Editor's Note: Due to a bizarre technical glitch, the following review was truncuated in its printed form. We present the full essay below.

Jim Vadeboncoeur's ImageS Magazine, the proper title of which is The Vadeboncoeur Collection of ImageS, which has, at this writing, run for seven quarterly and two special issues, is a phenomenon of modern magazine publishing for several reasons.

It is, in one sense, a nostalgic picture book, documenting the pictorial splendor of a long gone era of book and magazine illustration that ended 80 years ago, which of course no one alive will remember except through rare relic copies of the originals. The time span is described in the magazines slogan "Bringing new life to classic illustration, and the time period is defined by the editor/publisher as approximately 1880 to 1922.

In our own era of overblown critical pettifogging, he simply presents the pictures (a mixture of of artists legendary, well-known, little known and unknown, often even unidentified) to speak for themselves, the author/editor offering minimal, almost laconic descriptive text and little or no critical argument for a renewal of interest in the pictorial culture of this bygone era. The text is terse and practical, serving the pictures by identifying the artist and the context in which the art originally appeared, a practice that stands in marked contrast to the customary usage of pictures serving a supplementary role to the dominant text. Vadeboncoeur writes in Issue #1 "I intend to devote two pages of each issue to a pen & ink artist, and I intend to keep the textual portions to a minimum. This is going to be a graphic magazine." In practice, the content of the magazine is about 90% color, very conscientiously scanned from original sources, tweaked and adjusted by Jim himself. He actually apologizes in issue #5 for its tardy release because he was immobilized after a foot operation and couldn't work with his scanner and books for several months.

The material is, for almost all of us, completely new, in the sense that it has never been reprinted. Jim selects excellent work that has undeservedly sunk into the oblivion accorded to published work buried in archives, rediscovered only by selfless literary archeologists delving through dusty basements, labyrinthine library stacks and antiquarian bookshops. He writes "I avoid pictures that have been previously reprinted. I may miss one occasionally, but it's not for lack of trying"

In the introduction to issue five, Vadeboncoeur writes that he is pleased with the issue because "variety, quality and obscurity (italics mine) is greater than ever." And indeed the material IS greatly varied: comic, poetic, narrative, elegant; of high quality, mostly in rich complex color, reproduced with great fidelity; and, as promised very obscure for the modern reader, because most of the artists, marvelously talented and deserving of being remembered, are as forgotten as the magazines where their work appeared and the authors whose work they illustrated. Even the legendary names such as Heinrich Kley, Howard Pyle, Arthur Rackham, N.C. Wyeth, Maxfield Parrish, Gustav Tenggren and Willy Pogany, all liberally represented in the magazine, are represented by obscure works, almost none of which has been seen since their original appearance.

It may have been tempting for him to structure his magazine around famous monuments well-known master illustrators, putting readers in comfortable familiar territory with Wyeth's pirates and Indians, Parrish's Arabian Nights, Kley's roller-skating elephants, or Rackham's Fairy Tale illustrations. But the magazine studiously avoids the familiar pictures, if not the familiar artists. Wyeth, and Parrish and Kley and Rackham ARE represented, but with unfamiliar work. Sometimes we may be shocked by the contrast of seeing modest or minor work of great masters side by side with the best work of forgotten artists of considerable talent such as Frank Craig, Sarah Stilwell or Harry Rountree.

