The Art of Illumination - In Memory Of Maurice Sendak

“Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters — sometimes very hastily — but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, “Dear Jim: I loved your card.” Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, “Jim loved your card so much he ate it.” That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.”

- Maurice Sendak, found here

Just heard the sad news that illustrator Maurice Sendak died today via this article from Yahoo. I was always a fan of Sendak's work as well as inspired by it. I didn't realize he lived not far away from me in Connecticut. I wish I'd known him. 

Of course, his masterstroke and probably most popular children's book was "Where the Wild Things Are", and there many tributes to Sendak and that particular story going up on the web as I write this. So, just to be different, I'm including in this post two more delicate illustrations from two of his other books. The first is from "Outside Over There", a "Labyrinth"-like tale (which proceeded Labyrinth) about a little girl who neglects her sibling while baby-sitting, and then must retrieve the baby after it is stolen by goblins. The second is from Sendak's adaption of a lesser-known Grimm's tale: "Dear Milli". I tend to feel that the "Father Joseph" in this illustration is Sendak himself... with his "dream-daughter", the one he never physically sired, but, you know, and I know, existed nonetheless. Fare-thee-well, Maurice Sendak, and thank you.

Below is a 2002 PBS news-clip featuring Sendak.

P.S. I don't know why this is, but everywhere I go on the web lately, I seem to run into Neil Gaiman... not that this is a bad thing... it's a very nice thing actually. Here's a link to Gaiman's thoughts on Maurice Sendak via a Wired memorial. (via Boing Boing)... and Gaiman's related journal entry.

Art & Science... featuring the work of Renata Spiazzi

"The idea of cross-disciplinary exchange seems to be catching on again. SEED, a NYC-based science magazine which pairs essays on genetics, geology, and history's most infamous math problems with knock-your-socks off design has partnered withThe Museum of Modern Art to host a salon aimed at sparking collaborations between designer, architects, and scientists.

'At the beginning the spheres can be quite separate,' MOMA's Curator for Architecture and Design, Paola Antonelli told Big Think. 'But when they discover each other and start talking the same language, it's really unstoppable.' One information architect offered solutions to help deliver accurate and readable data, a significant challenge to geneticists. Architects and scientists share an obsession with the building blocks of the world (and the universe), says Antonelli. 'Give them a push, and then they come together.'"

The quote above is from a recent Big Think article, The Beautiful Universe: A Convergence of Art and Science, that addresses a topic I've always been fond of: the dimension or discipline where art and science meet. For myself, that place has always been geometry. A mathematician operates and excels with numerical patterns, whereas the artist visualizes and utilizes actual patterns... in other words, a similar landscape described in two different languages. For the digital artist the two languages begin to meld into one via the fractal, and often by methodology, depending upon how the artist approaches the computer. Then again architecture, sculpture, and science are married through physics, inevitable matches. Archaeology and medical research are dependent upon physical pattern recognition... and the list goes on.

Perhaps, inside every artist is a scientist struggling to emerge, and inside every scientist is an artist following his or her own artistic muse. Art is a science, science is an art. The real question is, why would we ever think otherwise?

***

"When people ask me what I think about while I am creating, my answer is: I am dreaming of a new world, a new landscape, a new place no one has ever been to."

- Renata Spiazzi, via this MOCA page

The beautiful Julia Set that begins this post is by digital artist, Renata Spiazzi. I planned to do a post devoted to her work last year, but, in my usual haphazard way, this never came to pass. Sorry, Renata, it was nothing personal; just the chaotic reality that I call home.

Two of my favorite images by Renata are below... click on them for larger views.

For more of her amazing work, go to her website, and, for a MOCA article featuring Renata Spiazzi from last year, try here.

For a Digital Art Guild article on art and science, see The Art of Science by Annie Cavanagh.

A Belated Happy New Year... And Another Dragon

Well, I missed my deadline... and the "jade" still needs some work, but I decided I'd better post version #3 before I totally went around the bend. It is seemingly not the most auspicious time for artwork!

