Walt Simonson, a name that resounds with the force of thunder in the annals of the ninth art, has been turning heads and shaking the foundations of graphic narrative from the very moment his distinctive style burst onto the scene. Like an incandescent comet, his arrival heralded a new era of dynamism and design. From those early, courageous efforts in the crucible of fandom, where he self-published Star Slammers, a space epic that already hinted at the greatness to come, to his celebrated and almost mythical collaboration with writer Archie Goodwin on Manhunter, his unmistakably individual style and his razor-sharp sense of design catapulted him, not only as an extraordinary artist, but, and this is even more remarkable, as a born storyteller, a modern bard who wove stories with the same mastery with which he wielded his pen.
For years, Simonson garnered a shower of praise from his colleagues, who saw in him a beacon of innovation, and the unconditional appreciation of fandom, which recognized a unique magic in his pages. But it was in 1983 that his star ascended to unsuspected heights. He then decided to take full reins, not only of the art but also of the script, on the legendary title of The Mighty Thor. At that moment, his creative energy not only unleashed itself but entered a supernova phase, selling out print runs everywhere and redefining the God of Thunder for a new generation. Despite a cascade of successes that would have made anyone dizzy, Simonson has always maintained an admirable humility, a simplicity that contrasts with the monumentality of his work. Today, with the wisdom of one who has journeyed through five decades of a fruitful career deeply committed to the intrinsic sorcery of comics, he continues to dedicate himself sincerely and joyfully to the fine and noble art of storytelling with images. Join us on this journey through the life and work of an artist who, without ever making an ostentatious display of his prodigious skills, has managed to influence, inspire, and guide a whole generation of artists who followed in his footsteps. Get ready to meet the legend… Presenting, the inimitable Walt Simonson!
The Origin of a Titan of the Craft: Childhood and First Glimmers of Genius
In the quiet city of Knoxville, Tennessee, on September 2, 1946, the world welcomed Walter M. Simonson. However, fate had other plans for young Walter, and at the tender age of two, his family moved to bustling Washington D.C. This change was due to his father’s promotion in the Department of Agriculture, a move that, unbeknownst to them, would bring the future artist closer to a melting pot of cultural influences. During those formative years, young Simonson’s mind was a hotbed of fascinations. Greek mythology, with its gods, heroes, and monsters, ignited his imagination, transporting him to eras of legends and feats. Dinosaurs, those majestic creatures from a remote past, held an irresistible attraction for him, populating his dreams and his first sketches. But among all these passions, one shone with its own light, a calling that manifested almost as a vital need: drawing.
Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of sheets of typewriter paper, that improvised childhood canvas, became a testament to his creative fervor. On them, Simonson rendered all sorts of drawings and comic strips with childish yet intentional strokes. His inspiration drew directly from the hundreds of comic books he and his brother collected with almost religious devotion. The adventures of Donald Duck, masterfully narrated by the legendary Carl Barks, taught him the value of humor and characterization. Little Lulu, under the pen of John Stanley, showed him the intelligence and subtlety that a seemingly simple comic strip could hold. And, of course, science fiction comics, populated by the futuristic visions of artists like Alex Toth and Gil Kane, opened portals to unknown universes. Within this vast landscape, Simonson had a special fondness for any story that included his beloved dinosaurs, avidly devouring titles like The Land Unknown and Turok, Son Of Stone. The act of drawing was a constant source of pleasure for him, a natural extension of his being. However, as often happens at the crossroads of adolescence, upon entering high school, comics were gradually set aside, stored in boxes as new priorities emerged. With the idea of pursuing his fascination with prehistoric creatures from a scientific perspective, Simonson enrolled at the prestigious Amherst College in Massachusetts, with the firm intention of studying geology and one day becoming a paleontologist.
From Rocks to Panels: The Forging of an Artist at the Rhode Island School Of Design
Once immersed in the academic world of geology, Simonson soon became aware of a stark reality. The life of a paleontologist, perhaps imagined with the romanticism of grand expeditions, revealed itself in practice as a succession of long, arduous hours outdoors, often in the middle of nowhere, brushing rocks with infinite patience. This prospect, though noble, began to seem less attractive, sowing the first doubts about his vocational choice. It was during this period of introspection that fate, ever capricious, intervened once more. Through a roommate, an anonymous figure who, unbeknownst to him, would change the course of comic book history, Simonson rediscovered The Mighty Thor. It wasn’t just any version of the God of Thunder, but the free, vibrant, and cosmic interpretation that emanated from the brilliant minds of Jack Kirby and Stan Lee. The impact was instantaneous and devastating. That flame of his childhood, his love for comics, not only rekindled but burned with renewed force, more powerful than ever.
