Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

The Alphabet Angel

March 26, 2012


In The process of developing my Alchymy of Alphabets series at The Magic Eye Gallery (www.magiceyegallery.com), I came across an old journal entry from 3 December 2001: “Had a brief exchange with an elderly woman at the Carnegie Library in Squirrel Hill. She had just come from her afternoon yoga class. As we admired the array of hand-drawn classic scripts and illuminated quotations that comprised a local calligrapher’s guild exhibit, she remarked: “Do you think these are just a collection of pretty letters or some sort of secret message?” “Uh, good question; don’t know, maybe…” I shrugged to humor her, because you never know when someone might be a bit off. Then, beneath her mischievous green eyes she offered a twinkly smile . “Well, I believe that letters in themselves symbolize worlds of meaning that are only secret until you learn how to look at them.” She abruptly turned and sauntered away, leaving me to quickly sketch her in my journal and ponder a mystery that more than ten years later I am still decoding…

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With Divine Spirit: The Wedding Of Heaven And Earth

March 23, 2012


Since 2012, corresponding to the Hebrew year 5773 is a leap year, several of the fifty-four Torah portions are read together so that the differences in these calendar systems may be reconciled. This week, we pair reading of the final two chapters of the Book of Exodus, VaYakhel and P’kudey. Commentary for the images in this post are from my book, Between Heaven & Earth: An Illuminated Torah Commentary (Pomegranate, 2009).

With Divine Spirit
, above, again shows us the master artisan Bezalel working to complete his design and construction of the desert Tabernacle (Mishkan). Here,he is holding one of the results of his ability to permute the letters of the alefbet. The object is the Choshen, the breastplate to be worn by Aaron, the High Priest for the services in the Tabernacle. It is described in one of the sections of a work called ‘Choshen Ha-Mishpat‘ (Breastplate of Judgment) and with some reservations is attributed to the 13th century rabbi and scholar Bahya Ben Asher. The Choshen‘s threads are of crimson red, purple and blue, the three signature colors of all fabrics used in construction of the Tabernacle and priestly garments. Woven into it are twelve stones set into gold frames, each engraved with one of the names of the twelve tribes of Israel. They are arranged in the birth order of Jacob’s twelve sons and in four rows of three stones. Each row is in honor of the Four Mothers, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah.
The Choshen and two carbuncle ‘shoham’ stones, also engraved with the tribal names, are attached to the shoulders of the Ephod portion of the High Priest’s garment. These appear in the illustration of Aaron for the Parashah T’Tzavveh. The twelve stones, listed on page 144 in the AfterImages section of the book, are:

Tribe of Reuven: Odem/Ruby
Tribe of Simeon: Pit’dah/Prase, or Chalcedony
Tribe of Levi: Bareket/Carbuncle
Tribe of Judah: Nofekh/Emerald
Tribe of Issachar: Sapir/Sapphire
Tribe of Zebulun: Yahalom/Beryl
Tribe of Dan: Leshem/Topaz
Tribe of Naphtali: Sh’vo/Turquoise
Tribe of Gad: Ahlamah/Crystal
Tribe of Asher: Tarshish/Chrysolite
Tribe of Joseph*: Shoham/Onyx
Tribe of Benjamin: Yashfeh/Jasper

*Tribe of Joseph incorporates the tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh

According to Louis Ginsberg’s Legends of the Bible, Bezalel had the assistance of a special creature to construct these items. It was the tiny Shamir, (shown above Bezalel’s right arm) a worm-like creature that appeared in the evening of the sixth day of Creation. The Shamir was endowed with the unique ability to cut through impermeable materials like gemstones. Beneath the Shamir worm are two objects called the “Urim v’ Tmimim.” The appearance and function of these objects have generated much conjecture. Generally known as ‘oracle stones’ they were placed in the fold of the High Priest’s breastplate. Their alleged prophetic powers allowed him to focus on a specific problem or situation. He would then either obtain a vision or perceive combinations of letters with which he could determine the solution.

