as Planetary Science Institute astrobiologist David Grinspoon reasoned in an interview with the Live Science web blog, this type of radio-telescopic communication “rests on the assumption that aliens are thinking just like us, which may not be the case” (Ghose).
By Grinspoon’s inference, we may be equally blinded to the existence of alien life by our biases as to the forms of communication (radio transmissions chiefly among them) such life forms might employ in their efforts to make contact with us.
However we have collectively arrived at this biased vantage point, it is clear to me that artists throughout the 20th century and into the 21st century seem overwhelmingly disposed to rely on the aforementioned terrestrial lexicon of features as they describe in their illustrations extraterrestrial life forms. My first stop in my investigation of such images are the works of cover art gracing science fiction “pulp” periodicals dating from the late 1920’s through the late 1950’s. The science fiction themes illustrated on these periodicals are cliché by today’s standards. Grand art deco spacecraft hover aloft above the cratered surfaces of interchangeable exoplanets, as in the foreground we see robust astronaut men-heroes protecting shapely astronaut damsels from all manner of extraterrestrial interlopers. It doesn’t matter the sci-fi magazine, and it doesn’t matter the date, these alien antagonists are invariably pictured utilizing our aforementioned “terrestrial vocabulary” of Earthly biological features.
Fig. 53:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Bladderhorn, 1997. The Alien Life of Wayne Barlowe, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas. Morpheus International, 1997, p.53.
Mashup: hybrid insectoid/ reptilian/dinosaurian traits.
This terrestrial lexicon is employed so consistently and so predictably, it is easy for me to categorize these aliens into the following handy groupings:
Humanoid, Little (Green) Beings, Robotoid/Android, Cyborg, Insectoid, Avianesque, Piscine, Mammalian, Dinosaurian/Reptilian, Microbial, Botanical, Placental, The Mashup, Mysterious Corporeal, and Ephemeral.
The Terrestrial Lexicon
Humanoid
Fig. 1:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication The Man From Tomorrow, Vargo Statten, 1952 Scion. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p. 70.
The most obviously “terrestrial” of the alien classifications within my terrestrial lexicon —and the most feeble departure from an earthly vocabulary of biological attributes —is the humanoid category. In this phylum, the artist has done none of the “heavy lifting” required to conceptualize higher intelligence different from our humans here on Earth. Humanoid aliens share a strong if not identical resemblance with our earthly Homo-sapiens species: they are bipedal, walk and stand upright, and have hands, feet, and faces (consisting of eyes, ears, nose, and mouth). Divergences from humans are typically costume driven, not physical. When physical differences do emerge, they are relegated to elongation or distortion of features such as the ears, nose, eyes, forehead, or fingers. This subcategory also resurfaces in B grade sci-fi movies where prosthetic extremities are all that can be afforded since tight budgets otherwise prohibit complicated changes of anatomy to actors portraying aliens.
FIGURE 1
The alien pictured emerging from his flying saucer in this figure 1 sci-fi novel cover illustration, our first example of aliens depicted as humanoids, looks stylish and casual in demeanor. Though our scene otherwise suggests our alien is launching a midnight invasion on a sleeping metropolis, he in fact appears no more extraterrestrial —or enthusiastic —than an earthly sportswear mannequin, air-sick and green in pallor from his bumpy ride.
Figure 2
Our figure 2 example of the humanoid in sci-fi art also appears disappointingly banal and unimaginative. But for his ridged and enlarged skull, the alien pictured at right takes on the overwhelming appearance of a suave and rugged brown-skinned human. The artist of this illustration appeared to stretch only a little further in his renditions of the character’s costumes and set pieces than he did in conceptualizing an alien of any uniqueness.
Fig. 2:
Alexander, Paul. Cover illustration from publication War Games, Karl Hansen. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art , by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p. 86.
Fig. 3:
Bok, Hannes. Cover illustration from publication Other World Science Stories, November 1950. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p. 121.
Figure 3
In this curious figure 3 tableau, a very human-appearing male (alien? —or terrestrial astronaut/dirty old man?) forcibly subdues an only slightly less human-appearing female beneath the pedestal of a looming idol. While the female character manages to attain a semblance of an alien appearance by way of her viper eyes and pointy ears, the male captor looks more like a grouchy uncle in a fishbowl space suit than any kind of an extraterrestrial. Both characters, assuming they are both portrayals of aliens, fall neatly within our humanoid category. And as with all examples from this subgrouping, they fail to break free from obvious reference to earthly life forms.
Figure 4
These jack-o-lantern aliens easily subduing our captive humans within our figure 4 example of humanoid portrayal of aliens sport heads appearing more like golden brown muffins or ripe grapefruits than human noggins, —so here at least their illustrator creatively stretched beyond our aforementioned humanoid examples (if only as far as the breakfast table), but aside from their head shapes these captors are not much of an anatomical departure from the humans they are preparing for examination (or vivisection?!).
Fig. 4:
Brown, H.V. Cover illustration from publication The Invaders -Astounding, June 1935, Street & Smith. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p. 28.
Little (Green) Beings
The most iconic —and almost as paltry a departure from our earthly vocabulary —is the subcategory little (green) beings, so called because of similar if not identical anatomy and appearance to homo sapiens (bipedal, with arms, legs, torso, head, face, etc.), typically smaller in size (though occasionally larger, notably as female) and always with skin hue wildly divergent from human flesh color (green pigmentation seems preferred). Also typical of this alien sub-genre are exaggerated head and facial features, usually forehead, eyes, and ears. Little green beings often share hybrid traits of other animals (gills, fins, antennae, etc.) but are still largely based on a human prototype. When little green males are portrayed, they are typically shown as aggressors; when big/little green women are shown they are often portrayed as captives. “Little green men” were a predominant motif within science fiction depictions of aliens from the 1930’s through the 1950’s.
Fig. 5:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Startling Stories, July 1940, Better Publications, Inc. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.170.
Figure 5
Garden variety “little green men” are depicted in this figure 5 illustration, featuring red eyes and immense hydrocephalic heads, piloting a flying device and seemingly impervious to the human anti-aircraft fire beneath them. This portrayal of aliens with higher intelligence is categorically the most popular throughout the 20th century. I believe it also neatly encapsulates the dichotomous American psyche regarding immigrants of any stripe: the portrayal of the foreigner as human enough to engender empathy, but divergent enough to engender caution or fear. How to accomplish this illustratively? First and foremost, change the skin color.
Fig. 7:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication The G-Bomb, Vargo Statten 1952, Scion. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.152.
Figure 7
Here in figure 7 the quintessential little green man (enlarged skull, green flesh-tone, a “cartoon” human) is pictured detonating a superbomb toppling the skyline of New York City. As with our little green men from figure 1, this alien’s features are more or less human. But his green pallor and his troubled expression (even without considering the mayhem occurring in the background by his implied hand) cast him as a sinister creature. He is yet another example of the anthropomorphic alien typical of this category, disappointing in its lack of imagination and refusal to stray far from terrestrial iconography.
