3Researching, Resource Gathering and Planning a Palaeoartwork
‘ Most paleoartists tend to produce two kinds of paleoart: Lousy paintings abundant with good science, or good paintings with inadequate science… Of the artists living and working today, I believe there are less than a handful who can successfully combine both art and science. Depending upon how my painting is going from day to day, I consider myself on and off that short list’.
Palaeoart involves a great deal of research and reference gathering to ensure artworks are scientifically credible (Fig. 3.1). These investigations seek to put our art in the most recent and informed context by gathering the latest information on our subject species, its contemporary animals and flora, and the nature of its habitat. The majority of this should take place before any serious art production to guide concept development and avoid artworks progressing too far along an erroneous track. For a palaeoartist, there’s nothing more distressing than investing substantial time in a painting or sculpture to find it conflicts with fossil data in a major way. The initial research for an artwork might largely focus on fossil and geological data, shifting to include more information on extant organisms and environments as the concepts of our artworks develop. This chapter serves as an introduction to the research avenues that should be pursued by palaeoartists, and the best places to seek information.
Fig. 3.1 The remains of an azhdarchid pterosaur are scavenged by Saurornitholestes langstoni as another, smaller pterosaur muscles in, and cowardly birds scatter. This scene is partly inspired by fossil data reported in palaeontological scientific literature, the major information conduit for palaeoartists. (M. Witton)
Tackling palaeontological jargon
Discussing and researching palaeontological matters in any depth requires use of technical terms. These include long taxonomic names (where near identical suffixes like ‘-oidea’ and ‘-idae’ mean entirely different things), anatomical descriptors, terms for fields of study, labels for specific periods of time and so on. Though initially confusing, this language exists to ultimately confer greater conciseness and accuracy to palaeontological literature. It is much easier and more straightforward to use ‘neural spine’ than ‘the blade of bone projecting directly upwards from the top of a vertebra.’
Learning at least some of the more common elements of this jargon is an invaluable aid to palaeoartists, as understanding fossil animals at a technical level allows for more precise and informed pieces of artwork. Remember that even palaeontologists with the mightiest beards were amateurs with this terminology at one stage, and the best way to learn is simply jumping in. Over the course of a few projects, many of these terms will become second nature and the principles used in creating these odd-looking words becomes apparent. This book aims to introduce some of the more essential palaeontological terms useful to artists to aid researching and understanding technical literature but, if you’re still stuck, online searches almost always reveal the meaning of tricky nomenclature.
Research requirements to reconstruct extinct organisms and landscapes
Many aspects of palaeontology have relevance to palaeoartists. It goes without saying that artists need to research the anatomy and appearance of their subject organisms, but we also need to understand their place in time (geochronology) and space (palaeobiogeography), as these are necessary to place our subjects with the right contemporary species and habitats. These elements are influenced by the position of the fossil in the geological record (biostratigraphy). Similarly, artists need to move outside the strict confines of palaeontology and into sedimentology and palaeoclimatology to understand the details of ancient landscapes. A checklist of information to seek out before starting a reconstruction may include the following.
Skeletal anatomy
The skeletons of fossil organisms are crucial glimpses into the proportions, size and appearance of extinct species (Fig. 3.2). Note that ‘skeleton’ here references the hard parts supporting the soft tissues of an organism, not just the bones of vertebrates: we can also consider the exoskeletons of arthropods, the shells of molluscs, the stony frameworks of corals, the dead, lignified tissues of plants and so on as skeletons. It pays to research how completely known a subject animal is early on: some species are represented by very fragmentary fossils and are difficult, if not impossible, to reconstruct with rigour. Where the skeletons of species are incompletely known – which is not uncommon – a means to reconstruct their missing anatomies is required (Fig. 3.3). It is also useful to know something about the ontogeny of an animal – how it grew, and what growth stage the subject fossil is at. Animals tend to change shape as they grow, and this can complicate our restorations (Fig. 3.4).
Fig. 3.2 Up-to-date osteological information is essential to creating a credible palaeoartwork. Skeletal reconstructions can date as much as any other science, so obtaining contemporary interpretations – such as this Ceratosaurus dentisulcatus skeletal – is an important first hurdle to clear in the palaeoart process. (S. Hartman)
Fig. 3.3 The broken skull of the pterosaur Thalassodromeus sethi, though mostly complete, has significant enough gaps to have a somewhat ambiguous facial structure. Such disagreements are not uncommon in palaeontological science, and often await additional fossil discoveries for satisfactory resolution.
Fig. 3.4 Portraits of adult and juvenile pterosaurs (Thalassodromeus sethi) show why it’s important to appreciate ontogeny and growth when restoring fossil animals. As with modern species, their proportions could change tremendously as they aged and grew. (M. Witton)
Soft tissues
Though primarily comprised of hard-wearing tissues like bones and shells, the fossil record sometimes captures the ‘soft tissues’ of ancient animals. This is the term palaeontologists use for the fleshy, easily decomposed parts of animals that are typically decayed away before fossilization can occur. They include muscles, skin and their coverings (hair, feathers, scales), body outlines, internal organs and we might consider softer parts of plants – leaves and flowers – as a botanical equivalent. Because the relationship between skeletons and soft tissues is not always straightforward, these fossils provide essential insights into the life appearance of fossil organisms. They have not always been lavished with attention in palaeontological documentation (although, thankfully, this is changing), but should not be overlooked by artists out to create credible artwork.