Behind Bezalel stands Oholiab, son of Ahisamach of the tribe of Dan, the co-worker assigned to him by God. The scales on his worktable symbolize his tribe and his honest artisanal skills. Oholiab is preparing the gold plate (reading “Holy To The Lord”) that will be attached by a blue cord to the High Priest’s helmet (on the table to his left). Finally, the ‘Parokhet’ or inner curtain for the front of the Ark of the Covenant is shown in the background. According to Parashah T’rumah, “You shall make a curtain of blue, crimson and purple yarns, and fine twisted linen; it shall have a design of K’ruvim worked into it.” Though I have included the specified colors in the image, I have also taken artistic license with the background of the curtain by adding the apotropaic eye in the center.

In The Wedding Of Heaven And Earth, above, under the canopy of Heaven, the Shekhinah, God’s feminine aspect, lifts her hands to bless the people in this symbolic ‘marriage’ between God and Israel. The ‘Bridegroom’ in this union is the Ark of the Covenant. Shekhinah wears the Crown of Paradise with golden pomegranate trees. Her sephirah of Malkhut or earthly monarchy is prominent at the base of the crown. A tiny chuppah adorns the large ceremonial wedding ring held aloft by the K’ruvim on the Ark. Her ‘feet’ resemble the cloven hooves of a calf from the bizarre four-faced ‘Chariot’ creatures in the Prophet Ezekiel’s vision. The full description of this vision appears in the haftorah reading for the Festival of Shavuot.

Below, The Guardian Of The House of Israelimage concludes the Book of Exodus.

It depicts the completed Tabernacle (Mishkan) in the desert surrounded by the tents of the Twelve Tribes of Israel. The color of each tent reflects its corresponding gemstone in the High Priest’s Choshen (Breastplate). Although the text of this Parashah initially seemed to require two illustrations, I imagined an enormous angel bearing both symbols of God’s Holy protection. He wears a head covering that resembles a medieval liripipe. Suspended from its ‘tail’ is an alchemical glyph representing two elements of Creation: air and fire. Finally, I have shown the Pillar of Fire in the form of a Ner Tamid or ‘Eternal Light. The burning bush within recalls the Covenant at Sinai while its chains incorporate the heads of korbanot (Temple offerings). The Ner Tamid has occupied a place of honor over the Ark in synagogues worldwide illuminating our memories of the original Tabernacle that guarded and inspired our ancestors three thousand years ago.

For previews and purchase information of Between Heaven & Earth: An Illuminated Torah Commentary (Pomegranate, 2009) visit: http://bit.ly/g2D9Lm

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Tea With William…

March 21, 2012


As an artist, writer and avid reader, I’ve often thought that Réne Descartes’ well-known aphorism: “The reading of all good books is like conversation with the finest men of past centuries.” deserves a postscript. Besides substituting ‘minds’ for ‘men’, the phrase should be extended to include art and perhaps music because our minds are insatiable for all forms of creative expression; hungry to engage in conversation with all creators through their work.

While not all creators are articulate; nevertheless it’s up to us to discover what visual or musical language they are speaking in their attempts to reach us. That said, sometimes, just encountering beauty in music or art needs no translation. This pretty much encapsulates my admiration for the English Arts & Crafts period designer William Morris, whose work has been a great inspiration to my own. Such that I imagined us sharing high tea at Broadway Tower, his summer retreat in the Cotswolds…

The Odds Of March

March 19, 2012

ate one night, near the end of February, the rooster-less weather vane spun madly atop the Inn Of The Four Winds. Perhaps it was anticipating the outcome of the wager within…

Beneath the iridescent glow of a crystal chandelier, March’s fate lay in the cards. Would the month begin with the icy breath of a roaring storm or with the gentle bleat of a spring breeze? Excitement ran high among those with stakes in this annual game, for the cards were to be held by those famous adversaries, the Lion and the Lamb. The game required a curious playing deck consisting of three hundred and sixty-five cards (with a wild card thrown in for leap years). Its four suits distinguished the deck, each representing one of the four elements: earth, air, fire and water. On the cards within each suit, specific weather conditions such as thunderstorms or clear, blue skies were depicted. But these magical cards were more than just pretty pictures. As they were selected in the game, each image exuded its unique sounds, sensations and smells!

A dealer was appointed to divide this enormous deck into twelve stacks of cards, corresponding to the months of the year. From those stacks, he then dealt each player twelve cards. The remaining cards were tossed into a barrel and shuffled so they could be reassembled into one large stack at the center of the ornately carved table.
The rules of the game decreed that neither the Lion nor the Lamb were to see each other’s hand, but were to select cards in turn from the center stack, rejecting unwanted cards back into the barrel for next year’s game. Then, by means of dealing, trading and bluffing (if necessary), each player must build a complete hand of thirty-one cards (corresponding to March’s thirty-one days) whose suits and weather conditions matched their own meteorological vision.