Issue #1 features a cover and eleven pages of Heinrich Kley, all from issue #5 of Jugend, 1910, an issue which was illustrated exclusively by Kley, much of it in color. Of course Kley comes off very well, largely because his drawings stand independently and need no text to explain them, and the Kley we see is the one we expect to see: drawings of cavorting anthropomorphic animals, and ridiculous zoomorphic humans, erotically challenging beautiful and not-so-beautiful women, gigantic anthropoids bestriding a puny industrial world, raging automobiles, foolish sex games. The double page spread on pages 12 and 13 is a particularly spectacular piece titled "Amazons during the firing exercises at Lager Lechfeld", representing a couple of leering satyrs (what other kind are there?) firing a then, (remember it was 1910) modern cannon, causing panic among the armored horsewomen, who struggle to control their lunging horses. The pen and ink drawing is bold and fearless, long flexible dynamic lines and confidently powerful modeling of form. The watercolor washes are, by contrast, delicate and inobtrusive, allowing the strong linework to carry the narrative. The first issue was only 24 pages, immediately followed by a 36-page #2, increasing almost every subsequent issue up to a 44-page issue #7. But it seems full enough even at 24 pages. In addition to the splendid Kleys, there are two pages of Maxfield Parrish, showing several works in which the painter's sense of tonal contrast is exaggerated surprisingly by his use of strong impastos of white oil paint. Other pages are dedicated to especially charming and witty Arthur Rackham illustrations for a story called "Buenos Noches" by Eleanor Gates, which appeared in Scribner's Magazine in 1906. And, in a regular featured devoted to pen drawing called The Ink Spot seven drawings by T. S. Sullivant, recently revealed in all his comic resplendence in the first Comics Journal Special, and later Collier's regular comic painter Lawson Wood.

When appropriate, a short biography of the artist is provided, often accompanied by a photograph of the artist. Unfortunately no photo of Kley (I've never seen one), but this issue gives a 1927 photo of Parrish and a picture of Lawson Wood in his studio. Later issues feature photos of Edwin Austin Abbey (issue 3), Robert Ball (2nd annual), John Bauer (number 2), Edmund Dulac (4), James Montgomery Flagg (2nd Annual), A.B. Frost (2nd Annual), Charles Dana Gibson (2nd Annual ), J.C. Leyendecker (#2), Orson Lovell (2),F. Matania (4), Willy Pogany (2), Howard Pyle (2), Aruthur Rackham (2), Charles Robinson (4), Henry Rountree (3), Charles Sarka (1st Annual), Sarah Stillwell (4), T.S. Sullivant (2, and 1st Annual), and Daniel Vierge (4).

In the considerably enlarged 36-page second issue, the editor notes that the larger and sturdier format will be the magazine's norm, but there would "be no norm in the variety of the content." He goes on to promise top quality color reproduction and invites readers to offer suggestions about artists to include. I, (the present writer) actually did respond with some suggestions and Jim replied, saying sometimes that a suggested artist was active in wrong time period for the focus of the magazine; with others he assured me that he intended to include them in future issues, or asked if I had sources from which to reproduce work. One suggestion in particular I recall his response was that he "wasn't that big of a fan", but he later included some unusual examples of the artist's work.

The lead feature in issue 2 is three pages of beautiful work by Howard Pyle, including a moody painted illustration for Everybody's Magazine published in 1913, a year after Pyle died unexpectedly at the age of 58 on a trip to Italy. But the two-page spread showing four paintings and four small but magnificent pen drawings for a feature called "The Travels of the Soul," is alone worth the price of the issue. Mysterious, lovely, luminous stuff! Jim calls this an "eclectic issue" showing off the color work, often reproduced full page, of 19 different artists. Other highlights, for me, are three fine pages of work by J.C. Leyendecker, comic trolls by Swedish artist John Bauer and some pre-U.S. work by native master Swedish Gustav Tenggren; and the five pages of illustrations for Wagner operas by Willy Pogany from 1911. More from these artists appears in later issues.