Functional morphology
The functional morphology of an organism is an interpretation of how its anatomy relates to behaviour, often assessed via biomechanics and comparative anatomy. This is another essential component of any reconstruction, as it underpins how we depict our organisms as living, working beings, even if they’re simply standing around. We could devote many pages to discussing the significance of functional morphology to palaeoart, but – for the sake of brevity – we’ll just outline the most fundamental considerations here.
Understanding the articulation and arthrology of a skeleton – how skeletal elements interconnect and the ranges of motion permitted at their joints, respectively – is one of the most critical elements of reconstructing an extinct animal. Predicting joint arthrology can be challenging without knowledge of soft tissues (such as the cartilage between bones for vertebrates) but the size and shape of bony joints provide some insight into their range of motion (for example, whether the joint is restricted to motion in a single plane; how large their range of articulation was and so on). Combining this osteological data with interpretations of the muscular system (which is collectively known as the musculoskeletal system) is important for predicting the basic appearance of a fossil creature.
Matters of stance and gait are also essential for artists to consider. These attributes pertain to how limbed animals carry themselves when walking and standing. Stance refers to the postures adopted by organisms (such as whether they have sprawling or erect limbs, how many limbs they used to support themselves); and gait references the mode of locomotion (for example, walking, running, hopping, flapping). We understand these aspects in two principle ways. The first is by looking at locomotor adaptations: do their skeletons show characteristics of animals that are fast runners (a trait known as cursoriality), crawlers, waders, gliders, powered-fliers, swimmers, diggers (fossoriality) and so on? A second critical source of information are trace fossils: evidence of animal activity like tracks and footprints. These can tell us much about how animals carried themselves, how rapidly they moved and how their limbs may have functioned. We need to research these any time we want our animals to do more than remain stationary in our artworks, and they have significant impact on the compositions we choose to arrange our organisms in.
Fig. 3.5 Swamp Dragon. Ichthyovenator laosensis, a species of likely fish-eating dinosaur, catches a fish. Understanding the functional morphology and predicted behaviours of fossil animals is a terrific source of inspiration for palaeoartworks. (R. Amos)
Trophic adaptations are the means through which organisms gather and process nutrients. Some organisms (autotrophs – plants, some corals, stromatolites) synthesize food from sunlight or chemicals present in their local environment, and these place restrictions on where they should be depicted. Most animals eat other organisms (heterotrophs), and we look to their jaws, teeth, gut cavities and foraging appendages to appreciate their likely diets and means of appropriating food. The dietary adaptations of heterotrophs are best considered in concert with their stance and gait, as these influence their access to certain habitats and food sources and dictate their likely prey species (Fig. 3.5).
Sensory adaptations are perhaps the final basic functional consideration for artists. It’s clear that fossil organisms, like their modern counterparts, were diverse in their adaptations for detecting their surroundings. Some show evidence of heightened sensory abilities, or lack certain senses entirely. As artists, we need to know how our subjects gathered information about their world to visualize their behaviour and predict the habitats and conditions they may have been suited to.
Mass and size
Understanding the absolute dimensions and mass of a subject organism is important to planning compositions. These are not only integral to depicting organisms to the correct scale with other species and their landscape, but also to appreciate something of how their bulk and heft influences their stance, gait and tissue motion. Animal soft tissues have their own mass and elasticity which operates somewhat ndependently of the underlying skeleton, and they hang differently on the skeletons of larger and smaller animals. Conveying this accurately is an often overlooked means to creating convincing palaeoartworks. It can also be useful to research the likely centre of mass for terrestrial and flying animals. This point tells us a lot about weight distribution and balance, and thus their behaviour in different poses and scenarios. An equivalent concept, the centre of buoyancy, is required to depict a floating animal.
Relationships to other organisms
Palaeontologists spend a lot of their time considering phylogeny: how species evolved from each other and where they fit into the ‘tree of life’. Many readers may know of the Linnaean System of biological classification where organisms are grouped into ranks of Kingdoms, Classes, Orders, Families, Genera and Species. Most modern palaeontologists have abandoned all except genus and species as formal categories, as ranked categories are essentially meaningless in the messy process of real evolution. In reality, virtually all ‘higher’ rankings (classes and orders) have origins from ‘lower’ ranking grades (species), making these categories entirely arbitrary. For example, Linnaean systems tell us that Class Reptilia contains the Order Dinosaur and suborder Theropoda, which is then divided into numerous infraorders and families, one of which gives rise to another Class, Aves, and another set of orders and suborders.
Fig. 3.7 An overview of vertebrate phylogeny – how major living and fossil groups of backboned animals are related to each other. Having a basic understanding of animal evolution is essential to palaeoartistry as it underpins our ability to make predictions about anatomy and behaviour. Extant clades are indicated with bold text.
Nowadays, it is far more common for palaeontologists to use clades, unranked groups of taxa (a species or group of species) united by shared anatomical and behavioural characteristics. The relationships of taxa are expressed via cladograms, computer-generated diagrams which show predicted evolutionary pathways of organisms. Knowing which clade a subject species belongs to is incredibly useful for artists because it suggests which organisms provide the best insights into its unknown components. These might be missing skeletal proportions, soft tissues and even physiological or behavioural characteristics. Useful terms for discussing cladograms are outlined in Fig. 3.6, and a basic outline of the evolution of backboned animals is provided in Fig. 3.7.
