Loren Long reads from My Dog, My Hero, a book he illustrated, to his dog Stella. (Michael Snyder photo) | ZOOM |

        No one is more surprised by Loren Long's success than Loren Long.

        Seven years ago, he was sitting in his cubicle at Gibson Greeting Cards, “drawing bunny rabbits and trying to get out.” Today, the 36-year-old West Chester free-lance illustrator is one of the nation's busiest, with a client list that includes Time, Sports Illustrated, Forbes, the Wall Street Journal, National Geographic, Lands End (catalog covers) and publishers Simon & Schuster, Harper Collins, Houghton Mifflin and Henry Holt.

        “Gibson was my first job in Cincinnati after art school in Chicago. I was with them four years, but it didn't take me that long to realize that my destiny was not in greeting cards.”

An illustration for a story in My Dog, My Hero. | ZOOM |

        His destiny, it turns out, came by way of C.F. Payne, Cincinnati's other famous illustrator: “I saw in the Enquirer that he was having a show. I left work and went, introduced myself and asked how I could get in his class at Miami (University).

        “He cut the red tape, got me in and it was one of the best things that ever happened. Even that long ago, he was a huge success, someone who really knew the industry, and here he was giving me confidence. Telling me I could compete on a national level.”

        And how. Right now, Mr. Long's national presence is My Dog, My Hero (Henry Holt, $16), a kids' book that tells eight short stories about heroic dogs.

        Mr. Long did the cover and eight paintings to illustrate the stories. Those paintings, plus a selection of his greatest hits, are on exhibit at Rottinghaus Gallery (1983 Madison Road, O'Bryonville) through Dec. 23.

        “It's my first gallery show. Kim (Hadad, owner) started a couple of years ago saying we need to do a show. I didn't feel like I had enough. I guess with My Dog, I do. But I still don't consider myself a gallery artist.”

        Other people do: “My wife Tracy is my mental stability. She tells me I'm not the worst artist in the world when I'm ready to toss my brushes. I'm still insecure, and it may never change.”

        Perhaps the action at Rottinghaus will force a change: His paintings there, mostly acrylic and oil on linen, are priced $2,500 to $3,000 and selling just fine, thank you. At least the ones that are for sale. Some, from the collection of wife Tracy and sons Griffith, 5, and Graham, 3, are hands-off.

        “I think you can see in them that my biggest influences were the American scene painters of the '20s and '30s. I identify with them. They weren't always the most gifted draftsmen or colorists, but they succeeded.

        “That influence has opened a lot of markets for me and probably has a lot to do with the success I've achieved.

        “Like when Time was doing a story on the Clinton-Dole campaign. They hired me to do Dole because he's from Kansas and they wanted a pastoral feel. Then they told me they hired Peter Max to do Clinton, and I almost dropped my brushes. Peter probably spent one morning on it. I labored over it a couple of days.”

        Magazine work still comes in on a weekly basis, but right now he's in love with kids' books.

        “They're something I really want to continue. The cool thing is the publisher gives you a manuscript. He's saying here's the screenplay. You be the director, casting director, art director and cinematographer. As the artist, I get to develop the look, the style, the entire look of the book.

        “I'm working on two right now, one an Irish folktale for spring 2002, another on Casey Jones, the railroad guy, for fall 2002.

        “I also love it because the deadlines are so generous. Sometimes you get up to two years. Not like magazines where you have to turn assignments around in a matter of days and then worry yourself sick that you rushed yourself into doing something that isn't your best.”

        Fine. But first he needs to answer a few questions ...

        One thing to always keep in mind when illustrating ...

That the minute the painting goes out the door, your neck is out there on the line for anyone to chew up and spit out. You're always taking a risk, and that keeps you alert, always pumped to do your best.

        Kid books, sports figures, politicians, the most difficult of them are — because ...?

Politicians, partly because they're not fulfilling, but more than that because I'm not a natural at looking at a picture of someone and being able to capture it. There are a lot of people who do it better.

        If I weren't doing this I'd be ...

This sounds stupid, but trying to be an actor. Originally, it was a relief pitcher. But it didn't take me long as a 13-year-old to realize that wasn't going to happen.

        One thing I never forget when illustrating ...

That blue and yellow make green.

        Something I'd really like to tackle ...

That's a perfect question for me. I want to do a major mural. The artists I'm most influenced by, the American scene painters of the '20s and '30s, did them, and they still stand today as an inspiration. These days, people don't like to spend that much money, but if anyone does, I'm here. I'd love to do one at the new Reds ballpark, but I don't know if that will happen. I'd like to do one for the Underground Railroad, too.

        One thing I'll never tackle ...

Portraits of CEOs. I have friends who do them and they're very good, better than I'd ever be. It's just something I couldn't do.

        The illustration I'll never forget is — because ...?

The April 24, 1995, cover of Forbes magazine. It was my first magazine cover, one of my first jobs. Forbes hired two or three artists to submit covers then picked the one that worked best.

        In a previous life, I was ...

A basset hound. I lived with a person who delivered milk in Iowa to (artist) Grant Wood's house. I rode in the truck and idolized Woods.

        Long range, my goal ...

Is just to keep doing what I'm doing and get better at it.

        Studying with C.F. Payne is like ...

I'm looking for a metaphor, but there really isn't one. He's somebody you can't keep up with. He has the energy of my 3-year-old but talent beyond his years. You study with him and you feel like you'd like to get on board his train, but it's moving so fast.

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