Clive Barker, love him or hate him (I'm firmly rooted in the former camp), has to be recognized as one of the most versatile artists out there. Over the past twenty-five years or so, the man has worn countless hats, performing as an author, screenwriter, director, producer, actor (if you count brief cameos), painter, sculptor, designer of action figures, clothing, and plush animals...the list is ever-expanding. He is, in the truest sense of the word, an artist, and an artist who simply cannot keep himself working in only one medium. Even his work within specific mediums is all over the map thematically: his written works are whimsical, horrific, erotic, bleak, beautiful, written for both young (The Thief of Always and Abarat, although their rich storytelling can appeal to all ages) and old (Sacrament, Cabal, Everville, and many others). His Tortured Souls action figures from McFarlane Toys were disturbing neo-S&M demons, whereas his new Jump Tribe plushies are charmingly cute. His imagination is full of images that, regardless of thematic content, extract a strong response no matter what that response may be. Nowhere is that more apparent in Clive Barker: Visions of Heaven and Hell from Rizzoli International Publications, the new hardcover compilation of his paintings and drawings from his monstrous collection.

What's nice about Rizzoli's treatment is that every thematic “section” of the book has a casually written foreword by Barker, explaining his emotional ties, giving us fun anecdotes, or simply his explanation of some of the pieces within. He brings us selections like Devils and Demons, Perversities, Memento Mori, Sorcerors, and many others. Just as varied as the selections are his artistic styles: from simple pen-and-ink drawings to near-abstract scribbles to hyper-rendered surrealism to fantastic landscapes bursting with color. The oil paintings are where he really shines, not just accepting color, but embracing it, with a hyperactive style that incorporates impossibly thick layers of oil, sometimes with thin lines scraped out with a steak knife, all using such a broad palette of colors that one's eyes practically go into overload just looking at them.

Three-hundred pieces are reproduced here, with something for almost everyone. From the youthfully whimsical (a portly man with a snail for a hat), to the beautifully dark (an arsonist cloaked in flames), to the bleakly humorous (a man resting his bandaged hands around either side of a bladed penis), to the horrifically erotic (a man laps the blood out of his lover's gaping chest wound). It's certainly not the kind of book you want to leave out for everyone to see, but those who would appreciate it would certainly enjoy a trip through its pages.

Rizzoli did a thoroughly amazing job in their presentation as well. The black cloth covers flank heavy, semi-glossy pages, usually with full-bleed printing, except when the dimensions of a piece wouldn't allow. The occasional triptych is folded in on itself, and creased perfectly so as not to overly mar the presentation of the painting. Rizolli's been producing art books for years, with everything from male nude photography to pop art, to old classics like Degas and Cezanne, and their experience shows in Visions of Heaven and Hell. Highly recommended for just about everyone with an open mind.