Stratigraphy, sedimentology and palaeoenvironment
Artists out to restore a prehistoric species in a suitable habitat need to know where its fossils were found and what its environment was like. The stratigraphic position of a fossil is its location within the geological record. Fossiliferous rocks are deposited in layers which can be correlated globally, somewhat analogous to a series of vertically-stacked books with comparable content. Our subject species only occur in certain layers or – to extend our analogy – on certain pages, and we need to know the context of those layers or pages to restore their world accurately. There are numerous types of stratigraphic unit, primarily defined by their size (we might think about them as equivalent to chapters, sections, pages and paragraphs in our book) but for palaeoartistic purposes, the most useful units are formations: divisions of rock which represent sediments accumulated in related environmental conditions (for example, a river and its floodplains, a lagoon and a sandbar, a shallow sea with tempest deposits). The sedimentary rocks making up the fossiliferous rock record were not composited randomly, but assembled by sedimentary processes which created characteristic arrangements – textures and fabrics – of rock particles as they were deposited. Geologists have learned how to interpret these patterns and deduce details about the setting and climate under which they formed, and these are augmented further with fossil data: we call these hypothesized settings palaeoenvironments.
An important caveat to these palaeoenvironmental considerations, however, is that animals do not always become fossils where they lived, and sometimes even when they lived. There is a whole science dedicated to understanding what happens to animals between the time of death and the time of final burial, known as taphonomy. It is always worth tracking down the taphonomic history of a subject specimen or species to make sure its palaeoenvironmental context is appropriate.
Geological Age
The stratigraphic details of a species also allow us to constrain its age, and this is of utility for understanding which plants and animals it might have shared its landscape with. Many readers will be familiar with geological eras and periods, the most basic divisions of the geological time scale. Although there are many geological eras, most palaeoartists focus on the three most recent ones: the Palaeozoic (541–252 million years ago), Mesozoic (251–66 million years ago) and Cenozoic (66 million years ago to today) as they contain virtually all multicellular life (collectively, these eras are known as the Phanerozoic Eon). The geological periods are more numerous – they include familiar intervals like the Jurassic, the Cretaceous and the Cambrian – but palaeoart considerations need a finer level of geological time: ages. These are generally less than ten million years in duration and, for many vertebrates, are the level at which palaeontologists discuss the timing of evolutionary events and the composition of life. Mixing chronologically distant forms is the hallmark of inexperienced palaeoartists and it is imperative that we do not mix plants and animals which did not, and could not, have ever met each other by not sharing the same geological age. An overview of the Phanerozoic, including all ages, is provided in Fig. 3.8.
Fig. 3.8 Divisions of the Phanerozoic Eon. Charts of this nature are essential if wanting to avoid artwork which mixes species from different time periods.
Palaeobotany
Most palaeoartists are mainly concerned with depicting extinct animal life, but we must not make errors or cut corners with our depictions of ancient plants even if our interest is more zoologically focused (Fig. 3.9). We study and reconstruct ancient plants in as much the same way that we do extinct animals, and artists should make the same effort to find out what fossil plant species are appropriate for their artwork. This is complicated by the fact that palaeobotanical and palaeozoological datasets are not always complementary: good datasets on fossil plants do not always come from the same sites as our subject species. The best we can do in these situations is look to datasets of fossil plants of similar age and habitat which are more complete and transfer them over to our work.
Fig. 3.9 The pachycephalosaurid dinosaur Acrotholus and the extinct turtle Neurankylus amid a bank of Gunnera plants – understanding flora as well as fauna brings a wealth of inspiration and compositional possibilities to palaeoart (J. Csotonyi).
Sources of palaeontological data
‘Information is scattered over a huge amount of literature, most of which isn’t very relevant to artists.’
There are many places where we can obtain palaeontological data, of which no single one is superior. Ideally, amassing information from several outlets is the best approach to collecting information necessary to perform a reconstruction.
An obvious and important data source are fossils of a subject species. Though not always practical to do so, personally viewing the fossils of your subject, or even a closely related species, is an invaluable aid to any artist. Examining these provides the most direct opportunity to appreciate the size, volume and geometry of your subject’s anatomy, as well as understand what can be reliably reconstructed and what must be inferred from other species. Make no mistake: these aspects can be hard to glean from even good descriptions and illustrations, and there is no substitute for seeing fossils up close. Particularly when working on commissions for palaeontologists, museum staff or similar patrons, it is worth asking if there are opportunities to view with your subject fossils. If working independently, visiting museum collections to see fossils can be arranged by contacting curators. When communicating with these individuals, try to be as specific about what you need to see and how long you will need.
Fig. 3.10 A well-executed museum mount of Stegosaurus stenops. Museum skeletons are of variable quality and thus only sometimes useful references for palaeoartists.
If the actual fossils are unavailable, good quality casts can provide useful substitutes. Museum-quality casts can also be purchased from a variety of (mostly online) outlets. Although larger examples can be expensive and difficult to store, a collection of smaller fossil replicas can be amassed for a reasonable cost and will become valuable reference aids. Digital reconstructions of fossils are increasingly available for download (often for free) and can be viewed on most digital devices. Their quality depends on the reconstruction method but most are at least useful as 3D references, and many can be 3D printed if a physical version is desired. Visiting museums to view mounted skeletons or even specimens in cabinets also has merit (Fig. 3.10). If you encounter your subject’s fossils in a gallery where you can view the specimen from multiple angles, take plenty of reference photos from as many aspects as you can – you never know when they’ll come in handy.