From that moment on, Simonson became a devoted follower of the Marvel Comics line, religiously buying every new issue for several years. The fascination was such that he even began to write his own Thor comics, sketching in his mind and on paper an epic story that fused the vast Marvel universe with his deep knowledge and love for Norse mythology, the one that had captivated him in his childhood. Upon graduating as a geologist, a degree that already felt foreign to his true passion, Simonson decided to take a sabbatical year. He got a job in a bookstore, an environment that, though quiet, allowed him to continue nurturing his mind. It was during this interlude that a scare with the draft for the Vietnam War –from which he was fortunately rejected due to his nearsightedness– acted as a catalyst. In 1969, with newfound clarity, he decided it was time to pursue his true calling, to try to turn his passion for drawing into a career. With this determination, he enrolled again, this time at the prestigious Rhode Island School Of Design (RISD), to pursue a degree in illustration.
At RISD, Simonson found an effervescent and stimulating environment. There, he befriended several members of the nascent and enthusiastic comics fandom, young talents who shared his fervor and dreams. This new circle exposed him to a universe of comics that went far beyond the traditional dichotomy of Marvel and DC. He discovered the transgressive and visceral work of underground comix artists like Robert Crumb and Vaughn Bode, artists who challenged conventions and explored new narrative territories. At the same time, he encountered the sophistication and mastery of European artists like the Italian Sergio Toppi, with his unmistakable graphic style, and the British Jim Holdaway, whose dynamic realism left a deep impression. Faced with this expansion of his artistic horizons, the idea of comics as a possible professional career began to take definitive shape in Simonson’s mind.
During his time at RISD, he channeled all this energy and learning into Star Slammers. This space opera comic, self-published by the Washington Science Fiction Association fan club, not only served as a clever advertising tool for the club but also became Simonson’s thesis project. Page after page, he learned firsthand the crucial importance of reference, the documentation that gives solidity and believability to imagined worlds. He also discovered the subtle yet fundamental power of lettering, how letters can complement and enhance the artwork, becoming another narrative element. With each of the 50 pages of Star Slammers, Simonson improved by leaps and bounds. He dared to experiment with dynamic and bold page compositions, largely inspired by the avant-garde work of Jim Steranko, whose visual innovations were revolutionizing the medium. Over the course of this project, Simonson evolved from an enthusiastic, albeit talented, amateur to a professional with a developing style, a graphic voice that was beginning to find its own unique tune. It was a period of intense growth, where dedication and practice laid the foundation for his future mastery. If you feel called to explore the fundamentals of drawing and visual storytelling like a young Simonson did, discover a universe of possibilities here to start your creative journey, where you’ll find resources to perfect your linework and tell your own stories, perhaps drawing inspiration from workbooks that guide the practice of specific skills.
Landing in the Comic Book Metropolis: A Fortuitous Encounter and the Birth of Manhunter
The year 1972 marked a milestone in Walt Simonson’s life. Freshly graduated from the Rhode Island School of Design, degree in hand and a portfolio brimming with dreams and talent, he headed purposefully towards effervescent New York City, the epicenter of the American comic book industry. His calling card was none other than a self-published compilation of Star Slammers, that thesis project which encapsulated his vision and growing skill. With this work as his banner, he presented himself at the offices of DC Comics. In those days, the publisher was under the direction of the influential artist Carmine Infantino, a figure who was driving a renewal of the company’s creative roster, opening doors to young, bold artists and writers with new ideas.
At DC, Simonson had an interview with editor Archie Goodwin, a name that would become synonymous with quality and a good eye for talent. Goodwin, a man of affable demeanor and deep knowledge of the medium, examined Star Slammers with interest. Although he liked the work, and recognized the young artist’s potential, science fiction wasn’t exactly the bestselling genre in those days. Moreover, Goodwin wasn’t entirely convinced that Simonson yet had enough range, the versatility needed to draw comfortably outside his apparent comfort zone, the space opera genre. Simonson left Goodwin’s office somewhat dejected and, more importantly, without any assignment in hand. Disheartened, he sat in the DC lounge, an informal space where creators often gathered, to lick his wounds and reconsider his next steps.
But fate, as in the best comic stories, had a lucky break in store. As luck would have it, in that same room were several of the young and promising artists who were breathing new life into DC Comics. Names like Bernie Wrightson, with his mastery of gothic horror; Mike Kaluta, with his elegant and detailed style; and Howard Chaykin, a figure already known to Simonson through science fiction fandom. Driven by a mix of desperation and the need to share his work, Simonson approached the group and, with the shyness of a newcomer, showed them his portfolio. The reaction was immediate and enthusiastic. Kaluta, in particular, really liked Star Slammers, and with the generosity that characterizes true artists, decided to show it to the production manager, Jack Adler. Adler, in turn, recognizing the quality of the work, didn’t hesitate to take it to Carmine Infantino himself.