Fig. 6:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Dynamic Science Fiction, January 1954, Columbia Publications, Inc. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.154.
Figure 6
Not exactly a “little green man” (definitely more like a “big green woman”), our figure 6 alien still fits our basic little (green) being criteria of largely resembling a human, but for the hue of our captive alien’s skin. Excepting her incendiary hair, garb, --and expression, the alien illustrated here might be mistaken for the “Jolly Green Giant’s” sister.
Fig. 8:
Popp, Walter. Cover illustration from publication The Woman In Skin 13 - Fantastic Adventure, circa 1953, Ziff-Davis. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Bradbury, Ray. Virgin, 1997, p.243
Figure 8
A “big green woman” is here held captive by an invading human in a purple unitard. It is noteworthy that little green men are frequently typified as aggressors, whereas female aliens of almost any stripe are often shown as captives. Sadly, not only could the artists employing this trope not break free from a terrestrial lexicon, they could not break free from a stereotypical and patriarchal social order. My surmise is that the women aliens illustrated thus were designed to be empathetic, so as to render more plausible romantic story angles within the text of the accompanying fiction. This all being said, the extraterrestrial female from our figure 8 is yet another let-down in terms of any imaginative conceptualization of other-worldliness. But for her green body paint, her matching green swimwear, —and her sensible red flats —this she-alien (about to be liberated from her human captor by the men-cavalry of her planet astride their hybrid bat/spoonbill winged (mashup category) steeds) would seem more at home in a terrestrial swimwear catalog.
Robotoid/Android
Springing from a collective consciousness mirroring the sensibilities of the Industrial Age, science fiction authors and illustrators have long imagined alien life forms as mechanical in nature (robotoid), even if only as last vestiges of extinct living extraterrestrial societies. Yet while the possibilities are limitless concerning the variety of robotic mechanisms that could be portrayed by the artist as alien, 20th century sci-fi illustrators seemed largely self constrained to the disappointingly recognizable android (robot with a human appearance) when describing aliens as robots. Robotoid/android aliens are typically depicted as bipedal and human-like in appearance (though they are routinely shown as animal or insect-like hybridizations instead). By definition robotoid/android aliens are always shown as mechanically instead of biologically constructed and energized. Below are presented several examples of robotoid alien depictions as yet more cover illustrations from 20th century popular science fiction periodicals.
Fig. 9:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Uncanny Tales, April 1942, Adam Publishing Co. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p. 102.
Figure 9
In our figure 9 example from the robotoid category, a very large and human-like robot looms over a metropolis in flames. Though this robotoid alien could have been depicted in a myriad of far fetched shapes or forms, it sadly resembles nothing so much as the anthropomorphic “Tin Man” from the movie The Wizard of Oz, which made its debut in 1939, only a few years prior to the publication of this illustration.
Fig. 11:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Freaks Against Supermen, Ralph L. Finn 1951, Gaywood. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.127.
Figure 11
Our claw-tentacled robotoid character here in figure 11 is not quite so recognizably human as our first two examples of robot life forms shown above, appearing more as a cross between an android, a midway prize-picker claw-arm, and a Las Vegas slot machine! But this robot is clearly bipedal, and possesses anthropomorphic features also strongly reminiscent of a head, a face, and two (albeit short, lever-like) arms.
Fig. 10:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication No Time Like The Future, Nelson Bond 1954, Avon Books. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.123.
Figure 10
In the background of this curious figure 10 illustration a naked human woman appears, running (from fright or in frolic, we can’t discern), while in the foreground a decidedly female robotoid being raises a claw-arm skyward (in salute or in menace, we likewise can’t discern). Via the juxtaposition within this surrealistic alien landscape of the two feminine forms, one terrestrial and one extraterrestrial, direct comparison and proof are afforded us of the robot’s terrestrial design antecedence and adherence to the terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 12
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Wonder Stories, February 1935, Continental Publications, Inc. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.101.
Figure 12
The titular “Robot Alien” depicted within this figure 12 science fiction magazine cover from the 30’s (busy forcing a brigade of human soldiers into a rapid retreat) is exclusively mechanical, and so fits accurately into our “robotoid” classification. It’s also a refreshingly creative departure from our previously pictured robots in that it is only partially anthropomorphic (it’s lower quadrant being bipedal and analogous to a walking human, while its upper torso is altogether octopus-like, featuring outstretched serpentine tentacles). Still, no ingredients of this robot’s design transcend the rampant tyranny of terrestrial influence.
Cyborg
Appearing later in the timeline of 20th century science fiction illustrated depictions of alien life, and so displaying a correspondingly increased sophistication of visual nuance, the cyborg is a hybridization between the humanoid and robotoid in that cyborg extraterrestrials exhibit both mechanical features and biological features. Though some artists in this sub-genre still prefer to hide within the safe territory of mechanical attributes grafted with human features, other artists have ventured farther afield, hybridizing less relatable insect, saurian, avian, etc. attributes with those of machines and electrical circuitry, producing some noteworthy and iconic alien images, but still nothing totally removed from our terrestrial vocabulary.
Fig. 13:
Brown, Howard V. Cover illustration from publication The Legion of Space, Jack Williamson 1934, Street & Smith Publication. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.131.
Figure 13
Presenting an early 20th century iteration of the cyborg alien, part humanoid-part machine, this figure 13 illustration by Howard Brown merely cuts portals within the confines of the suspended red box for an alien eye to peer through and wispy red tendrils to emerge from. Otherwise, this cyborg is more machine than man. However unique the contraption pictured here, the solitary eye alone keeps this ideation of a cyborg alien moored within the confines of the terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 15:
Giger, H.R. Necronom 6, 1976. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.98.
Figure 15
One of the most emblematic cyborg characters of all time, this figure 15 illustration “Necronom 6” by Swiss artist H.R. Giger served as the basis for the design of the voracious extraterrestrial starring in Ridley Scott’s feature film The Alien . Though this character shows humanoid traits of arms, hands, ribcage, neck and face, the character is also suffused with mechanical componentry, such as duct-work evident beneath the skin of the scalp, feeding into the neck, and serving as exhaust ports sprouting from the back of the character. The fact we can with confidence invoke the word “humanoid” in our description of this cyborg instantly places it within our terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 14:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Cygnostik, 1979. Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas, and Ian Summers. Methuen of Australia, 1980, p.29.
Figure 14
Artist Wayne Barlowe, a 20th century master illustrator in the visualization of the extraterrestrial being, published in 1980 a compendium of illustrated aliens entitled Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, based on alien characters from existing works of science fiction literature. This figure 14 alien, the “Cygnostik” fits the definition of cyborg with it’s living face married to clearly mechanical appendages. When the stance, face, appendages (arms and legs) of this character are considered in totality, the net impression is clearly reminiscent of a bipedal earthly animal.
Fig. 16:
Giger, H.R. No.456, New York City 6 (Torso), 1980. WWW HR Giger Com, by Giger, H. R., et al. Taschen, 2013, p.84.