Issue #3 presents Vadeboncoeur's case for the promotion of New Zealand native Harry Rountree (1878-1950) to the Illustrators Pantheon with 13 pages and the front cover offered in evidence. He was a master watercolor painter, whose crisp fresh style is shown off admirably on these pages, particularly with the "Battle in Mid-Air" on page 11, showing two predatory birds fighting in mid-air; and an Uncle Remus illustration on page 13. Included in the feature is a step-by-step demonstration of Rountree's watercolor technique, beginning with pencil notes, and proceeding with stages and revisions to a final sumptuous result. As with the previous "eclectic" issue, 19 artists are represented in this number, highlights being two pages of work by Edward Austin Abbey, a couple of pirate paintings by Frank Brangwyn, which could have inspired the pervert pirates of S. Clay Wilson; two more pages of great work by Heinrich Kley, and three fine illustrations by Scribner's Magazine illustrator Walter Everett. A sexy female pirate by Tenggren in some goofy full page ad for silverware appears on the back cover, a prototype perhaps for one of our favorite demented "good girls" Wilson's "Star-eyed Stella"? "The Ink Spot" features nine luminous and lively drawings by Will Crawford.

In the fourth issue, released July 2002, the work of Sarah Stilwell (1878-1939) is the featured revelation. She was a refined painter of feminine mysteries, whose playful side is revealed in several clever pen drawings. Another surprise is a set of four plates illustrating Dante's Divine Comedy by Franz von Bayros, best known today for his provocative erotic drawings. Quite a few well-known illustrators are represented comparatively thinly in this issue, noticeably outdone by lesser known painters such as Frank Craig, whose "Goblin Market" makes one of the best covers of the whole series.

"The Ink Spot" is devoted to three pages the pioneering work of Spanish illustrator Daniel Vierge (1851-1904), one of the premier pen artists of history. Vadeboncoeur writes of him:

"Prior to Daniel Vierge, pen and ink drawing was relegated to the sketchbook. Line drawings were reproduced by way of wood-engravings and the original line of the artist was never seen. In 1882 Pablo de Segovia was published. Vierge and a talented French printer named Gillot experimented with new techniques of photo-engraving and managed to produce the first major illustrated book from the artist's pen drawings. The images were etched onto metal plates and were able to maintain extended print runs. A new medium was made available to the artists of the day. Unfortunately Daniel Vierge was not one of them. While working on he book, he suffered a severe stroke. When the first edition of Pablo de Segovia was published, the illustrations simply stopped about two-thirds of the way through the book. He eventually recovered to some extent, but he had lost movement in his right side and arm: his drawing hand. Rather than to submit to the horrible fate, he taught himself how to draw left-handed. When a new edition of Pablo de Segovia was published in 1902, the illustrations were completed and I defy you to pick out the point in the narrative where the new art begins."

"The Ink Spot" features two illustrations for Vierge's most famous project, Don Quixote of La Mancha, published in 1906 after his death in 1906. The comparison between the technically innovative Pablo de Segovia work and the more tradition reproductive method of the Don Quixote pictures, suggests the otherwise unstated rationale of Vadeboncoeur's choice of the 1880-1922 time period which he postulates as the Golden Age, or "Classic" period of magazine illustration. The liberating innovation which empowered accurate reproduction of the artist's actual work was the development and perfection of photo-engraving. As Jim notes in the preceding note about Daniel Vierge, photo-engraving was a new process in 1882 as yet relatively unproved, and not economical. The reigning method of reproduction was woodcut and wood-engraving, which could be printed from type-high woodblocks by the same relief method as moveable type. Direct reproduction of photographs was not yet feasible. The other methods of illustration, stone lithography and metal etching and engraving, required separate print runs, making them more expensive and time consuming, than type-high woodblock engravings. Usually, the artists original drawings were copied onto the block and cut by master-craftsmen, not the artist himself, which is the case with even the most popular illustrators of the era, Gustave Dorée, whose last work, The Raven was published in 1883 and John Tenniel, the principal artist for Punch and the seminal illustrator for Alice in Wonderland. Though both were fine painters, both had to rely on skilled craftsmen to do the laborious work of translating their finely nuanced work into printable type high wood-engravings. Doré's heroic full-page tonal works are co-signed by his collaborators, his own signature in one lower corner, and the engraver's in the other corner. He worked with several different ones: R.A. Muller, Claudius, W.C. Mermayn, F.S. King, and Frank French signed plates for The Raven.