Infantino, an accomplished artist himself, was genuinely impressed by Simonson’s keen sense of design, by that innate ability to compose pages that were both dynamic and clear. He immediately summoned the young artist to his office to discuss his skills and potential. What had begun as a discouraging interview transformed, in a matter of hours, into a golden opportunity. Simonson left the DC Comics offices that same afternoon not only with renewed spirits, but with three scripts for backup stories to draw. Thus, in an almost cinematic fashion, his professional career in the competitive world of comics began.
Simonson’s first professional works, like those of many of his contemporaries looking to make their way, were short comic stories, often used as filler in fantasy and science fiction anthologies. He primarily worked for DC Comics, with an occasional assignment for Dell’s Twilight Zone magazine. However, barely six months after his debut, the opportunity that would catapult him to stardom arrived. Archie Goodwin, the editor who had initially had his reservations, summoned him for a special project: to draw a new backup series for the iconic magazine Detective Comics, the home of Batman.
Goodwin had a clear vision. He wanted to create a character that would contrast sharply with Batman’s dark and oppressive urban setting. He dreamed of a brightly colored hero, whose adventures would unfold in exotic settings around the globe. Reviving an old concept by Jack Kirby, the “King of Comics,” Goodwin and Simonson brought Manhunter to life. This character was Paul Kirk, a globetrotting hunter, a man of action embroiled in a plot of international intrigue upon coming into conflict with the mysterious Council, a secret organization that intended to use his skills as an assassin. They had limited space: just eight pages per episode. To pack as much plot as possible into this concise format, Goodwin and Simonson were forced to squeeze the most out of every panel. They composed dense pages, often packed with up to twelve panels, organized in unusual and dynamic arrangements that moved the story at a breakneck and engrossing pace. Simonson’s visual narrative in Manhunter was a lesson in economy and effectiveness. He managed to make pages with a large amount of information not only visually attractive but also surprisingly easy to read, guiding the reader’s eye with a mastery that belied his relative youth in the profession. Does it amaze you how much a single page can tell? Open the doors here to a deeper understanding of composition and visual dynamism, where you can explore how to structure your pages to achieve a narrative impact similar to what Simonson demonstrated in Manhunter, perhaps discovering new ways to present your sequences in specialized materials on backgrounds and settings.
Manhunter only lasted six installments and a final double-sized chapter, in which the hero teamed up with Batman himself. But that brief run was more than enough to cause a real stir among specialized audiences and critics. The series became a cult classic almost instantly. For his work on Manhunter, Simonson won no fewer than four prestigious Shazam Awards, including the coveted award for Best New Talent. This recognition firmly established him as an artist to watch closely, a rising star in the comic industry constellation.
Between Heroes and Monsters: Consolidation and the Search for a Unique Voice
Following the resounding success and recognition gained with Manhunter, the doors of the industry swung wide open for Walt Simonson. He no longer had trouble finding work, not only at DC Comics, where he had left an indelible mark, but also at other major publishers like Marvel Comics, the “House of Ideas,” and imprints like Warren Publishing, known for its horror and fantasy magazines, or the short-lived but interesting Atlas/Seaboard. Although perhaps not considered a “superstar” on the level of figures like Bernie Wrightson, with his aura of a horror master, or Neal Adams, whose dynamic realism was revolutionizing the superhero genre, Simonson forged a solid reputation. His angular style, with its sharp, defined lines, and his fine and unmistakable sense of design, became evident in characters as diverse as the mystical Dr. Fate, with his golden helmet and mysterious powers, or the robotic and endearing Metal Men. Each assignment was an opportunity to refine his art, to explore new forms of graphic expression.
However, despite the growing acclaim and job stability, Simonson was not entirely satisfied with his work. A restlessness simmered within him, the feeling that his creative process was too perfectionistic, excessively meticulous, and consequently, slow. This slowness, he feared, could become an obstacle to his progress as a comic artist, a medium that often demands speed and efficiency without sacrificing quality. Until that point, Simonson had assumed full responsibility for his works: penciling, inking, and often, even lettering. He was a complete craftsman, but this comprehensive approach consumed an enormous amount of time.
