A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien, First Edition. Edited by Stuart D. Lee.© 2014 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Published 2014 by John Wiley & Sons, Ltd.

Art

Christopher Tuthill

33

“On Fairy-stories”

J. R. R. Tolkien’s “On Fairy-stories” is one of the most popular non-fiction works he wrote, and with good reason. It’s the essay in which he describes his theories of myth-making, and discusses the ways in which an author might construct fantasy stories, as well as the effect they have on an audience. In addition to writing, Tolkien also touches upon illustration in his essay, but gives writing a primary position in the world of arts:

In human art Fantasy is a thing best left to words, to true literature. In painting, for instance, the visible presentation of the fantastic image is technically too easy; the hand tends to outrun the mind, even to overthrow it. Silliness or morbidity are frequent results. (OFS 61)

This quote would seem to suggest that Tolkien did not think much of Fantasy art. Yet, as Hammond and Scull demonstrate in their work J. R. R. Tolkien: Artist and Illustrator, Tolkien was no dilettante when it came to drawing and illustration. He spent a great deal of time illustrating his own stories, as is evidenced by the many volumes of his artwork. He was also less than enthusiastic about his own work, often complaining that he could not draw (Hammond and Scull 1995, 9).

In his story “Leaf by Niggle,” Tolkien wrote of a painter working on a canvas of such enormous size that he feared he would never finish the work (see also ch. 13). The story is often seen as a metaphor for Tolkien’s own life as a writer, yet Tolkien was a prolific illustrator who worked many years at his craft (ibid.). After Niggle

488 Christopher Tuthill

passes from the knowledge of the story’s narrator, two councilors of his town discuss his work. One says Niggle was “a silly man, worthless . . . of no economic use” and expresses dismay that he was not turned into a “useful cog” by some schoolmaster. A second says Niggle was a “poor little man” who “never finished anything” (TL 116–117). The second man, Tompkins, had preserved and framed a tiny scrap of the giant canvas Niggle had worked on for most of his life, and placed it in a museum. Though we learn the museum had since burned down, the fragment survives. The story ends with two voices looking at the scrap of canvas, upon which is painted a beautiful leaf. One voice remarks to the other that “for many it is the best introduc-tion to the mountains” (TL 118). One can imagine that Tolkien may have felt a bit like Niggle – he was working on the most enormous of canvases, Middle-earth. He worried about finishing what he had started, and the many posthumous volumes of his writing show that he continued working on his myths his entire life.

The allegorical tale of Niggle can tell us much about Tolkien’s belief in his own work, and it is instructive that he uses the metaphor of a painter to illustrate his ideas of the writing life. In many ways his life’s work was the huge canvas upon which Niggle worked so ceaselessly, and Tolkien’s hope, one can infer from the story, was that if even a fragment of his work survived, it might prove beautiful and the “best introduction to the mountains” to those who encountered it. Doubtless this has been proven true since the publication of his work, even if The Lord of the Rings is no small fragment.

In “On Fairy-stories,” Tolkien also writes of sub-creation, the process by which the fantasist creates a Secondary World from the “soup” of mythology (OFS 59). The artist or illustrator who is working in Faërie might also be considered a sub-creator, working with the same myths. Many visual artists have worked in the soup of Tolkien’s own mythology, creating work from their own imagination, inspired by the images of Middle-earth Tolkien evoked in his work. In writing of sub-creation, Tolkien meant of course that the artist has been created by another force, God. “Fantasy remains a human right,” he writes, “we make in our measure and in our derivative mode, because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker” (OFS 66). Those working in Middle-earth have been inspired by Tolkien’s original vision to create their own versions of Tolkien’s world.

There have been a great many artists who have worked as sub-creators within the mythology of Tolkien’s Secondary World. Tolkien’s own illustrations came first, of course, and are readily available in Hammond and Scull’s work as well as editions of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. Images of Tolkien’s world done by different artists have been seen in myriad contexts: in video games, in board and role-playing games, in comic books, in illustrations for different editions, on calendars, and in the films. The Peter Jackson films were a particularly vibrant example of sub-creators working in the mythology of Middle-earth. A veritable army of artists and craftsmen led by Alan Lee and John Howe captured the look of Middle-earth that was seen by millions. The Hobbit films continue in this vein, with artists mining Tolkien’s rich vision.