Photo-engraving allowed the artist's work to be photographed and etched onto a metal plate, which could be mounted on a block of wood to raise it to the level of the lines of set type (all hand-set in the days previous to the linotype machine). Black and white drawings could be printed in the same print run as the typeset page. Color work required color separations with screens and color filters. Full color required (and still requires) 4 separate passes through the press, one each for yellow, red, blue and black, which was, of course, considerably more expensive than a single press pass in black ink.

But! It was finally possible to reproduce the artist's actual work very faithfully, and skilled artists responded enthusiastically to this new empowerment. And there were a lot of them. With the explosive expansion of popular publishing, pictures were in great demand. There was plenty of work to be had. Trained and skilled artists could get work, make a living, even live well and become popular heroes. The demand for good illustrators exceeded supply, with, as yet, no serious competition from actual photography as a medium of illustration. The first snapshot camera, "Kodak," was introduced by Eastman in 1888. Layered color film, high-speed film, and other hardware technologies were far down the road. Even practical sound movies did not really emerge until 1928; color cinema not until the mid-30s.

The 1880 to 1920 era encompassed the early days of Western expansion. In 1880 the population of the U. S was 50 million; Both President Garfield and Billy the Kid shot in 1881, Jesse James in 1882; Brooklyn Bridge, Huck Finn, Metropolitan opera opens. A glorious era of popular literature was in full swing: Treasure Island appeared in 1883 followed by King Solomon's Mines, Sherlock Holmes in 1886, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; the Statue of Liberty; color comics in the New York World in 1894, San Juan Hill in 1898; Dracula in 1899; Wizard of Oz in 1900; Kitty Hawk; and the first story telling movie in 1903; Stieglitz's Gallery of Photography in 1905; San Francisco Earthquake in 1906; by 1907 proliferation of the daily black and white newspaper comic strip; Titanic disaster, Zane Grey's Riders of the Purple Sage in 1912; first appearance of Tarzan in 1914, as well as the outbreak of the pesky harbinger of worse to come "THE World War: The War to End All Wars". The USA didn't get into it until 1917. By 1923 the country was in an very nasty mood, frightened by the Communist Menace among other vague terrors, it became an era of "saying No": Red Scares, Book Burnings, Prohibition. What a bunch of jerks! Just as well to use 1922 as a cut-off point.

Issue five, now at 40 pages, doesn't have a particular focus. 28 different artists represented, with excellent work. One of the stronger features shows off five pages of very energetic color work by Lawson Wood (1878-1957), including a six-step watercolor demonstration. Other highlights include three pages of dramatic maritime paintings by W.J. Aylward (1875-1956, and two amazing dinosaur pages by Harry Rountree illustrating Doyle's The Lost World. Interesting individual pictures include a color cover by Joseph Clement Coll, known almost exclusively for his adventurous pen and ink work; an particularly elegant Kay Neilsen and a humourous Jello ad. The Ink Spot features airy and luminous landscape and architectural drawings by Herbert Railton.

With Issue #6, the promise to devote an issue entirely to one or two artists is finally fulfilled. The artists are the English mural painter Frank Brangwyn and the legendary Gustav Tenggren (1896-1970). The Tenggren we see here is primarily the work of a very young man, exercising his prodigious talent in his early twenties. He was only 25 by 1923. Brangwyn, 19 years old than Tenggren was, by contrast, a mature and famous artist by the turn of the century, a master of all media, and heroically prolific. The page count is approximately evenly divided between the two artists, and both these masters are very well represented with both color and black-and-white work.

