This is it. Quite possibly the iconic Conan image. It adorns the walls of bedrooms and offices as posters, decorates the cover of Conan the Adventurer and others, even used as a basis for film posters — Conan or otherwise. Everything a Conan or Sword-and-Sorcery fan could want is in this image: the muscular hero standing atop a veritable hill of ruin and carnage; the hints of sorcery and eldritch horror lurking in the background; the inimitable Frazetta female reclining next to the hero.

But is that all there is? Art historians pore over the likes of a Caravaggio or Michelangelo, eagerly pointing out little tidbits like the artist inserting a self-portrait into the painting, or a sly insult in the background–even the allusion of religious commentary via biological symbolism. Could this same method be used with Frazetta?

Someone might say this is the height of pretentiousness, pseudo-intellectual drivel designed to imbue a commercial work with deeper meaning that simply isn’t present. “It’s just an awesome painting, you don’t need to analyse it!” On the contrary, I do need to analyze it, precisely because it’s an awesome painting. There’s more to the picture than the mere fact that it’s a muscular dude on a mound of corpses with a sword in hand and a babe holding his leg. A look at the details might shed some further light on why this image has become possibly the defining visual interpretation of Robert E. Howard’s Conan.

…a man whose broad shoulders and sun-browned skin seemed out of place among those luxuriant surroundings. He seemed more a part of the sun and winds and high places of the outlands. His slightest movement spoke of steel-spring muscles knit to a keen brain with the co-ordination of a born fighting-man. There was nothing deliberate or measured about his actions. Either he was perfectly at rest–still as a bronze statue–or else he was in motion, not with the jerky quickness of over-tense nerves, but with a cat-like speed that blurred the sight which tried to follow him.
– “The Phoenix on the Sword”

He felt curiously helpless and futile as he gazed on the proportions of the forest man–the massive iron-clad breast, and the arm that bore the reddened sword, burned dark by the sun and ridged and corded with muscles. He moved with the dangerous ease of a panther; he was too fiercely supple to be a product of civilization, even of that fringe of civilization which composed the outer frontiers.
– “Beyond the Black River”

He was almost a giant in stature, muscles rippling smoothly under his skin which the sun had burned brown.
– “Red Nails”

How can one not see Howard’s descriptions in such an illustration? The taut, iron-ridged muscles rippling under the scarred, sun-darkened skin; the eyes closed to near slits, with the flicker of blue balefire burning; the simple square-cut mane of sable hair. The exact style of Conan’s hair is a matter of some debate: Howard uses descriptions like “tousled,” “matted” and “lion-like,” indicating that it would be a bit wavier than in Frazetta’s depiction. That said, he is noted to be able to blend in with the Stygian warrior class in The Hour of the Dragon, and Frazetta’s could certainly pass for a particularly grizzled Ancient Egyptian.

True, Frazetta used artistic license in some respects, but nearly all of them are used to emphasize elements of Conan that would normally be made in text. How can one say that this man is a barbarian, and not a mere civilized warrior? Frazetta uses visual cues: cues that aren’t in Howard’s descriptions, but they make sense in an illustrative context–and there’s nothing to say that those elements are necessarily absent just because Howard doesn’t mention them.

Accessories to Barbarism

Take the famous barbarian necklace, for instance: a macabre ornamentation of claws, teeth, bones and a bird’s skull. Instantly images of savagery are evoked: visions of fierce eyes peering through the darkness of the forest with murderous hate for civilized interloper, glimpses of black forms etched against the night sky soundlessly sprinting the warpath, half-remembered dreams of the terrors frontier folk tell their frightened children. Not tied to any one cultural horror, it encompasses everything about barbarians that civilization fears and holds in awe: the northern tribesmen whom Rome could never conquer, the steppe horsemen who laid waste to nations, the natives who terrorized invaders and settlers from an old world. The dark barbarian that towers over all, the unconquerable savage, the natural state of mankind. All this could be encapsulated in a simple ornament.

Then one goes further, to think about the individual. Where did Conan get that necklace? Depending on your level of knowledge of Conan, anything could be extrapolated. Was it torn from the bloody neck of a Pictish war-chief, or is it the keepsake of one of his lovers? Are those sharp objects the claws of some monstrous beast, or the fangs of a dozen serpents? The skull appears to be of an undefined species, but it bears some similarities to that of a raptor: a hawk, a falcon… or a vulture. Those who have read “A Witch Shall Be Born” will know the significance of that particular bird in Conan mythology. While that skull might not be the one that belonged to that particular bird, I get a morbid delight in the idea of Conan the Hetman returning to the crucifixion site, and taking his harasser’s skull as a trophy, a pagan ward or charm, or simply as a silent warning against any other birds who dare to try their luck against the Cimmerian.