Figure 16
Another illustration from the highly stylized hand of later 20th century science fiction artist H.R. Giger, this figure 16 cyborg --visible only from the backside --displays the stereotypical merging of living humanoid tissue (mostly the buttocks in this example) with mechanical circuitry and exoskeletal componentry. Giger’s work is most distinctive, and as a result graced a huge quantity of album covers, set designs, production designs, etc. throughout the 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s. But despite his moody, distinctive, highly illustrative and iconic style, never does Giger’s work manage to completely transcend the terrestrial vocabulary in his description of his alien life-forms.
Insectoid
When early to mid-20th century illustrators did manage to break from the confines of humanlike forms in their depictions of extraterrestrials, they often got no further than the insectoid sub-genre of our terrestrial vocabulary. When examined closely (as anyone who has scrutinized electron microscopy photos of a bug can attest), our earthly insects and arachnids do appear frighteningly “foreign”, given our human propensity to forge empathetic connections with human-like creatures. Insectoid aliens are depicted possessing bug-like features such as carapace, multiple segmented legs, antennae, compound (“bug”) eyes, etc.
Fig. 17:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication The 7th Dimension, Victor La Salle 1953, Spencer. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.141.
Figure 17
Anyone who as a child ever kept a caterpillar in a jar will recognize the basis for the alien creatures pictured here in figure 17 converging upon a terrified scouting party of humans. Though the features comprising the head and feet of these larval creatures diverge somewhat from the typical earthly centipede or caterpillar, the larval insect antecedence of these illustrated extraterrestrials is obvious enough.
Fig. 19:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Cinruss, 1979. Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas, and Ian Summers. Methuen of Australia, 1980, p.23.
Figure 19
Wayne Barlowe, the illustrator of this “Cinruss” insectoid being of figure 19, indicates in his book Barlowe’s Guide to Extraterrestrials (23) that the creature pictured was originally described in author James White’s science fiction novel Hospital Station Star Surgeon. Though in the story the insect is an extraterrestrial, nothing in its design or its biological features seems otherwise unique as compared to any terrestrial organism of the arthropod phylum.
Fig. 18:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Amazing Stories, October 1926, Experimenter Publishing Co. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.173.
Figure 18
The extraterrestrials pictured in our figure 18 example of insectoid variation resemble nothing so much as gigantic cockroaches, suggesting that the artist commissioned to illustrate this magazine cover reached no further than his kitchen cupboard for inspiration before visualizing these aliens. Have these creatures emerged from their own metallic spacecraft on a visit to Earth, to the surprise and dismay of the threadbare human in our illustration? Or does the spacecraft belong to our human, who has emerged to find himself instantaneously ravaged by these insectoid beings? It is only certain that our human protagonist suddenly has a very big roach problem!
Fig. 20:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Mesklinite, 1979. Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas, and Ian Summers. Methuen of Australia, 1980, p.63.
Figure 20
Rounding out our insectoid subgenre, figure 20’s “Mesklinite” is yet another Wayne Barlowe extraterrestrial visualization. Though almost 30 years separates this illustration from the 1953 authorship of our figure 17 illustration above, the artists for both of these works (and the authors who’s texts they were charged with visualizing) have clearly chosen to use the larval caterpillar as the point of departure for their depictions of alien life in their stories. Even as this creature features a bricolage of piscine and insectoid attributes, every component of its makeup nonetheless has its basis in our terrestrial lexicon.
AVIANESQUE
Another easily recognizable earthly point of departure from within the terrestrial lexicon for artists imagining alien life is the avianesque subgenre. Avianesque extraterrestrials are typically winged (featuring bird or bat-like wings), often with beaks, stork-like legs, etc. Avian traits also frequently appear within extraterrestrial hybridizations (insectoid, piscine, reptilian, etc.) featured in my mashup subgenre comparison imagery.
Fig. 21:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication The Earth Invasion Battalion, Dennis Hughes 1950, Curtis Warren. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.141.
Figure 21
We aren’t afforded a close look at these birdlike aliens in our figure 21 illustration, but they are clearly winged, —and clearly armed, destroying with lethal force a spacecraft and otherwise pinning down a small brigade of humans attempting to mount an insubstantial defense against these avianesque marauders.
Fig. 22:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Amazing Stories, May 1932, Teck Publishing Corp. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.26.
Figure 22
In this bellicose figure 22 illustration, robotoid creatures run rampant over an extraterrestrial landscape principally populated by avianesque inhabitants. Though this artwork would wish to evoke an otherworldly narrative, the alien bird creatures pictured hew painfully close to terrestrial avifauna; this tableau may as easily have been mistaken for a depiction of the swallows annual return to Capistrano.
Piscine
In an effort to describe alien life forms, other artists get no further afield than our piscine subgenre. Piscine aliens feature traits of an aquatic creature, be it fish, mollusk, crustacean etc.; fins, gills, scales, etc. —even though the landscape these creatures are often visualized situated within is not an obviously aquatic landscape or liquid atmosphere.
Fig. 23:
Morey, Leo. Cover illustration from publication The Globoid Terror - Amazing Stories, November 1930. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.224.
Figure 23
As soon as an illustrated extraterrestrial character from anywhere shows facial features of any kind (in the case of this figure 23 creature, eyes and mouth), they instantly insinuate themselves to our terrestrial vernacular. Beyond its face, its glossy dome of a body and its wispy jellyfish-like tendrils encamp this squid/whale/man-o-war alien in our piscine subgrouping of fishlike creatures.
Fig. 25:
Barlowe, Wayne D. An Elytracephalid, 1992. The Alien Life of Wayne Barlowe, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas. Morpheus International, 1997, p.23.
Figure 25
Would we so readily liken this figure 25 alien to a lobster, were it not for its iconic red hue? Though it is clad in a very humanlike costume (appearing much like the robe a human judge or magistrate might wear) and has hands at the end of its arms, because the rest of this alien’s features —its claw-like appendages, catfish whiskers, and crustacean-like carapace —are so fish-derived, I believe we still would firmly place this figure in the piscine category of our terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 24:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Astounding Stories of Super-Science, September 1930, Publishers’ Fiscal Corp. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.162.
Figure 24
Within our piscine subcategory, octopus-like tentacles are a perennial favorite appendage with which to weaponize the extraterrestrial creature, as evidenced by our alien invaders in figure 24. The serpentine grasping, choking, ensnaring abilities of such tentacles continue to captivate the fancies of the science fiction audience at large. Although the extraterrestrials of this illustration are not pictured in an aquatic environment (thought the helmets of these visiting interlopers may indeed be fluid-filled) their features and tentacles connect them without question to our terrestrial family of fish and their relatives.
Fig. 26:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Marine Xenomorph, 1997. The Alien Life of Wayne Barlowe, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas. Morpheus International, 1997, p.26.