In order to keep within the pre-1923 scope of the magazine, it is the early work of Tenggren, done for Swedish magazines, that is presented, elegant work in the turn-of the century style of children's book illustration. Though the original stories are not translated from Swedish the subjects are recognizable as Grimm's Fairy Tales, Pied Piper, trolls, fairies, elves, witches, mostly for the magazine Bland Tomtar och Troll. He moved to Cleveland in 1921, and to New York in 1923, where his work began to appear in American books and magazines. One of his favorite fairy tale subjects in his Swedish career was "Snow White" represented in the article by four color plates from 1922. He revisited the subject in 1938 with "inspirational" paintings for Walt Disney's first full-length animated feature Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Vadeboncoeur constrasts the treatments of the same subjects by presenting the subjects side by side, "Snow White and the Huntsman", "The Magic Mirror", "Lost in the Forest", and "The Poisoned Apple". The 1938 pictures are cuter and less horrific, hardly an improvement. He actually designed the dwarves' cottage for the movie and did a considerable amount of the background painting for that film, and also for Pinocchio. The design of Gepetto's workshop and the town was also his, which was the reason that the houses looked Scandinavian instead of Italian as author Carlo Collodi had conceived the Pinocchio story. But just to remind us of Tenggren's subsequent iconic role as a charmer of children he reproduces the covers to the Little Golden Books The Shy Little Kitten (1946) and Little Black Sambo (1948).

Jim told me when I was inquiring with him as the guiding spirit of Bud Plant's Illustrated Book service that he preferred Tenggren's pre-Disney for work reasons that are obvious when the versions of Snow White are contrasted. I would only disagree with that judgement in the sense that I think that Tenggren's later work, even the "cute" work like "The Pokey Little Puppy", is genuinely charming. Further, he extends his range to encompass the imaginative power of his early work, with later works like his Canterbury Tales and King Arthur, in which he concentrates on illustrating the mysterious intrigues of those powerful stories. The color is moody and refined, and stylistically constant. I see him as a great painter as well as being a great illustrator, one of the best popular artists of this century or any other.

Frank Brangwyn current reputation has suffered a much more serious decline than Tenggren, if, for no other reason he isn't remembered today for his participation in continuing popular features, like classic Disney films or children's books which remain in print. He was a serious ambitious painter who aspired to greatness with his expansive and heroic compositions. He was probably an inspiration to Wyeth, Aylward, Schoonover and Leyendecker. He wanted walls to paint, and, in fact did do the rotunda murals in the Missouri State Capitol which are still to be seen there along with lunettes by N.C. Wyeth and wall murals by Thomas Hart Benton. Everything Brangwyn touched was dramatic muscular, colorful and majestic. And these 18 pages, drawn from his published work, show his qualities to good advantage. There is a double-page spread showing a preparatory cartoon for a large painting called "Venice", with the dome of Santa Maria della Salute looming in the background over the bustling activities of docks, workers and anchors. The drawing is bold and thorough, handsome enough as a work of art by itself. The surprise with the sumptuously painted final product is that everything is changed. All the elements are present, but in different sizes and relationships. The impression is of a compulsively inventive composer who simply cannot repeat himself, even in the transition from paper to canvas. Also reproduced is a large etching, probably the largest (22" x 32") plate he could find, of the same subject, not only with the subject reversed from the drawing but again with many of the elements relocated and the tonal emphasis altered. Brangwyn had favorite subjects, Venice, the theme of work, construction and demolition, revisitations of classic subjects, the horrors of war, the exotic Orient, and especially maritime subjects, sailing ships and sea battles. His work is overwhelming, and perhaps to modern taste a bit off-putting. Why is he so exuberant? Well, who cares about modern taste anyway, whatever it is.

I would offer only a couple of critical reservations about Brangwyn's work. It may smack a bit too much of the smugness of colonial empire building, a touchy subject here, about 100 years later. Perhaps also there is not much humor in his work. Too serious? And the characters in his painting, varied and well imagined though they definitely are, never engage personally with the viewer. And, more an observation than criticism, his pictures are busily and interestingly textured, with delicious color passages distributed throughout the surface, so that the drama is neutralized and the overall effect is rendered into an unfocused decorative surface. But if those are flaws, I wouldn't mind having those qualities dealt out to me. I could live with it. All in all Jim makes a good case for a revival of interest in Frank Brangwyn.