Starting in 1976, seeking a solution to this dilemma, he began to take on more jobs solely as a penciler, leaving the inking to other artists. On some occasions, he even accepted assignments that consisted merely of creating layouts (unshaded page sketches), as was the case with the Hercules Unbound series. This particular project provided him with invaluable experience, as he had the opportunity to see his composition work finished by none other than the legendary Wally Wood, one of the great masters of inking and finishing in comic book history. Simonson’s main goal during this period was to gain experience as a pure storyteller, to focus on story structure, panel pacing, and page composition, in order to speed up his drawing process without losing the essence of his vision. It was a period of intensive learning, of deconstructing his own method to rebuild it in a more agile and effective way. During this era of exploration and growth, Simonson had his first regular assignments for Marvel Comics, including the black-and-white series Rampaging Hulk, where he could experiment with a rawer and more visceral tone, and a first important run on the Thor title, working alongside writer Len Wein, which marked his first professional contact with the God of Thunder who had marked him so deeply.
Alien: When the Ninth Art Conquered Space and the Bestseller Lists
In the vibrant universe of Marvel Comics, Walt Simonson began to carve out a particular and challenging niche for himself: that of adaptations of movies and television series. These types of assignments, though popular, often came with a series of complexities. Simonson lent his talent to the official adaptation of Steven Spielberg’s film, Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, and also drew several issues of the successful science fiction franchises Star Wars and Battlestar Galactica. However, dealing with sometimes uncooperative film studios and the complicated likeness rights of the lead actors often turned these projects into a minefield. Frequently, comic book adaptations left much to be desired compared to the richness and impact of the original works, limited by creative restrictions and tight deadlines.
Despite these frustrations inherent in the genre, Simonson would manage to rise above the difficulties and deliver work that would not only meet expectations but exceed them handsomely. In 1979, he received a call that would change his career path and the perception of comic book adaptations. John Workman, the editor of the influential adult science fiction and fantasy magazine Heavy Metal, offered him a unique project: to draw the adaptation of Alien, the imminent and already much-talked-about space horror film that would establish director Ridley Scott and redefine the genre. For this monumental task, Simonson would reunite with his former collaborator on Manhunter, the talented writer Archie Goodwin. The chemistry between them, already proven successful, promised great things.
The creative team had privileged access to the film’s material. They worked with three different revisions of the shooting script, which allowed them to thoroughly understand the narrative structure and the director’s intentions. Additionally, they had unrestricted access to visit the film sets and examine the costumes up close and, crucially, the design of the terrifying xenomorph creature conceived by Swiss artist H.R. Giger. With all this information, Simonson and Goodwin faced the challenge of condensing a two-hour film into just 64 comic pages. To achieve this, they made the most of the expressive resources of the ninth art, those they had so effectively handled during their Manhunter run, playing with rhythm, composition, and panel layout.
Simonson, moreover, knew how to capitalize on the high production values that Heavy Metal boasted. The magazine was printed in a deluxe format, with high-quality paper and, crucially, with colors painted using an overlay system, a technique that allowed for a chromatic richness and nuances far superior to those of traditional comics of the era. Due to the short production times, the coloring for Alien: The Illustrated Story was done by a team of three colorists, among whom was a figure who would become fundamental in Simonson’s life: his future wife, Louise Jones (later known as Louise Simonson). With this palette of possibilities at his disposal, Simonson exploited his style to the fullest. He recreated H.R. Giger’s iconic and disturbing designs with astonishing mastery, using abstract textures that evoked the alien’s biomechanical and organic nature, and demonstrating a masterful command of light and shadow to reinforce the atmosphere of claustrophobic terror and constant uncertainty that characterized the film. Each page was a masterclass in how to use panel pacing to build tension and magnify the impact of horror scenes. The Alien adaptation would also mark the beginning of a long and fruitful collaboration between Simonson and John Workman as letterer, a creative duo that would continue to work together to this day, defining a recognizable aesthetic in many of Simonson’s works.
Alien: The Illustrated Story went on sale in June 1979, strategically released just two weeks after the movie’s theatrical premiere. The success was immediate and overwhelming. The graphic novel was not only acclaimed by critics and fans but also achieved an unprecedented milestone: it made The New York Times Bestseller list. It was the first graphic novel to achieve such an honor, demonstrating that comics could be a medium of artistic and narrative expression with enormous commercial and cultural potential, capable of transcending its traditional niche. This triumph solidified Simonson as a top-tier artist, capable of facing great challenges and emerging victorious.
The Hammer and the Pen: Thor’s Golden Age and the Creative Explosion
As the 1980s unfolded, Walt Simonson began to explore new creative territories, moving with growing confidence to the other side of the drawing board: writing. He had sporadically written scripts, both for his own art on the Battlestar Galactica series and for other renowned artists, such as the legendary John Buscema on the film adaptation of Raiders Of The Lost Ark. These forays into writing, though occasional, had proven to be gratifying and successful experiences, demonstrating that his narrative talent was not limited solely to the visual language.
