a month has passed

"What if I should fall right through the center of the earth, Oh, and come out the other side . . . "

. . . 

"A month has passed since I have shared with you here

And I implore you, Dear, that you must not fear;

Patience only is required

And soon you shall see What I have sired."

rossi lamont walter

Art Week #4

Photograph by Hannah Glass.

Found here.

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things; of shoes and ships and sealing wax-- of cabbages and kings-- and why the sea is boiling hot and weather pigs have wings."

. . . 

Today, I have completed 14/15 pages of my final paper and am very happy with my focus and progress. Unfortunately, that means that art took a back seat. I planned for this.

Fortunately, though, today has given me another good sign of progress. In looking for a nice images of the sirens, I came across a very random blog called "Rambles from my Chair". Among all of the things to find, there was this quote at the top of his page, which you also found at the top of this entry. You don't have to have read the book to recognize Lewis Carroll. The cosmic relevance struck me.

If I take this as a sign, which I do, it seems that I am on the right path with my Alice Tree project. 

Take my time from time not wasted. 

Though I have not been able make art with a pen, I did manage to contribute to a little poetry that came together in response to the Facebook status of another hippy friend of mine. 

"We don't eat

We don't sleep--

Feels like dreaming--

Without the feeling?

Exactly that, that was rather perfect--

And even so, my head's still reeling"

24 juillet 2011

alex rosene, araf hossain, rossi walter

The triage of voices here brought to mind another fantastical image I have always been fond of: the Sirens of Greek mythology. Illustrator BreeAnn Veenstra did a marvelous rendition:

"The Sirens' Lure" by BreeAnn Veenstra

Survey her other work here.

That seems to be it for this week but I am not complaining. Academic progress in the foreground and a cooking plot for poor Alice in the background. Perhaps I can say I am using the whole of my brain. That would be magnificent. Either way, we all know what the Duchess would say.

"take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves,"
rossi

Art Week #3

"The Cursed Circus"

More photographs of this unique dance troupe here.

. . . 

I am listening to "Bilar" by Ratatat. The feel of this song goes something like how I would imagine walking through a dense metal yard stacked high with shadowed figures with sharp edges during deep sunset while tripping on some psychedelic. Or, just as fair, something like this. 

This week was another week of slow progress, but progress was made nonetheless. I have brought together my varying intimacies with poetry, art, and photography (geez) into five distinct "projects". One of these projects gained a new entry this week, with a poem I wrote entitled,

I sat by the sea

—Then I threw my body in

To let loose of it, be through it with

Voilà! C’est la fin.

For today, the sea was crashing

A mad thrash into the rocks

. . . 

14 juillet

In fact, that is not the end. The poem is only a bit longer. One day I'll share the rest. Here is where I sat.

Recall my obsession with all things Alice in Wonderland. Well, during a gay pride/rights march in Nice yesterday, a pleasant reassurance fell into my lap... 

I took this as a sign, if anything. So in good taste and due to my unlimited enthusiasm for Lewis Carroll's brain child, I have mentally dedicated most of my effort to a project that I started this past winter, one that concerns solely my poor Alice. It is titled The Alice Tree, for now, after the drawing I posted. Poor Alice, helplessly subjected to the tossing and trembling of my imagination... 

Last week I said I would fill 18 boxes. I filled 12, which suffices. 

This week, I enlarged two of the mini-sketches. 

Detail: the letter on each door. can you find the hidden detail in the bottom sketch?
hint: "You would find me in the Cursed Circus."

Explanation: this is "Mist/La Brume" and her distress, to which poor Alice has befallen. 

Can you see what is happening in the first sketch? 

Next week will see progress with Mlle. Haze and her own trickery. 

I really, really need to start practicing with paints and evaporate these ideas onto canvas. These sketches can't stay in ink on paper forever. I guess the saying is true: you can't have mist without heat. Meanwhile, I should get my hands on a pretty, hardback copy of Alices Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. Surprises, surprises, I have yet to read either one.

come fall, pedal to the metal, don't let the dust settle,

rossi

Art Week #2

. . . 

I'm late.
But that's not too important.
Granted, it is only two hours past midnight, so I very much am still in the fingerlaces of Sunday's night.
For all intents and purposes--and intended purposes--I am quite on time.
Sublime.

As far as my art is concerned, this week was slow getting started due to a lot of work. I've never read so much Franco-Algerian history in my life. (Never read any before, actually. Is this a problem with our World History education in America? Who knows, but the answer is clearly yes.) Lately I've had in mind a collection of word scrawling and pen illustrations that sit in a big black book back in Boston. (Nice.) Here is one of them. It is called, "The Alice Tree".

"The Alice Tree"

Here it is sliced up because I used it as the cover of a short story I submitted to a contest at school and mysteriously never heard back from them-- not with with the winner, a thank you, a disappointing remark on the scattered nature (beauty) of my submission, nothing. Thanks Harvard, for being sketchy. Anyway, I figured out how to pick up where I left off with the plot. It involves poor Alice (she is always the unfortunate, she has to be) happening upon three enchanted sisters, named Haze (L'Obscurité), Mist (La Brume), and Gloom (La Mélancolie). 

In class I managed to sketch out a rather tame picture. Here are the Fog Sisters (Les Sœurs du Voile):

Rendition 1

Like I said, pretty tame. I do like the tarot-card centralization of this sketch, though. Something about this length-to-width proportion just makes me giddy. 

So, the week goes on, I'm learning how France dominated Algeria in the 18th and 19th centuries with crazy effectiveness, and, in Google Image searching for inspiration regarding what exactly constitutes "melancholy," I find this guy: Ryohei Hase, digital illustrator based in Tokyo, Japan. Go to his website. I'm very impressed with his very skilled and patient use of the "digital brush" as one of my closer buddies called it. Using a little intuition, you will find his series of eight pieces done with this theme. For fun, guess which piece was my favorite. Hint: there are two. 

Ryohei keeps notes, which I looked through a little bit. In them, I found a technique that I've seen used also by Esao Andrews. I said to myself, "Well, there you have it. If two professional illustrator-artists use it, then you should use it, for at least try it for the benefits." And I did. Or at least I have started:

By the end of this new week, all 18 will be filled. I will be thrilled.

ciaociao,

rossi