Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Hans off.

...and when grandmother told any stories, he would interrupt her with “but;” or...get behind her chair, put on a pair of spectacles, and imitate her very cleverly, to make people laugh. By-and-by he began to mimic the speech and gait of persons in the street. All that was peculiar or disagreeable in a person he would imitate directly, and people said, “That boy will be very clever; he has a remarkable genius.” But it was the piece of glass in his eye, and the coldness in his heart, that made him act like this...His games, too, were quite different; they were not so childish. One winter’s day, when it snowed, he brought out a burning-glass, then he held out the tail of his blue coat, and let the snow-flakes fall upon it. “Look in this glass, Gerda,” said he; and she saw how every flake of snow was magnified, and looked like a beautiful flower or a glittering star. “Is it not clever?” said Kay, “and much more interesting than looking at real flowers. There is not a single fault in it, and the snow-flakes are quite perfect till they begin to melt.”

The Snow Queen

It's no secret that Andersen hated children and the aristocracy, but apparently his disapproval extended to skeptics, actors, and, seemingly, number theorists.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Godless sea.

And when the seas receded, they left a seed which sprouted and grew tall. And the birds would dart like minnows through its hair while the sweet, sensitive deer schooled in its shadows. And it mocked the desert summers with a submarine grace and chided the winters with whalesong. And when the simple townsfolk ventured out, they would croon and bow and garland it with sage. And they called it Lan-yir, Messenger of the Waves, and tended it with great care.

And generations passed, and in the fifth and twentieth year of King Meshna the Forthright, Lan-Yir was consumed with trembling and its heavy pods burst with effort and poured forth from themselves wondrous clouds of--


Wednesday, July 11, 2007

A chemical reaction.

I stared at a screw on the wall for so long yesterday that it leapt in fear from its post. But rather than fall to the ground, it sprouted wings and dipped, top heavy and grunting, out the door. Seriously.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Jesus in the sheets.

Been stuffing in earfuls of the The Knife. Ignoring the natural comparisons to T.A.T.U., it makes for wild listening. And a seriously creepy video.

Wednesday, July 04, 2007


Still slogging through The Snow Queen.

And grappling with the timeless 'blank page' issue. Drawing an open book presents the illustrator with a very real dilemma. To fill or not to fill. Theoretically the attempt at script should always be made--but the problems of precision and content are immediate and daunting. Should the artist take a stab at what is really the author's job and cross the line between illustration and documentation?
On the other hand, an unfilled page is glaring--potentially suggests indifference, lack of inspiration, or (god forbid) craftlessness.

I go back and forth. And am never quite satisfied with either result.