Sad news this afternoon for fans of fantasy art: Tim Hildebrandt, who, along with his brother Greg, was one of the most prominent book illustrators of the 1970s and ’80s, died yesterday at the not-very-advanced age of 67.

The artwork of The Brothers Hildebrandt was practically ubiquitous when I was growing up; I can remember at least two friends who had Hildebrandt Tolkien calendars on their bedroom walls, and the Hildebrandts were responsible for one of the most-reproduced pieces of Star Wars-related art ever commissioned (and given how many professional paintings have been associated with that film franchise over the years, that’s really saying something).

I had every brush-stroke of that Star Wars poster memorized before I was ten years old — naturally — but I didn’t become aware of the Hildebrandt name until a few years later, when I read Terry Brooks’ The Sword of Shannara in middle school. Very little of that book has stayed with me over the years — I understand Tolkien fans absolutely hate it because it’s so similar to their sacred text — but I do recall the book’s interior illustrations, moody black-and-white images of elves and wizards and warriors that simultaneously thrilled and disturbed me. The thrilling aspect of them is obvious: resembling medieval tapestries, the pictures appear to be calculated to appeal to a young boy’s sense of adventure at an almost genetic level. (I remember that I especially liked this one for some reason.) As for why they disturbed me, I can’t quite say. Maybe because I found them so realistic? Except that they aren’t realistic, not really. The figures seem a little too self-consciously posed, the features a little too rubbery. Ah, but that’s an adult’s appraisal, isn’t it? To my boyish self, accustomed to the somewhat impressionistic line-and-ink style of comics and the little kids’ readers I’d known before that, the brand of commercial art produced by Brothers Hildebrandt was something entirely new.

Looking at those Shannara illos now, I am instantly transported back to the early ’80s; I associate them with candy cigarettes rolled up in my t-shirt sleeve and the taste of cherry Slurpees, with orange carpeting and dark slabs of faux-wood panelling, with buddies whose older brothers hid girlie magazines in their fathers’ barns and with the sounds of early video games and with the hot, yeasty smell of school buses and gym lockers. The ’70s and ’80s were a good time to be a kid, in no small part because we had artists like the Brothers Hildebrandt to fuel our fantasies.

As it so happens, I grew up to become something of an afficinado of cover art, and thinking about the subject this afternoon, I’ve realized that the course of my interest leads backwards through the classic pulps and Michael Whelan, through Frazetta and Boris, straight back to those grainy black-and-white Hildebrandts sandwiched into the thickest paperback novel I’d ever read. It’s curiously satisfying to suddenly realize how one’s interest in a particular subject originated and evolved.

I learned about Tim’s death from the blog of comic-book writer Peter David, who relates a short but sweet anecdote. The only other mention I’ve found of Tim’s passing was a very nice memorial from his and Greg’s publisher, Spiderwebart.com.
Incidentally, while the Brothers Hildebrandt may be no more, Greg Hildebrandt has a thriving solo career that includes some very nice pin-up art, which is fortunately lacking the vaguely inhuman quality that bothered me in the Shannara and Tolkien work. Be careful if you follow that link, though — you’ll find bare boobage in that direction.

One final thought: is it just me, or does this image of the bad guy’s stronghold in The Sword of Shannara look a whole lot like Castle Grayskull in the old He-Man cartoons? A coincidence? Or did somebody at Filmation have the same paperback Shannara edition I did? Food for thought…