In any case, may the Water Dragon bestow it's blessings upon all of us!

2012 - the Year of the Dragon

"Unlike the wicked, fire-breathing dragons of Western mythology, China’s celestial dragon symbolizes potent and benevolent power. Dragons are ancient, majestic, wise, and intelligent, and Dragon years are considered particularly auspicious for new businesses, marriage and children. Dragon years also tend to boost individual fortunes and the world economy.

It’s also true, however, that all five of the Chinese Dragon years — Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal and Water — tend to magnify both success and failure. So while they can mark huge achievement, disasters can be equally immense. The Year of the Fire Dragon (1917, 1976, and 2036) typically wreaks the most havoc.

However, the Year of the Water Dragon (1992, 1952 and 2012) is noted for its calm, visionary intelligence, and balance of right brain creativity with left brain logic.

What influence might the Water Dragon, which rules from January 23, 2012 to February 9, 2013, have on the powerful energies already anticipated at that time?

Like all Dragons, the Water Dragon is an innovative, fearless leader. But the Water Dragon is also far more sensitive to others’ needs, and is more likely to be progressive and diplomatic, as well as socially and environmentally conscious. Because Water bestows a more peaceful disposition, this Dragon will act wisely and intelligently, and unlike his fellow Dragons, is willing to set aside his ego for the good of all."

2012 - Year of the Dragon

The 2011 holiday season is now behind us and 2011 is now history, and I imagine that very few of us are particularly sorry to see the back of it. But, as it stands, the end of the year and the western New Year celebrations have always left me a little cold - okay, a lot cold - quite possibly because my birthday happens to fall on December 31. Yeah, you'd think I'd be out there partying like mad and having a grand old time, and I confess, in my twenties and thirties I really did try. But I failed. Now, I just find the whole enterprise, all the New Year's hype and forced sentimentality, abysmally depressing. As in, yuck.

And, no, I don't dig having to add a higher digit to my age, either.

Then, of course - and lest we forget -  one can't escape all the gloom and doom via   soothsayers who will insist that the world's about to fall down the crapper in 2012. Well, it's always something. This time it's due to misinterpretations of the Mayan "Long Count" calendar. As it happens, according to this particular calendar, 2012 does mark the end of a Mayan cycle. It does not, however, indicate that there aren't any further cycles to transpire.

Interestingly, others have marked this period as the "return" of Quetzalcoatl, the Meso-American "feathered-serpent" god, which, if you think about it, could very well be representational of a dragon.

Anyway, when I realized that the Chinese Lunar Year of the Dragon is due to begin the 23rd of January - the day of the new moon - I put on my proverbial dancing shoes again. THE YEAR OF THE DRAGON - how cool is that? And it falls on a date with a fairly auspicious number - 23. It's so nice to have another day to start the year again!

Contrary to western tradition, the dragons of the east are magnificent creatures and not evil at all. Interestingly, the Chinese people believe that they've descended from dragons, which is of particular interest to me, in light of my own dragon Princess. (And, speaking of reptilians...)

That being said, the minute I realized that this is a Dragon year, I felt inspired to create my own lucky talisman image, hence the 2 images - variations on the same theme - above. I incorporated all traditional Eastern elements in my design, including the red lozenge-shaped emblem with the gold symbol of good fortune, the large dragon character, and four additional Chinese characters for longevity, happiness, prosperity and love. I used actual jewel scans to create the images, notably carnelian, pearl, obsidian and gold. I'm working on one with jade also, and if it works out, I'll add it to the post. 

(UPDATE: The jade dragon can be found here.)

Meanwhile, feel free to "borrow" a talisman for your own personal use - non-commercial only, or it won't be so lucky... well, that is unless this "starving artist" gets a piece of the pie!  :-) -  and, most importantly,  have a most fortunate year! 

"Ring Out, Solstice Bells"

The Green Man - Digital - 2009, Dia Sobin

Well, my friends, it's that time of year again, and for those of us of paganistic persuasion, this is a day of celebration... the winter solstice.