Figure 26
Its aquatic context notwithstanding, our piscine alien example in figure 26 manages to evoke the feeling of a fluid-borne creature with few obvious clues beyond its sea turtle inspired arm/fins. In this sense, it is perilously close to breaking free from our terrestrial lexicon, though ultimately these same recognizable fins keep this alien example incriminated to our earthly vocabulary.
Mammalian
Many science fiction illustrators, including such notable genre stars as Frank Frazetta and Boris Vallejo, seem content to largely limit their visualizations of alien life forms to the most banal of my terrestrial subcategories, the mammalian class: Aliens from this grouping bear the predominant traits of a quadrupedal animal, or a bipedal mammal. Fur, snout, paws, etc. adorn these beings. At their worst, animals in this category are no more inspiring than a visit to a petting zoo. Often traits of this category are hybridized together with humanoid traits, resulting in the disappointingly pedestrian cat-people, wolf-people, horse-people, etc. stereotypes that litter “fantasy art.”
Fig. 27:
Frazetta, Frank. Thuvia, Maid of Mars and the Chessmen of Mars 1972. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art , by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.173.
Figure 27
In terms of popularity, Frank Frazetta is without question one of the giants of 20th century science fiction illustration. Though this figure 27 tableau of his creation remains hugely compelling with regard to its drama, composition, illustrative technique, etc., it is also a disappointment in that the “alien” pictured within this illustration (the title itself sets this illustration on Mars) is nothing more than a tiger. Impressively dramatic and ferocious though the tiger is, I’m surprised to discover Mr. Frazetta is content to put forth such a pedestrian earthly alien instead of reaching further into his imagination in the name of inventing more novel, unique extraterrestrials.
Fig. 29:
Schaller, Adolf, Untitled illustration from chapter Jungle World. 1994. Extraterrestrials: a Field Guide for Earthlings, by Dickinson, Terence. Camden House, 2001, p.49.
Figure 29
This mammalian subgenre example figure 29 is wonderfully illustrated to appear in situ in an extraterrestrial forest environment, as though we were regarding a photo snatched from the portfolio of an expert nature photographer. Its features are reminiscent of mammals and their taxonomic relatives (namely marsupials) insofar as this alien has the face approaching that of a koala bear, the arms of a monkey, and the overall scale and attitude of a tree dwelling squirrel.
Fig. 28:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Sulidor, 1979. Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas, and Ian Summers. Methuen of Australia, 1980, p.97.
Figure 28
Even if this figure 28 alien, the “Sulidor,” weren’t standing as a biped on two legs, its face and appendages would still implicate a mammalian antecedence. In visualizing the Sulidor based on its place in the Robert Silverberg authored science fiction tome Downward to Earth , artist Wayne Barlowe integrates such biological traits exclusive to the mammalian subgenre of terrestrial features as fur, hands with opposable thumbs, arms, legs, feet, face, canine teeth, etc. The net result is an extraterrestrial creature evoking a hybridization between a bear, a wolfman, and an anteater.
Fig. 30:
Schaller, Adolf. Untitled illustration from chapter Glaciated World. 1994. Extraterrestrials: a Field Guide for Earthlings, by Dickinson, Terence. Camden House, 2001, p.44.
Figure 30
Our final example of mammalian type extraterrestrials comes to us again by way of artist Adolf Schaller (see also fig. 29), who does a wonderful job of placing his extraterrestrial creatures plausibly within environments that might be found on planets elsewhere in the universe, and imbuing these aliens with the features they might evolve so as to cope with the unique challenges of such environments. Here in figure 30 his two “ice eater” alien creatures, seal-like but for their parrot bills, are conceptualized to suggest the types of creatures we might find on a planet wherein the surface is comprised of frozen elements (be it water, ammonia, methane, etc.)
Dinosaurian/Reptilian
Another favorite parking spot for many sci-fi artists striving to give vision to the extraterrestrial is our dinosaurian/reptilian category. Dinosaurian aliens feature traits of a modern day or ancient reptile or amphibian, such as scaled skin, spinal ridges, tail, claw hands and feet, etc. and sometimes —to ratchet up the fright effect —sharp and visible incisor teeth. Dinosaurian traits likewise frequently appear within extraterrestrial hybridizations (insectoid, piscine, mammalian, etc.) featured in our “mashup” subgenre comparison imagery.
Fig. 31:
Eggleton, Robert. The Last Flyer. 1976. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art , by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.154.
Figure 31
Vaguely reminiscent of the “Mr. Toad” character from the illustrated children’s book The Wind In The Willows (as a result of its anthropomorphic bipedal posture and somewhat frumpy demeanor), this reptilian flying creature featured in figure 31 is a fine example of our reptilian/dinosaurian sub-genre of terrestrial morphology, especially when we recall that dinosaurs themselves are the antecedents of birds.
Fig. 33:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Daggerwrist, 1997. The Alien Life of Wayne Barlowe, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas. Morpheus International, 1997, p.57.
Figure 33
Wayne Barlowe’s second tome of alien illustrations I reference, The Alien Life of Wayne Barlowe, is wonderful for its illustrations of extraterrestrials (these all of Barlowe’s own invention) in situ. Stark against a sunset sky in this figure 33, his “Daggerwrist” aliens perch realistically, the tableau seeming more likely a color plate from a naturalist’s field guide than a science fiction illustration. The alien creatures truly resemble dinosaurs, from their skeletal attributes to the specific appearance of features such as skin, claws, etc. Thus, we must consign them and all of their companions in the reptilian/dinosaurian subgenre to our terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 32:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Vanguard to Neptune, J.M. Walsh 1952, Cherry Tree (Kemsley Newspapers, Ltd.). Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.150.
Figure 32
Giant frog-storks walk among us! Though the elongated legs of these sky-high reptilian class aliens pictured in figure 32 would indeed seem more avian in origin (their legs more befitting a heron or egret than the frog-turtle reptilians to which they are here grafted), that’s the beauty of the mix-and-match build-an-alien illustrative sensibility we find recurrent in 20th century science fiction art. Again recalling that dinosaurs are the antecedents of birds, perhaps this pictured hybridization is not so big of a stretch beyond our reptilian/dinosaurian sub-grouping as might first seem the case.
Fig. 34:
Schaller, Adolf. Untitled illustration from chapter Somebody’s Uncle. 1994. Extraterrestrials: a Field Guide for Earthlings, by Dickinson, Terence. Camden House, 2001, p.39.
Figure 34
Our final alien example from our reptilian subcategory, figure 34, is no more than a head-study suggesting one of limitless possible configurations of heads and faces of extraterrestrial creatures. Though this illustration delights in the strangeness and uniqueness of the creature’s somewhat frog-like facial attributes, the very fact that its face contains the basic features of any earthly animal’s face (eyes, mouth, tongue, some manner of teeth) places it solidly within our terrestrial vernacular.