It was precisely this positive track record that caught the attention of Mark Gruenwald, an influential editor at Marvel Comics. In 1983, Gruenwald approached Simonson with a proposal that would resonate deeply in the artist’s heart. He asked if Simonson would be interested in taking charge not only of the art but also the script of The Mighty Thor. This series, once one of the publisher’s flagship titles under the aegis of the incomparable Jack Kirby, had fallen into a kind of creative lethargy, a certain ignominy characterized by repetitive plots and a loss of the primal energy that had made it great. It desperately needed an injection of fresh air, a bold vision to restore it to its former glory.
For Simonson, the offer was irresistible. Thor, the God of Thunder, was not just another character; he was the hero who had made him fall head over heels in love with comics during his college years, the catalyst that had redirected his life towards comic art. The possibility of taking the creative reins of his favorite character was a dream come true. Simonson jumped at the chance, and from day one, he set himself a clear and ambitious mission: his time with Thor would not be a mere repetition of the same tired old plots. On the contrary, he would seek to introduce as many new and surprising ideas per issue as possible, emulating the innovative spirit and overflowing imagination that Jack Kirby had displayed in the 60s.
And boy, did he succeed. His run began with a memorable masterstroke: the introduction of Beta Ray Bill, a Korbinite alien with an unsettling horse-like head who, in a bold plot twist, proved worthy of wielding Mjolnir, Thor’s enchanted hammer, and temporarily took his powers to combat an interstellar threat menacing his people. This striking introduction, encapsulated in an already iconic cover where a new being smashed the series’ logo with the hammer, was a statement of intent. It showed unequivocally that Simonson was not afraid to take risks or shake the character’s foundations. Beta Ray Bill was followed by a plethora of new villains and concepts, many of them inspired directly by rich Celtic mythology, one of Simonson’s passions. Thor’s adventures expanded across the vast cosmos and the fiery realms of hell. He even dared a memorable saga in which Thor, the mighty God of Thunder, was transformed, through a trick by his stepbrother Loki, into a frog, starring in a miniature epic in the ponds of Central Park.
Deeply inspired by the work of J.R.R. Tolkien, whose “The Lord of the Rings” he had devoured in his adolescence, and by other epic fantasy authors who had shaped his imagination, Simonson set out to build a story of novelistic dimensions in Thor. He didn’t limit himself to recounting the protagonist’s adventures but masterfully interspersed subplots involving a wide cast of characters, from Asgardian warriors to the inhabitants of Earth. Each issue was a piece of a larger mosaic, weaving a genuinely epic saga, full of drama, heroism, and a palpable sense of wonder.
Graphically, Simonson maintained his characteristic stylized drawing style, with those fine pen lines that defined forms with elegance and precision, and his quick, spontaneous textures that added dynamism and character to each page. However, to match the might of the God of Thunder, his figures became more powerful, more solid, with an anatomy that conveyed the strength and power needed to channel Kirby’s overwhelming energy. His legendary eye for composition sharpened even further. Pages opened up into larger, often panoramic panels, with enormous figures that seemed to burst from the confines of the paper, brimming with cosmic power. Always, however, maintaining that impeccable sense of design that smoothly guides the reader’s eye across the page, ensuring a fluid and absorbing read despite the visual complexity. A distinctive feature of his Thor run was the emphasis on sound effects. Simonson didn’t limit himself to conventional onomatopoeia; he created lettering for sounds that were true works of graphic art, integrating them organically and expressively into the drawing. The famous “DOOM” that accompanied the footsteps of an imminent threat, or the thunderous “KRAKA-THOOM!” of Thor’s hammer, became hallmarks of the series, blending perfectly with his art and giving the magazine a particular and memorable aesthetic. Simonson’s mastery in guiding the eye is legendary. Explore here how to bring your own impactful sequences and fluid narratives to life, and perhaps you’ll discover in the content on visual storytelling how to emulate that ability to make every page tell a story clearly and powerfully.
Fan reaction was not long in coming. Sales of The Mighty Thor skyrocketed, quickly becoming one of Marvel’s biggest hits of the 80s. This triumph transformed Walt Simonson. From being an “artist’s artist,” admired by his peers but perhaps less known to the general public, he became one of the most celebrated and respected writer-artists of the decade. His Thor was not just a comic book series; it was an event, an unmissable appointment for thousands of readers eagerly awaiting each new chapter of his Asgardian saga.
