Canthus Vitae

For my Final in Narrative Image, I decided to create a triptych on the themes of Life, Death, and Rebirth. For each panel, I wrote a piece of prose. This is all LOADED with symbolism, and I don't even want to begin to deliver a dissertation on it here. I figure these sorts of images are more enjoyable for people when they can come to their own conclusions about the symbolism and narrative, anyhow :)
Enjoy!

Canthus Vitae

watercolor paintings mounted on foamcore

Valerie Herron 2011

Panel One: Life

watercolor on Arches

Valerie Herron 2011

The magic of the incomprehensible microbe

Blood and teeth and fur and scales

Feathers venom bones and filth

We all come into this world swinging

Swaddled in the sling of physics

we dance in that all-night party of the pulse

and traverse the sinewy synoptic pathways

by cognitive torchlight

the spark that ignites the shaman in the ape

we create things bigger than ourselves

we are the ephemeral creating permanence.

  Panel Two: Death

watercolor on Arches

Valerie Herron 2011

the severing Shears of Atropos,

Shears of Skuld.

What will become of me?

Will I glide into the fold of oblivion

Or will I rocket

From zero to infinity?

Is there gestalt if my parts dissolve?

And can there be purpose

For those so soluble?

You, Great Annihilator:

The Hands Behind the cogs of the Universe

Above me and below me

Inside me and Around me,

From the terrestrial womb we emerge

And into the Earth we all return.

 Panel Three: Rebirth

watercolor on Arches

Valerie Herron 2011

 

We scatter and collide!

We are the earth

We are the sky.

You hear this, entropy?

We can only break

Into so many pieces

to be absorbed

expressed in chlorophyll and granite!

to nourish the larval souls

that only our imaginations will know.

Perhaps.

but we are not unknown to them,

we create things bigger than ourselves

we are the ephemeral creating permanence.

Circumradiant Dawn

a biting frost which clings a inky slick melts away, falling slowly to what would be peril if not for mutation, but a rose never looks down, time slows not for her: she blooms, she grows, she wilts, and then she is dead, so she sighs a hoary steamy spice and shakes a frantic iridescence, vines twist and thorns sink in and she begins to climb, strangling the thistle, crushing weed, she climbs, undulating petals flow and stretch toward that fever, Sol, ardent growth will never stop 'til she is white light blinded one with everything.
My art, my heart, my everything.
Ego denique opportunus muse.  
  Meus pectus pectoris est de Sol.   

Circumradiant Dawn

Watercolor on Arches

Valerie Herron 2011

Cernunnos

 Lord of the Beasts!

Cernunnos

Watercolor on Arches

Valerie Herron 2011

Dirty Diana

Here's a modern day Artemis

watercolor on arches

Valerie Herron 2011

Domos Aidaou

*ATTENTION: While I'm on the subject of writing, please go check out this new novel on Kindle - Eidolon's Wager. Written by the brilliant Dr. Michael Friedrichs. You will not be sorry :)*

I'm currently in a class titled Narrative Image. As you probably gathered from the name, it is a creative writing/illustrating for narratives class.

For me, writing is like dancing. I'm no good at it, but it's fun for me regardless. My first project was to create a piece of flash fiction and illustrate for it. I decided to revise an earlier narrative + illustration that I created. Previously called Black Planet, I decided to go with something even more pretentious this time around: Domos Aidaou. The main difference is that I added a narrator and turned it into an actual narrative as opposed to the description of a scene with more words than necessary. I decided to name the narrator after a favorite musician of mine who recently passed away.

This time around with the illustrations, I decided to create an Audubon-esque illustration of some mutated critters, as the narrator was an old biologist. I think these turned out pretty sweet.

Species of the Domos Aidaou

watercolor on hot-press

Valerie Herron 2011

Alright, if you are interested, here is a bit 'o flash fiction, written by me:

Domos Aidaou

It has been at least a month since I last spoke with another person, and I fear that these might be the last words ever written. It is my hope that this record may be found after my death by some sort of cosmic travelers. In this, my last journal entry, I will tell the story of the end of humanity.