If the Lion expected to win, his hand must consist of thirty-one cards depicting only fierce weather conditions; while the Lamb would need to collect thirty-one cards displaying only fair weather symbols for her victory. The first player to collect a complete hand would win the honor of deciding whether March came in like a Lion and went out like a Lamb, or vice versa! Although the weather was enigmatically commanded by the powers that be, ancient wisdom held that this annual match exerted its own mysterious influence…

The large hall of the Inn was crowded with spectators and speculators proclaiming their wagers and noisily debating the fate of March. Among these were the weather vanes’ Rooster, the Groundhog, the Dove and the Monkey. By virtue of their special interests in the resolution of the match, the four were permitted to surround the principal players.
The Rooster, having abandoned his weathervane for this event, anxiously hoped for an early spring in March. He was a proud fellow, but he was exhausted after a long winter of announcing early sunrises and taming temperamental winds. An early spring would allow him to do his tasks a wee bit later in the morning. And so he crowed enthusiastically for the Lamb.

The Dove cooed for the Lamb, too. As the messenger whose task was to let other birds know when the ice and snow would end, Dove’s sentiments were also personal; she dearly missed all of her friends who flew south for the winter.
The Groundhog, charged with predicting the fate of winter for humans, had grumpily crept out of his burrow for this game, grunting in favor of the Lion. He wished to enjoy his winter nap for just a little longer.

And the Monkey, gifted with a special knowledge of the language of plants and trees, was entrusted with bearing the tidings of spring to jungles and forests everywhere. In recognition of her intelligence, she was appointed to act as dealer. This obliged her to remain neutral, though she secretly hoped for an early spring. There was nothing she liked better than swinging lazily on a thick vine and munching an early crop of mangoes.

When the table was prepared and everyone had settled down, the Lion and the Lamb entered the room, greeted their audience, and took their seats. While the Monkey dealt their cards, the players exchanged menacing glances and crooked smiles, each determined to emerge victorious from the match.

As the game proceeded, the Lion could barely suppress his little rumbles of delight; for the majority of his cards depicted his signature storm symbols: lightning, thunder, snowy blizzards and hurricanes. Smugly, he glanced around the room and then at his opponent; a clear gesture that he held the winning cards. On the other hand, the Lamb, with her gentle features drooping, seemed to be down on her luck this year. Shivering from her handful of wet, cold, windy storm cards, she desperately wanted to declare an early spring, and hoped that some of her beautiful sunshine and flower symbols would turn up soon.

Suddenly, as if the powers that be had heard her wish, the stack of cards at the center of the table began to yield one springtime card after another! Growing more excited with each turn, the Lamb could nearly taste her victory as her fans cheered her on. The Lion began to growl in frustration, his whiskers wrinkling at the scent of the spring grass and crocus cards, which kept cropping up. Peeved by the waning encouragement of his supporters, the big cat was not a good loser. But he did have a flair for drama.

Narrowing his big green eyes, he stood up as if about to stretch, letting loose a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a roaring yawn. The startled Lamb gasped and dropped her cards, then bleated accusingly at her opponent for cheating. The Monkey, who had just reached out to straighten the center stack of cards, trembled, scattering the remainder of them all over the table and floor! To make matters worse, the crowd had begun to panic. What would become of the month of March?

After a few moments, the Lamb’s natural grace and charm returned, and she giggled as she regarded the mess on the table and floor. “Oh, well,” she shrugged philosophically, ” I was getting tired of this old game anyway!” The Lion, somewhat abashed by the Lamb’s swift recovery, felt a slow smile creeping across his chops. “So am I,” he agreed, nodding his shaggy head. “Besides,” he added slyly, ” I’ve heard there is a cheap flight to Paradise this weekend. Would you like to join me?” Fluffing the curly wool behind her delicate pink ear, the Lamb glanced flirtatiously at the Lion, and happily accepted his offer.

The crowd of spectators and speculators had finally regained their wits and were so busy arranging their wagers for next year’s game, that they never noticed the Lion and the Lamb waltzing out of the Inn’s doors locked in an embrace.