Beyond Asgard: New Horizons in X-Factor and the Fantastic Four
Starting in 1986, after several years of monumental creative and physical demands at the helm of The Mighty Thor, where he had served as lead writer and artist, Walt Simonson began to feel the need for a break. The relentless pace of monthly deadlines, combined with his self-imposed bar for quality and innovation, had taken a considerable toll. With the intention of recharging his batteries and exploring other facets of his talent, he began to concentrate more on his writing, progressively delegating Thor’s art duties. He left the art for the God of Thunder’s series in the capable hands of Sal Buscema, a veteran and prolific Marvel artist, though Simonson continued to write the scripts for a while longer, ensuring a smooth transition for the character and his readers.
Simonson himself, with a frankness that characterizes him, admits candidly that he is prone to procrastination, often leaving much of the creative process to the last minute. However, this confession is accompanied by an irrefutable fact: despite this inclination, he never missed a deadline, a testament to his professionalism and commitment. His next regular series as lead artist would be X-Factor, one of Marvel’s mutant titles. On this occasion, the script was handled by his wife, Louise Simonson (known professionally as “Weezie”), a talented and renowned writer in her own right. On X-Factor, Walt handled only the pencil art, leaving the inking to accomplished artists like Bob Wiacek and Al Milgrom. This division of labor allowed him to focus on visual storytelling and character design, while, in parallel, he took on the role of writer for another of Marvel’s major series: The Avengers, whose pencils were handled by the master John Buscema. However, his experience as a writer on The Avengers turned out to be, in his own words, extremely frustrating. The constant requirements of crossovers, those editorial events that intertwined multiple series and characters, limited his creative freedom and forced him to adjust his plots to the needs of larger, often top-down imposed stories. This trend, which increasingly characterized superhero comics of the late 80s and 90s, clashed with his desire to develop more personal and cohesive sagas.
It wouldn’t be until 1990 that Walt Simonson would once again take full reins as a writer-artist on a high-profile series. The chosen title was none other than Fantastic Four, Marvel’s first family, the seminal creation of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby that had laid the foundations of the Marvel Universe. True to his innovative spirit, Simonson approached this new challenge with the same mission he had set for himself on Thor: not to repeat the same clichés and plots already explored by Lee and Kirby, but to seek new angles, new stories, and, above all, new ways of telling them. And, once again, he succeeded admirably.
Inspired by the dazzling visual inventiveness of Japanese mangaka Katsuhiro Otomo in his masterpiece Akira, whose dynamism and graphic complexity were causing a worldwide sensation, Simonson devised an intricate time-travel story for the Fantastic Four. This premise not only gave him the chance to indulge in drawing several of his beloved dinosaurs, a nod to his childhood passion, but also served as a testing ground to experiment with page compositions and narrative rhythms in a more concentrated and daring way than ever before. He sought, through panel arrangement, the use of white space, and image sequencing, to visually represent the instability of time, the sensation of temporal flow and fracture, in a medium, comics, where time is always visible in the physical space between panels. It was a conceptual and graphic challenge of great magnitude, and Simonson tackled it with overflowing intelligence and creativity. Simonson’s audacity in playing with time and space on the page is inspiring. Dive in here to create worlds and sequences that defy convention, and discover how design principles can help you translate abstract concepts into impactful visual narratives, just as he did in Fantastic Four, and perhaps you’ll find inspiration on the platform to explore character and environment designs that break the mold.
His run on Fantastic Four, which lasted for two years, coincided with one of the busiest periods of the speculative bubble that shook the comic market in the 90s. Thanks to this context, and fundamentally to the intrinsic quality of his work, the series enjoyed considerable sales success. And, more importantly for an artist of his caliber, critics once again acclaimed Simonson’s tireless willingness to constantly try new things, not to settle for established formulas, and to continue pushing the boundaries of the comic book language.
The Echo of a Master: The 90s and Simonson’s Indelible Mark
Throughout the turbulent and transformative 1990s, an era marked by radical stylistic changes and the rise of new publishers, almost all mainstream comic star artists, from the detail-oriented Art Adams to the dynamic Todd McFarlane, founder of Image Comics, consistently highlighted Walt Simonson as a major influence and a true master of the medium. His focus on narrative, his innovative page design, and the kinetic energy emanating from his drawings were cited time and again as sources of inspiration. Paradoxically, however, while a new generation of creators revered him, a segment of the younger audience, those readers who had grown accustomed to the bombastic and often excessive style that characterized many publications from Image Comics and other emerging publishers, began to lose patience with certain aspects of Simonson’s work. His emphasis on clear sequential storytelling, sometimes through multiple small panels that broke down the action with precision, contrasted with the pages full of splash pages and hyper-muscled figures that dominated the market.