Botanical
Occasionally, 20th century sci-fi artists are so earth-bound in their conceptualizations of the extraterrestrial that their aliens come off resembling house plants. Our botanical subgenre ascribes plant-like traits to alien creatures such as leaves, stems, stalks, roots, and flowers. If the alien must be made to appear menacing, botanical attributes will bear a resemblance to our earthly carnivorous plants, such as the pitcher plant or Venus flytrap . But we don’t have to look long or far to find illustrations of orchid-aliens invading the Earth.
Fig. 35:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Super Science Novels, May 1941, Fictioneers, Inc. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.58.
Figure 35
As promised, malevolent botanical aliens pictured in figure 35 clamp with vise-like pincers onto the arm and leg of a human explorer. As otherworldly as these creatures may seem, their mere resemblance to earthly plants consigns them to our terrestrial vocabulary.
Fig. 36:
Paul, Frank R. Cover illustration from publication Wonder Stories, 1930. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.234.
Figure 36
Frank R. Paul, the artist responsible for this figure 36 depiction of a botanical alien preparing to devour a hapless human, may not have taxed his imagination in using an orchid as a point of departure in the creation of this monster. But in turning the pistol and stamen of the flower into viper-like upper and lower mandible fangs, he has succeeded —if not in transcending the terrestrial lexicon —at least in turning an everyday houseplant into an extraterrestrial “shop of horrors.”
Fig. 37:
White, Tim. Critical Threshold. Great Masters of Fantasy Art, by Sackmann, Eckart. TACO, 1986, p.85.
Figure 37
This figure 37 botanical example is included because, rather than feature a plant-like extraterrestrial as a sentient if malevolent being, here is a science fiction landscape comprised instead of botanical creatures in situ and with a comportment of placid tranquility, much as we find botanical organisms inhabiting our own Earth. Though the plant species pictured in this Tim White illustration do not correspond with any species found on Earth, they generically resemble the earthly trees, lichens, grasses, and budding plants with which we all are familiar, and so too join our terrestrial lexicon.
Placental
As we examine the placental subcategory within our terrestrial vocabulary, we find science fiction artists beginning to move away from more highly evolved earthly life forms, toward less empathetic —but perhaps more successfully alien —biological attributes. Placental alien creatures take on an obviously invertebrate form reminiscent of jellyfish, microbial amoeba, seed pods, or reproductive birth-sacks. As strange and other-worldly as creatures from this subgenre appear, the very fact that we can find earthly metaphors for their form and shape (like all of the subcategories I have enumerated here) doom placental aliens to our terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 38:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Polarian, 1979. Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas., and Ian Summers. Methuen of Australia, 1980, p.75.
Figure 38
Our figure 38 features another Wayne Barlowe illustration of an alien, this one first described by author Piers Anthony within his sci-fi novel Cluster . Barlowe suggests that this teardrop shaped organism propels itself via the ball-like wheel that comprises its bottom half (74). I personally delight in this imagining of Anthony’s extraterrestrial. Though we can liken its shape to an earthly acorn or stem and seed-pod, it is otherwise detached from more obvious references to our terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 39:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Old Galactic, 1979. Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas., and Ian Summers. Methuen of Australia, 1980, p.67.
Figure 39
Figure 39’s aliens entitled “Old Galactics” are described within Barlowe’s Guide to Extraterrestrials as
…essentially nervous systems, with no visible sensory organs of their own. They are able to insinuate themselves into the bodies and nervous systems of other, more mobile beings, and force the beings to take any action required by the Old Galactics (66).
To my eyes, these aliens still bear resemblance to earthly slugs or sea cucumbers. But as creatures such as this move toward more simple and streamlined shapes, they loosen their grip on our terrestrial vernacular.
Fig. 40:
Lehr, Paul. Untitled. 1988. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.203.
Figure 40
Appearing as bubble-like egg sacks wildly out of scale to their surroundings within this curious tableau, our figure 40 illustration further exemplifies the placental forms an extraterrestrial might take, veering away from more recognizable earthly features, but not escaping the terrestrial vernacular completely.
Microbial
Moving still further downward toward the trunk of the branching tree between highly evolved and simpler terrestrial life forms, we finally reach our illustrative subgenre called the microbial class. Alien creatures from this grouping, be they large or small in scale compared to the humans they are often pictured with, bear an unmistakable resemblance to our earthly microscopic single-celled organisms. Some aliens found in this class resemble strands of algae or plant cells. Others resemble single celled animals such as protozoa, or geometrical diatomaceous forms. Illustrators imagining microbial aliens have at least liberated themselves from the empathetic facial features and extremities our animal-esque categories are otherwise replete with. But here again, the fact that we can find any analogous earthly descriptors to define our microbial aliens automatically imprisons this class within our terrestrial vocabulary.
Fig. 41:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication “A” Men, Rand Le Page 1952, Curtis Warren. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.39.
Figure 41
A clumsy and obvious example of our microbial sub-genre can be seen in the form of the cartoony germ creatures encased inside the bubbles suspended in the air surrounding our human explorers within this figure 41 illustration from Forrest Ackerman’s curated anthology of science fiction magazine cover art, Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art. The (unknown) artist’s choice to imbue these encapsulated beings with tiny cartoon eyes cements these aliens within our terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 43:
Eggleton, Robert. Alien Horizons. 1995. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.155.
Figure 43
Not knowing what the backstory is behind this Robert Eggleton image comprising our figure 43 example, what is clear is that the spiky alien life form shown in the center of the image is highly reminiscent of the shape microbial viruses often are depicted as taking when visualized by scientists and medical illustrators. As well as being a textbook example of the microbial branch of our terrestrial lexicon, this illustration is a forceful reminder to keep current one’s yearly influenza inoculation.
Fig. 42:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Slash, 1979. Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas, and Ian Summers. Methuen of Australia, 1980, p.91.
Figure 42
Appearing more as a bacterial entity than a being of higher intelligence, this “Slash” organism was also first conceived by sci-fi author Piers Anthony within his novel Kirlian Quest , and visualized by Wayne Barlowe in his Guide to Extraterrestrials. As bacterial microbes are known to us as being of this Earth, we do not within this category yet escape our terrestrial vocabulary. But I find it refreshing that in examples such as we find in figure 42 some artists, few though they seem in number, are able to at least uncouple from the figuratively empathetic forms of animals and humans as they strive to imagine extraterrestrial life forms.
Fig. 44:
Foster, Robert. Slave Ship. circa 1960’s. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.168.
Figure 44
In our final imaginative figure 44 example within our microbial categorization, we see a (scantily clad, as usual) human couple —and an imprisoned monkey —all fearfully contemplating the leering specter of the extraterrestrial creature looming above them. But for its one apparent eye gazing down, this creature appears as entwined strands of algae or some other multi-celled microbial life form. 20th century science fiction illustrators would seem to favor more empathetic ideations of the extraterrestrial being. But I suspect if and when we ever do find life existing elsewhere in the cosmos, it may just as likely take such microbial forms as we see in these examples.