The powers that be rolled their collective eyes indulgently as they helped a very sleepy Rooster back to his weathervane perch atop The Inn Of The Four Winds.

This year, for a change, March would have to take care of itself.

An Artist In The Shadow Of God

March 9, 2012

Of all the fifty-four parashiyot in the Torah, Ki Thissa was the one that spoke most eloquently to me as an artist and illustrator, particularly as it relates how Moses transmitted instructions for building the desert Tabernacle (Mishkan) to the artist and craftsman Bezalel ben Uri. I was drawn to this story many years ago as I sought to understand the levels of meaning within the Second Commandment prohibiting the creation of graven images. In essence, it opened my eyes to the concept of hiddur mitzvah or the creation of beautiful objects to enhance the worship experience, rather than be worshipped as objects in themselves.

I have created several interpretive portraits of Bezalel, the first recorded Jewish artist, most recently the iteration shown here for my book Between Heaven & Earth: An Illuminated Torah Commentary (Pomegranate, 2009). From the AfterImages section of the book on p. 151, here is an excerpt  from my commentary on the illustration shown above:

In The Shadow Of God is drawn from the Hebrew translation of the name Bezalel, given to him at birth by his father Uri, son of Hur from the tribe of Judah. (Note the image of the Lion below the text next to Bezalel; it symbolizes the tribe of Judah) His full name reads, ‘Bet-Zal-El Hayaita which means ‘you were in God’s Shadow’ explaining his extraordinary artistic skills and closeness to the Creator so that he could envision the Heavenly Temple and accurately follow the directions for the construction of its earthly counterpart. He was tasked with this mission by Moses who transmitted God’s request upon his return from Mt. Sinai. In the Mishnah,Bezalel is credited as the man who was able to comprehend and configure the letters from which Heaven and Earth were created for this holy task. According to the Baal Shem Tov, founder of Hasidism, “All things were created through the combinations of the 22 Hebrew letters.” The open scroll that Bezalel is holding reveals a kabbalistic diagram, found in the Sefer Yetzirah, composed in 6th century Babylon, which connects letters in the Hebrew alefbet with the seven planets and twelve signs of the Zodiac. In the center of the diagram is a triangular form that contains the Tetragrammaton, an acronym for one of God’s Names. To avoid a disrespectful rendering of this name, a portion of one of the letters has been removed. At the corners of the triangle connecting it to the outer rings are the three Mother letters, alef, mem and shin that represent the elements air, fire and water. Although many graphic variations of these concepts can be found in the books of mysticism, I chose this particular diagram for Bezalel, as it seemed to invite creative interaction. Standing behind the craftsman with a model of the Mishkan on its back is a strange beast called the Tachash. The word ‘tachashim’ in parashah T’rumah, though translated as ‘dolphin skins’ finds a different interpretation in the Mishnah, which alludes to the creation and existence of this animal for the express purpose of providing materials for the construction of the Tabernacle. When its purpose was completed, it seems to have vanished. 

Since no one knows if it actually existed, could the tachash have been a word to describe a collection of materials taken from several existing species or could it have been an unusual mutation truly created only for its holy purpose? In any case, it will always remain an intriguing idea and so the tachash shown here is purely from my imagination. By the way, these questions occurred to me long after my book was published, which only verifies my philosophy that art is always a work in progress and matures from continuing interpretation. So, if any of my readers would like to posit their own version or questions, send me your links in the comment box; I look forward to continuing this conversation…

For previews and purchase information of Between Heaven & Earth: An Illuminated Torah Commentary (Pomegranate, 2009) visit: http://bit.ly/g2D9Lm

A Little Thing That Knows One Big Thing

March 7, 2012


When I spotted this strange young guy emerging from an alley off of Randolph Street during a 2010 visit to Chicago, his spiny-gelled coiffure was enough to plant this image of a ‘HeadHog’ in my imagination which then became a sketch in my trusty Moleskine journal. In the two years following, it remained unfinished as I developed other projects that included my Codex Gastropoda drawings. Several of these appeared in a series of posts here that were dedicated to the ‘appreciation of small things’. That appreciation led me to rendering ‘HeadHog’ this week but also piqued my curiosity about the animal and its legends.