The calm and ever-pragmatic Simonson didn’t worry too much about these shifts in public taste or sales fluctuations. He understood the cyclical nature of trends and preferred to remain true to his own artistic vision. Taking advantage of the peculiar context of the 90s speculative market, where almost any comic with a flashy cover or a number one issue achieved good initial sales, Simonson decided to focus on very short, specific projects. These projects offered him the freedom to experiment and collaborate with other talents without the long-term commitment of a regular series. Among these notable works from this period includes the explosive crossover RoboCop Vs. Terminator, where he had the opportunity to collaborate with his old friend and colleague, the visionary Frank Miller, on a story that fused two of the most iconic science fiction franchises of the time. He also did the prequel Cyberforce #0 for Marc Silvestri, one of the founders of Image, lending his veteran experience and distinctive stamp to this universe of characters. And, as a return to his roots, he delivered a new version of Star Slammers, revisiting and expanding the space opera that had been his professional calling card. These, among other projects, allowed him to remain active and relevant, leaving his mark on various corners of the comics landscape.
Kirby’s Legacy Revisited: Orion and the Epic of the Fourth World
With the arrival of the new millennium, Walt Simonson felt the call to tackle another long series, a project that would allow him to immerse himself once again in creating an extensive and complex narrative universe. He thus returned to DC Comics, the publisher that had given him his first big break, for a task of enormous responsibility and personal significance: to relaunch another of the classic heroes conceived by Jack Kirby’s inexhaustible imagination. And this time, the chosen character was none other than Orion, the tragic and tormented protagonist of the Fourth World saga. This magnum opus, though relatively short-lived in its original early 70s incarnation, is considered by many to be the most brilliant and ambitious creative peak of the King of Comics, a modern mythology populated by New Gods, cosmic technology, and an eternal conflict between good and evil personified on the planets of New Genesis and Apokolips.
Simonson felt a very personal and deep connection to the Fourth World. He considered it Kirby’s crowning achievement, even above his work on Thor, which had meant so much to him. The concepts, characters, and epic scale of New Gods, Mister Miracle, and The Forever People had left an indelible mark on his imagination when he first read them, fresh off the newsstands, back in 1970. Therefore, he aimed to imbue his time on the Orion series with the same overflowing creative energy and literary ambition that Kirby’s original work had conveyed to him. He wanted to pay homage to the King, but also to bring his own voice and unique vision to this rich universe.
To achieve this monumental goal, Simonson unleashed his full graphic and narrative arsenal, applying all the experience accumulated over decades of work. On the pages of Orion, he developed a visual language for the cosmic that was both spectacular and personal. He allowed himself almost absolute freedom in page composition, creating conflict scenes on a truly epic scale, where armies of gods clashed in battles that shook the foundations of the universe. His depictions of violence were visceral, raw, conveying the din and brutality of the war between New Genesis and Apokolips. But it wasn’t all action and spectacle; Simonson also knew how to explore the emotional depth of the characters, especially the anguish and contained fury of Orion, the son of Darkseid raised on New Genesis. He managed to give the eternal war between these two worlds an energy and power that, for the first time in three decades, matched, and at times even surpassed, the primal intensity of Jack Kirby’s vision. His Orion was not a mere imitation, but a masterful continuation and reinterpretation, a testament to the deep respect and understanding Simonson had for the master’s work.
Ragnarök and the Unending Saga: Original Creations and Undiminished Passion
Following the conclusion of his acclaimed run on Orion, which spanned 25 memorable issues, Walt Simonson decided to largely step back from the frantic and demanding pace of drawing monthly series. While his love for the medium remained intact, he preferred to focus his energies on special projects, those that offered him more relaxed deadlines and greater creative freedom to develop his ideas without editorial calendar pressures. One of these notable projects was the prestige format miniseries Elric: The Making Of A Sorcerer. In this work, he had the privilege of collaborating with legendary fantasy writer Michael Moorcock, creator of the iconic albino antihero Elric of Melniboné. Together, they explored the character’s origins in a visually stunning story that combined Moorcock’s literary sensibility with Simonson’s graphic mastery.
Another notable work from this period was the graphic novel The Judas Coin. Originally conceived as an installment for DC Comics’ anthology series Solo, which allowed artists to develop self-contained stories with complete freedom, The Judas Coin expanded to become a standalone work. In it, Simonson chronicled the story of one of Judas Iscariot’s thirty pieces of silver across different eras, from ancient Rome to the Wild West and Batman’s Gotham City, exploring themes of betrayal, greed, and redemption with his characteristic narrative and visual style.
