Making palaeoart is hard. It takes a lot of time and effort- both professionals and non-professionals will understand this.  The people behind this are not machines that churn out high quality palaeoart at no cost whatsoever, only to see them become memes. Artists are people too. Life is hard for palaeoartists. Palaeoart is not about the best or the most popular or the most meme-worthy artists. Palaeoart is a century-old practice that has, since the very start, been about restoring prehistoric life in an accurate and evidence-based basis, while stopping plagarism dead in its tracks and appreciating palaeoartists for the wonderfully talented people that they really are.

We want our graphic on blogs, articles, videos and even conference presentations as a means of promoting these issues as widely as possible. Remember that the whole reason for writing the Palaeontologia Electronica piece was to break these issues out into the wider world. The way to do that is through promotion in as many places as possible. We want it Facebooked, Tweeted, blogged, Tumblr’d and whaever else you can do on social media. We want it on respected, widely-read websites so those who don’t frequent the depths of the palaeoblogosphere can’t avoid it. We want SVP 2014 audiences seeing this in so many presentations that Berlin erupts with discussion of ‘what’s with all those palaeoart logos?’. However you do it, we’re simply asking for a bit of a fuss. Ultimately, we want this widespread enough that the folks involved in palaeoart production can’t ignore it, and will hopefully start thinking about palaeoartistry and its practitioners with the respect they deserve. 

Mark Witton couldn’t have said it better.

Spinosaurus paddles through the water with its short feet, its curved sail sticking straight out of the surface like a proud flag. The giant icthyovore wades through the river, fish large and small - Onchopristis, Mawsonia, all fleeing from its presence. It plunders and ravages through the flooded forest, snatching fish here and there, swallowing it hole with a flick of the jaw. A lone turtle does not seem to mind the menacing presence.
A female Spinosaurus arrives to shore. The breeding season has just passed, and now, a day in early autumn, where Alanqa soars overheard and Carcharodontosaurus patrols its territory, you could say that laying eggs is a pain in the arse. It slowly clambers onto dry land, drops of estuarine saltwater dripping from its sail. Clumsily balancing itself on its knucles - claws are precious - it hobbles towards a secluded clearing on the shore. All silent, all good.
A heavy footstep falls nearby.
From here.

Spinosaurus paddles through the water with its short feet, its curved sail sticking straight out of the surface like a proud flag. The giant icthyovore wades through the river, fish large and small - OnchopristisMawsonia, all fleeing from its presence. It plunders and ravages through the flooded forest, snatching fish here and there, swallowing it hole with a flick of the jaw. A lone turtle does not seem to mind the menacing presence.

A female Spinosaurus arrives to shore. The breeding season has just passed, and now, a day in early autumn, where Alanqa soars overheard and Carcharodontosaurus patrols its territory, you could say that laying eggs is a pain in the arse. It slowly clambers onto dry land, drops of estuarine saltwater dripping from its sail. Clumsily balancing itself on its knucles - claws are precious - it hobbles towards a secluded clearing on the shore. All silent, all good.

A heavy footstep falls nearby.

From here.

Banguela. The great old winged god, toothless ruler of the skies. It soars gracefully above the earth, above the ocean, above the realm of the spinosaurids, higher than anything else. Its magnificent crest and slender jaws gleam in the sunlight, high in the air, its pycnofibres rustling in the coastal winds. This is the realm of Banguela. This - oh wait.

Move aside, Banguela.
From here and here.

Banguela. The great old winged god, toothless ruler of the skies. It soars gracefully above the earth, above the ocean, above the realm of the spinosaurids, higher than anything else. Its magnificent crest and slender jaws gleam in the sunlight, high in the air, its pycnofibres rustling in the coastal winds. This is the realm of Banguela. This - oh wait.

Move aside, Banguela.

From here and here.

Atopodentatus are basking in the light of the late afternoon, taking in the view along the coast of what will one day become China. The waves gently lap along the rocks strewn along the shoreline, and beneath them lies a reef, teeming with life. A splash - in it goes. Armed with a notch full of teeth, Atopodentatus paddles through the water, taking up mouthfuls of krill and copepods. It is late summer, and they are swarming these waters en masse. 
Fish dart away at the approach of the large predator, taking cover in the reefs below. They realize that Atopodentatus is harmless, and slowly emerge from their recluses. Having eaten its fill, Atopodentatus leaps onto a rock. The sun is setting, and crimson streaks of cloud paint the sky. Life is good, and it will remain that way for a long time. 
From here.

Atopodentatus are basking in the light of the late afternoon, taking in the view along the coast of what will one day become China. The waves gently lap along the rocks strewn along the shoreline, and beneath them lies a reef, teeming with life. A splash - in it goes. Armed with a notch full of teeth, Atopodentatus paddles through the water, taking up mouthfuls of krill and copepods. It is late summer, and they are swarming these waters en masse. 

Fish dart away at the approach of the large predator, taking cover in the reefs below. They realize that Atopodentatus is harmless, and slowly emerge from their recluses. Having eaten its fill, Atopodentatus leaps onto a rock. The sun is setting, and crimson streaks of cloud paint the sky. Life is good, and it will remain that way for a long time. 

From here.