The different styles of the various Tolkien-inspired artwork are staggering. Jef Murray’s images of Middle-earth, for example, are reminiscent of Fauvism, the early

Art 489

twentieth-century movement characterized by “exuberantly coloured paintings” and “a spontaneity of execution .  .  . and bold sense of surface design” (Pérez-Tibi n.d.). Ted Nasmith takes a more realistic approach in his work. Cor Blok’s work, which was approved of by Tolkien himself, would be recognized by few people who have only seen Peter Jackson’s films as they depict rather small and abstracted figures. On the other hand the work of Alan Lee, John Howe, as well as that of Nasmith, would be far more familiar because of their influence on Jackson’s films, but in turn bear little resemblance to the cartoonish Bilbo of the animated Hobbit film produced by Rankin/Bass in 1977, or the Elves in the same film (see ch. 35). The works of Howe, Lee, and Nasmith have also appeared on calendars and in books for many years before the films were released. As actor Ian McKellen points out in his preface to The Lord of the Rings Sketchbook, this accounts for the familiarity many viewers who had seen the images before felt upon seeing the films for the first time (Lee 2005, 9).

Nasmith has written of his formative years of artistic training, when he was influ-enced by Frederick Church of the Hudson River School. Interestingly, he writes that:

I felt rightly at home in this era before realistic landscape painting became passé, replaced as it was by the fragmented, experimental, and often bleak visions of the mid twentieth century. Those with a love and value of realism were not valued in the fine arts anymore. It seemed I was born too late, I thought. (Nasmith 2005, 195)

Perhaps it is counterintuitive, but Nasmith brought his love of realism to Tolkien’s fantasy world, painting distinctive landscapes, figures, and architectural forms that vividly bring Middle-earth to life, as we will see. Nasmith also recalls that while other artists’ visions of Middle-earth were inspiring, he found certain drawings lacking in something; for example, he says that while he took inspiration in the work of Joan Wyatt and the Brothers Hildebrandt, he also felt the Hildebrandts “missed the mark” and had too much of “an affinity for Disney” (2005, 195).

It is helpful to compare some specific images by Howe, Lee, Murray, and Nasmith, to see what kinds of variations and interpretations the artists have made to Tolkien’s texts. I have chosen several famous scenes from Tolkien’s work as focal points through which readers might be able to see these differences. Such comparison will help us see how the artists have achieved their different interpretations of Tolkien’s vision.

The Balrog Scene

One of the most iconic scenes of Middle-earth familiar to every reader of The Lord of the Rings is Gandalf meeting the Balrog at the Bridge of Khazad-dum. Even those who have not read the books but have seen the Peter Jackson film will recall this scene, in which Gandalf falls into the abyss, sacrificing himself for the survival of the Fellowship. In The Silmarillion, Tolkien describes Balrogs (meaning “Demons of Might,” S 382) as being “like [Melkor] in their corruption: their hearts were of fire, but they were cloaked in darkness, and terror went before them; they had whips of

490 Christopher Tuthill

flame” (S 43). The artists have captured the essence of these creatures, but in notably different ways. The scene is described in vivid detail by Tolkien:

Gandalf stood in the middle of the span, leaning on the staff in his left hand, but in the other hand Glamdring gleamed, cold and white. His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised the whip, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. But Gandalf stood firm. . . .

The Balrog made no answer. The fire in it seemed to die, but the darkness grew. It stepped forward slowly onto the bridge, and suddenly it drew itself up to a great height, and its wings were spread from wall to wall; but still Gandalf could be seen, glimmering in the gloom; he seemed small, and altogether alone, grey and bent, like a wizened tree before the onset of a storm.

