psychicae

ionone

saintpaulia; procedure; Adolf Wolfli

hitnanium protracity

My figures bear a striking resemblance to Asta Nielsen, an icon of silent cinema.

Moreover, one might also draw comparisons between Ms. Nielsen and an elongated version of myself (in my dreams).

It's real hot in my room. Real hot. Can't form sentences. The following things are plodding around my skull:

Badlands, Biba, Rita, Goodbody.

Good night.

groats

Oh golly. An illustration that I did about a year ago was featured in the 322 Review, an online publication affiliated with Rowan University. Cool.

Here.

The image was completed during an independent study with Bob Byrd, while I was a senior at UArts. It's supposed to accompany Kafka's seventeenth Zürau Aphorism (I have never been here before: my breath comes differently, the sun is outshone by a star beside it.); it was among the three aphorisms that I chose to illustrate for the course, which was devoted to just that - the production of imagery in accordance with Franz Kafka's book of parables (one of my favorite things in the universe), placing an emphasis on the emotional (as opposed to the narrative) aspects of the cryptic imagery therein.

Also, here are a few images that I worked on during the long, freaky, and vapid hours I spent at my last place of employment. I forgot that I had these...just some, uh, digitally worked-on guys from my sketchbook and stuff, including a tiny Kafka (one of an embarrassingly huge collection).

I attempted to manipulate some of my 3-D stuff on Photoshop, too. The results are very strange but I kind of like them:

It's almost 8. I'm due to spend some time with my fish skeleton and a bottle of glue.

hollowspine

New Guy finally has a home . . .

Hmm, I thought this image would be larger once I uploaded it. Oh well. I'd like to augment the clarity of his feet, along with some other details, but aside from that I guess he's done! The image is presently untitled. It's odd; I started working on this piece a few weeks before reading The Museum of Love by Steve Weiner. The first chapter of the book contains similar imagery of birds flying upside-down through dismal skies, from a young boy's perspective. Something compelled me to illustrate a segment of the text prior to actually reading it. Weird. Still...I don't think I'm going to extract title-fodder from the book, even though it contains plenty of nigh-considerable locutionary combinations.

I also completed another, uh, thing. This month's exhibition at The Soapbox is entitled "Lightness and Weight" and, as a participant, I thought it would be quite apposite to crochet a very delicate (and subsequently stiffened) fish skeleton:

I guess the foundation for the piece is partially aligned with my interest in rendering the likeness of something that can no longer grow, by way of a process that is based entirely upon proliferation. I like the idea of generating yardage in an antiquated manner and using that material to create the image of a creature that, despite its elevated position on the evolutionary scale, is stuck in a state of sustained dormancy.

The fish is also sort of an homage to Raymond Queneau's meditations on sea life, most specifically in the novel Saint Glinglin and in his treatise on 'pataphysics, which involves the notion that 'pataphysics is simultaneously everything and nothing. That principle kind of reflects the neutrality of the fish, its inconsequentiality, etc, which is how I interpreted the theme of the show. I've had fish on the brain for quite a while now. I listened to a lot of ocean-themed music as I crocheted and glued my way towards total fish manifestation.

This endeavor has opened up a whole can of worms. I'd like to crochet a pair of antlers. Also, I'm thinking about using a similar method to make jewelry. Crocheting is fun.