Throughout the whole of our existence, humanity has been obsessed with the end of the world. Despite this careful study of eschatology, from every possible contingency, we brought about our own demise. We were thwarted by our own sentience: our attempt to achieve god-hood with mastery over the microbe, the atom, the elements and nature. From every corner of the globe it was the same: taring away at each other like rats, fighting over life sustaining resources, all hoarded by the upper rungs of society. The lower classes were always lost in the fray. A dark alchemy of industrial contamination, global-scale murder, and the devouring of resources could not be tempered by the last weak efforts of the few toward preservation. Epidemics emerged, the numbers of the dead metastasized like the sicknesses in their bodies. Eco-systems died out and eliminated all sources of food. Desperate wars over the last farmlands and water-sources killed off the majority. In the end, the upper echelons of society were able to buy themselves the luxury of dying last.

              I am writing this from an old cabin I had the fortune to discover deep in the woods. I found it when I fled from the city. It is an oddly comforting place. I know that it is just as saturated with radiation as everything else, but the blanket of vegetation that covers it provides a sort of imagined barrier. I feel removed from that contaminated wilderness. The biologist in me yearns to spend my final days wandering this strange world, but I can not find the strength to stand.

A ghostly terrain roles out from the mists, like a real Domos Aidaou. For now the only stirring in this world is the movement of contaminated flora and fauna. The trees hum with a poisonous bioluminescence. Scurrying forth from many generations of mutation, the cacophony of a thousand gnarled creatures can be heard in the darkness. The occasional darting retina can be spied by lurking predators in between glowing branches and leaves. The steaming and hissing of a once toxic steam now gently licks the faces of the horrid creatures and lurching tendrils as they reach into the water for nourishment.

              Looking at the tumors in my hands that have formed within days, I can not imagine any other humans could have survived this. I suppose the pendulum always swings. For centuries we were all so worried about the end, we forgot that the planet does not need humans to endure. Though ravished through the ages by predatory giants – from the dinosaurs to humanity – Nature will not be victimized. She will always prevail. I pray that someday the ancient remains of this crumbling domicile will be discovered and this journal within it, lest humanity forever be forgotten with the death of human consciousness.

Dr. Peter Christopherson

7/17/2041

All Hail the Mighty Tome

I was super into working in my various sketchbooks this semester. Here are some pearls that have happened over the semester from my personal illuminated manuscripts.

 

Painting Final

My final project in my Oil Painting class was to create a master copy, and a response to that copy. As an illustrator, I feel that my illustrations rely on my painting, and as an illustrator of largely mythological themes, I feel largely influenced by the Pre-Raphaelites.

I chose to create a master copy of Gather Ye Rosebuds while Ye May by John William Waterhouse. It's not my favorite Waterhouse painting, but I felt that it was simple enough to provide for a good study, and I am really in love with the composition and color. Here is a study I did before beginning the oil painting:



Here are a few images of the final painting:

 

Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May

oil on canvas 2010

I decided to create a response in the manor of Waterhouse. This is because I have been really influenced by his style of painting: Strong women, mythological subject matter, all painted in a naturalistic yet almost impressionistic fashion.

I also wanted to address the subject matter of this specific painting. While Waterhouse is known for the strong women and mythological femme-fatales in his paintings, Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May was inspired by this poem :

TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME.
by Robert Herrick

GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
    Old time is still a-flying :
And this same flower that smiles to-day
    To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
    The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
    And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
    When youth and blood are warmer ;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
    Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
    And while ye may go marry :
For having lost but once your prime
    You may for ever tarry.

As a feminist, naturally this makes me cringe. I wanted my response to be similar in composition but way more empowering. I chose my dear friend Lissy to model for me. She is a modern Priestess of Isis. Here was a study I painted for this piece:



I decided to add a more esoteric element to the piece (to imply that the subject knows something you don't) I added hieroglyphs to the background. Here are a few images of the final piece:

The Priestess

oil on canvas 

2010