About Isaac

Curious photographer and blogger. Likes sci-fi, retrogaming, 80s music and coffee.

Paul Bonner’s T-Rex

Paul Bonner T-Rex head 1

We’re on the way home from Sweden and make a pit stop in Copenhagen to stretch our legs and say hello to master illustrator Paul Bonner, who I wrote about here back in 2014.

Twelve years ago, Paul showed me the incredible watercolour paintings that formed the artwork for Mutant Chronicles, the techno-fantasy universe that occupied countless hours of my youth.

This time, my eight-year-old son Benji is with me. I’ve told him a lot about Paul and his fantastical worlds, and he’s already a big fan of board games and the artwork that brings them to life.

When he was six, Benji used Paul’s book Out of the Forests for a school project focusing on one of his greatest fascinations: dinosaurs. Towards the end of the book are some of Paul’s incredible dinosaur paintings and, as it turns out, Paul might be the biggest dinosaur nerd of them all.

As Paul opens the door, Benji wanders into the living room as if he’s been here a hundred times.

“Papa, look at this!”

On the wall is what appears to be the head of a triceratops. Paul asks whether we’ve seen “the other guy” in the hallway.

We haven’t.

We follow him back to discover the most lifelike, terrifying T-Rex head imaginable. Benji walks right up to it and studies it closely.

Paul Bonner T-Rex head 2

“How did you make it?”

“It’s made of toilet paper,” says Paul, smiling.

“Where’s the rest of it? In the other room?”

“I don’t know,” Paul replies, laughing.

We head downstairs to Paul’s studio, where he shows us some of the things he’s working on, along with his extraordinary collection of dinosaurs. There are enough colourful, weird and wonderfully scary creatures here to keep any kid occupied for weeks.

Benji tells Paul that he likes drawing too. Paul encourages him to keep going.

“Draw the things you like,” he suggests. “Start by looking in books and seeing what other people have done. Copy the stuff you like. That’s how you learn.”

I don’t say anything to Paul, but as we leave I find myself thinking that he should run a summer camp for kids who love drawing, painting and making stuff.

Perhaps they could make the rest of that T-Rex too. It would be the coolest thing ever. And, judging by the look on Benji’s face, he’d be first in line.

Kryptonite in Ramsberg

Kryptonite in Ramsberg 1

We are back in Sweden for Benji’s winter break, staying in Lindesberg, about two and a half hours west of Stockholm. I grew up here, and in many ways it still feels like home.

On the day we arrive, the temperature is a modest minus six degrees, with light snowfall drifting through the air. Mum tells us they have endured temperatures around minus fifteen for several weeks, which is quite unusual, even for this part of Sweden.

Kryptonite in Ramsberg 2

She suggests a short trip to nearby Ramsberg to see some extraordinary ice formations. I am not entirely sure what to expect. When we arrive, we discover an area beside the local hydroelectric power station completely encased in ice. And not just a little of it. From what we can tell, some of the water pipes have cracked, creating tiny sprays that shoot out in different directions.

Over the past few weeks, these fine jets of water have built layer upon layer of frozen shapes. Icicles stretch and twist into curious forms, almost sculptural, like something carefully crafted by hand rather than formed by chance. The structures feel otherworldly, as though we have landed on Krypton. There is something alien about it, crystalline and dramatic, beautiful in a slightly unsettling way.

Kryptonite in Ramsberg 3

Benji snaps off small pieces of ice and throws them, laughing as they shatter with sharp cracking sounds across the frozen ground.

Here at TBS, we usually write about who creates what, when and where, and what it means to me as the observer. In this case, I am not entirely sure who the creator is. Perhaps we can say it is Mother Nature, with a touch of inspiration from Andy Goldsworthy. Whatever the explanation, it is a fascinating sight and one I would recommend seeing soon. Very soon.

Kryptonite in Ramsberg 4

The Fall of Icarus by Andrew McCarthy

The Fall of Icarus by Andrew McCarthy

We’ve been blogging here since 2013, and a few times we’ve wandered into space. I remember writing about Chris Hadfield’s stunning photos of Earth from the International Space Station, and about the James Webb Space Telescope in a tribute to good ol’ Hubble. Space keeps coming back. It’s endlessly fascinating and has captured my imagination since I was a kid.

So imagine my excitement when I came across Andrew McCarthy’s photograph “The Fall of Icarus.” The photo shows a parachutist falling in front of the sun. At first, I thought it must be AI-generated, because these days it’s getting harder and harder to tell what’s real and what’s not. But the story behind the photo is even more remarkable than the photo itself. And yes, it’s the real deal.

https://youtu.be/rDYtdUMMbxQ

McCarthy photographed his friend Gabriel Brown through a telescope from the Arizona desert. Brown jumped from a paramotor from a height of about one kilometre. The two coordinated the timing and position by radio, and it took six attempts to get it right. To make Brown appear so small against the sun, McCarthy used an extremely long focal length and shot from roughly 2.5 kilometres away. He also used a hydrogen alpha filter on his telescope, revealing details on the sun’s surface that are normally invisible.

Honestly, who does this kind of stuff? As a photographer myself, I am in awe. This is more than a stunning photo. It is a tribute to the people out there who put their heart, skill, and patience into creating beautiful stuff. There is passion, precision, and a sense of wonder in every part of it. I love it, and this is exactly what Talking Beautiful Stuff is all about.

If you visit McCarthy’s website, Cosmic Background, you’ll find a gallery full of truly beautiful cosmic photographs. I could easily fill all the walls in my apartment with his work. I went ahead and ordered a smaller, limited edition print of The Fall of Icarus. It arrived beautifully framed, complete with a certificate of authenticity. I can’t wait to get it up on the wall. It’s the ultimate conversation starter. I love it! Thank you, Andrew. I cannot wait to see what you do next.