The species has resonance beyond the iconic Conan moment: vultures prey upon the dead and dying, so there is a morbid irony in seeing another predator of the battlefield take the skull of nature’s ominous psychopomp as a trophy. The entire ornament is a monument to death: the claws and teeth natural deadly weapons, whose original owner is now surely slain; the bones inextricable from the grave; the skull speaks for itself. Around the neck of a barbarian warrior, who happens to be standing atop a mound of bodies and bones, with spectral skulls in the background, Conan looks every bit the “grim pagan hero of mythology.”

The necklace, along with other elements like the earrings and straight hair, would be adopted by the comics, and countless illustrators in Frazetta’s wake. The earrings are more difficult to quantify: what purpose do they serve? While some barbaric cultures are known to have piercings, one could also view this as a reference to Conan’s piratical days. Earrings on men are often linked to sailing, which arose with the tradition that if a man died at sea and was washed ashore, the earrings would pay for burial. Alternatively, wearing an earring was symbolic of having circumnavigated the globe: one could even suppose that having an earring might be a hallmark of being being a sailor in itself.

Whatever the reasons for the earring-sailing connection in this or the Hyborian Age, Conan may well have taken up the practice himself. Conan spent time as a Freebooter, a Black Corsair, and a member of the Red Brotherhood on two seas. This could thus be a nod to Conan’s wanderlust, far travelling and the free spirit of the high seas. Alternatively, even in the 1960s, men wearing earrings was uncommon outside of sailing, and in Medieval Europe was seen as symbolic of exotic, foreign individuals: perhaps this is a subtle hint to Conan’s “otherness” in comparison to civilized peoples.

Let’s look now at the arm accouterments: the bracelet on Conan’s left arm, and the arm ring on his right. The bracelet seems straightforward enough, being a gold or bronze affair with two rows of rivets. It’s too short to be of much use as a vambrace or bracer, as the scars on Conan’s forearms attest, but it might offer some opportunity for deflection. When it comes to seemingly slight accessories with surprising protective qualities, there’s an interesting parallel in Howard: Kull’s circlet in “Kings of the Night.” This golden headgear was effective a protection against the full strength of a Norseman’s axe-stroke as a steel helm. Perhaps Hyborian metallurgy was significantly better than its historical counterparts, if not as impressive as its Thurian ancestors.

The arm ring is more unusual. When worn on the upper arm, one immediately thinks of the Celts, who commonly wore this form of ornamentation in addition to the famous Torcs. But for some reason, Conan is not wearing it on his upper arm, but on the forearm: an interesting aesthetic difference. When worn on the forearm, it becomes more similar to a bangle, and thus evokes the exotic styles of the East, especially India, where the chudi has been a classic accessory for several thousand years. But this is most commonly associated with women: why would Conan be wearing one? Well, there is a precedence in Sikhism: the Kara, a steel bangle, is one of the five Articles of Faith central to Sikh spirituality, and is commonly worn on the right arm. The Kara is symbolic of the Sikh’s duty, that all work done with their hands should be faithful to the words of the Guru. While even this might be far beyond Frazetta’s intention–and I’m most certainly not going to argue that Conan was a Sikh–I think it’s a cool little coincidence, especially since Howard depicted Sikhs as phenomenal badasses. This mixture of Eastern and Western visual hallmarks adds to the exotic nature of the Hyborian Age.

Conan wears three belts: one is a thin leather support for his knife, while the other two are far heavier and sturdier, with ornamental buckles, plates and studs dotting the leather. The knife is very interesting, because it’s another element which is strikingly eastern in style. To my eyes, it strongly resembles a Jambiya, traditionally associated with the people of Yemen. Another weapon it is very similar to is the Kirpan: another of Sikhism’s Articles of Faith. Kirpans are considered to be items of mercy or defense, rather than weapons of attack like the Tulwar (which Conan also used in “The People of the Black Circle.)” Together with the earrings and “Kara,” there are some very definite eastern influence in Frazetta’s Conan.

There’s an interesting conundrum to be had regarding the straight sword, plunged so fiercely into the detritus of war. Without knowing exactly how long the blade is, it’s difficult to ascertain where it would fit in the Oakeshott typology, (Type XIV, XXI or XXII seems the closest) though since the grip is too short to be any use as a hand-and-a-half or two-handed sword, it’s reasonable to assume it’s a single-handed weapon. Working from the hilt, the blade itself may be either unusually short, or embedded very deeply into the detritus, even to half the blade’s hilt or more –  probably the latter, since this is Conan. The cross-guard is rather fanciful, but compared to other fantasy swords it’s practically modest.