From out of the shadow a red sword leaped flaming.Glamdring glittered white in answer. (FR, II, v, 430)

This pivotal scene is described with an economy of words. In a few short paragraphs we learn what the creature looks like, how it moves, and how Gandalf looks beside it.

Illustrations of the Balrog have varied, naturally, but the creature’s appearance is vastly dissimilar depending on the artist. That so many artists have worked on depict-ing this scene is a testament to Tolkien’s vision and also to the power of Gandalf’s sacrifice. John Howe’s Balrog in “The Bridge of Khazad-dum” (Figure 33.1) is an

Figure 33.1 “The Bridge of Khazad-dum” by John Howe. Reproduced by permission of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. © 1995 John Howe.

Art 491

enormous, winged, fiery creature that most who have seen the films will recognize immediately. There is a great feeling of movement in the painting. We can almost see the Balrog pounce on Gandalf as its vast wings beat against the bridge. The paint-ing is quite dramatic, with everything converging on the focal point of the creature’s mouth. There is also a stark contrast in the intense reds and dark blue-grey colors. The Balrog in Alan Lee’s Sketchbook (Lee 2005, 64–65) expands on this version of the creature; it dwarfs Gandalf at the bridge. Since this is a sketch, the body is not present but the creature has the same fiery quality, and like Howe’s, its mouth is also open. Jef Murray’s Balrog in his painting “The Bridge at Khazad-dum” (Figure 33.2) is likewise winged and monstrous, even as Murray’s style diverges from Lee’s and Howe’s intense realism; here we see flat, bold colors, with less focus on the open mouth of the Balrog compared to Howe’s and Lee’s. Yet all three compositions are similar. Mur-ray’s work is just as effective in showing the fierce nature of the creature. Flames literally shoot from the creature’s sword and back, and it seems consumed by fire as it approaches the wizard. Murray gives particular emphasis to Gandalf’s staff “glimmering

Figure 33.2 “The Bridge at Khazad-dum” by Jef Murray. Used by permission of the artist.

492 Christopher Tuthill

in the gloom,” as the text says. It shines out in the darkness, piercing it against the oncoming terror.

Ted Nasmith’s “At the Bridge” (Figure 33.3) offers a somewhat different version of the scene. There is again a contrast of light and dark, with the light of Gandalf’s sword and staff against the blackness of the Balrog. Gandalf’s staff is striking the bridge, and the light of this impact is mirrored in the flames above the Balrog. The two are inches from one another, with the claw of the Balrog just above Gan-dalf’s back, creating much dramatic tension. The Balrog is again menacing and demonic, seemingly ready to destroy the slender bridge just by his outsized presence upon it. There is flame behind the eyes and mouth, illuminating the gloom around it.

Another difference here, and one that is not immediately apparent, is that Nasmith’s creature has no wings. In the other paintings we see vast wings sprouting from the creature’s back, nearly enveloping the scene. Nasmith takes a different approach, and one that is warranted by the text. There is a question here of what Tolkien meant in his brief description of the creature. First he writes that “the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings,” which is precisely what Nasmith depicts in his painting,

Figure 33.3 “At the Bridge” by Ted Nasmith. Used by permission of the artist.

Art 493

and in a subtle way. The flames behind the Balrog almost emulate wings fanning out from its immense form. These are not literally wings, but the painting emphasizes the vastness of the creature.

Tolkien later writes of the Balrog that “its wings were spread from wall to wall” (FR, II, v, 430) and here may be why we have differing views of the creature. Does Tolkien mean the creature’s actual wings? Or the appearance of the same reaching out? Hammond and Scull write that Tolkien’s description of the creature “has led to much discussion among readers as to whether Balrogs have wings,” though they conclude that the wings “can generally be interpreted as figurative” (Hammond and Scull 2005, 296). Howe, Lee, and Murray apparently take Tolkien at his word when he says “its wings were spread,” while Nasmith interprets this to mean the shadow of the creature.