Issue Seven, perhaps the last regular issue we will see unless fans rally to support the magazine, has a very different focus. The entire issue is drawn from the pages of The Studio magazine, described correctly as "The Premier Art magazine of the Early Twentieth Century". Since The Studio was published in England almost all of the work is by UK artists, with notable exceptions the American painter Eric Pape, Swede Anders Zorn and the Spaniard Daniel Vierge. 25 artists are represented, only about half of whose names are generally familiar. The strong feature is a six-page presentation of the watercolor illustrations of Edmund Dulac, including a marvelous funny double page representing the thieves from Ali Baba. Also notable is an article about the Scottish watercolorist Arthur Melville (1858-1902), including a rare essay on his technique originally published in The Studio. Melville deserves a revival too, for his entirely individual crisp and delicate touch combined so unusually with firm strong drawing. We are told that he accompanied Frank Brangwyn on a sketching trip to Spain in 1892. Reproduced are not only a brilliant bullfight scene by Melville but three pages of fine, confident, intimate wash drawings by Brangwyn, who was only 25 at the time. Other than the fact that the entire issue is excerpted from different issues of The Studio, there is no other special focus for the magazine. But it does offer us some exemplary examples of the art of watercolor: a terrific fantasy cover illustration by John Richard Weguelin called "The Mermaid of Zennor"; those exemplary monochrome wash drawings by Brangwyn, and the freshly colored work of Melville, and the already mentioned work of Dulac; three fine landscapes by the exotic Russell Flint, three by E. J. Demold, and two each by Anders Zorn and Charles Robinson. The Ink Spot in this issue presents four elegant, Beardsley-like decorative drawings by Annie French.

For the year 2002 there was the first Black and White ImageS Annual, followed by a second annual in 2004. These volumes are actually trade paperback books, size 12" x 9", 96 and 112 pages respectively, sturdy covers, fine paper and superlative reproductive rendering of the hundreds of fine drawings. The annuals bear the subtitle "The Golden Era of Pen and Ink Illustration 1890-1922: Images from the Vadeboncoeur Collection." If the regular magazines left fans hungering for more line drawings this lack is more than remedied with the annuals, and the drawings are accompanied by considerably more expansive textual explanations. In his introduction Jim provides additional description of the late 19th century revolution in reproduction, and, expanding his essay, he discusses new computer capabilities which provide revolutionary improvements contributing to the impressive, no, amazing quality of the reproductions in these books. More than once he offers special thanks to Adobe Systems for Photoshop 7.0 and InDesign 2.0 for making "It possible for me to rescue these wonderful pictures from the disregard of History."

Black and White Images Number One, 2002

For the sake of consistency with the artists represented in the regular magazine, the 2002 Annual restricts representation only to artists who had already appeared in the magazine. He even gives a list of luminaries which are NOT included in the issue, such as Charles Dana Gibson, James Montgomery Flagg, John R. Neill and... etc. From Issue #1 we get Sullivant, Kley and Lee Conrey, with 17 more pages of Sullivant's transcendent anthropomorphic comic animal drawings, with a good summary of his career by Nancy Beiman, reprinted from Nemo the Classic Comics Library #26, September 1987, and even an interview with the artist. Vadeboncoeur calls him the greatest animal cartoonist America has ever produced. From regular issue #2 there is a similar treatment of Orson Lowell's pen drawings, with 17 pages devoted to his work, and one page each for Howard Pyle, René Bull and Willy Pogany. The featured artist from issue #3 is Will Crawford, with shorter features on Henry Rountree, Arthur Rackham and Herbert Railton. The rest of the first annual is fleshed out with excellent drawings by more than a dozen other artists, including a rare set of five black and white paintings by Russell Flint for an early edition of H. Rider Haggard's King Solomon's Mines; and also featuring the work of Franklin Booth, Harrison Cady, Joseph Clement Coll, Kay Neilsen and, especially, more work showing the amazing powerful grim, underground side of Kewpie cartoon creator Rose O'Neill.