The Green Man - my interpretation above - is not normally associated with this day, but, instead, is generally associated with Beltane festivities in his guise as Jack-in-the-Green. But the Green Man is also an ancient symbol of death and rebirth... as is the Yule season. In Green Man: The Archetype of Our Oneness With the Earth, William Anderson writes:

"There are legends of him (Khidr) in which, like Osiris, he is dismembered and reborn; and prophecies connecting him, like the Green Man, with the end of time. His name means the Green One or Verdant One, he is the voice of inspiration to the aspirant and committed artist. He can come as a white light or the gleam on a blade of grass, but more often as an inner mood. The sign of his presence is the ability to work or experience with tireless enthusiasm beyond one's normal capacities. In this there may be a link across cultures, …one reason for the enthusiasm of the medieval sculptors for the Green Man may be that he was the source of every inspiration."

So my wish for all us is, may this season inspire wonder and magic in our psyches despite the onslaught of winter.

Let's face it, 2011 was a rather brutal year... so, let's have some fun! And, I can think of no more festive song than this blast from the past, "Ring Out, Solstice Bells", from an old Jethro Tull album (and a personal seasonal favorite in the days of vinyl), "Songs from the Wood".

For a further exploration of the solstice, see: Hail Winter Solstice Deus Sol Invictus.

A Green Man found at Gloucester Cathedral

For hundreds of images of Green Men - as architectural details - found around the world, try these pages.

Faux Wood Carvings - Updated 11/18/11

(Click to enlarge.)

It was a fairly dreary day here at the homestead... the image I've been laboring over for the past few days is about to hit the proverbial quicksand, the rain that has been persistently falling for 3 days has made just about every other enterprise impossible, and the migraine I've been battling for 24 hours is never far enough at bay - what's not to love?

Well, one thing I definitely do love is (as we know) creating "reality" from scratch... after all, "reality" can be quite ugly... or worse still, uninspired and quite the bore... but as a creative person, this should never be the case. It is your duty (I say) to embellish the walls of hell with transdimensional postcards from your inner paradise. And, while beauty is, perhaps, "only in the eye of the beholder", I'm hoping there are some things we can unanimously agree upon... for instance, the beauty of carved wood!

Actually, I've never attempted to carve wood... but one of the joys of digital manipulation is that all things are possible on a flat screen canvas. Sadly, faux objects have no tactile presence, any more than a type of dream... but, well, we can dream, and, perhaps, in some dimension, that's all that really counts.

So, here are 3 examples of carved wood I created to brighten my own day, and hopefully yours. The first panel was composed with a computer scan of a small plaster piece I carved a decade ago - the lid of a box I eventually cast in casting stone - superimposed over an actual scrap of wood also scanned into the computer. The middle panel is composed of a scanned-in-seashell, along with another tiny plaster snake-carving of mine, superimposed over the same chunk of wood. This was the original detail used (in modified form) for Tatiana's throne in the "The Dragon & the Pearl". (Note: an ironic little twist regarding this throne, is that the back cushion - and presumably the seat - was created out of an old snake-skin handbag!)

My last faux wood carving uses the same wood, only this time I've superimposed one of my  graphic images - Doors of Perception - over it.

What do you think - steam-punkish furniture?

***

(Click to enlarge.)

Note: The lithograph above (my first and last!) - Chimera - was the inspiration for the 3-headed bird image incorporated into the faux wood panel shown at the top of the post. The original plaster carving of the image has been placed on the sidebar of this blog, shown in its original size (I had perfect eye-sight in those days!). My "Chimera" had nothing to do with the original myth. And this lithograph was not actually my first representation of this image... the first being a sculpture created with self-hardening clay (which eventually broke into a number of pieces!).

