Allan Asherman has been around comics almost as long as I have, mostly as an editor, writer and archivist. He's a good guy as you'll presume from these thoughts he sent me about Bernie Wrightson. I thought they were deserving of a much wider readership than just me so, with Allan's permission…
This morning I saw on your site that Bernie Wrightson had died, and I wanted to share the following recollections with you.
One day during 1966 or 1967 I don't was visiting my friend Larry Ivie in Manhattan when he told me he had to meet some friends who were due to arrive in the city about now. Larry asked me to wait and he left, returning an hour or so later with Jeff and Weezie Jones who had traveled from Atlanta, and Bernie Wrightson, who had arrived from Baltimore.
Before long we were talking like we had known each other for years. Soon after that, Jeff and Weezie moved into an apartment building on West 79th Street, where Bernie also found an apartment, which he shared with Mike Kaluta. That building soon became the site of monthly gatherings of comics artists, writers and enthusiasts, all of whom were deeply interested in the history and state of the industry, and in science fiction, fantasy and adventure films as well.
The visitors at these meetings included Archie Goodwin and Anne Goodwin, Roy Krenkel, Gray Morrow, Al Williamson, Wally Wood, Vaughn Bode, Bill Stillwell, Al Weiss, Mary Skrenes and Steve Stiles, Jeff, Weezie, and me. Those evenings are among my happiest memories because of shared interests, thought-provoking discussions, and the fact that these were all good people.
Bernie was one if the most animated and interesting people I've ever met. When he drew he usually didn't use reference. He didn't need it. He'd start drawing a hand or a face, not roughing it in but pencilling it complete with veins, hair and wrinkles, always knowing how much to draw, how much to imply, and where the light was coming from. The figure would seem to fill itself in.
I once asked about how he approached drawing, and he answered that he already had the completed picture in his mind, which he likened to a slide projector. His memory was phenomenal. I was with him one evening watching The Bride of Frankenstein, and after the film ended he drew a specific downshot of actor Ernest Thesiger watching the Bride coming to life. The likeness and lighting was perfect.
Bernie was a wonderful person, always young and enthusiastic, always considerate and respectful of beauty, and an artist who could even make what was grotesque beautiful.