Éowyn and the Witch King

Another example of the differing conceptions of a battle scene is Éowyn fighting the Lord of the Nazgul at the Pelennor Fields. Tolkien describes the Nazgul as “black mantled, huge and threatening. A crown of steel he bore, but between rim and robe there was naught to see, save only the deadly gleam of his eyes: the Lord of the Nazgul” (RK, V, vi, 1100). Tolkien describes the monster on which it flies as “a winged crea-ture: if bird, then greater than all the other birds, and it was naked, and neither quill nor feather did it bear, and its vast pinions were as webs of hide between horned fingers” (ibid., 1099). The Nazgul’s mount also has a “long naked neck” (1100). Tolkien then gives a vivid description of Éowyn as she confronts the Nazgul: “and her bright hair, released from its bonds, gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders . . . A sword was in her hand, and she raised her shield against the horror of her enemy’s eyes” (1101).

Ted Nasmith’s depiction of this scene, “Éowyn and the Nazgul” (Figure 33.4), matches Tolkien’s words almost exactly. We see the raptor-like creature rising up on its long wings, its snake-like neck curling up, with its small head perched at its end and its long, barbed tail hanging beneath. The Nazgul is cloaked in black, his face invisible, his crown atop the head. He wields the “great black mace” in his left hand, as described by Tolkien. Around the two figures we see the signs of the Battle of Pelennor Fields, during which this confrontation takes place. A body lays in the foreground, and Merry tries to come to his feet in the center: as Tolkien writes, he “crawled on all fours like a dazed beast, and such a horror was on him that he was blind and sick” (1100). Behind them the battle rages and in the distance are the besieged walls of Minas Tirith. Nasmith also uses a bright, fiery light in the painting, which originates from the battle going on around them. The Nazgul overall has a very realistic appearance created through the texture of the wings, which are illumi-nated in the light.

494 Christopher Tuthill

Jef Murray’s depiction of the same scene, “Éowyn and the Witch King” (Figure 33.5), takes a different perspective. The Nazgul and the winged beast are now in the foreground. There is no sign of the battle raging around them; here we have just the dramatic moment when the Nazgul confronts Éowyn. We do not see the blank space beneath the Witch King’s hood, since it is obscured as he turns, seemingly startled, toward the oncoming Éowyn. The Nazgul holds his mace as well as the reins of the winged beast, the latter crying out in anger at her. The mount’s claws are sunk into Snowmane (Théoden’s horse) in the grisly way Tolkien suggests: “settled upon the body of Snowmane, digging in its claws, stooping its long naked neck” (1100). Mur-ray’s painting also shows the foul nature of the creature as it feasts upon the white horse, whilst its rider turns his attention to Éowyn. It is also significant that here Éowyn is facing outward, toward the Nazgul and the viewer, while Nasmith’s version described above showed Éowyn facing the Witch King but depicted her from behind. With Murray, Éowyn is wholly bathed in light, a clear contrast against the blackness of the Nazgul.

As in Murray’s “Bridge at Khazad-dum,” we again see the use of light and dark-ness. This time, it is not Gandalf’s staff that pierces the gloomy scene, but a shaft of

Figure 33.4 “Éowyn and the Nazgul” by Ted Nasmith. Used by permission of the artist.

Art 495

light coming from the heavens, illuminating Éowyn as she approaches the Nazgul to do battle. The audience may be reminded of Joan of Arc; with the dead horse possibly recalling the Christian image of the sacrificial Lamb of God.

Nasmith’s image, on the other hand, seems far more about movement and the action of the battle. The scene is effectively framed by the destruction of the Pelennor Fields. We can almost see the Nazgul and his beast pouncing down upon the tiny form of Éowyn, who seems hopelessly undersized against them. Murray’s image, while also faithful to the text, evokes something very different. The dead white horse and the shining light call to mind religious images as noted above; but more importantly, the lack of the surrounding battle places the focus solely upon Éowyn, who goes to do battle against a seemingly impossible foe.

Minas Tirith

Finally let us consider another scene from The Lord of the Rings, this time an altogether different kind of image. Since we have already discussed two famous scenes of battle,

Figure 33.5 “Éowyn and the Witch King” by Jef Murray. Used by permission of the artist.