As for the three-headed bird... well, after doing some research on the web, apparently other artists have been inspired by the idea of 3-headed birds, but nowhere can I find a description of it as a symbol. It seems like there should be an alchemical equivalent, but of this I am not sure. One clue to this possibility, however, lies in this image found carved onto a cathedral... alluding to a possible Masonic symbol. It occurs to me that not long after I carved my image, I had a dream of this bird. Contrary to what you might expect, this odd avian could fly!

Easter Sunday at Grandfather's House

(Retitled: "Easter Sunday at Grandfather's House")

Well, I was going to enter the MOCA competition, and the image above would've been my entry - had there been no "Alfred", the recent freak snowstorm that blacked out all of Connecticut the Saturday before Halloween (my town remained in the dark for 5 days)... and the day before the competition ended. Was it a simple twist of fate... or just too much tweaking of an image - and rampant procrastination - on my part? Does it matter? Not really. As you can see by the winning entries, "Lemkovyna" would've appeared like a total anomaly. But then again, it would, as it's focal point is, in fact, a total anomaly... that is, a trans-figure!

Where do I and my muse come up with these things? This was, if you must know, my operative question all the while I was creating it's central, glutinous motif. At its completion, however, there was that magic moment of recognition, when I knew just what it was on a personal level... Why, it's obvious, I thought to myself, this strange organic mass is a clump of Easter egg mushrooms - what a marvelous find! But why Easter egg mushrooms? So, I continued creating this image... housing this strange organism within an almost Faberge-like egg - albeit rustic - realizing I needed an antique fabric as a background for this little treasure. It was the antique fabric which, in the end, was the give-away... for it was, I think, a swatch of fabric that belonged to my grandparents I had stashed away.

All those Easter Sundays at my Grandpa's house when I was a small child... and that mysterious hole which represents my familial history... Lemkovyna, (pronounced "lem ko VEE na", or "lem KO vee na"), an/or Lemkivshchyna in the Carpathian mountains - specifically in Galicia - where it seems - although I'm not quite sure -  both sets of grandparents emigrated to America from at the turn of the 19th/20th Century. They were Russian/Ukrainian - or, more appropriately, Rusyn... but, by the time their grandchildren arrived on the scene, America was in a "cold war" with Russia... and, hence, my heritage was "disappeared". No one, certainly not my grandparents, ever spoke of that place from whence they came... not to their own children - my parents - and certainly not to their grandchildren.* I distinctly remember my father saying to his father that he'd better not let it be known that he continued to write to a brother in Russia... hence, a relation I'll never know.

So, the only bits of being Russian or Rusyn to be found came wrapped in the guise of religious holidays - specifically the Byzantine Catholic (Russian Orthodox) version, and specifically Easter. Lemkovyna - my image - then, was an unconscious ode to that lost identity... and Easter Sundays at Grandpa's house. For a child, it was a rich, darkly mysterious place... and there I am in the photo below, in my Easter bonnet at my grandparent's home... sitting in the only patch of sunlight I could find, and snapped into eternity by my Dad's old Ansco camera.

* Later note (4/14): Adding to this mystery is an interesting fact I recently discovered... that is,  "Galician Slaughter." This was, apparently, the last peasant uprising in European history. And, it's somewhat troubling, as I have no idea if my ancestors were involved and there are no elders left in the family to question. I believe most Americans have held on to their history more tenaciously than those of us of Eastern European descent, but, I can't help but wonder why this might be so.

In the last analysis, I have no real knowledge of exactly where my grandparents emigrated from, or, for that matter when. A great deal more research would have to be done before I could determine  the reality of the family history. As a child, I was told I was of Russian descent. Period. Only much later, after reading about the history of my parent's Russian Orthodox church did the word "Lemko" surface. My father's father belonged to a Lemko organization... but, I don't know about my mother's parents or my father's mother.

(Detail, Easter Sunday at Grandfather's House)
- 2011, D (click to enlarge)

Then, too, there's the unbelievably confusing history of the area itself. Lemkovyna - and/or parts of it - seems to have passed hands from one country to another... Moravia, Austria, Hungary, Poland, Ukraine, Slovakia, etc. Meanwhile, the Lemkos are themselves divided as to what country or to what ethnicity they belong. More alarming, there's a history of massacres, deportation, "ethnic cleansing", and the whole nine yards connected with the Lemko people. I suppose it's no wonder that any descendants - specifically Americans, should have little conception of their heritage.

