John Blanche occupies an interesting position in the ranks of illustrators that had influence on me while growing up. When I think back, his drawings (perhaps more than any other) captivated me when I was young. I had seen nothing like them before; this wasn’t the optimistic, high science fiction of Star Trek, Lost in Space and Star Wars. This was terrifying in comparison, grotesque and savage, incredibly bleak. So like any child who enjoys a good scare, I’d turn off the lights and pore over the drawings in the dark with a flashlight, losing myself in this twisting Baroque future that flowed from Blanche’s pen and brush.

Blanche’s visions of Mars colonized by the Adeptus Mechanicus, scions of Terra who have become more machine than man. Spires and buttresses spear the atmosphere, the colossal factory hives reaching out for the void of space, an entire world as a forge.

Blanche’s reputation was built on the early work he did illustrating worlds for Games Workshop in the 80s. Character art, environmental and narrative illustrations for the worlds they were creating were entirely up to him at the time, they had no other artist contributing. It was a small company trading in games systems and models, publishing from the garages of the small group of friends who were passionate about building their hobby into a growing community and business. Similar to TSR, the company created by Gary Gygax to publish his Advanced Dungeons and Dragons system, Games Workshop (then known as White Dwarf) depended on a strong base of worldbuilding to capture the imagination of their audiences to bring them in to playing their tabletop systems. Blanche became instrumental in this, laying the foundation for the aesthetic that would carry their game Rogue Trader into its formative years.

Blanche’s visions of the Imperium of Man. Decadent, imperious, but grotesque. The style he created heavily referenced medieval religious imagery and sensibilities as well as Renaissance compositions, the characters possessing a fervent zealotry in the face of a dark and uncaring future.

What draws me towards these works is that it reflects a period in illustration that I feel very fondly about. It was a time before concept art was taken over by digital art, before the majority of it became studio-based work. His work sometimes swings between gorgeous and naive or outright crude at points, somewhat like the work of William Blake before him. What was important was to communicate the idea, the emotion above a perfect rendering, and in this I believe he often succeeded.

The edifice in the upper left is a starship, believe it or not. A mix of pointed ram prows in the style of Hellenistic warships married with crenelated bastions and towering cathedrals informed the designs for the technology of man. Gone were notions of sleek chrome and fluid grace. This was the starship as temple, a towering and bloated icon replete with spires and religious iconography. Architecture as a show of might.

There’s a certain charm in niche work from the 80s and 90s where the concept artists weren’t illustrators requiring degrees and perfected academic drawing skillsets: many were friends of friends with strong vision and drive. There’s a quality about that has a certain charm to it. Regardless of their skill level, they still created works that have turned into beloved worlds or franchises, much like Chris Metzen of Blizzard Entertainment fame.

An excerpt from Voodoo Forest, evoking the spirit of the bizarre without any particular care for what the audience reception would be. Whatever one may think of his work, I do immensely respect what an uncompromising weirdo he is. It’s a quality I wish more people were comfortable tapping into, it makes for far more interesting friends.

His work drips with the punk ethos that was a driving force in so many underground subcultures of the time, walking a parallel path with things like tape trading circles in heavy metal culture and early hardcore zine culture. I work on a quarterly self-published zine called Umbra with a friend, and that DIY culture that John Blanche was a part of is something that sparks a fond feeling of nostalgia in me, and is something I love about his work and that I’d also like to tap into in my own endeavours.

The inside of a hand painted Blanche curio box. All of his paintings were quite small, but meticulously packed with detail and care. This is one using a line and wash style that is still quite unique to him, primarily driven by ink, acrylics, watercolors and light airbrush for mists.

Nowadays, the humble beginnings of White Dwarf have turned into a multi million dollar international company, but the work he put into creating the worlds these games take place in are universally revered within the community. To this day, he retains a legendary position in the mythology of the universes he illuminated. In his time illustrating these worlds, he created a vision that was wholly unique for the genre and he leaves a mark that lasts in the community to this day, perhaps proving that there is a niche for almost any of us if you have the vision and will to fight for it.

One of many potential futuristic visions await: It is dark, it is ugly, it is magnificent and it is unmistakably John Blanche.

Sources and Images

http://convertorum.blogspot.com/p/blanche-gallery.html

Quick Post: If John Blanche were a REAL Artist

http://gothicpunk.tumblr.com/