However, the oddity is more oblique than the sword itself — it’s the scabbard. The scabbard hangs from Conan’s right hip, and appears to have been slung around the back slightly. However, it doesn’t look like it fits the sword Conan’s holding in his left hand: the sword is apparently straight, but the scabbard appears to be subtly curved, designed for a blade more akin to a sabre or tulwar. What’s going on here? Has Conan discarded his sabre, perhaps broken in battle, and taken up a straight sword instead? That seems unlikely, with Howard’s eastern tales marked by their lack of straight blade — but then, where did that straight blade come from?

Then again, there’s no reason it can’t be a curved blade itself. Though it appears to be straight, the sword’s blade simply must be buried quite deeply in the muck: like the Kirpan, perhaps it takes a light turn, as subtly implied by Frazetta’s brush-strokes. I think it’s possible enough: the curve isn’t as pronounced as in a Shamshir or Tulwar, but it looks like it could fit with a Tulwar or Saif. If it is a curved blade, then it’s somewhat unusual for having two sharp edges, something that is generally the domain of straight swords. Whatever the nature of the sword, it’s pretty iconic — one can already see the foundations of the infamous Atlantean sword.

Links to the Stories

The proliferation of Eastern visual cues makes a lot of sense when one remembers the stories contained in Conan the Adventurer. “The People of the Black Circle” is set in exotic Vendhya, the Hyborian Age ancestor to ancient India; “Xuthal of the Dusk” (here using Farnsworth Wright’s awful title “The Slithering Shadow”) is set in a city seemingly founded by wanderers from the Blue East. The piratical elements are certainly appropriate for “The Pool of the Black One.” Only “Drums of Tombalku,” De Camp’s completion of the Tombalku Fragment, doesn’t seem to fit. So Frazetta’s illustration might work for three of the stories based on Conan’s attire and gear: are there any other clues?

There’s much more to the picture than Conan himself. The most obvious, at least to straight males, is the woman in the lower right of the painting. At first glance, she appears to be one of the typical “cheesecake pinups” designed purely to titillate the teenage boy looking to sneak a paperback under his jacket to read at school. Certainly Frazetta was unsurpassed in his depiction of feminine voluptuousness, and given how great he was with anatomy, it would be a bit of a waste to paint his women — and men, for that matter — with obstructive clothing.

This woman is naturally no exception: she has the trademark Frazetta belly, generous hips, and the unmistakable doll-face. There is a little more hardness to her: her knees, hips and shoulders are a little rangier than in others, and her face is a bit harder than other Frazetta babes. She’s a Luana if ever I saw one. But there’s something else different about this brunette that separates her from the scores of copycats of this particular painting: her expression.

That is not an expression of gentle supplication to the big strong man, or frightened terror of some unseen terror, or cowed adoration of the manly hero. Her face is confident, determined, utterly unconcerned with the gore, corpses and flames all around her. It’s remarkable that she seems completely uninterested in the skulls, corpses, bloody weapons and flames engulfing the area. Something tells me this isn’t the first time she’s been surrounded by blood and fire. Her arms are snaked around Conan’s legs, true, but to my eye, it looks less like the clutching of a terrified child or lovestruck kitten, but more like a python ensnaring its prey, or a leopard nuzzling her latest kill. The idea of her being the spoils of Conan’s victory seem somewhat less certain looking into that face. Is it she who is Conan’s possession… or is it Conan who belongs to her?

The identity of the woman is unclear. The Howard characters I believe she resembles most closely are Yasmina of “The People of the Black Circle” and “Thalis of “Xuthal of the Dusk.” There is also a possibility for Sancha of “The Pool of the Black One,” but she lacks the olive skin of that Zingaran beauty.Yasmina, too, appears to be fairly pale of skin: references to her “pale, upturned face,” “white hand,” and “white limbs.” This is consistent with later Indian society, where the female royalty were sheltered from the sun. Stygian noblewomen are pale, whereas the commoners are dusky: it’s logical that the situation in Vendhya is similar. The golden armlets on the girl’s left arm might be a sign of nobility, and one could view the expression of Yasmina’s indomitable, imperious attitude. Thalis also had golden jewelry, and that expression could easily portray her feline desire to master Conan. Out of the two choices, Thalis seems to be the closest fit. It seems somewhat appropriate that for all the action in the story, the greatest threat might be the the cat-like woman on the prowl for a mate — or a slave.

The woman is the only other figure in the painting, excepting the owner of that dripping arm in the lower left. In the background, there are images that may be visual representation of themes or threats in the stories. The mysterious skulls in the background are some: are they symbols of the death Conan has wrought over the years, or the prospect of death looming over Conan himself? Every day, Conan lives for the moment, and seeks not beyond death, and for all Conan’s exploits, the ever-present cynicism of Howard forms a dark cloud over proceedings. Yet Conan has his back to the shadows of death, showing utter disregard for his own mortality.