Much of the information used by palaeoartists comes from technical literature: the peer-reviewed academic papers and books containing descriptions, illustrations and interpretations of fossil remains. Good descriptions ideally feature high-quality images of fossils, a wealth of measurement data and observations about the nature fossil specimen. These articles also commonly feature attempts to understand the context of the fossil remains, such as their relationship to other organisms, their functional anatomy, and sometimes restorations of missing tissues and bones. The latter subjects can also be the focus of entire papers. Note that not all papers worth reading are specifically about a subject species: they might focus on the wider clade or pertain to an analogous, unrelated animal. Casting research nets broadly is wise, as is searching for the most up to date takes on a subject.
Today, scientific literature is chiefly obtained through online searches (several specialist search engines are available: Google Scholar works well) and academic libraries, such as those at universities and museums. In-text citations and reference lists of academic texts are also useful means to find further research material. Some literature is relatively easy to obtain, especially for popular animals like dinosaurs, but not all primary literature is easily available. This may be because it’s old, was published in an obscure venue; or because publishers require fees to access their archives. These fees are often beyond what average individuals can afford (especially if the utility of the paper is an unknown quantity) and do not present a viable means to accessing scientific literature. Artists struggling to find reference papers are better served by contacting their authors to see if they can send you an electronic copy, reprint or photocopy. Libraries are also sometimes able to supply individuals with photocopies of articles or book chapters, although there may be a fee for this service. A good library of well-illustrated books on different fossil groups can negate the need to track down certain papers. Affordable, well-illustrated semi-technical overviews of many fossil groups are now available (see Chapter 9) and these often summarize the form and anatomical details of their subjects adequately enough to perform reconstructions. Although written by academics, these tomes are often targeted at non-specialists and are often accessible for those still learning palaeontological terminology.
Be careful to stay on the right side of the law when gathering literature. A certain amount of copying and sharing of printed media is permitted by copyright law in most countries, but there are limits. Copying multiple articles or chapters from books generally exceeds legal limits, and distributing entire books or paper collections is completely illegal (not to mention keenly felt in the small industry of academic book publishing. If a book is beyond budget, use a library, not a torrent website). Likewise, be sure to use researched material for reference and inspiration only: replicating or even closely approximating other artworks is plagiarism and breaches copyright law.
Websites, blogs and social media provide another source of information about fossil taxa, as do museum displays and documentaries. These sources are of variable quality and reliability, however. Some online sources are truly excellent, such as several blogs written by working palaeontologists. These represent not only excellent chances to read about science at its cutting edge but also to engage with scientists directly via comment fields. Some websites are less useful and the worst contain outdated, unreliable or even misleading information. Social media sites such as Twitter or Facebook have similar benefits and disadvantages. Both provide means to gain feedback or ask questions on palaeoartistic matters, but the answers might be reliable, authoritative insights from a learned individual, or an ill-researched opinion from a self-proclaimed expert. It can be hard to tell these apart, especially for novices.
Museum displays can be excellent sources of information but are prone to becoming outdated unless the institution is particularly active at updating their galleries. It is hard to recommend television documentaries as reliable sources of information. Although these are often made under advisement from palaeontologists, the results are often sufficiently muddied by other factors – the prioritization of story and narrative over science, financial issues, production time constraints – that they are of unreliable scientific quality. Some programmes escape these issues but, in general, television’s track record for portraying accurate prehistory is not strong. Anything of artistic interest from these shows should be fact checked against more reliable sources.
Directly contacting researchers can be a useful means to obtain information, particularly if you’ve struggled to obtain necessary facts elsewhere. Most palaeontologists are enthusiastic about their research and will do their best to answer correspondence from curious artists. However, bear in mind that palaeontologists work primarily in busy professional roles such as university lecturers, museum curators, freelance writers and so on. Very few have the luxury of free time for replying to long emails, and it helps to be prudent and patient when writing to them. Enquiries about easily researched topics, long lists of questions or emails that take several paragraphs to get to the point are unlikely to elicit responses. Concise, polite and informed communication is much more likely to gain a response.
A final source of information might be other palaeoartworks. This is an intuitively attractive prospect that could save us a lot of time and effort. After all, what could be more informative to one palaeoartwork than another? To the contrary, other artworks can be one of the worst ways to gather information. Palaeoartworks are of widely varying scientific credibility and it’s not always obvious which are carefully researched reflections of modern palaeobiological hypotheses, and which were executed with scant regard for fossil data. Artistic quality and newness might seem like good measures of these qualities, but they are not. The ability to paint or sculpt well has no bearing on the ability to collect facts and data, and the modernity of an artwork does not correlate to good understanding of scientific interpretations. To ascertain the credibility of an artwork we must know the science underlying its subject matter and, to gain this knowledge, there really is no substitute to checking reliable, factual sources. Existing palaeoart is terrific as inspiration and food for thought, but is not a research shortcut.