Mashup
One of the most frequently utilized strategies employed by sci-fi illustrators from our terrestrial lexicon is the “mashup” idea of combining traits from several divergent categories into a single iteration of an alien. Truly the “Frankenstein’s table” of mix-and-match motifs and “build-an-alien” biological features, mashup-class alien creatures exhibit a hybridized mixture of any traits found from within any of the other aforementioned subgenres inside our earthly vocabulary. An alien from within this category might exhibit a fish-like body and face, to which humanoid arms, saurian tail, insectoid segmented legs, etc. are grafted. In an effort to stretch away from the obviously earthly (but ending up progressing no further than the implausibly but still obviously earthly ), a preponderance of the aliens envisioned by 20th century sci-fi illustrators end up ensnared within this classification.
MASHUP: Please return to INTRODUCTION top chapter for full-sized images and captions for Figures 45 - 53.
Mysterious Corporeal
A small but significant sub-category within my terrestrial lexicon, the mysterious corporeal class is a catch-all phylum for those aliens we depicted in 20th century science fiction art that appear to have tangible form (as opposed to those of the ephemeral class listed below), but are of otherwise utterly unrecognizable biological taxonomic classification. Mysterious corporeal creatures may more resemble modern art sculptures by such artists as Henry Moore or Alexander Calder than biological organisms. Simple, smooth shapes —geometric “primitives” —help define the creatures within this category. Mostly we understand them as “beings” from the contexts in which they have been placed by their illustrators. One such shape hovers in the sky over an obvious planetary landscape. Another such shape is an actual anthropomorphic living planet . By virtue of the fact these objects are so situated, we the viewer vest them with sentience and life. As with the ephemeral class organisms described below, aliens from within the mysterious corporeal class rise most successfully beyond our terrestrial vocabulary, specifically because we fail in our attempts to find analogous earthly organic life form descriptors with which to capture them into our terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 54:
Schaller, Adolf. Untitled illustration from chapter Contact! 1994. Extraterrestrials: a Field Guide for Earthlings, by Dickinson, Terence. Camden House, 2001, p.59.
Figure 54
Hovering in the sky over a metropolis, this figure 54 flanged geometric shape appears more like a child’s spinning top than like a higher life form. By the very fact that we can’t analogously pin it to anything we think of as living, we are finally transcending our terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 56:
Schaller, Adolf. Untitled illustration from chapter Atmospheric Life. 1994. Extraterrestrials: a Field Guide for Earthlings, by Dickinson, Terence. Camden House, 2001, p.50.
Figure 56
In this figure 56 illustration of hypothetical extraterrestrial lifeforms existing aloft in the upper atmospheres of gaseous planets, illustrator Adolf Schaller gives us this visualization of “The Guide”, a huge and positively buoyant aerial whale creature suspended in the atmosphere in front of several of its floating spaceports. The fact that it has evident eyes and fins hobbles its exclusion from our terrestrial lexicon, but its shape is otherwise not easy to classify beyond our mysterious corporeal category.
Fig. 55:
Barlowe, Wayne D. Uchjinian, 1979. Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, by Barlowe, Wayne Douglas., and Ian Summers. Methuen of Australia, 1980, p.109.
Figure 55
Originally described by Jack L. Chalker in his novel Exiles at the Well of Souls, and then visualized by Wayne Barlowe within his Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials, the “Uchjinian” alien life form pictured here in figure 55 is imagined as
an intelligent, non carbon-based entity shaped like an extremely pliable smear of matter, about one meter wide and two meters long. ...The Uchjinian is able to float freely inthree dimensions and move very quickly as its thick leading edge thins and contracts in any given direction (108).
Here finally, science fiction writers and illustrators successfully conceptualize alien beings not otherwise reminiscent of biological creatures found on Earth.
Fig. 57:
Lehr, Paul. Untitled. Circa 1960’s. Infinite Worlds: the Fantastic Visions of Science Fiction Art, by Fate, Vincent Di, and Ray Bradbury. Virgin, 1997, p.205.
Figure 57
Severely advancing the concept of what form an alien being might take, this figure 57 illustration by Paul Lehr of an eye bulging out of a planetary surface suggests the extraterrestrial life form as a planet, or at least massive enough to be pitted and cratered as the surface of a planet or moon might be. Though the appearance of the eye keeps this alien planet moored within our terrestrial vernacular, by extrapolation a planet need not have facial features to be sentient, if in fact planetary intelligence is possible at all. The very idea of a planet itself as a sentient being is to my sensibility a most refreshing departure from the more predictable anthropomorphic aliens we have largely encountered in this investigation.
Ephemeral
The subcategory I have saved for last in my delineation of the terrestrial lexicon is the “ephemeral” sub-genre. Alien creatures from this special class stray furthest of all from earthly biological forms, bearing resemblance instead to gaseous, vaporous, liquid, electrical, or plasmatic non-living but nonetheless kinetic phenomenon. This class is by my definition the most successfully removed from the confines of the terrestrial vernacular I am otherwise describing, particularly because the creatures envisioned within this category have lost even vestigial reference to the “empathetic” traits (faces, heads, arms, legs, appendages) that I believe emotionally connect —and bias —us humans toward earthly animal organisms as we seek to depict alien life forms. The fact that the small number of artists describing creatures within this ephemeral sub-genre have managed to successfully ascribe sentience and life to objects we can only find analogy for in the realm of the non-living is, to my sensibilities, a collective triumph of the artistic imagination within the genre of science fiction illustration, demonstrating the furthest it is possible to stretch away conceptually from the familiar and terrestrial in visualizing the extraterrestrial.
Fig. 58:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Amazing Stories, December 1928, Experimenter Publishing Co. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art , by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.124.
Figure 58
Assuming in the first place the geometric/crystalline entity pictured in this figure 58 illustration is a being, and not simply a weapon or device exerting its paralytic force upon the hapless human caught in its ray, we cannot otherwise find analogy between it and the living forms within our terrestrial lexicon. Even in 1928, the date of publication of this artwork, a small number of illustrators were clearly able to imagine extraterrestrial life beyond the confines of our earthly vocabulary of descriptive traits.
Fig. 60:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Beyond The Visible, H.J. Campbell 1953, Panther (Hamilton Co.). Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.112.
Figure 60
Here in figure 60 is a mid-century (1953) visualization of yet another angry extraterrestrial entity focusing its considerable wrath upon a vulnerable Earth. In this uncredited illustration, a veiny orb focuses a withering death-ray upon our planet as our rockets scramble to intercept the huge extraterrestrial entity. Only the marbled veins mapping the sphere of the aggressor hint at an organic antecedence; the visage of this being is otherwise beyond the reach of our earthly vocabulary.
Fig. 59:
Artist unknown. Cover illustration from publication Wonder Stories, June 1932, Stellar Publishing Corp. Worlds of Tomorrow: the Amazing Universe of Science-Fiction Art, by Ackerman, Forrest J., and Brad Linaweaver, Collectors Press, 2004, p.101.