The smaller of the two skulls appears to be hooded. Could this be symbolic of the danger of dark sorcery and the practitioners of the black arts? It is also hovering over a castle-like structure in the distance. I think it’s possible this hooded skull might represent the Master of Yimsha, hovering over his castle on the mount. There is also a twisting hoop connecting the two skulls, almost like the trunk of a gargantuan snake — perhaps the one the Master transforms into in the climax of “The People of the Black Circle.” It could also be a tentacle, like the ones which flayed Conan half to death in “Xuthal of the Dusk.”

An important element which isn’t as noticeable on Frazetta’s second version, but very striking on the Lancer cover, is the field of fire separating Conan in the foreground from the background. Fire naturally signifies many things: battle, conflict, lust, energy, excitement. The subtext is very clear: a line of fire dividing the barbarian hero and the girl from the black sorcery can only mean division by conflict. This happens in a few stories, and it’s notable that Conan would consider flight from some terrors were a girl not in need

There are other mysteries in the painting beyond those I’ve discussed. For instance, at Conan’s left calf, there is what appears to be a length of chain. What on earth is that? Are they broken shackles, another future element of Conan the Barbarian, or is Conan holding a flail just out of view? Then there’s… well, what Conan’s wearing under his belt. Is it the dreaded fur loincloth, leather breeks, or silk shorts? Why are there dry skulls and ribcages seen alongside freshly-slain corpses — did the human warriors have some rather literal help from their ancestors?

All things considered, this first, spectacular Conan cover by Frazetta does not depict a particular scene, as he would for Conan the Usurper, Conan the Cimmerian and Conan. I’d guess that since he just started with Conan, he went with a more thematic illustration, as opposed to a true depiction. All the same, the eastern influences are highly suitable for the first two stories in the collection. If a future Frazetta/Howard combination anthology put the picture next to “The People of the Black Circle” or “Xuthal of the Dusk,” I’d say it would fit just fine.

Triumphant Over All

The above picture is one of the many examples of Frazetta’s impact on the popular depiction of Conan. This is a makeup test produced by Prosthetic Renaissance, and apparently commissioned by Warner Brothers, for a Conan film when they still held the license. The slavish attention to detail in the picture is nothing short of staggering. All the details from the painting are present, and they even got an (apparently) popular pornographic actress to pose as the girl. One wonders what would’ve happened if the project went forward, and we got a Conan who literally looked like he stepped off a Frank Frazetta painting — though with the limitations inherent in makeup, it might’ve been for the best that this came to nothing. This makeup would’ve been great for a single shot, but Conan’s many other expressions would undoubtedly suffer. Much as I’d love to see a Frazetta-esque Conan onscreen, I’d rather see a Conan who could move his eyebrows.

There are many others. Frazetta’s Conan was utilized in a number of foreign posters for Conan the Barbarian, in a variety of ways. Some early posters simply used the original painting unchanged, save for some text and framing. One particularly egregious poster simply copied the original, but blacked out the face — one might assume this was before Arnold was attached to the project, were it not for the fact his name is right at the bottom. One of my favourites was the German poster, which basically took Frazetta’s painting as a starting point — only this time, Renato Casaro painted Arnold’s head onto Conan’s torso, and used the same pose for Valeria as in the more famous US poster. It’s about as close to Frazetta as the film ever got.

Frazetta’s Conan also made the leap into the third dimension. Clayburn Moore released an exceedingly popular (not to mention expensive and limited to fifty pieces) bronze sculpture based on the painting, pictured left. The essential Frazetta documentary Painting with Fire included a fantastic computer generated 3D representation of the painting, complete with movements and roaring flames in the background. Many fans of Frazetta are numbered among such CG artists, as seen in this fantastic loose rendition by Marcus Jackson.

The painting has a preeminent position even in Frazetta’s ouvre. It adorns the cover of the two-disc special edition of Painting with Fire, and is frequently discussed when Frazetta’s name comes up. The original Lancers have long been superseded by the Del Rey volumes when it comes to the pure Howard text, which is really all that matters to Howard fans. Yet without taking anything away from Messrs Schultz, Gianni and Manchess, Frazetta was one of a kind, and the Lancers will always be famous as introducing Frazetta’s interpretation of Howard’s irrepressible barbarian to the world.

So, whether one looks at the details within the painting and tries to ascribe some sort of significance as I have in this article, or if you simply view it as a fantastic painting, it’s clear the cover of Conan the Adventurer is incredible, and possibly one of the most recognizable, influential, and popular book covers of the 20th Century. Like Howard, I believe Frazetta’s work can be enjoyed on multiple levels. It’s a sign of great art, to engage the visceral and the mental sides of the audience. If nothing else, one cannot argue with the former.