Snaga (1997)
On being given a hand up
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A limited edition print of this image, hand-signed and numbered by Randy and Quinton Hoover, is available for a limited time for online purchase.
As many of you know and as some of you remember from your own history, Quinton Hoover’s early work in Magic: the Gathering, from its earliest days, was simply incredible. What was most amazing still was that he was essentially self-taught, and hadn’t done much color work professionally prior to his work on Magic. He was a self-professed comics guy who ended up spending most of his professionally active years in gaming, doing color work. And what color work! Amazing. In my earliest days as an illustrator, among that group working in the collectible card industry, he was my favorite.
I met him on a couple of occasions at signing events, and he was a fun and gentle guy, with his big head of frizzy hair and world-weary look. We corresponded often via email or as part of some groups we were both on. I had the honor of having him critique my works, and was very grateful for his encouragements to me in my earliest years, often at times when I needed both critique or encouragement.
Just a couple of years into working, I had the opportunity to collaborate with Quinton on a small Middle-Earth illustration. I don’t know why he condescended to working with me, but we certainly divided the labor appropriately: he sent me a page of bristol with a delicately penciled illustration of Snaga coming to oppress Frodo, being held captive in Cirith Ungol. My job was to take it to color. It was intimidating, but proved the old adage that all good painting is good drawing, first. That the piece was of any worth at all was due to his pencils.
After completing it, we weren’t sure what to do with it. We were both happy with it. Quinton wanted it so we traded. I sent him the final painting to keep, and he sent me a published piece from another project that I quite loved. It still hangs in my studio in 2026.
That same year I submitted Snaga to the Spectrum annual, and it was accepted. In those days we would have had to send a transparency. I had already traded the piece to Quinton, and didn’t have a good enough scan nor transparency. A familiar tale from those years. It was during one of those periods where he’d disappear for various reasons, and we couldn’t get it together in time for submission, which I’ll always kick myself for (I should’ve had it photographed, myself).
Over the following years we stayed in touch when we could. I worked with him on my online gallery, Daydream Graphics, which I ran for maybe 15 years or so. I don’t want to paint myself as being a greater or closer friend than we were. The last six years or so before he died in 2013, we weren’t as in touch anymore as our circles diverged. I’m now older than he was when he passed, and I’ll always be grateful for his support and enjoyment of my work—he saw in my younger self the artist I’d become, and that meant a lot.
I am very glad to have known him and for all I learned from him. I’m proud of my time supporting his work actively, and am so very happy to own a painting by him. I’ve often talked about the very intimate and personal aspect of owning original art. At times like this, it is so much more special, and just drives home the belief that physical paintings are so valuable. They really are a tangible extension and record of an active and creative mind; Quinton’s will no longer give us wonderful things to see, but what a record he left behind.