Figure 59
In another early 20th century (1932) science fiction magazine cover illustration, pictured here as figure 59, we see a spiraling planar entity wielding the destructive ability of a huge circular saw blade as it topples the edifices of a scarlet cityscape, while in the foreground glowing serpentine tentacles pursue retreating humans. Is this pinwheeling plane sentient? We only know it’s angry as hell, and that we can’t otherwise liken it to beings from our terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 61:
Schaller, Adolf. Untitled illustration from chapter Life As We Don’t Know It: 1. 1994. Extraterrestrials: a Field Guide for Earthlings, by Dickinson, Terence. Camden House, 2001, p.53.
Figure 61
Author Terence Dickinson describes this figure 61 illustration, taken from his book Extraterrestrials: a Field Guide for Earthlings, as a super cold giant comet. “The entire comet could be a holistic consciousness. It may think. Yet, even if humans were able to land on this living comet and explore it, we would probably not recognize it as a life form” (52). For my own part I am happy to discover writers and illustrators able to think beyond our terrestrial lexicon, as the authors of this particular tome clearly have succeeded in doing.
Fig. 62:
Schaller, Adolf. Untitled illustration from chapter Life As We Don’t Know It: 2. 1994. Extraterrestrials: a Field Guide for Earthlings, by Dickinson, Terence. Camden House, 2001, p.54.
Figure 62
In our final excerpt from his book Extraterrestrials— , Terence Dickinson hypothesizes the sentience of an entity as vast as the neutron star pictured in figure 62:
A neutron star would look like a giant ball bearing. ...its surface reflects the light of the stars of the Milky Way Galaxy… On the surface of the neutron star there are no atoms. They are ripped apart by the high temperatures and immense gravity. But there are many different kinds of atomic nuclei. The surface temperature of millions of degrees would allow those nuclei to combine to form macro-nuclei, perhaps like the large molecules that make up Earth life. Thus there could be creatures on neutron stars composed of macro-nuclei instead of molecules” (55).
It delights me to discover that in the 20th century, at least some science writers and their illustrative collaborators have the imaginations to envision such far-fetched (but still scientifically plausible?) conceptions of extraterrestrial life beyond our terrestrial lexicon.
Breaking Free From The Tyranny of the Terrestrial:
Master Sci-Fi Illustrator Richard M. Powers
Before we conclude our examination of the ephemeral class and the terrestrial lexicon as a whole, I’ll alight briefly upon the illustrative works of artist Richard M. Powers (1921-1995). Of the multitude of science fiction artworks I’ve studied in the preparation of this dissertation, the illustrations of Richard Powers consistently rank as my favorites. With a prolific career spanning four decades as a science fiction artist in the mid 20th century, Mr. Powers has been called by biographer Jane Frank (in her book The Art of Richard Powers) ”the single most influential artist in the history of paperback illustrative art” (inner sleeve). These lofty accolades aside, I find the science fiction illustrations of Richard Powers overwhelmingly compelling. His artworks
are consistently exquisitely painted, with a masterful handling of color, brushwork, composition, and atmosphere. Also a delight to me, Powers most reliably manages to create images suggesting extraterrestrial life with scant if any reliance upon the terrestrial lexicon. Finally, the gestalt of Richard Powers work is such that his aliens and their environments feel the most unmistakably “other-worldly” as compared to the imaginings of his contemporaries. Powers, through the synergy of his artistry, his painterly skills, and his narrative choices in his portrayal of aliens and their environments, creates a consistently unique mood describing better than any artist before or since the essence of the extraterrestrial in situ.
Fig. 63:
Powers, Richard M. Gog-fFlar, Quasarquark of fFlar. 1951. The
Art of Richard Powers, by Frank , Jane, et al. Paper Tiger, 2001, p. 97.
Figure 63
Immediate reactions when initially regarding an illustration by Richard Powers are typically on the order of “what am I looking at?” Powers paints alternately in sharp detail and then loose and impressionistically, all within the same illustration (such as this figure 63 riddle of a book cover). Before a limbo-like mist of a landscape patched with crimson, a being —or perhaps it is numerous beings —seem to regard the viewer. Webbed white filaments connect floating translucent bubble sacks, building vertically into what vaguely resembles a life form. Some small foreground characters actually do take on humanoid form, though their insides seen through translucent skin appear more like wiring or circuitry than entrails. Because this illustration as originally published graced the cover of a science fiction novel, we by inference believe we are regarding an extraterrestrial of some kind. But for the most part, we can’t with certainty connect this being with our earthly vocabulary of organisms and biological traits.
Fig. 64:
Powers, Richard M. Planetscape. (undated). The Art of Richard Powers, by Frank, Jane, et al. Paper Tiger, 2001, p. 110.
Figure 64
In our second Richard Powers example, figure 64’s “Planetscape,” we again see what we must assume is a life form in the center of a bleak and darkened expanse. This being shows some corporeal form, but is mostly defined by Powers iconic web-like filaments, which draw over and around the form with a mix of sharp angles and random sinewy spider cracks. Hovering in the orange sky above our grounded being, a second object—also engulfed by Powers’ white filament threads —appears to be a levitating rock or meteorite. Nothing in this tableau refers in any way to our terrestrial lexicon, yet this illustrated figure successfully and hauntingly reads as an alien life form.
Fig. 66:
Powers, Richard M. Voyager in Night. 1984. The Art of Richard Powers, by Frank, Jane, et al. Paper Tiger, 2001, p. 74.
Figure 66
Present in the lower quadrant of figure 66 are another grouping of Powers loosely invoked humanoids, defined more by their filament-like mappings than by any emphatic painterly suggestions of volume. Occupying the top three-quarters of this illustration is what can only be described as a specter, a bleeding, inky shadow shrouded in a large and wispy aurora of yet more filament threads and color patches of phosphorescent light. Can we decipher this illustration? Are any of these figures in fact intended to illustrate extraterrestrial beings? Jane Frank asserts “Powers (book) covers… were rarely related to the actual stories” (31). She also describes Powers as a notoriously cryptic artist who seldom gave a straight answer when asked to comment on his work. So we are left to guess as to what —in any of his paintings —Powers was ultimately suggesting as either subject or narrative. What is important is that these works are successful because they are extremely evocative. It is enough that, gracing the cover of a science fiction novel, Powers artwork so strikingly suggests an other-worldly being lording over its crowd of diminutive humanoids, —and all without reliance upon a terrestrial lexicon.
Fig. 65:
Powers, Richard M. Tau Zero. 1970. The Art of Richard Powers, by Frank, Jane, et al. Paper Tiger, 2001, p. 116.
Figure 65
Thanks to the strong visual dynamic within this figure 65 illustration, we get the sense we are witnessing an aerial “dogfight” between two alien organisms —or perhaps they are indeed spacecraft of some kind. Nothing is made plain, though the objects in question are rendered with enough fidelity we can discern their translucent interior organs (or machinery) showing through their skin. And we can again discern an encasement of each object in Powers iconic white filaments. Two of the three discrete objects show thin bending dark spikes which read as fins, whiskers, or barbs. The white gestural brush strokes between the objects are likewise ambiguous, but evoke the appearance of contrails, speed lines, or even some kind of chemical spray or spawn passing between the objects. Once more, Powers paints for us a puzzle of an illustration, but one that unquestionably —and without the use of our earthly vocabulary —evokes the interaction of extraterrestrial beings.
