Fountain of Youth

Oh how I love four-year-olds:

Miss T: C, why do you have marker all over your nose??
C: Because I wanted freckles.
Miss T: laughs Why'd you want freckles? Did you see someone who had freckles?
C: Yeah, F and Miss M. And I always wanted freckles.

I will miss the little whippersnappers this summer.


Different interpretations are put forth about the anomalous imagery of the artist in his paintings, especially the Garden of Earthly Delights. Usually the basic message is this: humanity is naive and wreckless and taking the shortcut to hellish destruction. Boom, there it is. One historian even saw the famous triptych (Garden) as a manifesto of the heretical Adamite group. The proto-hippies...in a nut-shell, people who practiced "amoral" sexual bonding without guilt (and by abolishing marriage) in order to experience life as Adam and Eve knew it. They were also advocates of "holy nudism"...sign me up. I'm calling a revival, taking the medieval Dutch name "Brethren and Sisters of the Free Spirit."

I recently watched a program about the Black Death on the History Channel, and similar groups toured Europe like rock stars; everyone thought the world was coming to an end and brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers fell victim to the horrible disease while priests and legit representatives of Rome ran and hid or failed to provide the spiritual answer...before neo-Platonism and Descartes and modern Western medicine...I'd definitely kick up my heels and run wild.

This engraving was used in Bosch's biography to show a similarity between his paintings and the late medieval traditions of the love garden and fountain of youth. The book elaborates on that view, citing that the bathing couples, flowers and birds in the Garden all belong to the realm of Venus--a prominent figure in astrological and humoral traditions, of which Bosch was part.

self-sacrifice

In Brunswyck's Book of Distillation, first published in 1490, the blood of the pelican brings healing and renewal and was frequently compared to the blood of Christ throughout medieval Europe. The pelican was thought to be particularly attentive to her young, providing her own blood when no other food was available. The bird became a symbol of self-sacrifice in bestiaries.

Sometimes I experience intense crying fits in the middle of the night. In fact, I had one last night. And a lot of them have to do with suffering. Rather, thinking of the people I love suffering. So, suffering is frequently rooted in love, which can be just as detrimental as hatred, but self-sacrifice gives us a chance to reaffirm our existence and essentially substantiate ourselves (ad hominem, goddammit) with respect to those we love. Sacrifice and suffering in general are very familiar concepts to me, considering I was raised Catholic. And it's always been difficult to rid myself of the obligation to pain in order to feel purpose, or to feel alive and on the right track.  Yes, it's masochistic, and yes, it's probably unnecessary, but regardless, that's how I'm wired. Other religions posit that life's resolution is to abolish suffering, but in order to do that, one must be not only compassionate toward those one feels threatened by or hates...but you must also free yourself from love and the consequent pain it inflicts. Why would I want to do that? I would hurt those who love me by not loving them back. But I would be hurting them, which is the exact opposite of what I want to achieve. I don't know.


Life is still beautiful, and I love magnolias. They're so ancient.

The Art of Dying

Another post from way-back-when, when A and I were introduced to the demented and utterly entertaining acts put on at the Palace of Wonders last year. After witnessing the truly spew-inducing (well, maybe not spew-inducing, but I definitely pulled out a few chunks of hair) panoply of warped, self-injuring stunts of the gifted Zamora the Torture King and also in the spirit of the crazy fun times had with Thrill Kill Jill and her beau Tyler Fyre, whose props include an array of swords, an albino python (think From Dusk Till Dawn), a synthetic confetti-filled placenta, and a whole lotta fire, I present this print.

From the popular illustrated treatise The Art of Dying (Ars moriendi), this is a blockbook print of the Avaricious Man. All of the woodcuts feature a dying man lying in bed, accompanied by an angel, a devil, and other pertinent figures to show a particular form of temptation--which becomes dangerously alluring when one is at the end of his rope. The book outlines over the course of several chapters ways in which the ill-fated can overcome temptation and accomplish peace because "the devil with all his might is busy to avert fully a man from the faith in his last end." Blah blah blah.

(The Avaricious Man, from The Art of Dying, 1465-70. Blockbook)

Science Is My Religion, I Think

Listening to: Philip Glass, Glassworks
Reading: Flowers: How They Changed the World by William C. Burger
Just Finished Reading: Your Inner Fish: A Journey into the 3.5-Billion-Year History of the Human Body by Neil Shubin


I've recently become quite obsessed with evolutionary biology. Ever since I read Loren Eiseley's book The Immense Journey (particularly his essay about flowers and the one entitled The Snout), I can't get enough of it. That and cosmology. Recently, the Science Channel aired a biography of Albert Einstein and followed it up with a show chronicling the history of humanity's interest in the Universe. That prompted me to get down with some Stephen Hawking and Carl Sagan. Cosmos, here I come. Well, maybe not now, but you're definitely going on my wishlist.

Just before discovering Eiseley, a naturalist who really has the artistic shrewdness of a poet, I read Hesse's Siddhartha. Each gave me a spiritual connection with the rest of the world as I read it...both have underlying themes of some kind of primordial monadic kinship with the entire universe and eternal existence on a basic level.