496 Christopher Tuthill

it will be helpful to look at some of the architecture of Middle-earth to see what artists have done to recreate it, taking the city of Minas Tirith by way of example.

Tolkien wrote much about this city, and of course it figures prominently in the trilogy. The image that some artists have focused on is from The Lord of the Rings as Gandalf and Pippin ride towards it:

For the tower of Ecthelion, standing high within the topmost wall, shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, tall and fair and shapely, and its pinnacle glittered as if it were wrought of crystals; and white banners broke and flut-tered from the battlements in the morning breeze . . . (RK, V, i, 982)

Tolkien further writes that “the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven levels, each delved into the hill, and about each was set a wall, and in each wall was a gate” (983).

John Howe’s “Gandalf Approaches the Guarded City” (Figure 33.6) shows this approach, just as Gandalf is coming around a large rock formation. Pippin is seated in front of him, and we can glimpse the tower in the distance that caused Pippin to cry aloud (982) in amazement when he sees it. The painting has dramatic movement both of the horse and rider. The horse is going at a rapid pace toward the city while Gandalf’s robes flow behind them as Shadowfax races on. We see once again the use of light and dark, with the darkness of the rock played against the bright light of the

Figure 33.6 “Gandalf Approaches the Guarded City” by John Howe. Reproduced by permis-sion of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. © 1992 John Howe.

Art 497

city. Alan Lee chooses instead to depict the inside of the city,1 and does not cover the approach by Gandalf and Pippin. We see the same glimmering spires and white stone, with one of the walls bisected by rock. A guard stands in the foreground, facing away from the grandeur behind him. We get a sense of how massive the city is from inside its walls. There is a great attention to perspective and architectural detail in the paint-ing; Emily Auger writes that Lee uses a “late Romanesque/early Gothic style archi-tecture” (Auger 2008, 81). As in so much of Lee’s work, there is also a beautifully light, airy quality to the painting.

Jef Murray’s composition in his “Road to Minas Tirith” (Figure 33.7) is more similar to Howe’s. Here, again, we return to Gandalf’s approach on Shadowfax, racing toward the city as clouds move overhead. The viewer gets a similar sense of urgency to that evoked by Howe’s work, though this painting has flat bold lines and a deep blue hue. Minas Tirith here looks more like the traditional walled castle one might see in any number of mythical tales, white and shining and with banners fluttering in the breeze. The painting, like Murray’s others, is highly reminiscent of Fauvism.

Figure 33.7 “Road to Minas Tirith” by Jef Murray. Used by permission of the artist.

498 Christopher Tuthill

Perhaps the most fully rendered and realistic-looking version of the city is Ted Nasmith’s “Gandalf Rides to Minas Tirith” (Figure 33.8). Here we have a wholly convincing city rising up before Gandalf as he races toward it, with his cloak flying out behind him. We see the spire at the top of the city and the seven walls of which Tolkien writes. To the right, Nasmith’s walls “blush faintly in the dawn,” but in the center of the painting they are also illuminated brightly by it, calling attention to the majesty of the city.

Nasmith pays close attention to detail, particularly in the light and shadow of the rocks, and the shadow of the city against them. Their texture is contrasted against the smoothness of Minas Tirith’s walls. This city seems to grow out of the mountain itself, as if it were carved from it, and this vision of Minas Tirith is supported by the text. Tolkien described the city’s “seven walls of stone so strong and old that it seemed to have been not builded but carven by giants out of the bones of the earth” (RK, V, i, 982). Nasmith himself has written: “I take the trouble to find out what [Tolkien] said of a particular thing – like the aesthetics of Gondor, a culture comparable to ancient Egypt in certain respects, according to Tolkien” (Nasmith 2005, 196).

With this in mind, some similarity between Nasmith’s Minas Tirith and ancient Egyptian architecture is evident. Compare the mortuary temple of Hatshepsut (Figure 33.9) at Deir el Bahari near the Valley of the Kings in Egypt, to his painting. The

Figure 33.8 “Gandalf Rides to Minas Tirith” by Ted Nasmith. Used by permission of the artist.