Fig. 67:
Powers, Richard M. War with the Gizmos. 1958. The Art of Richard Powers, by Frank, Jane, et al. Paper Tiger, 2001, pp. 42-43.
Figure 67
Richard Powers came to refer to his own style as “abstract surrealism.” Indeed, his work has been stylistically connected to the great surrealist painters of the 20th century. Biographer Jane Frank writes
Powers’s paintings followed closely in the steps of painters such as (Salvador) Dali, (Ren ) Magritte, (Yves) Tanguy (notably) and (Max) Ernst —who, two decades earlier, were creating so-called ‘dream paintings’, where the image was realistically painted yet which, through motifs that suggested the unconscious, produced what Dali called ‘images of concrete irrationality’ (37).
In figure 67, we feel the full force of such concrete irrationality. In front of another dark expanse of a ground plane meeting a hot orange sky at a blurry horizon, Powers suspends foreground shapes reminiscent of an Alexander Calder wire sculpture or mobile. White filaments again connect these shapes; some shapes have mass, while others seem mostly transparent. Some of these filaments fluoresce as though they were aglow. Only the crescent shape of a planet at lower right concretely anchors this setting to the familiar. Absolutely nothing within this artwork is borrowed from our terrestrial lexicon. Still, the net effect of Powers “War of the Gizmos” illustration is a successful and powerful evocation of alien life in an interplanetary setting.
One factor —indeed the overwhelming factor —that makes our terrestrial lexicon such a “tyranny”, such a far reaching and absolute influence upon the artists and writers who seek to describe alien life, is that the true scope of biological diversity found on our planet is astoundingly broad.
Life-forms on Earth are so numerous in their diversity and so widely divergent visually, re-combinations of these forms by the even the most imaginative artists are inevitable. It’s difficult to draw a shape of any kind, however simple or eccentric, without accidentally evoking a being of some order that literally already exists on Earth. The variety of biological configurations of body and appendage within our terrestrial plant and animal kingdoms are such that it is almost impossible not to repeat them, even were we to try our best to avoid them.
This brings us to a component of my argument, a weakness of sorts, which should be mentioned at this time. The artworks I have been examining within this treatise were all commissioned and drawn as assignments to illustrate a pre-existing science fiction narrative or idea. No artworks shown here were the outcomes of any artist being actually tasked with the visualization of an alien without the reliance on a terrestrial vocabulary (indeed, I know of no such artworks, or I would have quickly found my way to them on behalf of this treatise).
Were I afforded the resources to have initiated such a test, I have a profound suspicion I would be pleasantly surprised at the elevated levels of success I might have encountered as the creative minds of the world’s foremost science fiction illustrators were tasked specifically with this challenge as a bona fide assignment. Commissioning such an assignment would be an interesting point of departure for any scholar wishing to elaborate on the hypothesis set forth by this treatise.
Speaking of commissioned works, a crucial dimension to this polemic touched on in my ephemeral chapter of categorization bears reiteration at this point. Whether by way of conscious decision or unconscious bias, the writers of science fiction literature —and the illustrators they commission to visualize their writings —strive (as all great artists should) to create compelling stories populated with empathetic characters. Whether creating alien protagonists or antagonists, it is admittedly easier to ascribe accessible motivation to characters that are readily identifiable to the reader/viewer —the more human the better. If Steven Spielberg’s “E.T.” (—the eponymous extraterrestrial character of his wildly successful feature film) had no discernable facial features, not to mention hands, speech, etc., would that character have been anywhere near as endearing to the audiences of that blockbuster cinematic phenomenon? I’m sure it is no accident, my petitions here for originality and liberation from the terrestrial notwithstanding, that science fiction writers, illustrators, and their editors have throughout the 20th century consistently opted to fashion characters in the image of terrestrial humans and other organisms, —especially those likewise equipped with eyes and faces.
Empathetic characters doubtless sold more science fiction books than characters resembling vapor, crystals, obelisks, etc. —at least until Richard Powers emerged in the middle of the 20th century and sold lots and lots of paperback sci-fi novels as a result of his haunting, cryptic cover illustrations. It will be interesting to see which way the pendulum will swing into the 21st century in this regard, should anyone wish to hoist the mantle of this polemic and carry it forward.
It must also be reiterated that no conclusive evidence of life beyond our planet has yet been discovered. Because of the distances and time between plausibly habitable planets within our galaxy, much less within the universe at large, it is impossible for me or anyone else to prove or disprove my conjecture concerning the visual appearance of extraterrestrial life until such a time as the very existence of alien life is actually discovered elsewhere in the cosmos, or makes an appearance on our Earth. In the meantime, I will readily admit my own biases are such that I lean toward illustrative portrayals of aliens that
do not draw from our terrestrial lexicon. After giving equal consideration to the opposing notions regarding the appearance of extraterrestrial life forms, should we ever encounter them (namely A: they will most probably bear some resemblance to terrestrial life forms; or B: they will doubtless bear no resemblance to existing terrestrial life forms), I tend to side with the notion that alien life will bear no resemblance to life, despite its impossible variety, as we find it here on Earth. It’s equally plausible that either position is correct.
Perhaps my viewpoint is actually a reactionary reflex
toward an oft-repeated foible of human nature wherein we base our surmises regarding the future only upon our perspective at that moment in time (wherever we are historically in our progression forward as a species, we humans imagine ourselves at the zenith of our own development, both cognitively and creatively from moment to moment). In his book The Search For Extraterrestrial Intelligence, author Thomas R. McDonough cites a passage from Quarterly Review (circa 1825) wherein a contributor opines
What can be more palpably absurd and ridiculous than the prospect held out of locomotives traveling twice as fast as stage-coaches! ...We trust that Parliament will, in all railways that it may sanction, limit the speed to eight or nine miles per hour, which we entirely agree ...is as great as can be ventured on with safety” (173).
Those who speculate that aliens must bear resemblance to earthly life forms I think are cursed with a similar and pervasive strain of myopia. As I believe I have demonstrated within this treatise, conceptualization of life forms utterly foreign in appearance seems beyond the pale of all but a very few science fiction artists as so far evidenced by the 20th century sci-fi illustrations I have unearthed.
By contrast I find both probable and utterly exhilarating the notion that the visual appearance of alien life forms, when we are finally able to observe them, will defy all of our imaginings.
I’m sure I can attribute this disposition to my own artistic delight in creating novel and fantastic alternate worlds of my exclusive invention. Perhaps one day I, along with the rest of the world, will be treated to proof of the existence of extraterrestrial life, —and if we’re luckier still, example of the appearance of such life forms. Until such cataclysmic news arrives, I shall happily continue my own “galactic quest” for the utterly new and heretofore unimagined in the limitless worlds of my own art I bring to life.