The importance of observing modern animals and modern landscapes
The research avenues we’ve outlined so far are very scholarly and technical, but we should not neglect the tremendous source of information which lies beyond our offices, museums and workshops: the outside world. Geologists and palaeontologists often talk about the principle of uniformitarianism, the idea that the natural and physical processes shaping the world today are our best insight into those that shaped the past. By the same token, palaeoartists do well by embellishing what we learn from books and articles with first-hand observation of modern natural history. Our art is ultimately an attempt to restore ancient natural scenes, so we benefit from appreciating how the modern natural world and its inhabitants interact and function, as well as how the physical world – weather, water, sunlight and so on – influences them. Of course, we must be careful that we do not merely take everything we observe in the modern day and transfer it blindly to depictions of the past. Our modern fauna and flora have their own evolutionary histories, anatomies and life strategies and these may not be the same as those used by fossil animals. But we can certainly look to them and their environments for inspiration and guidance, and to help us visualize the theoretical concepts we uncover in our research. It’s one thing to understand that a certain sedimentology reflects a type of environment, for instance, but what is that environment really like? What sort of details about the arrangements of plants, soils and detritus, weathering patterns and so on can we put in our artwork? What are these settings like to live in? How much light do they receive, and how exposed are they to different types of weather?
A wealth of information is provided by modern animals, even if they are only distantly related to our extinct subjects. We can look at how they behave and interact with one another, noting how, and how often, they vocalize; how they forage; how they respond to danger; how individuals of different ages behave differently; what they do during idle moments and so on. We can also look at how they react to their environments. What do they do in certain weather conditions? Do they behave consistently across different habitats? And modern animals also offer our best insight into the full complexity and range of anatomical form, and how these anatomies ‘work’ on living, moving creatures. How, for example, does motion affect their soft tissues – do they fold, collapse or wobble? What happens to those same tissues with age – do they become calloused and hardened, battered and scratched, or are they replaced or mended? We could continue listing things to look for and consider for many pages; the point is that a huge amount of information and inspiration can be gleaned from close observations of modern natural history. If we are to depict ancient nature in a compelling way, we must make efforts to experience its closest modern analogue ourselves.
Perhaps the most obvious and adventurous means of accessing this source of data is taking trips into the countryside or wilderness and, if possible, getting off the beaten track: exploring thickets of vegetation, poking around bodies of water and fallen trees, and generally getting to grips with the ecological mechanics of that environment. This can be very rewarding (although it would be remiss not to stress that great care should be taken if you undertake such adventures – don’t put yourself or any living things at risk just to research a painting!) but do not despair if vast, unspoilt wildernesses are not at your doorstep. City parks, urban water features and our own gardens attract all manner of wildlife that reward sharp-eyed and persistent observation. Do not be put off by the fact that city species are often very familiar and perhaps even considered ‘boring’ by many: they obey the same laws of natural selection as every other biological entity, and provide just as much insight into natural mechanics as anything else. Something as routine as a lunchtime spent watching pigeons and gulls in your local park can reveal fascinating insights into animal locomotion, foraging behaviour and communication. Zoos, conservation centres, wildlife parks and open farms provide further easy access to animal species, many of which are exotic to our own lands and of great utility in observing anatomy, size and behaviour at different sizes and configurations.
It makes sense to be prepared to observe and record modern wildlife, particularly if you’re making a dedicated trip to a zoo or natural setting. A set of binoculars or equivalent lenses is a must for any countryside or wilderness experience, as much of the animal activity you’ll witness will be distant. Binoculars are also useful for observing captive animals at zoos and wildlife parks – not all enclosures provide up close encounters with their inhabitants, and there’s no guarantee your subjects will be cooperative and accessible. The screens of digital cameras are not binocular substitutes, rarely capturing the colours and detail that you can appreciate with your own eyes. Moreover, using valuable camera battery to look for and watch animals – which can be a long-winded exercise at times – is a waste. Good field guides – ideally with crisp, clear illustrations of animals and plants, not photos – are incredibly useful, too. These not only help you identify what you’re observing, but highlight features of interest about the anatomy, colour or behaviour of the species under scrutiny, thus making the observations more fulfilling and meaningful.
When exploring different habitats, and particularly those that might be difficult to return to, it pays to be as attentive to as many details as possible. What is the ground cover like? How does the soil or sediment form around plants and other obstacles? Are there noticeable patterns in the distribution of plant life with respect to substrate, other plants, light availability or other factors? And what do those plants look like in detail – what does the bark of the trees look like? What parasitic plants attach to other plants? How do lighting conditions vary as you move through the environment, and how does light interact with the physical and biological phenomena you’re witnessing? There are innumerable things to observe when we enter natural settings, and those wishing to recreate extinct natural scenes should take these opportunities to absorb as many details as possible.
A camera, ideally one that can capture both long-range action as well as closer macro shots, is a good means to record details for later work. These reference snaps do not have to be perfectly composed: their purpose is to record and remind you about details of a scene, not win photography awards. Be careful not to spend more time fiddling with a camera than engaging with your surroundings, particularly when photographing animals. We can recall details of memorable wildlife experiences without photographs, and interesting or amazing behaviour may be missed if photographic equipment needs to be set up mid-encounter. Most wildlife observers will vouch that it pays to learn when to bring your camera into play, and when to simply watch a scene unfold.
Sketchbooks are another great means of recording modern natural history. Even very quick sketches or paintings can serve to record a specific setting or animal act for later use, and they have the advantage of allowing us to remove any environmental ‘noise’ that a camera would pick up. Moreover, they allow us to capture colours more accurately or vividly than less expensive camera rigs, which can be unreliable in this regard – especially in less than optimal light conditions or over long distance. Entire books are devoted to the subject of wildlife illustration; Garner (2013) is a great introduction to the genre.