Black and White Images Number Two, 2004

Jim writes in his introduction to this issue that he could not resist expanding the second annual to include other work in black and white besides pen and ink, to include wash, wood-engraving, pebbleboard, lino cuts, pencil and other media. He also abandoned the restriction of artists to ones who had already appeared in the first seven issues of the magazine, adding unusual work by luminaries N. C. Wyeth, Oz book illustrator John R. Neill, Sherlock Holmes illustrator Frederick Dorr Steele, William Robinson Leigh, Winsor McCay, several splendid Charles Dana Gibson and Norman Lindsay illustrations. But most of the issue, again, is from unfamiliar hands, consistently excellent and inventive drawings, by such names as Wladyslaw Benda, and Helen Stratton. But we get additional confections by Sullivant, Howard Pyle, Harrison Cady, and powerful work from J.C. Coll and Rose O'Neill.

It's rich and heady stuff, old-fashioned often, of course, and frankly, not at all comprehensive, in the sense that as Jim Vadeboncoeur states from the outset, that what he his offering, (and losing money on in the process) represents his own taste and no one else's. There are many important artists of the period who are not represented, such as the artists of Punch Magazine, such as John Tenniel and Charles Keene; French cartoonists of L'Assiette au Beurre which included Demetrios Galanis and Juan Gris; Simplicissimus artists, (colleague illustrators of Henirich Kley ) such as Jules Pascin and Kathë Kollwitz; Philadelphia and New York illustrators such John Sloan, Stuart Davis and Lyonel Feininger, to mention only a few. Why not? Well, it's a big world and a big subject, and we should, in fact, concentrate on what IS offered instead of what is omitted. When an epic subject is taken on, the accusation of having not done enough is only to be expected. And certainly it has not turned out, so far, to be a profitable pursuit for Jim Vadeboncoeur. For those of us who might criticize, the question is appropriate: Would or could we do better? And even if we think we can do better, will we? No, of course we won't, because we don't have the passion, energy, determination and the resources to tackle a such an intimidating historical project.

I think the magazine is as good as it is BECAUSE Jim has pursued it as a personal quest, using that best of authorities for one's own work, his own judgment, and personal standard. But what is his reason for this enormous expenditure of his time and resources? Could it be for self-aggrandizement, or building the value of his own personal collection? No, that is actually ridiculous. Those crass reasons would be credible only if there were any feasible rationale that they were intentional or practical. I am assuming that his reason is exactly what he says it is: that he wants to share this work with whatever audience there may be for it, especially since recent technology has solved the ragged old problems of high quality reproduction from old sources, for example color correction of faded inks and yellowed paper. Jim even poses the question in his intro for the last annual of why should anyone else be interested in pictures that he has chosen simply because HE likes them. But he doesn't suggest an answer, but simply goes on to say, in effect, "If you do like them, here's what you can do to support the effort...."

But I think the questions about the reason the magazine's magazine are very much to the point. Is it an educational project, an art history lesson? If so, who is the intended audience? Frankly, I have to say that, as much as I admire its look and quality, the magazine's purpose and future direction isn't clarified adequately.

An educational purpose I could support enthusiastically would the use of such a magazine to identify and draw attention to exemplary artists to serve as models of excellence for young artists. Certainly in art school these days a student will NOT be exposed to first class ink drawings. They are likely to be encouraged by their teachers to work from their "imagination" or from photographs, belabored endlessly by conscientious students and tossed off indifferently by the careless ones. They won't learn to take their sketchbooks out on the street to draw the life around them, or learn to draw animals, or figures in motion or probably anything else that trains the memory or allows them to draw with any quickness or inventiveness. They might learn to use PhotoShop to tweak acquired images, but they won't learn to draw. And even if they to do, they will pick up bad technical habits such as drawing with fiber tip pens and/or non-waterproof ink. Needless to say, Sullivant and A.B. Frost, Kley and Gibson, et al, were masters not only of their drawing skills which empowered their imaginations, but they were also masters of their materials. They used flexible steel pens dipped in waterproof ink, kept functionally clean. Their washes and blacks, and often their fine, long thin lines were executed with watercolor brushes. The paper was usually a top quality Bristol board. And those artists themselves went to top quality art schools and many pursued careers as painters in addition to their activities as illustrators (certainly this is true of Flint and Brangwyn, and many others as well). Just as a challenge to a dubious drawing student, I defy anyone to make a satisfactory copy of ANY drawing by Joseph Clement Coll or Charles Dana Gibson using a fiber tip pen such as a Micropoint or Sharpie. They used flexible steel pens somewhat like a Hunt bronzed #106 crowquill, but it is also possible, to obtain similar results with a fine pointed watercolor brush such as a Winsor & Newton series 7 red sable. It is almost impossible to achieve anything remotely resembling Gibson's long varied lines of differing widths with ANY easily available modern materials.

