Born in the deep dark south in the mid-sixties. Brom, an army brat, spent his entire youth on the move and unabashedly blames living in such places as Japan, Hawaii, Germany, and Alabama for all his afflictions. From his earliest memories Brom has been obsessed with the creation of the weird, the monstrous, and the beautiful.
At age twenty, Brom began working full-time as a commercial illustrator in Atlanta, Georgia. Three years later he entered the field of fantastic art he’d loved his whole life, making his mark developing and illustrating for TSR’s best selling role-playing worlds.
He has since gone on to lend his distinctive vision to all facets of the creative industries, from novels and games, to comics and film. Most recently he's created a series of award winning horror novels that he both writes and illustrates: “The Plucker”, an adult children’s book, “The Devil’s Rose”, a modern western set in Hell, “The Child Thief”, a gritty, nightmarish retelling of the Peter Pan myth, "Krampus, the Yule Lord", a tale of revenge between Krampus and Santa set in rural West Virginia, and his latest concoction, "Lost Gods" one man's determined trek through the brutal landscape of purgatory.
Brom is currently kept in a dank cellar somewhere in the drizzly Northwest. There he subsists on poison spiders, centipedes, and bad kung-fu flicks. When not eating bugs, he is ever writing, painting, and trying to reach a happy sing-a-long with the many demons dancing about in his head.
You can contact BROM directly at: brom.contact (add @ symbol) gmail.com
Licensing of Brom's images - If you would like to license some of Brom's work for the cover of your novel, game, album or other, just email us for details.
Brom at your school or business - Brom has a very entertaining and educational lecture presentation and loves to make private, corporate and school appearances. For rates and details please email.
Signings - Brom is happy to sign any art related items (and sometimes odd body parts) at conventions, but at this time cannot sign items through the mail.
MTG Card signings - Jack's Magic handles all of Brom's MTG card signings. For more info: CLICK HERE
Interviews and Odd Musings below
Killian – Did you go to art school?
Brom - Yes, everyday.
Killian – What does melancholia mean to you?
Brom - She is my muse.
Killian – Did you ever suffer burn out from painting?
Brom – Yes.
Killian – What did you do about it?
Brom – I started writing.
Killian – Did you ever suffer burn out from writing?
Brom – Yes.
Killian – And...?
Brom – I started painting again.
Killian – Which is your least favorite painting you've done?
Brom – The last one I did.
Killian – Which is your favorite painting you've done?
Brom – The next one.
Killian - Is what you do, according to you, important?
Brom – Yes, according to me.
Killian – Do you consider yourself a fine artist?
Brom – I'm a storyteller.
Killian – What scares you?
Brom – Dying before I finish whatever-the-heck I happen to be working on at the moment.
Killian – Are you religious or superstitious?
Brom – Yes.
Killian – ?
Brom – I thought they were the same.
Killian – What religion do you practice?
Brom – All of them. They're all out to get me.
Killian – Have you ever considered doing anything else besides art?
Brom – I am unqualified to answer that.
Killian – Anything else you would like to say or add about your paintings.
Brom – It's hard for me to talk about painting. I feel a painting should speak for itself. I mean when you think about it, if you have to explain a painting, or how a painting is suppose to make someone feel, then the painting has failed. Right? For me, more than anything, painting is about bringing to life images from my imagination, to share my visions with myself as well as others.
The Story of Brom
My story starts back in the womb: Two heartbeats, Johnny Cash singing as though underwater, a view of the world from within a lava lamp. It was safe and warm and swell, but there was much I needed to say, so I left.
After I was born I was kept in a cardboard box. About the time I learned to walk I was moved into a bigger box, this one had windows. I was warned to stay away from the windows lest the neighbors see me.
My older brother forbade me to go into his room and play with his toys. I did anyway. His toys had claws and sharp teeth and I often got bit. It is how I learned to bite.
One time I crawled out of my box and the other kids threw rocks at me. There were tears and blood. I wrote a story about it, filled it with plenty of pictures and that made me feel better. In the story I cooked the children and fed them to my dog. I'm a pretty good cook.
There were thousands of pencils in my box, but no pencil sharpeners. I would end up needing much dental work. I drew on paper, I drew on my skin, I drew on the wall. I drew fire spewing dinosaurs, I drew murder, I drew people without flesh. I drew and drew until all the pencils were gone. Then I found a brush. I had no ink, only blood. And I still say there is nothing wrong with painting with blood so long as it is your own, but I often used other people's blood, it's how I learned.
I crawled into a furnace shaft once, crawled from apartment to apartment, watched people through their vents, watched people watch TV. People watch a lot of TV. People have secret lives, capes and masks, Kool-Aid and Jello Salad. People seem sad when they're alone. I keep a pencil with me so that I'm never alone.
I once drew a picture of my first grade teacher. In the picture she was nude and had wings of fire. It was how I saw her but she saw her differently. I once drew a picture of myself drawing a picture. There was a smiling devil in that picture.
When I grew older I went to school with a bunch of other kids that grew up in boxes. I didn't fit in boxes so well. I found a few kids that didn't fit in so well either and we made ugly pictures together. My pictures were uglier than theirs and this made me feel special.
I once had a girlfriend, but she never knew. She said strange things to me, like "who am I". It made me anxious.
One Christmas I received a present. It was box cutter. I left home.
I met a girl who dressed funny and had a bad haircut. She told me who she was and I was too. She liked to draw ugly pictures as well, so I married her and we built a castle together with a deep moat full of snakes where it rains every day. We like rain.
Once I tried to paint to make other people happy, this made me unhappy. Now I paint to make me happy. When I get too happy, it's hard to paint. I try not to be too happy.
Someone once asked me how I became an artist and I told them a bunch of lies. I had to or else they would find me and put me back in my box.