In tracing this line of questioning, I came upon some pieces of folklore that attribute various qualities to these creatures, including a notion that hedgehogs can outsmart foxes and predict the weather by the way they build their nests. Then there was a Brothers Grimm fairytale about a magical hybrid hedgehog-child called ‘Hans My Hedgehog’, which could easily have influenced my drawing had I been aware of  it.

However, a 1953 essay by Isaiah Berlin (1909-1997), the British intellectual and historian of ideas eventually piqued my interest. Entitled ‘The Hedgehog & The Fox’, Berlin wrote a playful riff on a quote attributed to the 6th century BC Greek poet-philosopher Archilochus: “The fox knows many things; the hedgehog one great thing.”  In it, he posits a cultural/intellectual divide between writers and thinkers by employing these two animals as metaphors of two types of human beings. He compares hedgehogs to those that embrace a single, all-encompassing construct of ideas of which they are the undisputed authority. For him, foxes are those individuals who choose a more wide-ranging aestheticism in pursuit of self-knowledge and by extension their understanding of universal existence through a cultural bias. Yet, I suspect that Berlin’s sly cleverness does both animals and those attributes a generous measure of injustice for in my opinion, these attributes are as inextricably intertwined as the concepts and manifestations of good and evil.

Though our natural tendency is to categorize our behavior and intellectual/creative processes to clarify our understanding of them, I think that  writing vs. thinking, art vs. science, science vs. religion or for that matter, illustration and fine arts (see Imaginarius post of 28 February 2012) are not discrete categories. They are only pieces in the greater puzzle that is us.

Today, I might be a fox speaking like a hedgehog. Tomorrow, who knows?

The Price Of $acrifice

March 4, 2012

The trope of duality, running throughout Creation, seems especially poignant in parashah T’Tzavveh, yesterday’s Sabbath Torah reading. In the detailed instructions for the sacrificial rites to be performed in the Mishkan(Tabernacle) and later in the Temple, I sense a subtle thread of altruism amidst the darkly violent nature of these rites which require the ‘merciful’ slaughter of prescribed animals for the appeasement of God and by extension to our deep-seated animal natures. These rites quite likely reflect the dual nature of the One who, in a terrifying display of otherworldly power, bestowed our code of living from Mt. Sinai. But it might be that light show was simply part of a recipe for extracting the divine elements in each of us. Yet, as in any ‘surgical’ procedure, such spiritual ‘correction’ is not without considerable, perhaps chronic pain. It is this idea that provoked the illustrations of sacrifice, both public and personal, above.

By way of explanation, the kosher animals pictured are examples of those to be sacrificed daily or on specified occasions for a public offering, not as a ‘bribe’ or ‘food’ for God, but in order to come close to Him through the revelation of our divine natures. Above and to the right of the animals is a supplemental grain offering of unleavened bread. The amphora of olive oil must be used by Aaron to anoint the altar in preparation for the sacrificial ritual. Aaron the High Priest and his wife Elisheva (who is never mentioned in the text) appear to the left of the offerings. His fingers are parted in Birkat Kohanim, or Priestly Blessing and the small Hebrew letter  ‘khet’ appears on his palm indicating his corresponding sephira of ‘hod‘. The event shown here will happen in Leviticus, but I’ve brought it forward in the Torah chronology after the elaborate instructions for the design of his garments in T’Tzavveh to stress the importance and demands of Aaron’s responsibility to his people. The time is shortly after the death of Nadav and Abihu, two of their four sons, destroyed by God for ‘bringing strange fire’ to the incense altar. A burning firepan can be seen in front of Elisheva. Though there has been much speculation by rabbis and scholars, it is not clear what exactly caused their untimely deaths. A rabbinic legend in the Babylonian Talmud, speculates that God’s fire destroyed their souls but not their bodies. Presuming they were given proper burials, I have not shown their bodies, but only their special priestly clothing, which their mother Elisheva clutches to herself in grief. Conversely, Aaron, their father is forbidden to mourn in light of their judgmental death and his overarching responsibility as High Priest to the community. Nevertheless, in light of his humanity, I have allowed a quiet tear to escape.

These images are from my book, Between Heaven & Earth: An Illuminated Torah Commentary (Pomegranate, 2009) which can be purchased directly from the publisher at this link: http://www.pomegranate.com/a166.html or from Amazon: amzn.to/gZSp5j where you will also find several reviews.