Caiuajara flock by the side of the lake. Dry season has set in, and the water level is dropping by the day, The colony, however, is still thriving, adults and juveniles gathering in one oasis in the midst of a vast desert. It is perhaps the loudest place of miles around - tapejarids like Caiuajara are noisy, especially during the breeding season.
A plethora of flashy crests and brilliant displays adorn the little patch of green in the middle of nowhere, soaring through the shrivelled trees and dense foilage. Small or large, old or young, every pterosaur for miles around is here, by this watering hole. All of them are drinking, and with each passing day the water becomes increasingly less.
Time is running out.
From here.

Caiuajara flock by the side of the lake. Dry season has set in, and the water level is dropping by the day, The colony, however, is still thriving, adults and juveniles gathering in one oasis in the midst of a vast desert. It is perhaps the loudest place of miles around - tapejarids like Caiuajara are noisy, especially during the breeding season.

A plethora of flashy crests and brilliant displays adorn the little patch of green in the middle of nowhere, soaring through the shrivelled trees and dense foilage. Small or large, old or young, every pterosaur for miles around is here, by this watering hole. All of them are drinking, and with each passing day the water becomes increasingly less.

Time is running out.

From here.

Kulindadromeus, the fluffy little critter that it is, roams the forest of horsetails. It is early in the morning; the sunlight peeking from the distant mountains illuminates the highest treetops. Mayflies are ascending from the surface of the pond, only to be seized within the jaws of this diminutive herbivore. As herbivorous as it may be, Kulindadromeus won’t pass up a nutritious snack.
Small notostracans emerge from the water, crawling slowly towards the edge. The ever-curious Kulindadromeus picks one of them up with its foot. It vigorously squrims; Kulindadromeus, startled, drops the invertebrate into the water, where it slowly trudges away.
Another older Kulindadromeus watches from the horsetails as it slowly nibbles on a stalk. It is not amused by the juvenile’s antics. One day, its distant relative will forget what a horsetail is. For now, it savours the tenderness of the horsetail in all its feathered glory.

Kulindadromeus, the fluffy little critter that it is, roams the forest of horsetails. It is early in the morning; the sunlight peeking from the distant mountains illuminates the highest treetops. Mayflies are ascending from the surface of the pond, only to be seized within the jaws of this diminutive herbivore. As herbivorous as it may be, Kulindadromeus won’t pass up a nutritious snack.

Small notostracans emerge from the water, crawling slowly towards the edge. The ever-curious Kulindadromeus picks one of them up with its foot. It vigorously squrims; Kulindadromeus, startled, drops the invertebrate into the water, where it slowly trudges away.

Another older Kulindadromeus watches from the horsetails as it slowly nibbles on a stalk. It is not amused by the juvenile’s antics. One day, its distant relative will forget what a horsetail is. For now, it savours the tenderness of the horsetail in all its feathered glory.

Ichthyovenator lurks in the swamps, paddling with its webbed feet through the flooded forest. For a large predator, it is relatively harmless - eating mostly fish - and relatively inconspicuous. Only its notched sail and snout poke out of the murky algae-infested waters.
The predator stumbles into a colony of fish. Startled, they swim away, some leaping out of the water in a near-acrobatic fashion before writhing through the twisted roots. 
Nothing goes over Ichthyovenator's head, nor under it. With a swoop and a snap, it has caught a fish. Lifting its head above the surface, it rears and swallows. The fish is no more.
From here.

Ichthyovenator lurks in the swamps, paddling with its webbed feet through the flooded forest. For a large predator, it is relatively harmless - eating mostly fish - and relatively inconspicuous. Only its notched sail and snout poke out of the murky algae-infested waters.

The predator stumbles into a colony of fish. Startled, they swim away, some leaping out of the water in a near-acrobatic fashion before writhing through the twisted roots. 

Nothing goes over Ichthyovenator's head, nor under it. With a swoop and a snap, it has caught a fish. Lifting its head above the surface, it rears and swallows. The fish is no more.

From here.

Nyasasaurus is up early. After all, the early bird gets the worm.
The Stenaulorhynchus are out and about again, wandering through the underbrush and uprooting ferns here and there. In the early morning, one can hear two noises - the sound of the running river, and the trampling about and chewing of the Stenaulorhynchus.
Splotches of dark mud and uprooted soil litter the landscape. Nyasasaurus darts here and there, pecking at the roots of the plants. Worms and insects, displaced by the violent upheaval, are slowly emerging from their hiding places in search of a new plant to colonize. Come too late, and they would have bored into the soil beneath the adjacent fern. 
But nothing is too fast for Nyasasaurus. After all, the early bird gets the worm.
From here.

Nyasasaurus is up early. After all, the early bird gets the worm.

The Stenaulorhynchus are out and about again, wandering through the underbrush and uprooting ferns here and there. In the early morning, one can hear two noises - the sound of the running river, and the trampling about and chewing of the Stenaulorhynchus.

Splotches of dark mud and uprooted soil litter the landscape. Nyasasaurus darts here and there, pecking at the roots of the plants. Worms and insects, displaced by the violent upheaval, are slowly emerging from their hiding places in search of a new plant to colonize. Come too late, and they would have bored into the soil beneath the adjacent fern. 

But nothing is too fast for Nyasasaurus. After all, the early bird gets the worm.

From here.