Handling uncertain or conflicting data
Any research into fossil organisms – for artistic purposes or otherwise – will quickly show that interpretations of palaeontological data can sometimes differ considerably. This might reflect genuine disagreements among researchers over data interpretation, contrasts between older and newer understandings of a given topic, or – particularly in the completely unregulated world of the internet – the proliferation of information which is erroneous or misleading. Some of these conflicts are easy to resolve, such as figuring out whether you’re looking at outdated data, but what of those instances where sources present contrasting modern viewpoints? Compounding this issue is that no one source of information should be considered infallible. Do not be fooled into thinking that everything published through peer-review represents consensus science, that a mounted skeleton must be up to date because you saw it in a major national museum, or that easily found and popular online representations of fossil animals are the most reliable.
The key to navigating these waters is a combination of checking information against several sources, seeking second opinions from knowledgeable individuals and, ultimately, developing a sense of which sources are trustworthy and which should be avoided. A small number of researchers (both professional and amateur) are infamous for publishing idiosyncratic and scientifically-flawed takes on extinct organisms, and they may lead artwork astray. Research is aided by a healthy dose of scepticism about reference material and, if something is unusual or unfamiliar, it’s best to investigate it further. If in doubt about the reliability of new data, consider it in context of the following.
•Is the idea testable? Many ideas proposed online and in TV documentaries are opinions and speculation, not legitimate scientific hypotheses. If the idea cannot be falsified, it’s not science.
•Can you trace the idea to a reliable source, such as a peer reviewed paper or a trustworthy individual in that field? ‘Trustworthy’ is a subjective term but the reputations of many palaeontological figures can be easily found online. If all else fails, look for evidence of legitimate palaeontological credentials such as degrees or doctorates, a position at a university, museum or other form of research institute, a record of peer-reviewed publications in palaeontology or a similar discipline, and evidence of collaboration with other genuine scientists. Beware of individuals who proclaim palaeontological mastery because they have a casual interest in the topic.
•Is the data behind the idea available and evaluable, or is it based on hearsay and supposition? Be cautious of individuals claiming insider knowledge of ‘game changing’ specimens. This practice is common even among some professionals, and such specimens rarely live up to their hype (if, indeed, they even exist). If your source cannot produce evidence of their proposal, it might be best avoided. The sceptic’s maxim – that extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence – is a hard line of defence against unreliable data.
•Is the concept outlined via a reasoned, referenced argument, or is it presented in a way that suggests a bias or personal agenda? Be especially wary of claims filled with obvious emotion, those blending scientific debate with personal attacks on ‘mainstream’ scientists, or anyone who claims they are being ‘suppressed’ by those seeking to preserve the status quo. Alarm bells should also ring if the proponent extensively cites their own ideas as superior to all others, especially if their argument is said to overturn entire fields of study, or if it relies on a chain of remarkable, ‘paradigm shifting’ discoveries. These are all hallmarks of pseudoscience, the pursuit of personal agendas over real knowledge, and conspiratorial thinking. Such sources are unlikely to be reliable.
•Has the idea been followed up by other researchers? Controversial or critically flawed ideas are often commented on quickly by other researchers, while unusual ideas in historic literature might be a gem of knowledge criminally overlooked by all, but – perhaps more likely – were ignored because they were too flawed to gain traction among other experts.
•Be wary of overconfidence. Experienced palaeontologists almost constantly employ cautionary language when discussing fossil data – ‘it seems’, ‘we think’, ‘this probably’ and so on – and freely discuss limitations of our knowledge, techniques and data. They are also happy to admit when new data changes the status quo. This is not a sign of intellectual weakness or indecision, but good scientific practice. Sources which profess full confidence in an idea, omit discussions of caveats and data limitations about their proposals, or are belligerent against feedback on their ideas, are often on shaky scientific ground.
Some investigations will lead to stalemates on palaeontological matters even when large amounts of reliable data are available. Many palaeontological studies have inconclusive results or a shortlist of good interpretations, but no clear indication which is superior. This is a reality of working with an incomplete fossil record and a limitation artists must work with regularly. The best we can do in these circumstances is make reasoned, appropriate and defensible extrapolations until more data becomes available.
Pursuing originality and avoiding stereotypes
‘…a large number of popular books about prehistoric animals use the work of individuals who do no research whatsoever, creating their digitally reconstructed animals by simply copying those depicted beforehand by other artists.’
Palaeoart research processes are not just of scientific value, but also boost the artistic merit of our work. Despite the scope of palaeoart being almost all life that has ever existed, and the near limitless ways that artworks can be composed, there is a startling similarity of composition, subjects, behavioural depictions, and choices of anatomical detailing in many artworks (Fig. 3.11). Palaeontologist Darren Naish has collectively termed these traditions ‘palaeoart memes’ and their identification is now a regular pursuit among palaeoart fans. The seminal book All Yesterdays owes much of its success and content to trope identification and meme-busting (Conway et al. 2012).
Fig. 3.11 Charles Knight’s (1914) depiction of the ‘bird robber’ Ornitholestes was copied or heavily referenced at least twelve times in the twentieth century, making it a prime example of a palaeoart meme.
