The older I get, the more I am convinced life is but a series of circular motions. But each time your orbit returns to a pivotal point in your life, your journey affects it in such a way that you now see things in a slightly different perspective. I swear. I don’t know…I am certainly no student of philosophy, but I can’t be the only one who thinks this.

Consider the CURIOUS and AMAZING interaction I have had with Dinotopia deity James Gurney. Actually he goes by Jim…I am not sure if he has any other nicknames like “Jimbo”, “J-Dog” or “The Gurnster…I’ll have to find out.

1992: I am 2 years away from art school graduation, and in the school library, I spy a tome which is wonderful to behold. Just like the time I found William Stout’s Dinosaurs in high school, once again the little boy in me is giddy with renderings of prehistoric pretties realistically rendered in a Jules Verne-esque world.

On top of that, I have the cursory knowledge to recognize the influence of Sir Alma Tadema (and perhaps a sliver of John Waterhouse?) combined with the observational design so prevalent in books by the late Dutch master, Rien Poortvliet. In short, the combination is somewhat familiar and comfy, while being presented in a completely new fashion. Not since Brian Froud and Alan Lee’s Faeries had I been so blown away by a book.

The idea alone was novel enough: turn-of-the-century father and son travelers explore an island inhabited by humans happily co-existing with civilized dinosaurs. But the combination of Jim’s quick oil-wash sketches contrasted against majestically realized vistas - not to mention his wonderful calligraphy, made this book an instant classic with kids and adults alike. And it certainly was in my mind when I designed Arthur Spiderwick’s Field Guide.

Many years later, I got to meet Jim at a picnic-party he was holding at his home in upstate New York. Michael Kaluta had invited me to join him on what was a bit of tradition among the Hudson Valley artists (like Stephen Hickman, Jeffrey Jones and Berni Wrightson) where there was food, music, and lots of art show-and-tell. Needless to say, I was seriously intimidated by that talent pool as we drove up from the city. However, all fears were washed away after I met Jim and all of his friends - they were a warm and inviting bunch.

From then on, Jim and I kept in touch either by phone or by mail. I’d send him my books for his library; he’d do the same with his later installments of Dinotopia. I even coerced him into supplying a blurb for Dinosaur Summer, a (now out of print) book I illustrated for Greg Bear. Here’s what Jim had to say:

“Tony DiTerlizzi has given a labor-of-love treatment to the artwork, with evocative illustrations throughout.”

Wow. A quote for me from a guy who redefined dinosaurs. I barely knew how to paint when I received this praise.

It gets better - earlier this year, Jim asked me to blurb his new Dinotopia book, Journey to Chandra. Here’s what I had to say:

“With lush settings reminiscent of Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, colorful characters cast from Norman Rockwell, and vivacious dinosaurs conjured from the spirit of Charles Knight, Dinotopia: Journey to Chandara is a window into this modern master’s mind. Children and adults alike will enjoy exploring this rich world of Jurassic proportions.”

Yesterday, Ang, Sophia and I went to see Jim speak and sign at the Eric Carle museum. He and his wife, Jeanette, were so happy for all of our successes and our new family. I had to pause at one point and just soak in the moment - it was really cool.

See? Life + continual reoccurrences = Tony’s “Circles” theory! I can’t wait to see where it goes from here…

PS - Jim’s joined the blogosphere as well. Check it out!

1987 - I am playing records of U2’s Joshua Tree, and The Cure’s Standing on the Beach, wearing acid-washed knee-torn jeans, thrift shop sports jackets, and graduating high school down in South Florida.

High school was a strange time for me. Middle school was horrible, and the first couple of years at South Fork high weren’t much better. I was all of 120 pounds, with large aviator glasses, had a sometimes-running-rust-and-primer Toyota, and secretly was still a little boy who liked playing Star Wars with my younger brother, and spending time copying pictures out of Brian Froud & Alan Lee’s Faeries - line it up ladies, there’s plenty of TD to go around.

Being an avid rock-n-roll lover, I was also in band for my first two years. I played the saxophone in middle school, and enjoyed it (all songs in the 80’s had a sax solo - just ask Huey Lewis). High school; however, was all about marching band and football games…not really my cup of tea, so I finally quit my junior year and filled my band slots with all things art.

