Greg Stones Art & Illustration

About the Artist

What does it mean to be an artist?  Well, here’s a thought: WHO CARES?  Not me, that’s for sure.  You pick up a paint brush, you paint something, and BAM!  You’re an artist.  Good for you.

Sure, I could have been a doctor, or a nuclear physicist, or possibly even a toll booth attendant, but a) I’m not that smart, and b) I have no commercially viable skills whatsoever.  Except for painting.  So here I am.

 Born in Glocester, Rhode Island where children are sent into the forest at the age of six months to be raised and educated by squirrels, I eventually broke free and went to Bates College in Lewiston, Maine.  While at school, I majored in Studio Art, learned to paint photo-realistically, and was the cartoonist for the school paper.  Two years after graduating, I was barely making a living painting miniature landscapes, and it occurred to me: What if I combined my miniature landscapes with my cartooning sensibilities?  That’s when I started adding UFOs, aliens, and flying people to my work.  Then came the penguins and the zombies.  And the hedgehogs and the garden gnomes.  And any other random thing that would pop into my head when I sat down to paint.

A common question: “Greg Stones, where do you get your ideas?”

From YO MOMMA, that’s where!  BOOM!  (I just dropped the mic and walked off the stage.)

In all seriousness, I don’t know where the ideas come from.  Although I do suspect that Red Bull is involved.  I will have to look into it and get back to you.  (Editor’s note: He will never get back to you.)

Here is my favorite thing about being an artist: I get to write and illustrate books.  Chronicle Books has published six of my titles over the years, starting with Zombies Hate Stuff in 2012, and ending with Star Wars: 99 Stormtroopers Join the Empire in 2017.  (That’s right: I got to write and illustrate AN OFFICIAL STAR WARS BOOK FOR LUCASFILM!  Like, whaaaaaaaaaat???)

Well, that’s all I have to say about being an artist and an author and a man who was raised by squirrels.  (Little known fact: Acorns taste like sadness.) 

- Greg Stones