Skip to main content

Hand-Painted Movie Posters by Tony Stella


In the 70s and 80s movie theaters in Manila were usually standalone buildings with nice seats and red curtains. To sell tickets, cinemas needed to advertise their offerings. But they did not have the original posters, or the means to print alternatives. So they made their own, commissioning local artists to hand-paint them.

I really miss those hand-painted posters and billboards, which conveyed an artistry that was a form of visual hyperbole. But hand-made objects always have a way of returning. In this digital age, people will always look for things made by hand.

I recently stumbled across the work of Tony Stella, whose genuinely cool movie posters have caught the eye of film enthusiasts and art lovers worldwide. He likes to work in watercolor and ink wash but sometimes he will make an oil painting, depending on the film.

Tony's very active on social media, and his Tumblr blog contains a massive collection of illustrated movie posters that are often better than the original.








Follow him on Twitter, it's where I discovered him.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

She Knows You’re Looking

To be honest, the first thing I noticed in these portraits wasn’t the texture, the lighting, or the color palette. It was her. Who is she? Is she real, or is she imaginary? Does she have an Instagram? I was hooked right away. I mean, I’m a guy. So yeah, I felt something at once. If you caught yourself staring a little longer too, don’t worry. You’re not alone. In most of these Roberto Martin Sing pieces, she looks straight at you. Her gaze isn't aggressive, but it isn't shy either. It's more like she's saying, “Hi. I know you’re looking. It’s fine.” In one painting, the young woman is rising from the water with full nymph energy. Men have been falling for this stuff since ancient Greece. She’s the goddess in the forest or the woman in the lake. There’s soft light, glowing skin, and zero real-world problems. She looks very feminine without being flashy. Inviting without trying too hard. And you can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking. The work moves between contempora...

Where Bad Space and Good Music Collided

My first apartment was in Malate, and calling it “small” would be generous. I lived there with two girls and one guy, and to this day, I genuinely don’t know how we all fit. It felt like a magic trick. Or a health hazard. We were a musical mess. One roommate lived and breathed ’70s classics. Another was permanently blasting Korn and Slipknot. One survived solely on cheesy love songs. And me? I was floating somewhere between new wave and folk rock, pretending that made sense. Somehow, despite the noise and the chaos, we all lived together in this weird, mismatched harmony. No murders. No lawsuits. A win, honestly. My music taste now is nothing like it was in my twenties. Not even close. But I’ll always be grateful to Jacqueline for introducing me to this song in particular. It was playing when I woke up from a very memorable sleep in 2002. I was 21, half-awake, probably confused about life, and that song stuck. It still hasn’t let go.

Some snaps from Eskinita