There have been many different artists that have been

In the words of Boris Vallejo, master of the mythic image and dreamer of gods, we hear the humble reflection of a creator who knows the lineage of his art: “There have been many different artists that have been inspirational. I suppose the question is directed to what was the reason why I went into fantasy illustration.” This is not the boast of a man seeking glory, but the quiet inquiry of one who understands that the roots of creation are nourished by others — that all art is both inheritance and rebirth. Vallejo, who painted warriors with divine light and creatures drawn from imagination’s deepest well, speaks here of inspiration as a sacred lineage, one artist awakening another, one vision giving birth to the next.

In his words, there is both humility and mystery. He acknowledges that his path was not born from isolation, but from communion — that his journey into fantasy illustration sprang from the sparks kindled by those who came before him. This is the way of all true artists: they stand on the shoulders of giants, not to overshadow them, but to reach further into the heavens. Vallejo’s art, filled with myth and movement, is not an escape from the world, but an exaltation of it — a way to reveal the heroic spirit that dwells in every human heart, hidden beneath the weight of the ordinary.

The ancients, too, knew this truth. The sculptors of Greece, who shaped gods from marble, were themselves inspired by those who carved stone before them in forgotten temples of Egypt and Mesopotamia. Inspiration flows not in a straight line, but in a circle — a sacred current that moves through time, carrying the imagination of humanity forward. Just as the Muses were said to whisper into the ears of poets and painters, so too do modern artists hear echoes of their ancestors in the silence before creation. Vallejo’s acknowledgment of “many different artists” is thus not a mere courtesy, but a bow before this eternal current — the river of creativity that carries us all.

To understand why he “went into fantasy illustration,” we must see beyond the surface of the phrase. Fantasy, to Vallejo, is not mere escape; it is vision — the daring to see what others cannot, to paint the unseen truths of courage, beauty, and struggle. His figures — bold, radiant, and almost divine — are not just bodies of strength, but symbols of the inner battles we all fight. In his art, swords clash not only for kingdoms but for the soul itself. The beasts and heroes he paints are mirrors of our own desires, our own fears, our yearning to transcend. He entered the realm of fantasy not to flee reality, but to reveal its hidden grandeur.

There is a story from the life of Leonardo da Vinci, that restless spirit of the Renaissance, who once filled his notebooks with images of winged machines and mythical beasts. When asked why he wasted time on such “impossibilities,” he replied that imagination is the bridge between what is and what might be. So it is with Vallejo. The realm of fantasy is not the land of lies, but the realm of potential — the place where the soul rehearses its greatness before it dares to live it. Through fantasy, the artist teaches the world to dream again.

And yet, Vallejo’s statement is not only about art — it is about purpose. To ask “why” one creates is to face the heart’s own reflection. For some, the answer is fame or fortune; for others, it is necessity — as breath is to life. But for the true creator, the reason lies in service to imagination itself. Vallejo paints because he must — because the vision within him demands expression, and to silence it would be to betray the divine spark that moves his hand. His inspiration is not merely received; it is lived.

So, what lesson shall we take from his words? It is this: know your sources, but follow your own fire. Be grateful to those who have inspired you, yet do not remain in their shadow. Let their example awaken your courage, but let your vision carve its own path through the unknown. For inspiration is not imitation — it is transformation. As Vallejo was moved by others and then forged his own world of light and legend, so too must each of us take the gifts we’ve received and make them our own.

Therefore, dear listener, when you find yourself inspired, do not only admire — create. When you behold greatness, do not only praise — participate. For the world’s stories are not yet finished, and the torch of imagination must never go out. Take it, as Vallejo did, and carry it forward — painting your own vision upon the canvas of time, so that one day, another soul may look upon your work and say, “That was inspirational — and because of it, I too began to dream.”