i'm reading the big Taschen book on the great pin-up artist Gil Elvgren that was one of their 25th anniversary editions last year.

"...he had a studio apprentice named Bobby Toombs, who went on to become a recognized artist in his own right... He said that Elvgren not only taught him the handling of paints and various shortcuts that would help when working to deadlines, but also showed him how to approach a given assignment in a properly thoughtful manner. Toombs said, "Naturally the color values were a major part of the learning process, but with Gil Elvgren by your side, you felt as if you could do anything. He would pick up a brush and make it dance all over the canvas. it was like magic watching him paint, back in those good old days."

I like the way in his paintings there is usually some little unexpected bend in the flesh that shows he was looking closely at a live model, the kind of thing you can't invent or fake. Here's a great Great page of Elvgren model ref photos.

I'm always amused to be reminded how the publisher of a notably comprehensive series of artist monographs on one hand and 'The second most expensive book in publishing history' on the other, started out:

"TASCHEN'S Great Adventure began back in 1980 when eighteen-year-old opened a shop in his native Cologne, Germany, to market his massive comics collection. Within a year he bagan publishing catalogues promoting his wares, but it wasn't until 1984 that his first art-book breakthrough occurred; he purchased 40,000 remainder copies of a Magritte book printed in English, reselling them for a fraction of their original price... Twenty five years after he opened his little comics shop, Taschen has grown into one of the most successful and unique publishers in the global market, publishing an eclectic variety of books for people of all tastes and budget ranges, distributed worldwide in over twenty languages."

huge long article on the state of publishing.
NY Magazine: Have we reached the end of book publishing as we know it?

Lately, the whole, hoary concept of paying writers advances against royalties has come under question. Following their down payments to authors, publishers don’t have to pay a cent in royalties, which are usually 15 percent of the hardcover price, 7.5 for paperbacks, until that signing bonus is earned back. The system is supposed to be mutually beneficial; the publishers guarantee writers a certain income, and then both parties share in the proceeds beyond that level. But it only works for publishers if they’re conservative in their expectations. As auctions over hot books have grown more frequent, prudence has gone out the window— paying a $1 million advance to a 26-year-old first-time novelist becomes a public-relations gambit as much as an investment in that writer’s future
That money has to come from somewhere, so publishers have cracked down on their non-star writers. The advances you don’t hear about have been dropping precipitously. For every Pretty Young Debut Novelist who snags that seven-figure prize, ten solid literary novelists have seen advances slashed for their third books.

In particular, note this:

The remaindering and shredding of books—a cost borne largely by the publisher—is a relic of a consignment model developed during the Depression that makes no modern sense.