Syd Mead Is Not Science Fiction

In fact, Mead’s output outside the world of cinema—which in fact represents the lionshare of his more than 65-year professional career—is a replete and uniform world of robust optimism and hopeful aspiration. The future of Syd Mead is a bright and gilded one; the fulfillment of our greatest hopes and aspirations. It exists on the distant end of realism, yet is still somehow within reach. 

The son of a Baptist minister (and part time art teacher), Mead gathered the strands of a childhood crowded by poverty and increasing world strife and instead formulated a unique worldview and artistic direction that was irrepressibly optimistic, often in spite of (and in stark contrast to) the current affairs and fortunes of the time. 

To Mead, the prospect of an optimistic future was not a question of chance but of preparation. “Why wouldn’t you rehearse for a good future?” he often said. “I think that we should celebrate and rehearse for a bright future, and maybe it will come true. I don’t have time to illustrate misery or dystopian scenarios because they’ll happen. If you let everything go, they’ll happen anyway.”

This outlook was successfully channeled into a singular career as an industrial futurist, becoming one of a rare group of individuals kept on speed dial by titans of industry to predict and illuminate likely future outcomes across myriad disciplines: architecture, urban planning, engineering, automotive, aeronautics, mass transit, spaceflight, technology, innovation, consumer goods, media, and more. Mead took it a step further by assuming the mantle of “visual futurist,” delivering his results not in research papers or dissertations, but via vivid, dynamic artworks, most principally paintings in his medium of choice: gouache. 

What he never anticipated was that the language of his industrial forecasting work would escape its enclosure and go on to define the visual identity of modern science fiction storytelling and cinematic futurism.  

Mead entered professional life with nary a thought nor desire to work in the movies. In fact, movies were banned in the Mead household until he was 13 years old, with his earlier years filled with a potent mixture of his father’s chief obsessions: end-times religion, study and practice of painting and fine arts, and the pulp science fiction adventures of Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon (which Kenneth, his father, would buy family friendly editions so they could read together). Syd’s personal contributions to this percolating artistic concoction—an obsession with automobiles, the vibrant creations of contemporary illustrators as diverse as Maxfield Parrish and Chesley Bonestell, and the constant desire to innovate and improve one’s artistic craft—provided the ingredients to a simmering brew that one day would synthesize into the poetic future seer we celebrate today.