However, his most prominent and personal work in recent years has been his first entirely original creator-owned creation, outside the pre-established fictional universes of Marvel or DC, since those distant days of Star Slammers. Although, in a way, this new project meant reuniting with an old and dear friend: Norse mythology. In Ragnarök, a series published by IDW Publishing, Simonson revisits the Scandinavian myths that fascinate him so much, but this time freed from the interpretations and continuities of the Marvel universe. Here, he has free rein to interpret the myths as he pleases, and he does so with a bleak and powerful vision.
In this new saga, Simonson reimagines Thor not as the vibrant god of thunder from his Marvel days, but as a reanimated corpse, a walking dead being, resurrected centuries after the prophesied apocalypse. This spectral Thor finds himself fighting in a desolate and dangerous post-apocalyptic world, five hundred years after the Ragnarök of legend, the twilight of the gods that razed Asgard and the Nine Realms. The series, released irregularly as Simonson develops the story with his characteristic care and meticulousness, brims with all the graphic and narrative magic we’ve come to expect from him for decades. Each page is a visual feast, with bold compositions, imposing figures, and an oppressive, melancholic atmosphere that perfectly captures the story’s tone. Ragnarök is irrefutable proof that, even after so many years in the industry, Walt Simonson’s creativity still burns with a vigorous flame, and his ability to tell epic and moving stories remains intact. Simonson’s art, as can be seen in every installment of Ragnarök, still has dynamism to spare, proving that age has not diminished his ability to create impactful and energetic images.
A Humble Giant: The Artist Behind the Myth and His Eternal Impact
Today, with a career spanning over five decades of invaluable contributions to the world of comics, Walt Simonson remains an active and relevant figure, albeit at a pace of his own choosing. Several projects continue to brew in his imagination and on his drawing board, promising new graphic adventures for his legions of admirers. Between comics, he finds time to entertain himself by doing private commissions for collectors and fans, unique pieces that testify to his generosity and his connection with those who appreciate his art. Additionally, he dedicates part of his effort to preparing artist’s editions of his most famous works, carefully selecting original pages from his vast personal collection to share the creative process in its purest form with the public. This work not only preserves his legacy but also offers a fascinating window into the master’s workshop.
True to his supportive spirit, Simonson also contributes to The Hero Initiative, an admirable charitable organization created to help comic creators, both writers and artists, who have fallen on hard times, whether due to health problems, financial difficulties, or the lack of an adequate social safety net in an often unstable profession. His participation in this cause underscores his commitment not only to the art of comics but also to the community of creators who make it possible.
But beyond the pencils, inks, and printed pages, Walt Simonson, at a spry 76 years of age, primarily enjoys the warmth and tranquility of his home. He finds his greatest joy in the company of Weezie (Louise Simonson), his wife, life partner, and creative collaborator, with whom he has already shared over fifty years of a solid and close-knit relationship, one of the most beloved and respected couples in the industry. And, with the humility that has always characterized him, he receives the adoration and affection of thousands of admirers around the world, a recognition he has earned through sheer hard work with every stroke, every story, every character he has brought to life. His legacy is not measured solely in awards or sales figures, but in the profound influence he has had on generations of artists and in the way he has enriched the language of the ninth art. Walt Simonson is, without a doubt, a giant of comics, but a giant with his feet firmly on the ground, a storyteller of extraordinary worlds who never forgot the importance of humanity, both in his stories and in his own life.
Conclusion: The Immortal Stroke of a World-Builder
And so, through decades of tireless dedication, Walt Simonson has woven his own cosmogony into the vast tapestry of comics. From the frozen expanses of Asgard to the biomechanical corridors of a terror-stalked spaceship, his pen has been a beacon of innovation and an exquisite storytelling tool. He is not merely an artist; he is an architect of emotions, a choreographer of epic battles, and a poet of the line. His ability to imbue each character with an imposing presence, to design pages that are both complex and eminently readable, and to integrate text and image into a visual symphony, elevates him to legendary status.
The humility with which he has navigated an industry often marked by oversized egos is as admirable as his talent. Simonson never sought easy stardom, but excellence in his craft, the constant challenge of surpassing himself and offering readers something new, something memorable. His influence extends like the roots of Yggdrasil, nurturing countless artists who have found in his work an inexhaustible source of inspiration, a model of how to tell stories with passion, intelligence, and dazzling graphic skill. Simonson’s legacy reminds us of the inherent magic in the art of storytelling with pictures, that alchemy that transforms ink and paper into portals to adventure and emotion. If you wish to cultivate your own voice in sequential art, find inspiration and resources for your artistic journey here, because every creator’s journey, like Walt Simonson’s, is a constant search for that unique connection between hand, mind, and heart that brings imagined worlds to life. The echo of his hammer, both Thor’s and that of his own art, will resonate forever in the halls of comics, an enduring testament to the power of the immortal stroke of a true world-builder.