Practical Matters 2: State Of The Arts-s-s-s?

February 28, 2012

Il-lu-s-s-s-t-r-a-ti-on?
When the renowned French film director Jean Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from—it’s where you take them to”, I’d like to think he was defending against what many consider the derivative nature of illustration, a presumption that an illustration may not stand alone as ‘fine’ art; it must derive from and serve a written text. Once, we were practitioners of an honored and well-rewarded profession which often entailed being a client’s ‘hired hand’. We identified as artists that proudly earned a living from our work, while suffering the derisive monikers ‘art whores’ and orphans of the fine art world from our more ‘noble’ but struggling artist acquaintances.

However, since the early 1980’s, as studio employment quickly became history, we embraced our newfound freelance status and the value of personal expression in pursuit of market share and creative legitimacy. In fact, the publishing industry soon grew to expect illustration that exhibited ‘personal style’, the illustrator’s ‘brand’ if you will. Ironically, many illustrators became pegged to a particular ‘look’ which was and still is subject to trends, demanding periodic paradigm changes in order to remain competitive. This is a mixed blessing in a way, as it gives us the opportunity to continually re-invent ourselves and grow artistically and intellectually. Yet, with rare exception, has our work received the classical honors bestowed upon painters, sculptors or installation art scavengers by museum curators or self-described connoisseurs. And those rare exceptions generally occur within the walls of our professional societies and/or specialty museums with a single mission. You won’t catch an illustrator invited to exhibit at the Venice Biennale for example, unless he/she presents their work with some obscure title or statement of its raison d’être.

Do the story-images we create really need to be labeled as ‘merely’ illustrative? Are the stories and messages we offer any less artful or poignant than their baroque-framed siblings? I don’t think so. In my opinion, the best editorial illustrators are those who infuse their own interpretation into an assigned work so that it not only illuminates the text it accompanies, but stands on its own as an intriguing artistic expression. Though photography has reshaped our playing field, it has also freed us from the need to be literal, so we may unabashedly draw and paint what we see and imagine with our considerable technical skills and our own brand of reality. Which makes me recall an odd little incident during a visit many years ago to Ohio State University, where one of my sons was a visual communications undergraduate.

It was Parent’s Weekend and a tour of campus included a visit to the Fine Arts Building and chitchat with some of the professors. They proudly showed us the fully equipped painting and sculpture studios and ‘by the way’, here is our graphic arts department. It was a bare-bones room with chewed up old drafting tables, assorted tools and outdated textbooks.

I didn’t think much of this discrepancy until we left the building in the wake of a break period in which students filed quickly onto the quadrangle. What struck me is not that I recognized the graphic arts students by the tracing pads, rapidograph pens and small t-squares they carried, but that in a lemming-like way, the ‘fine arts’ students and graphic arts students proceeded to assemble in two separate groups on opposite sides of a path that divided the quadrangle. For a school with 50,000 + students, it seemed rather provincial and led me to wonder what encouraged this odd behavior?
Was it an unspoken directive of the professors, the university system itself, or a tangent of the art gallery/museum world informed by such sentiments as, practitioners of fine arts and illustration ought to be labeled and judged as two different species?

Having taught at a major university and seen the same phenomenon occur there (not encouraged by me!), I wistfully wonder whether all artists and the institutions that train and educate us, will one day come to realize how much more we can learn from each other instead of wasting time and energy building and maintaining invisible barriers that separate and define us throughout our creative lives.

Like the universal language of music that soothes and nurtures our souls, art is and should be understood as non-denominational and essential to our very survival.

Note: For the curious who want to know: my illustration was inspired by Benjamin Franklin’s 1754 political broadside.

Facebook’s Altered Ego?

February 24, 2012

During a little postprandial nap in an overstuffed chair at my local SBUX, my mind’s eye must’ve been wide awake and scanning the laptopped landscape… Is your dog missing?

Bits Of Whimsy: New Drawings

February 20, 2012

Recent posts have been pretty heavy stuff, Biblical, insufferable moralizing, blah, blah. So for comic relief here are a couple of new images; no text but the titles: The Evil Magic Of Caffeine (top) and The Cluckfosters Step Out (bottom). Want to write a bit of collaborative flash fiction? Maybe these will inspire you…