Fig. 3.12 The roaring animal trope is so pervasive in palaeoart as to encourage parody. Here, Smilodon bellows so ferociously that its lower jaw is stretched to near invisibility. (J. Egerkrans)
Palaeoart memes exist in many forms (Tables 3.1 and 3.2), and may pertain to specifics of anatomy (for example, the universal convention of restoring entelodonts with boar-like neck manes; no-neck ankylosaurs; extremely rhinoceros-like indricotheres); colouration (a blue-green Archaeopteryx; chimpanzee colours on early hominins; puffin beak colours on the pterosaur Dimorphodon); behaviour (perennially roaring and fighting animals (Fig. 3.12); horned dinosaurs formed into defensive circles; sauropod-devouring azhdarchid pterosaurs, or specific details of poses and compositions (‘surfing’ marine reptiles; the bird-chasing Ornitholestes; an open winged Archaeopteryx in posterolateral view; the ‘giraffoid’ Barosaurus; flat horizons; animals placed on areas of bare earth in otherwise vegetated scenes).
Many of these stereotypes can be traced back through decades of artwork to influential pieces by famous palaeoartists. While some memes result from converging artistic visions on popular subjects (for example, Deinonychus attacking Tenontosaurus, an idea based on actual fossil data – Maxwell and Ostrom 1995), others are so specific that they clearly reflect outright copying of older works. We can ascribe this to an inability or unwillingness to consult primary research sources, as well as a lack of expertise to produce original, independent takes on prehistoric subject matter. There are many obvious ethical and legal ramifications to this practice and, even when derivative artworks are not meant to be exploitative (such as when illustrators working to tight deadlines have little to no research time), reproducing the work of others can lead to legal threats, cease and desist orders and other unpleasantness.
Moreover, replicating aspects of older artwork is often scientifically problematic. As noted above, existing palaeoartworks are unreliable reference sources and replicating their content can perpetuate erroneous or outdated visions of prehistory. The prominence of palaeoart in science communication means that this can be a significant agent for misleading audiences about palaeobiological matters. Even when a reconstructed anatomy may not be erroneous (such as a colour scheme or integument arrangement), repetitive depiction can iconize the appearance of a creature over time so that any legitimate grounds for changes from that configuration are unduly challenged or unaccepted. The more entrenched an attribute or behaviour of an ancient organism becomes, the stronger its ‘palaeoart inertia’ is to change.
At an artistic level, perpetuating traditions and memes is not especially interesting and does little to advance palaeoartistry as an art form. It is, frankly, a little difficult to get excited about more lateral perspectives of Tyrannosaurus hunting prey, or a picture of Smilodon roaring at maximum gape. This is not meant to convey elitism and snobbery, but simply reflects the fact that palaeoart galleries saturated with the same familiar concepts are less interesting than those showing fresh ideas and perspectives. Palaeoart is no different in this respect to other art forms, such as cinema or music, each of which recognizes the importance of innovation to maintain audience intrigue.
Approaching artworks without preconceived ideas of animal appearance or behaviour and pursuing novel takes on extinct animals are the antidote to stereotyped palaeoart. Investing time into original research is a valuable aid to inspiring original ideas and concepts, as well evaluating what other artists have done previously. Of course, we must be mindful not to confuse tropes and unoriginality with simply following solid reconstructive evidence, and we should be wary of ignoring or downplaying good fossil data just to create a shocking, contrary restoration. Some commonly depicted components of palaeoart are not stereotypes but well-justified attributes of appearance or behaviour that should be expected in a given subject species. Looking for a fresh angle on a palaeoart subject is not equivalent to exploiting ‘loopholes’ in data, prioritizing style over data, or special pleading against sensible inference.
Meme |
Details |
Credibility |
Megalouse ankylosaur |
Ankylosaurid dinosaurs shown with short, crouching limbs, no discernible neck, and uniform armour arrangements. Especially common in mid-20th century. |
Low. Ankylosaurs did not look like giant woodlice. |
Wile E. Ornitholestes |
Jurassic coelurosaur Ornitholestes perpetually pursues a Mesozoic bird, more often than not Archaeopteryx. The bird is almost always just out of arm’s reach. Common throughout much of 20th century. |
Low-moderarte. The idea of Ornitholestes chasing birds is fine, but the prevalence of this scene implies that it ate nothing but Mesozoic avialans. A larger issue is that Archaeopteryx and Ornitholestes lived on different continents. |
Surfin’ serpents |
Marine reptiles depicted at the surface of water - no matter what the depth of the water body - with most or all of their anatomy exposed. The standard means of portraying Mesozoic marine reptiles through the 19th and early 20th century. Decline probably reflects increasing availability of underwater reference material throughout 20th century. |
Limited. Most swimming creatures are not fully exposed when at the water surface, and most marine reptile behaviour likely took place under water. |
Giraffoid Barosaurus |
Diplodocid sauropod Barosaurus depicted with a semi-erect, mast-like neck and short tail. The neck often has a prominent ridge along the underside. At least six or seven examples of this very specific anatomical arrangement are known from the mid- to late-20th century. |
Low. While it’s likely that sauropod necks could be held upright at least some of the time, the extremely sharp elevation required to create the mast-like neck of these creations stretches our understanding of neck articulation. Analysis of the original ‘giraffoid’ Barosaurus (by Bakker, 1968) shows that the short tail is a consequence of foreshortening. |
Cinemasaurs |
Replication of anatomies and/or colour schemes from famous movie or documentary reconstructions. The Jurassic Park and Walking with Dinosaurs franchises are by far the most referenced media, making this meme especially common from the 1990s onwards. |
