Recently, as part of a drawing course I'm in, I've found myself composing a story about several generations of sisters. It's something of a creation myth, and something of a cautionary tale, liberally dosed with elements of fable and old world fairy tale. We're talking "eating the flesh of your gods" old world here; this story, and the stories after it, aren't comfortable bedtime tales. Charles Perrault would certainly not approve. The fable demanded a lot of words out of me, and after that, a few pictures. I'm thinking that it will be a book. I would dearly love to do a letterpress edition, to give it the handmade feel it deserves, but, the project being in its infant stages, I've been etching my ink on thick watercolor paper. Below, a couple of images, and an appropriate excerpt from the text.
Once, sprung from the Queen of Meat, whose sister was the Queen of Needles, there were two sisters. They were born without enough limbs to share between them, having apiece one eye, one arm, and one leg. Most importantly, they each had a half of a heart.
One had black hair, the other white, and each thought the other had it better. They were both going to be terribly beautiful, that was easy to see, but they were not easy to look at.
Some technical notes: These drawings are on the large side (18" x 24" originally), and have had to be scanned in 4 pieces each, and stitched back together in Photoshop. The scanning murdered some of the subtler lines, but it's the best I can do for now.
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