Showing posts with label Bonadonna. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bonadonna. Show all posts

Thursday, 7 July 2016

Conodonts: 520 Million Years Long in the Tooth

Decent conodont fossils are frustratingly rare. Sure, their 'teeth' are so well known they're used as index fossils, id est, the distributions of particular types are used to gauge the age of the rocks in which they're found. Lacking the hard, bony skeletons of 'vertebrates proper', they don't leave so much to fossilise; ergo, only a handful of not-teeth-fossils are known. It's hardly surprising, then, that the arrangement of the hard elements within the head isn't fully understood. The animals are generally pretty small, ranging from 10mm to 400mm, and the teeth are only rarely found associated with the animal which used them. It's not even clear from the remains themselves how they were used, with a variety of feeding methods proposed, including filtration, crushing and actively grabbing hold of small prey. It's not hard to imagine conodonts as analogous to extant eels, and eel-like lampreys and hagfish - after all, they share a broadly similar form - but the feeding methods employed by those animals are disparate to say the least.

Given the poor preservation of the soft tissue elements of conodonts, many reconstructions are understandably pretty basic represented by little more than line art (and there's nothing wrong with that). However, Davide Bonadonna has put together this incredible image, which is probably the nearest anyone is going to get to a face-to-face encounter with our fishy (fishesque? fishish?) friend. Mercilessly terrifying, mercifully small.


Rocking the 'someone stepped on my tail' look: Clydagnathus. (Copyright © Davide Bonadonna.)


So Davide's pop-eyed conodont inspired something a little less scientific from me, in the form of this Alien3-Clydagnathus mash-up, and is available on products at my Redbubble store, here. And if you prefer something a little more scientific, you can buy Jaime Headden's instead.



The conodont Clydagnathus, which, were it alive today, would gestate in your chest and eventually smash through your ribcage. Why? Because pop culture. (Copyright © 2016 Gareth Monger)


Big thanks to Davide Bonadonna for allowing the use of his work in this glorified advert. If you're unfamiliar with his incredible work, correct that immediately!

Tuesday, 16 December 2014

Learn To Let Go: The Ever-Changing Look Of Dinosaurs

I recall several occasions from my college days when tutors advised students not to get too precious about their work. This wasn't just a sly put-down; it was practical advice. Colossal (but avoidable) balls-ups, ranging from illustrating a tortoiseshell butterfly with incorrectly-arranged leg segments, to dropping a cup of hot chocolate on a near-complete painting could be soul-destroying, severely limiting your options for correction. Often, there's only one option: start again. Illustrating in college was very different to illustrating commercially. The most noticeable difference was that a college assignment would give up an entire term to one brief, whereas commercial briefs were rarely so generous. During my briefest of flirtations with Dorling Kindersley, I'd get a call in 5pm with a couple of details for a required illustration, and my deadline would be 10am the next day. I guess that's not typical, but it does serve to demonstrate that there's not always enough to time to sit back and bask in your illustrative awesomeness when you've only had about three hours to throw something together. In short, it taught me not to be too precious about my work. (Even if it survives the production process long enough to be seen by its target audience, it's then got to run the gauntlet of critics and trolls...)

Few people would argue that 2014 has been anything other than a cracking year for palaeontology. More specifically, dinosaur fans got to open their Christmas presents early, with the release of new reconstructions of Deinocheirus and Spinosaurus. The latter has been a mainstay of popular palaeontology literature for over half a century, with many dinofans relatively confident of the animal's real-life appearance. On the other hand, Deinocheirus has often featured in those very same books for the opposite reason (explained here simply for those weary blogonauts who may have stumbled across Pteroformer by accident). Deinocheirus mirificus was discovered in the mid-'60s by Professor Zofia Kielan-Jaworoska, during a Polish-Mongolian expedition to the Gobi desert. The mostly-scattered skeleton of D. mirificus comprised some vertebrae, ribs and two enormous arms and scapulae. In spite of a few peculiarities, the arms resembled those of other ornithomimids. The key is in the 'enormous' bit: 2.4 metres is a lot of arm. And it's easy to see why that would cause excitement. Deinocheirus is a theropod and theropods are traditionally murderers. Enormous heads full of lots of teeth, which themselves are always compared to steak knives - well, at least in '80s dinosaur books. But it's their arms which this is all about, and when someone finds what is, at the time, the biggest set of theropod arms ever, well, they must belong to the biggest theropodan murderer ever.

