One of America’s greatest artists died this morning. Jeff Jones was among science fiction and fantasy’s premiere visual story-tellers. He handled oil paint and brush as if he was merely revealing the magic and beauty held within the canvas, like wiping away the white to show the color beneath.

Nothing ever felt labored in his work. His prolific output made it seem as if he had to get the stacks of ideas out of himself, through oil, watercolor, or pen and ink. As Jeff’s abilities grew, so did his sophistication, and yet I always felt the exploration in his concepts to capture a child-like playfulness, no matter how serious the subject. This leant a certain agelessness to everything. From his early Frazetta influence, he pushed the work more toward his own star and progressed to one of the genre’s most unique voices.

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