I'm aware of only one celebrated American Lemko, who actually embraced his heritage, and that was, believe it or not, artist Andy Warhol (Andre Varhola, Jr), whose Lemko parents hailed from an area now in Slovakia.

Actually, one of my father's cousins once had the family tree drawn up, and it appears that one branch of the family originated in Romania around the time of Vlad the Impaler! In any case, I think we see the problem by now.

But, after reconsidering all of this, I've decided to rename the image that inspired this post. I am now calling it "Easter Sunday at Grandfather's House"... because, in the end, that was what the image brought to mind, and, ultimately, is all I really know. It may represent the mysteries of heritage, specifically mine - and, as a Transfigure, may represent something beyond - but, currently, no other title seems genuine.

Seasons Greetings!

Halloween card - digital - DS 2005

And have a happy and healthy Celtic New Year!

Of Mandelboxes and Mandelbulbs

"Cave of Lost Secrets" - Daniel White - via Skytopia

I've decided to break away from the "Patron Saints" series for a bit, and fast-forward to the present, specifically addressing some wonderful aspects of the new technology now at a digital artist's disposal. This blog, Trans-D, theoretically has Trandimensionalism at its core, so, what better way to illustrate the possible expressions of this idea than to display the kinds of "dimensionalizing" innovations already available in digital formats and formulas?

Benoit Mandelbrot, of course, is our demi-god in the field of trans-geometry. He was the man who single-handedly pulled those Euclidean cobwebs from our eyes, allowing us a new view and a new terminology of geometrical possibilities. From the dull wasteland of mathematics, Manedlbrot presented us with the lovely and enigmatic Julia Set, and a dizzying array of fractal dimensions leading eventually to a new art form - via the computer - never before conceived of. For example, there are the fractal "quilts" created by artist Rose Rushbrook, and the mind-blowing fractal worlds of Krzysztof Marczak - whose work also appears below, and on this site - and the amazing work of Daniel White shown above. His site, Skytopia, is both a treasure trove of information and examples of new fractal forms. 

Fractal forms have, indeed, evolved in recent years, enabling us to view the multiple dimensions of fractals enfolded in 2-D, thereby explicating the visual aspects of mathematical equations and setting them in motion. The techniques used to create the wonderful videos below are found under two key headings; Mandelboxes and Mandelbulbs. Observe the two videos below and hold on to your proverbial hats!

The first is entitled "Like in a Dream II" and is the work of Jeremie Brunet from France.

The second is "Trip to the center of a Hybrid Fractal"  by Krzysztof Marczak.

Apart from the sources already mentioned, Mikael Hvidtfeldt Christensen has a blog, and there is also this informational resource, and a forum.

Can't get enough? I have just posted a series of videos (up to and including those shown above) on the sidebar of this blog under "Mandelbox Videos". I have also posted two more - "Alien Hive" by David Pearson, and "A Journey Through Fantasy - Vorticity" -  on Post-Mac Blues (my other blog) here. Meanwhile, if you happen upon this post and feel that you might have suggestions, corrections, or information worth sharing, then please comment here or email me, Dia, at: araqinta@att.net.

Selections from The ShadowBride....

ShadowBride graphic - 2007, DS

A sampling of a few recent (1999 - 2010) poems, most appearing originally on one of my former websites, "The ShadowBride."

***

Lost Tales of Anonymous Women

Because she was not treasured, 

Time took over,

(And Time treasures no one)

And Time had its way with her;

Worse than serial killers, 

Worse than evil stepmothers, 

Worse than wild dogs. 

Like a disease, like a grub, 

It ate, and ate outwards, 

Till her skin hung like dried fruit 

Off a brittle stalk, 

Till all that was pink and white 

And frilly as Cinderella's slipper 

Blackened like an eel but

Would not slough off.