Art 499

temple was partly carved out of the rock, looking much like Minas Tirith in this regard. Minas Tirith has many differences, of course, but it does seem that Nasmith has used this type of Egyptian structure as an influence for his painting.

Nasmith’s success is also due to his background as an architectural renderer. Where Lee and Howe take a small piece of the city and draw it in detail, Nasmith has painted it on a much larger scale. Within each wall we see stone houses, spires, and other structures. The Tower of Ecthelion stands up at the top of the city, almost like a beacon, “glimmering” as Tolkien describes. This looks to be a living, breathing city, inhabited by the folk of Gondor.

Clearly there are many more examples of this kind of variation in images of Middle-earth, since there have been so many artists working within Middle-earth as sub-creators in Tolkien’s world. For other variations, one needs only look at artists such as Pauline Baynes, Cor Blok, or notably Jay Johnstone.2 Taking inspiration from the religious and mythical underpinnings of Middle-earth, Johnstone has painted various scenes and characters from the book as if they were religious icons, with many recreating the feel of ancient manuscripts. One often wonders what Tolkien would make of all these interpretations by various artists, but one can assume Johnstone’s images would have pleased him. Tolkien was known to draw runes and recreate manuscript

Figure 33.9 Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut at Deir el Bahari.

500 Christopher Tuthill

pages himself,3 and Johnstone’s work in that sense is a perfect complement to Tolkien’s history of Middle-earth, presenting a different context from the many others who have attempted to illustrate Tolkien.

A survey of many of the other artists who have worked in Middle-earth would be a welcome addition for Tolkien enthusiasts. In addition to Hammond and Scull’s work, illustrated books such as Realms of Tolkien (HarperCollins 1996) and Tolkien’s World (MJF Books 1992), as well as the various annual Tolkien calendars, are a good way to see how other artists have brought Middle-earth to life.

It is now hard to imagine The Lord of the Rings or Middle-earth without the many sub-creators who have worked within it. The dreaded effects of “silliness and morbid-ity” to which Tolkien referred when writing of fantasy art (OFS 61) are nowhere in evidence when we look at the work of these artists. The new Hobbit films will continue the rich tradition of artists and craftspeople working to bring Middle-earth to life. For many, these visual representations of Middle-earth are indeed “the best introduc-tion to the mountains” (TL 118).

Notes

1 “Within Minas Tirith,” http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/File:Alan_Lee_-_The_White_City.jpg, accessed December 18, 2013. This image also appears in the 50th anniversary edition of The Lord of the Rings between pages 800 and 801.

2 To view examples of Johnstone’s work see http://www.jaystolkien.com/.

3 For instance, Hammond and Scull (1995) show two images of The Book of Mazarbul which are written in runes and illustrated as if they were crumbling pieces of the Dwarf book (160–161; see also ch. 4).

References

Auger, Emily. 2008. “The Lord of the Rings Inter-lace: Tolkien’s Narrative and Lee’s Illustrations.” Journal of the Fantastic in the Arts, 19.1: 70–93.

Hammond, Wayne G. and Christina Scull. 1995. J. R. R. Tolkien: Artist and Illustrator. London: HarperCollins.

HarperCollins. 1996. Realms of Tolkien: Images of Middle-earth. New York: HarperCollins.

Lee, Alan. 2005. The Lord of the Rings Sketchbook. New York: Houghton Mifflin.

MJF Books. 1992. Tolkien’s World: Paintings of Middle-earth. New York: MJF Books.

Nasmith, Ted. 2005. “Similar But Not Similar: Appropriate Anachronism in My Paintings of Middle Earth.” In Tolkien’s Modern Middle Ages, edited by Jane Chance and Alfred K. Siewers, 189–204. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Pérez-Tibi, Dora. n.d. “Fauvism.” Available at http://www.oxfordartonline.com/subscriber/article/grove/art/T027678 (subscription service).