View allAll Photos Tagged robotart
They're Here III
Photoshop series where "real meets surreal."
Web Site: www.jimmiefisher.com
Twitter: @JimmieFisher
Great to see that both Frank R. Paul and, more recently, Steven Spielberg stuck to Warwick Goble's original design for the Martian fighting machines.
www.flickr.com/photos/57440551@N03/15500029066/in/album-7...
“Treachery had red hair and soft curves."
“The invaders were bent upon creating a new world in which trucks without drivers could back up and run over you; in which a giant machine could say, ‘Well, what railroad shall I wreck today?’ Holland knew all about it and figured he could straighten things out. But first he had to get out of the insane asylum.”
Genesis of the Terminator?
TOP: liskbot, Xime
MIDDLE: liskbot, zeeps
BOTTOM: liskbot, xime, psyco
Thought I should get back into old habbits. These are up for grabs.
"H. J. Ward sold freelance pulp covers to many different publishers, including Munsey, Dell, Popular, but the majority of his work was published by Trojan Publications. Trojan was owned by Harry Donenfeld and edited by Frank Armer. Ward became their top artist. He created many iconic pulp covers for Trojan Magazines, such as 'Bedtime Stories,' 'Lone Ranger,' 'Speed Adventure,' 'Spicy Adventure,' 'Spicy Detective,' 'Spicy Western,' 'Super Detective,' 'Tattle Tales,' and 'Private Detective.'
"In 1941 H. J. Ward prepared a portfolio of prospective illustrations to show to art editors in a concerted effort to find work in advertising and slick magazines.
"Ward was inducted into the Army on April 13, 1944. He was recorded at induction to be tall, thin, with dark hair, and a heavy smoker.
"Soon after enlistment, Ward began to experience problems with his shoulder. Medical examination determined that he had a cancerous tumor in his lung.
"Hugh Joseph Ward died at age 35 on February 7, 1945."
[Source: www.pulpartists.com/Ward.html]
The clack of typewriter keys echo though a haze of cigarette smoke and bourbon fumes. That wiry, melancholic automaton sits hunched at a battered oak desk, its spindly limbs awkwardly elegant, with hands poised over a manual typewriter. Beside him is a tumbler of amber bourbon, and a cigarette smolders in an ashtray near a stack of scandalous manuscripts – titles like “Sin in Celluloid” and “The Blonde Who Knew Too Much.” The walls are lined with yellowed clippings and rejection letters pinned like trophies. A dusty fan spins overhead, stirring the smoky air as the robot stares blankly ahead, lost in thought or perhaps in the tragic poetry of its own programming.
Set during the Cold War in 1957, the film centers on a young boy named Hogarth Hughes, who discovers and befriends a giant alien robot. With the help of a beatnik artist named Dean McCoppin, Hogarth attempts to prevent the U. S. military and Kent Mansley, a paranoid federal agent, from finding and destroying the Giant.
Movie Trailer: www.youtube.com/watch?v=doSJxiYp9yo
Much of Startling Magazine's cover art was painted by Earle Bergey, who became strongly associated with the magazine, painting almost every cover between 1942 and 1952. He was known for equipping his heroines with brass bras and implausible costumes, and the public image of science fiction in his day was partly created by his work for Startling and other magazines. The robot cover for this, the January 1950 issue of Startling, is one of Bergey's most memorable works and was inspired by Edmond Hamilton's story "The Return of Captain Future."
“What will happen to love in that far off Day After Tomorrow? David C. Knight, editor with a New York trade publisher, agrees with the many impressed by ‘the range of possible subjects and situations’ in science fiction. The result is a unique love story from that same Tomorrow.”
“The Day the Earth Stood Still” (1951) is a seminal science fiction film set against the Atomic Age and the Cold War. It stands out for relying on dialogue and human-centered narratives over excessive special effects, featuring a benevolent alien emissary and his powerful robot, Gort, to deliver a stern warning about the potential for interstellar conflict if Earth does not find peace.
The story was a loose adaptation of the pulp novelette “Farewell to the Master” by Harry Bates, first published in the October 1940 issue of “Astounding Science Fiction” magazine. In this story, the robot – named Gnut, not Gort – is revealed to be the true master, not Klaatu, who was merely the human-like emissary. In the film, Klaatu is clearly the authority figure, and Gort is his powerful but obedient enforcer. This role reversal likely made the story more relatable for the public at the time.
American artist Frank Kramer did illustrations for the magazine version. They helped visualize the eerie majesty of Gnut, though they were stylized in the classic pulp tradition – more dramatic than anatomically precise.
Author Harry Bates gave Gnut a striking presence: About eight feet tall, made of greenish metal, which served as both skin and musculature. “Almost exactly the shape of a man – a giant, but a man.” Unlike clunky robots of the era, Gnut was sleek and humanoid. Internally illuminated red eyes, set in such a way that observers felt they were being watched individually. A face of “sullen, brooding thought,” evoking reverence and unease. That loincloth? It’s almost ceremonial, like a nod to classical statuary or alien priesthood—an aesthetic choice that says, “I am not of your world, but I understand your reverence.”
Visitors were often struck silent in Gnut’s presence. Bates imbued him with a kind of machine divinity – a quiet, looming intelligence that felt ancient and unknowable. And he was the true master!