Illustrating a new version of Cho-Manno was one of my earlier Magic jobs and also happened to be one of the more intimidating as the original depiction of Cho-Manno had been done by the Brothers Hildebrandt. I did not feel up to the task, honestly. But I went forward to tackle it as best I could nonetheless.
A lot of the making of this piece has been lost to time, unfortunately. My memory about this painting is pretty vague. What I can recall is that I painted the piece when I lived in Astoria, Queens, New York, back when my studio was also my living room. And that's about all I can tell you. Seriously.
I wish I could tell you that the sheet of paper I rediscovered upon which I sought out a solution to the piece yielded a flood of new memories, but alas it did not. However, the page remains a pretty good depiction of the ugly start of my process that is typical of most of my work.
I'd like to say that I do tons of thumbnails. But I don't. Not every time, anyway. When I do extensive explorations, it's usually because the assignment is maddeningly complex or difficult to compose. In most instances, however, I'm asked to depict fairly straightforward imagery. So, for the most part, the work typically comes together like this:
Step 1: Steve gets the assignment.
Step 2: Steve reads the assignment several times and looks over any necessary reference.
Step 3: Steve sleeps on it after exhausting his brain by obsessing about the assignment all day.
Step 4: Steve rereads the assignment and looks at any necessary reference again.
Step 5: Steve goes off and does something completely unrelated to the task of solving the assignment. This often includes watching YouTube videos or listening to podcasts unrelated to art or his industry. And sometimes video games.
Step 6: During the aforementioned activities (which resemble procrastination but actually are not), Steve gets a flash of imagery in his head that finally gets the ball rolling and pencil finally meets paper in a meaningful way.
This flash of imagery can vary wildly. Sometimes I'll get an idea of a general composition. Sometimes it's a pose for a figure. Sometimes it's just a silhouette. Often times, the image is vague. Other times, the image is super specific.
When the idea is specific, I will do a bit of exploration to disprove the validity of the idea. Typically, however, this tends to strengthen the original image I have in mind. If the idea is vague, however, I have to hunt the final version down. Cho-Manno was typical of this vague beginning.
This is not to say that things go smoothly once Step 6 occurs. In fact, the exploration that comes from the initial idea can lead to a dead end. When that happens, I'll often repeat Steps 4-6 in hopes that a solution will come. And, of course, there are instances where Step 6 never happens in the first place. When that flash of imagery doesn't happen at all, I'm forced to wrestle with the assignment the old fashioned way (which usually involves a pencil, lots of paper, at least one knife fight and an offering to the illustration gods of no fewer than sixteen boxes of Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch).
Above is the page on which I found Cho-Manno. It's worth noting that this was not a high concept piece. I was really looking more for a pose than anything. The setting was to remain similar to the original version and I wasn't being asked to radically redesign the man, either. Sure, there were requested tweaks, but it was still meant to clearly be Cho-Manno.
Among the things you might notice about the page above is just how awful the drawings happen to be. They're rudimentary and as fast as I can make them. This is due primarily to the fact that my brain works much faster than my hand, and I'm trying desperately to keep up. I put down what information I can and move on after a certain point. As I'm doing this, my brain jumps around from broad explorations of gesture to quick doodles exploring specifics of costume. Then back again. Unfortunately, a lot of ideas get lost along the line because I simply can't draw or even write things down fast enough.
Anyway, looking at this sheet of paper I'm struck by the fact that several of the poses that I eventually rejected could have worked out just as well as what I settled on. Indeed, there are a couple that might have been kind of awesome. Something else that I was surprised by is that the pose I actually chose isn't even on this page. As I recall it, I simply turned to the next page and knocked out the finished sketch at a larger scale. But honestly, looking at the page above and the sketch below you can see how I arrived where I did.
|©Wizards of the Coast|
Why I decided to tilt the camera is something I can't quite explain. I'm not sure that I would do it again were I to repaint this piece now, as I'm not sure it adds a whole lot. The folks at Wizards didn't seem to mind, though. They were more concerned with the lack of ornamentation on the clothing and asked me to jazz it up a bit.
So I did:
|©Wizards of the Coast|
But even that new bit of ornamentation ended up changing when I went to paint as you can see in the finished piece below:
|©Wizards of the Coast|
And here's the piece in card form if you're curious:
So, why did I choose to share all this? Well, the earliest part of my process tends to be muddled and embarrassingly awful. Usually, the crappy thumbs and explorations are hidden away in sketchbooks or tossed out entirely, and I'm not generally keen on showing them. I guess I was just feeling a little nostalgic when I saw this page again and I was kind of surprised at how clear the thought process actually was. At least I think it is.
It's also kind of fun to take another look at alternate takes on the piece and ponder what might have been. Maybe, had I gone another way, I'd have had an even better result. But honestly, I'm pretty pleased with how it came together anyway.