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FANTASTIC ART

CONAN AND THE SPIDER GOD

12 000 € 

Author Luis Royo

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  • 7373
  • In stock
45 x 65  cm
17.72 x 25.59  inch

ILLUSTRATION

Watercolor, acrylic with airbrush and oil on paper.

Painted surface 29.5 x 47 cm (11.61 x 18.5 in ) in a format of 45 x 65 cm (17.72 x 25.59 in)

Year of realization 1988

Signed on the bottom left of the piece.

 

Cover of the novel "Conan-and the Spider God" from the writer Robert E. Howard´s, edited in (USA) by the editorial Ace Fantasy.  Illustration published on the inside of the author's book Women page 17. Edited in different languages and distributed internationally.

 
Because 'in those days' nothing was impossible. To get something, it was enough to want it. The desire coincided with the act. And for that reason men could only be strong and have heroic bearings."

Luis Royo came to this strange world with his eyelids wide open but without eyes, with withe, staring, expressionless sockets. Luis Royo came to this strange world with no hearing and no ears, with no nose and no sense of smell, with no arms or legs either...Luis Royo came to this strange world with almost nothing, with a lice of flesh, a lock of hair, and an artist's drawing board. In fact, one could say that Luis Royo barely came to this world. Nevertheless he walks through it. Up on his drawin board over the gray asphalt not knowing it's asphalt, not even knowing what gray is. Of this planet converted into a corridor, Royo knows practically nothing.
Reduced to a very small thing, barely able to sense what's around him, he doesn'tknow what's going on. He doesn't realize that again and again one day after another goes byidentically, following a repetitive cycle. He doesn't know that after light comes darkness, after work comes fatigue, after a green light you can cross the street, after a favor you say thank you, after enthusiasm comes melancholy, one thing after another...Royo doesnt distinguish any of these insistent reactions that rule the life of his planet. He's not even sure that one comesafter two and then three and so on successively and certainly. He only feels the rain falling on his flesh and the wind brushing a lock of his hair.
At first everyone stayed away from his drawing board, pushed him, threw him into the ditch by the side of the great asphalt passage. They wanted to free thhemselves from this rose-colored lump topped by a shock of hair, who without knowing the rules of living, constantly crossed their path tumbling from one side to the other. Even though he was a small thing, the others made him even less They didnt know how to rid him from their midst.
-Antonio Altarriba.

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