Deinocheirus mirificus: Reaper-saurus or nay? Speculative reconstructions of this animal depicted it as everything from a giant dromaeosaur to a tyrannosaur. It's as if people wanted it to have been a killer. Available on a t-shirt here! (Copyright © Gareth Monger)
Spinosaurus aegyptiacus was also initially known from similarly-scrappy remains, though enough was recovered for a tentative reconstruction on which palaeoartists would base their illustrations and sculptures for years to come. Spinosaurus's exact relationships with other theropods were largely unknown, allowing artists a certain amount of leeway regarding which better-known theropods they stuck a sail on the back of. Before 2014, reconstructions of Spinosaurus rarely moved it away being the top predator of its time - perhaps of all time - and the much-loved oft-maligned Jurassic Park III did nothing to change this. It did, however, hammer home the long, slow snout for which spinosaurs are now so-well known. It had already featured in many '90s images, but there's nothing like a Jurassic Park film to shoehorn a dinosaur's image into popular culture.

And so 2014 happened. Papers were released and rumours confirmed. Museums and dinosaur parks alike bulldozed their now-redundant mounts and fibreglass monstrosities and Dorling Kindersley deleted its back catalogue. I exaggerate, of course. But of the two animals, Spinosaurus was the major upset. Its new look rendered nearly all previous reconstructions inaccurate, but also caused a bit of a stink among fanboys, many of whom didn't like the new 'design'. The paper written by Ibrahim, et al (2014) showed Spinosaurus to be heavily modified towards a largely-aquatic lifestyle, its hindlimbs reduced to the extent that running around on land was unlikely. It didn't take long before people took to social media to complain about the new reconstruction, and that's understandable - it's awkward. It doesn't fit with people's preconceptions of how theropod dinosaurs should look. Even some dinosaur workers remained unconvinced (see here and here for initial responses from Mark Witton and Scott Hartman). It's worth noting that, as an aquatic non-avian theropod, it represents something of a first, so there's nothing to compare it to. In case you missed it, here's Davide Bonadonna's illustration for National Geographic:

Two Spinosaurus aegyptiacus swim for their food in Davide Bonadonna's dynamic illustration. (Copyright © National Geographic. Used with permission.)
It was interesting to note so much nostalgia for the older, inaccurate, versions of Spinosaurus. Of course, Deinocheirus didn't attract much of that, for its own, older reconstruction(s), was a far-from-settled affair. But it did serve to remind us that we must not take for granted the reconstructions of extinct animals. For me, an illustrator, these updated versions are exciting; they break rules and challenge our ideas. But some people reacted as if this represented something wrong with palaeontology. Questions were posted in social media palaeontology groups, such as, "What do you think is cooler, spinosaurus [sic] with long legs or short legs?" Responses ranged from those directly answering the question, to those querying what 'cool' had to do with anything. Could it be that there are people who think that this will boil down to a popularity contest between old and new restorations? Or maybe a whole generation of Jurassic Park III fans is upset that there is no longer any point in asking palaeontologists who would win in a fight between a Tyrannosaurus and a Spinosaurus.

Deinocheirus mirificus wades out into the shallow waters of a Late Cretaceous Mongolian landscape. (Copyright © Andrey Atuchin. Used with permission.)
For many, first contact with extinct dinosaurs is made through illustrated books on the subject. Naturally, these animals' life restorations may be remembered into adult life and may continue to represent a strong connection to childhood. The nuances of a particular illustration or sculpture or animation might leave a mark which never fades. But it seems many people - perhaps those who have maintained only a passing interest - regard their personal nostalgic response as more important than the science. It might seem trivial, but it soon becomes an issue with which palaeontologists must contend when inexplicably popular media portrayals fail to keep up with science. By its very nature, palaeontology is constantly evolving. It follows that its pictorial representations will evolve too - whether you like it or not.

Big, big thanks must go to Andrey Atuchin and Davide Bonadonna, both of whom supplied digital versions of their excellent illustrations at very short notice, allowing me to use them in this article. Click their names to visit their websites.