Because she was not nurtured, 

She could not live, 

She could not die...

While the briars wound around her 

Like New Year's resolutions 

And tore, like meathooks 

Into her eyes, her heart, her spine. 

And. all the time, the blood fell, 

Perpetually, chronically, 

Drop by drop,

Like an ocean 

Filtered through a water clock, 

Like scabs in the desert sand, 

Like tears on an iron pan, gone

Hissing into oblivion.

Because she was not honored, 

Her mind became a morgue, 

A silent hallway lined with silent drawers:

Each a keepsake box 

Stuffed with muffled accusations. 

And these, in turn, 

Became her windows, 

Blank as prison doors, 

Dull as an Arctic horizon,

Where a ship 

Would not appear, 

Where a dove 

Would not alight, 

Where she'd not

Let down her hair.

Because she was not pleasured, 

The ghosts moved in to stay. 

They rustled in the wallpaper, 

And groped between her legs. 

She let the dust accumulate 

In snowy landscapes on the floor, 

And let the mold grow on the ceiling, 

Its constellations hovering there

Like spells, like curses,

Like soot, like ashes, like dirt;

While, cast in the corner, 

Blackened and spent ,

Each one her heart's desire 

Or next-to-last lament, lie

A life's supply of wooden matches.

- 2000, Dia Sobin

Port of Dreams

It is always dusk

Behind the moon’s bloodless mirror

The skin is cast off

Layer by layer, submerged,

The pulse ebbs, the airs thicken

And so the blind swimmer

Sets forth

Across the border

To where a starless sky slants

Into a water, slack,

Encoded

W/ the moon’s toneless melodies

- 1999, DS

The Others

They cannot penetrate the aluminum air 

where souls lay sleeping...

migrant birds,

mute and flockless,

cast 

in a perilous density.

I am hollowed like a gourd,

a Chinese lantern.

The Others brush the walls of my interior 

like moths within a globe 

but I am blind, flameless.

Only hymns remain

encrypted in my bones,

worn as epitaphs on Martian tombs,

the heart's own hieroglyphics

hermetically sealed...

And though a memory might stir 

of the initial fracture 

or a featureless twist emerge 

from beneath this dull fabric,

I circle alone 

transfixed, wingless.

- 2000, DS

These Walled Cities

These walled cities 

They are yours 

The minarets the domes 

Patterned windows 

Frameless holes 

Streets cobbled with skulls 

Of both the faithless

 and the faithful 

Now ground beneath our heels 

Anonymous as stones 

I am the anchorite 

In the catacombs

The woman in the wall 

Skin mouldering with self-betrayal 

Brain embalmed with lamentations 

Incantations I can't recall 

Glass nails scimitars 

Nothing penetrates 

Still a light swells inside of me 

As prayers resonate in the citadel 

Bell-like tones enticing me 

But forbidden to me 

Always forbidden 

Yet, some things come to me 

The eye of an owl 

Snakes in the courtyard 

A star's detritus 

Some things come to me 

Memories of rain the wind 

Sensations in the silken skin 

A scent a bead a feather 

(But I came for love 

I came for love only)

Now I lay 

Beneath the walls 

I lie outside them 

The terrible baying of dogs 

spreads blood red on the horizon 

It is your city 

It is always your city

- 2000, DS

Mystica Femina

I know where the burning woman goes

I have seen the ashes.

I have seen the skies darken w/ her cries,

The scarlet tides,

Blackened with denial.

Oh, yes, I know what was done.

My mother was once her friend...

Whether on the corner

Or in the market-place,

Or in a burning bed.

But, even she did not love her.

Nor did all the others.

They could not even see her

As if their eyes were singed shut

By her blazing hair.

What of the ashes then?

Fire by fire consumed.

I see her dancing

Upon the ashes of a Father

That was not, in fact, her own.

After the procession,

They (all) moved on.

- 2010, DS