Alright, I just started Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart, and I think I'll be off to finish it. :)

Children of Luna

This is a block book print.  Still cleaning out the attic at my old blog and touching up my new place here. The Children of the Planets pictorial series was a popular subject with Renaissance artists, and I chose this particular one because I myself am a child of Luna.

During the 15
th c. when this piece was created, the geocentric model of the universe was the established, accepted model, with the earth snug in the center of cosmos and surrounded by the seven spheres of the known planets, the fixed stars of the zodiac, and the empyrean heaven of God. Within this ancient order, human beings were intrinsically linked with the cosmos, and like the stars and planets, the body was thought to contain the four elements. Each element possessed essential qualities, which in turn were associated with bodily temperaments, humors, and dispositions. The element of water was cold and wet and linked with phlegm and the phlegmatic type.

Luna, the moon was associated with phlegm and the realm of water. The children of Luna were thought to have a propensity for sailing, fishing, and swimming; but they could also be restless and unstable, vacillating back and forth like the tides. The brain was also associated with Luna, as it is a moist organ and prone to the sway of the moon. It was believed that an overabundance of lunar influence caused insanity (thus, the etymology of "lunatic"). Phlegmatic personalities also tended to be stupid, slothful, and gluttonous.

(Children of Luna, c. 1470. BlockbookStaatliche Museen, Berlin)

Ichiban Eggplant and Thank You Card

This weekend was relaxed, yet oddly productive...we managed to put in 26 different vegetables and fruits in two different plots of land and a couple of terra cotta pots.  This may sound strange, but I'm stoked about our eggplant varieties: black beauty, ichiban, and rosa bianca. Yeah, buddy. My dog managed to rid the yard of rabbit poo by means not to be mentioned...and the kitchen floor is also spotless. She's lovin' it...tears up the yard because the fertilizer in the lawn makes her tweek out then passes out for three hours.

A's sis is in Turkey, and I'm so jealous. She's bargaining like crazy in the bazaars and is the target of many a Turkish boy's affections and heads up the Bosphorus in a few days.  *sigh*


I've decided to post my thank you card I made for everyone who came to our engagement party: A and I under a weeping cherry tree with tons of dandelion clocks everywhere.  I tried a different technique this time and went for the more painterly approach rather than the "disegno" method. I'm not sure if I'll offer this one in my Etsy store or not.

Japanese Woodblock

Yoshida Hiroshi was part of the Shin Hanga ("New Prints", c. 1910-1960) art movement, which sought to marry Western elements and trends with the traditional Japanese woodblock technique. Shin Hanga is sometimes called Neo Ukiyo-e because of the subject matter shared by both traditions, but Shin Hanga pieces tend to be naturalistic, displaying three-dimensionality using soft, airy color tones--characteristics at odds with the Ukiyo-e canon. Looking at Shin Hanga pieces, it's not difficult to see the influence of the European Impressionists.

I love this print; it's gorgeous and if you happen to be in the D.C. area, even for a short time, I recommend a visit to the Freer and Sackler galleries. They're part of the Smithsonian, i.e. they're FREE.

(detail of Kameido Bridge, from the series Twelve Scenes of Tokyo.: Yoshida Hiroshi. 1927. Woodblock print; ink and color on paper. Freer and Sackler Galleries of Art.)

I feel like I just took a dip in hot wax and now it's drying and pinching the hell out of my skin...I'm tight all over and insanely tired.  My face feels like it's falling off--yeah, I feel like Sylvester Stallone looks in Rambo IV. (Yet, he still manages to kick ass) Not feeling on par for work, but the fact that I kick off the day with an hour and a half of nap-time makes me feel a little better. And after that we make pinwheels. There are worse jobs.

New Greeting Card/Postcard

More new art...just finished this piece tonight. I really want to keep with this style--a little bit whimsical, ornamental, soft but not too soft. Can you find the whale in there?? I know it's pretty early on in bloglife to ask for comments and feedback, but if there's anyone willing to say their piece, I'd be grateful.

This is going to be a card for my new Etsy shop I'll be opening. Inside there will be a little illustration of a whale spouting water with two little people in the splash...along with the words "so glad I found you." I'm thinking of making postcards of it too, providing little envelopes to go with them. I'm excited about Etsy! And a little nervous that my crap won't sell, but definitely willing to give it a try regardless.

So, we're headed up to Atlantic City this weekend for Memorial Day, and I can't wait because it's supposed to be sunny and in the 80s. And we're catching Terminator Salvation, about which I am truly psyched. Christian Bale, homicidal cyborgs, dystopian fatalism. All-You-Can-Eat Seafood Buffet at Caesar's. Yessss. So. Awesome.

*added 6/23/09: Another submission for Illustration Friday's topic "Drifting"

danse macabre

Alright, another greatest-hits post.  Woodcuts have always been a huge influence on my art--print media in general, be it etching, engraving, or drypoint. And most especially the examples from the Renaissance on through the Mannerist period.