By that time, people around school knew me for my drawing skills, and I came out of my shell a bit. I tried to be funny and goof off hoping the laughs in class would earn me some acceptance around school: it did. I dated here and there, and even had a couple of girlfriends, but most girls were happy “just being friends”. Drawing pictures just doesn’t compare to surfing or kicking total butt at some sport. Or having chest hair. Or muscles. Or shaving. Or a cool hairstyle. Or hairy legs. Or hair anywhere.

I do remember my art teachers very well. Mr. (Tom) Wetzl taught all my high school art classes. By the time I was a senior, I had pretty much taken everything the school had to offer. But Tom liked me, saw my talent, and made an offer, “I have a planning period where you could come in and work on a solitary project for an entire semester. It could be a centerpiece in your portfolio as you apply to art schools. If you did this, what sort of project would you do?”

I thought about it for some time. We started reading Beowulf in Lit. class. I did a drawing of Grendel and wondered how many hit points he had. Then I went home and started going through the old kid’s classics that I had enjoyed. House at Pooh Corner, The Great Brain, Lang’s Rainbow Fairy books, and then I found it: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

I went back to Mr.Wetzl and told him I would like to re-illustrate Lewis Carroll’s classic. He agreed. My assignment was to have the entire story illustrated by the end of the semester. We started with character design sketches and moved onto scenes from the text. I pulled inspiration from all sorts of things - anime, Muppets, and even Elton John as the Mad Hatter.

I worked on the project all the time. Not just in class - in other classes, at home, on weekends. I was obsessed. Needless to say, I completed it on time and passed the class with an “A”. On top of that, many of my friends really liked the book. My bound copy made the rounds often at lunch or during class. I was validated for just being me, and doing what I loved amidst the social pressure and anxiety of the microcosm known as high school. It still didn’t get me any dates, or grow me any chest hair. Or muscles. Or fix the rusty acne on my ‘72 Toyota Celica.

But I realized what I wanted to be when I grew up (if you can even call it that): I wanted to make imaginative books for children and kids at heart. I was 17 years old, and I knew then what I had to do. Whoa.

I just attended my 20-year high school reunion. 20 years. Gone in a snap, with a million memories jammed in-between. Things like that make you pause for reflection.

I still listen to U2, The Cure, and Elton John. I still wear beat-up jeans (no acid wash) and funky glasses and weird jackets.

I have a wonderful house, 2 nice cars, a personal trainer, and the best art studio a geek could hope for. And I got all of this from drawing the same stuff I was drawing over 20 years ago. I just draw it a little better now.

But the best is I have an awesome wife who likes “to be more than just friends”. And she’s given us a beautiful daughter. Oh, and I have lots of hair. Although now it is starting to fall out…

My brother, Adam, has pointed out one very important element in this discussion of all things goblin. I would be remiss to not talk about a certain four-legged muse of mine aptly named “Goblin”.

Visually, as an artist, I get my inspiration from so many places. I remember one art school instructor telling me that all characters we render will have physical aspects of ourselves within them, because that is the face and body that we see multiple times every day - and I do think it is true.

The same could be said of our environment: our homes, yards, children, spouses and even our pets. And to say that our dog Goblin inspired and influenced my art would be an understatement.

Her pug proportions, mashed-up face, and lovable demeanor, creeped into characters like Ted, Hogsqueal and yes, the Spiderwick goblins (especially the “Bull Goblin”). And there are 2 gargoyles in the Arthur’s Field Guide that are inspired by pets - one is Goblin, the other Chamberlain, Holly’s greyhound.

We lost Goblin last fall to cancer. Because it had spread, I had to put her down, and it was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Angela and I were devastated. All I wanted was for my daughter to get meet this little dog who inspired me, and been our faithful companion for 13 years. She moved with us from Florida to New York City with stars in our eyes, and on to Massachusetts where we could all settle down and be a family. She is but a memory, but by being this artist’s muse, her influence will live on in the images inspired by her.

I guess there really are little goblins out there in the world after all.

We miss you Gob, and we’ll never forget you.