But Jim Vadeboncoeur's program is not a clear-cut didactic mission of education for young artists or even a systematic primer for the study of the pioneer period of modern illustration. If that were the purpose, he might devote an entire issue to showing of the work of T. Sullivant or Howard Pyle, representing a mixture of their possibly familiar classic work with little or unknown treasures from forgotten sources, accompanied with scholarly essays or notes explaining the artist's excellent qualities. In fact he did something approximating such a purpose with his Tenggren/Brangwyn #6 issue of ImageS. It is a pretty good introduction to the all but forgotten Brangwyn, but the Tenggren section is restricted to his activities as a Swedish artist before 1923, with only slight mention of his popular American work.

Why not show off these marvelous artists to their absolute best advantage? It is because of the 1923 shut off point for the work appearing in the magazine, and Jim's insistence that none of the work having been previously reproduced? A natural outcome of the "obscurity" rule is that some artists are already too well known to appear in the magazine. Most of Howard Pyle's has already been reprinted. Where is anyone to find ANY previously un-reprinted drawings by Aubrey Beardsley.? Recent collections of Coll and Herbert Morton Stoops remove some of their best work from consideration. Rockwell Kent and the New Yorker artists occur later than the designated time period. I am not suggesting that there could be any danger of exhausting the supply of worthy, previously un-reprinted work from the 1880/90-1923 period It really was the best period for commercial illustration in history, but probably the NEXT best period was the following 20 years, up until the ravages of television on the publication industry. I can easily see why World War Two (1940-45) should represent a watershed for illustration as well as almost everything else. And it is obvious that the advent and development of photo-engraving in the 1880s represents the dawning of the modern era of reproducing drawing.

But it isn't clear to me why Vadeboncoeur chose 1923 as a cut-off date. I don't see clear evidence that the social change brought on by Prohibition or Post WWI (and Russian Revolution) Red Scare actually produced serious consequences for book and magazine illustration. The Depression era beginning in 1929, surprisingly enough stimulated popular culture to an amazing degree: development of talking movies, the advent of the adventure comic strip, and the animated cartoon being only a few manifestations of increased vigor in the popular arts.

Actually by raising these questions, I do not mean them as serious criticism of what Vadeboncoeur has actually made of his indisputably beautiful magazines and albums. He answers critical quibblings quite satisfactorily in his editorial comments and even in his subtitle to ImageS. The pictures are drawn from his art and magazine own collections, representing his own personal taste and the time period they represent is stated clearly in editorial statements. On the other hand the editor/publisher seems, not surprisingly, anxious that his subscription list remains below a sustainable level, and he warns that if his support base does not increase substantially he will be forced to discontinue publication. Future issues are currently in abeyance.

I certainly agree that the loss of such a quality magazine will be a mournful loss. Still, potential readers may be puzzled and even seriously confused about the two guiding principles governing the editorial content of the magazine. Why, indeed, should the reader attach importance either to the fact that eligible work be completely unknown or to the fixed termination of the "Golden Era" ending with 1923? It may very well be that a substantial potential readership has not been attracted to the magazine because they don't understand or sympathize with those fundamental, but apparently arbitrary principles.