So I frequently find myself buying books on the subject, and I've accumulated a veritable library. My most recent addition is The Dance of Death
 by Hans Holbein the Younger. I read the reviews given by people on amazon, which were mixed, but without hesitation, purchased it. Why? No matter what mildly disparaging things people say about "size" and "reproduction quality" blah blah blah, woodcuts nearly always reproduce awesomely. And when I got the book, I was not disappointed, and I think the small plates actually add to the book's appeal (approx. 2" x 3").

The Dance of Death, 
danse macabreTotentanz. Scenes of figures from every station of life and accompanying cadavers or skeletons. Holbein's is considered one of the most intellectually interesting and aesthetically distinguished examples. His also illustrates the concept of memento mori...."remember that you will die"...no matter who you are.

The Emperor...one of my favorites.

Order thine house while thou hast breath,
Bestow thou goods; for thou must die,
And soon within the realms of Death
The chariots of thy state shall lie.


(English translation from 
Les simulachres & historiees faces de la mort)

St. Anthony Part II

Another of St Anthony.  This woodcut depicts the saint with a t-shaped tau cross with bells, flames, and a pet pig, which befriended him during his exile. He is associated with fire because of his encounters with the demons of hell.

In this piece, the pestering demons are replaced by victims of the holy fire or "St Anthony's Fire," and detached limbs dangle above the saint and his entourage. The explanation? Sufferers of St Anthony's fire were racked with gangrene of the extremities, which resulted in the withering and eventual detachment of affected limbs. This image reflects the practice of hanging amputated limbs of victims above entrance portals of Antonite monasteries, called to act as hospitals and authorized to heal in the name of the saint.

Unfortunately, body rotting and the subsequent dismemberment were not the only hellish indices rendered by the infectious bete noire. Hallucination, muscle contortions, convulsions, and an agonizing, burning chronic pain. Ouch. And all caused by a stupid mould. Known today as ergotism, holy fire was caused by the contamination of grain, most often rye, by the ergot mould. When heated in the oven, the mould transforms into a type of LSD. Notwithstanding, that trip does not sound like a fun one.

(St Anthony, c. 1445. Woodcut. Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, Munich)

St. Anthony Part I

Alright, so I've decided to bring some posts from my bygone blog to join the party here at Evillustrator. They're graphically inclined, so I thought, hey what the hell.  So, here's a post in honor of my beau.

St Anthony was a popular subject in Northern Renaissance art because his stoic endurance of pain mirrored Christ's Passion and offered a perfect example of forbearance in the midst of suffering and of emulating the path of Christ himself.

Also known as St Anthony of Egypt, he is considered the father of monasticism and probably lived from the mid-3rd to the mid-4th centuries of the common era. The torments of St Anthony would have been well known to Renaissance audiences via the accounts in the bestselling Golden Legend and Lives of the Church Fathers, both of which borrow from the biography of Anthony by the 4th c. bishop Athanasius. Apparently the devil wracked the man's brain with naughty images of women, demoralized him with laziness, and drove him crazy with boredom. Huh, hard to imagine such things happening out there. In the desert. Alone. He retreated to the tomb where he lived, sealing himself inside. Or so he thought--the devil went into a jealous rage when confronted by this intense devotion to God and voluntary, stalwart asceticism and beat him severely.

This engraving is a disturbing, yet utterly mezmerizing, depiction of St Anthony and his demons. The man looks completely calm, albeit slightly uncomfortable, as the malignant beasts pinch and pull and prod and grope.

The cult of St Anthony increased in popularity during the 15th and 16th c. in Europe partly because of a rekindling of the dreaded St Anthony's Fire, also called holy fire (
ignis sacer). 

(Martin Schongauer, Temptation of St Anthony, c. 1470-5. Engraving)

First Post


So, I've got it in my head to actually follow through with something.  At least until late summer-ish.  Two weeks from now, I'll be out of a real job and self-employed, so, I've decided to take a serious crack at selling my art.  I've always had drawing as a creative outlet, and over the years I like to think I've honed my talent, succinctly whittled my historical interests down to a somewhat individual style.  Even though I tend to jump from medium to medium, I'm hoping that each piece is a signature EV one-of-a-kind.  I'm not really so vain as to think that every painting or drawing that gets splashed or scribbled onto a piece of paper is entirely my own.  My mind is like a sponge, so whatever the slosh that gets wrung out, it's always going to be what some people (those who use the word "mine" a lot) may deem plagiarism.  I'm sorry, but elements of Kay Nielsen, Brueghel the Elder, or some random Art Nouveau dude are going to find their way into my lines...but that's the whole of art history.  

Yeah I don't understand people who are overly protective of their subject or style or whatever...man, your stuff originated from someone else.  Influence is the word.  And if it's not another painter, it's nature or some kind of mind-altering substance...and don't think you're the only one to have ever experienced something so bizarre...not as strange as you might think.  I respect the individualism of each person and believe you should embrace what makes you unique, but not to the point where it separates you from everything else.  

I have no idea where that came from, but there it is.

Anyway, I did this pic a few weeks ago, tried something new.  I want to focus on childhood imagery, but not so much traditional notions of it.  My childhood was fun but not necessarily overly normal.  So, yeah.