Variable, depending on the credibility of media being copied. Generally, documentaries and films have poor track records for credibility, being limited by budget or augmenting reconstruction appearance to enhance their effect. |
Puffinodon Dimorphodon |
Large-headed Jurassic pterosaur Dimorphodon restored with a puffin-like colour scheme, including vertical banding on jaws. May extend to showing puffin-like behaviours such as diving or multiple fish hanging from its mouth. Has persisted from 1980s to today. |
Low. Studies show that Dimorphodon is not a puffinlike creature, questioning why these animals should like especially alike. |
Cassowary dress- up |
The colour schemes and integument of cassowaries - large, dangerous relatives of emus and ostriches - are applied to dinosaurs and pterosaurs. Has been widely seen in art and even documentaries since the 2000s. |
Probably low. It’s hard to rule out a cassowary-like appearance for fossil animals, but their appearance is not shared with any other living species - why would it be so common in the past? |
Cave Caucasoids |
Early members of our genus, Homo, restored with predominantly Caucasoid features such as pale skin, prominent noses, and flat or wavy hair. Especially common in the 20th century. |
Low. Skin colour, hair type, nasal anatomy and other aspects of appearance are highly variable among humans and our closest relatives, and likely varied among our fossil relatives too. |
Brain skin |
Fossil reptile skin restored with deep furrows and somewhat reminiscent of elephant skin, but - according to palaeoartist John Conway - looking most like the folded tissue of human brains. Especially common in art from the 1980s and 1990s, and still used today. |
Low. Fossil reptile skin is relatively well known, and none of it looks like the exterior surface of our brains, or even elephant skin. |
The ‘Burian Archaeopteryx’ |
Jurassic avialan Archaeopteryx depicted as rendered by Zdenek Burian in the 1950s: posterolateral view, standing tall, wings outstretched, with a predominantly blue-green colour scheme. One of the most prevalent memes with dozens of examples known. |
Low. Although the posture is possible, at least some Archaeopteryx feather melanosomes suggest a dark colouration for this animal. |
Hell-pig entelodonts |
Enteledonts - widely known as ‘hell pigs’ - rendered as boar- or warthog-like animals with visible tusks and dark neck manes. Often, minimal soft-tissue is applied to their faces to make them seem particularly menacing. Common since at least the 1980s. |
Low. Enteledonts are most closely related to hippos and whales, not pigs, implying a different anatomical configuration and questioning any attempt to make them seem especially pig-like. |
Sauropod-murdering azhdarchid pterosaurs |
Giant azhdarchid pterosaurs hauling a baby sauropod dinosaur into the air, seconds away from swallowing it. Seen in art, toys and documentaries since late 2000s. |
Limited. Baby sauropods likely formed part of the diet of giant azhdarchids, but they surely ate other animals too. |
Table 3.1 Major memes in palaeoartistry.
Trope |
Details |
Credibility |
Roar! |
All or most animals in a scene are shown mid-roar, even if engaged in behaviour not befitting the exhaustive release of air from their lungs to produce loud noises. One of the most prevalent palaeoart tropes, with origins in the 1830s. |
Poor. We need only visit groups of modern animals to find that roaring and bellowing behaviours are not used constantly, and in all likelihood many fossil species lacked the required anatomy to roar in a mammal-like fashion. |
Hyperactive giants |
Multi-tonne creatures shown in hyperactive, super-dynamic poses, often moving at speed, elevated entirely from the ground, or pirouetting on one or two feet. Almost non-existent before the 1970s, but very common today. |
Low. Living large animals show that great size comes with great responsibility - to physics. Giant animals simply have to be less dynamic than smaller ones on account of their anatomy, energy requirements and enhanced risk of injury when using unstable gaits or poses. |
Flat Earth |
The past is restored with entirely flat vistas, except perhaps for distant mountains. This contrasts markedly with early palaeoart, where topography varied markedly between artwork. ‘Flat Earth’ imagery has been common since the 1970s. |
Partial. Many palaeoenviroments represent large, flat settings like floodplains or mudflats, but there was surely some variation in these habitats, and our subject animals were likely not restricted to these specific settings anyway. |
Non-stop violence |
A mainstay of palaeoart since Duria Antiquior (1830): animal interaction is almost entirely antagonistic, with individuals using or threatening physical violence to kill, eat, or intimidate one another. |
Partial. It goes without saying that animal life can be violent and aggressive, but this is not the default state of animal existence. Deep Time was almost certainly not a 24 hour monster wrestling match. |
High-key lighting |
Scenes are lit like old-fashioned TV shows and films with bright, homogenous lightning conditions, and no large areas of shadow. Often independent of depictions of weather (e.g. clouds do not equate to dim, flattened out colours, strong sunlight does not elevate contrast or cast strong shadows). Less common in palaeoart’s Golden Age, but a firm fixture of modern, more ‘illustrative’ and hyper-real artwork. |
Partial. The largest issue here is the implication that most activity in Deep Time took place at in well-lit daytime conditions with optimal weather conditions. This does little to reflect potential palaeobiological nuances of some species (e.g. adaptations to low light or cluttered habitats with low-key light) or abundant evidence of variable weather in the geological record. |
All the world’s a stage |
Animals are posed in settings which conveniently lack visual obstacles, allowing every inch of their bodies to be observed - sometimes even if they are in water (see ‘Surfin’ serpents’ meme). Often associated with conveniently sparse or carefully arranged vegetation. A long-term palaeoart trope with origins in the 1800s. |
Partial. Some habitats are undeniably better than others for observing animals unhindered, but some artworks or portfolios start to stretch credulity - and matters of composition - to ensure their animals are fully visible. |
