Four Inane Questions with fish illustrator extraordinaire Joe Tomelleri
The KCK native has been illustrating fin-tastic pieces since 1985.
Joe Tomelleri holds a fish. // Courtesy Joe Tomelleri
Fish, fish, bish!
If you spy a hyper-detailed illustration of a fish anywhere, there’s a good chance it’s Joe Tomelleri’s handiwork.
The KCK native has been illustrating fin-tastic pieces since 1985 and his work has appeared in more than 1,000 publications, plus, “Websites, fish ID regulations, fine art prints, and just about anything that you can decorate with a fish,” he says.
Tomelleri is pretty particular about his nuanced artwork. Scientific accuracy is a must, he tells us. And he’s traveled extensively in North America, collecting fish for his illustrations.
In total, he’s amassed a library of more than 1,300 illustrations. His newest work—the Pacific Salmon Field Guide—is due out this fall. And his impressive website is a sight (and site) to behold!
We caught up with the artist in-between sharpening his Prismacolor pencils to ask him our ultra-dumb questions. He may or may not have told us we were a pain in his bass.
Illustration by Joe Tomelleri. // Courtesy Joe Tomelleri
The Pitch: In the history of music, what band break-up gutted you the worst?
Joe Tomelleri: The Beatles. One of my earliest memories is of waiting for them to appear on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1964. I was so disappointed that they weren’t insects! My grandmother didn’t approve of the caterwauling, nor did my mother, who was classically trained in voice and taught singing at home, UMKC, Avila, and William Jewell.
They were just such fascinating artists and great songwriters, and I had—on cassettes in high school and college—just about everything they ever recorded.
If you were a fish, what kind of fish would you be?
Has to be any of a number of the native trout of Mexico! They’re found hither and yon throughout the mountains of Chihuahua and northern Durango—and they’re called “a’pari” by the native Rarámuri. We have a loosely knit group of scientists, Truchas Mexicanas, studying these rare fishes for the last 25 years.
The Loch Ness Monster—real? Fake? Or imaginary?
A real money-maker. Fun to talk about and to imagine what it could be—but, as a scientist, I can’t take it seriously. Clearly there’s not enough biomass in the Loch to support a population of Plesiosaurs (or what have you).
Sasquatch, Bigfoot, Lake Champlain’s Champ, the Abominable Snowman, Chupacabra—they’re all in the same category as far as I’m concerned. Certainly, we would have concrete evidence by now. No definitive photos, video, or film in 70 years—yet we’ve had hundreds of experts searching with drones, trail cams, and all sorts of modern surveillance equipment and the best cameras money can buy. And, besides, if Sasquatch is out there, he’s owed a Brink’s truck of name/image/likeness royalties.
How long do you suppose you could hold your breath underwater?
This goes back to childhood days when our pool had underwater swimming contests. I distinctly remember one guy that went about two-and-a-half times the length of our 25-yard pool underwater. I could do about one-and-a-half. Maybe I could do a minute underwater now, but it might kill me. I’m feeling old today.
Bonus 5th Question: When do you typically fill your gas tank back up? Are you a half-full kinda guy?
You’re assuming I don’t drive an electric car. You’re right, of course. I’m an empty-tank sorta guy. I mean, why would I want to carry all that extra weight in my vehicle?
The only time I’m going to top off my tank is if I have to stop on the highway and take a leak. And that’s only because I feel guilty using the restroom without buying something. This probably stems from driving my father’s 1970 Cadillac, which had a broken gas gauge.
My brothers and I would push the mileage to the limit. We learned a lot of math that way. Kelly, my significant other, will get nervous when my car tells me I have 50 miles of gas left. To me, that’s a whole ‘nother week ’til I have to pull over.
