BIO-LOGY...

Bio comes from the Ancient Greek word meaning life. As I sat down to construct a short paragraph that states what I want to say about the author, I realized that there has been no previous book of mine that warrants the affinity between concept and Bio-graphy as in Frankenstein. Just as Victor Frankenstein studies life and achieves to harness it, I too partook in diabolical Bio-physics. I studied the life of Mary Shelley, dissected it, and assembled the pieces that, as a whole, convey my interpretation of her life. 

Here are the Bio-graphies of my own creation, along with Bio-illustrations.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley was born on August 30, 1797 into a life of personal tragedy. In 1816, she married the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, and that summer traveled with him and a host of other Romantic intellectuals to Geneva.  Her greatest achievement was piecing together one of the most terrifying and renowned stories ever: Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus.   Shelley conceived of Frankenstein as a “waking dream”. The vision was simply a student kneeling before a corpse brought to life. Yet this tale of a mad creator and his abomination has inspired storytellers and artists in the multitudes. She died on February 1, 1851.

Gris Grimly was born much later, but he too experienced tragedy and dismay throughout his life. Considered a Mad Creator among colleagues, he is known for collecting raw materials and assembling them into his own wretched creations. These reanimated tales include Edgar Allen Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Madness, Edgar Allen Poe’s Tales of Death and Dementia, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and Pinocchio. He has also given life to original forms like The Dangerous Alphabet and the Wicked Nursery Rhymes series among other demented favorites. www.madcreator.com

IT'S COMING TOGETHER...

I owe you this. It has been nearly three months since my last post. It hasn't been due to lack of material to post. These months marked a hectic time in my life known as the prenuptial period and two weeks ago I became a married man. Not to follow in the footsteps of the doomed protagonist of which I have so meticulously studied for the past three years, I placed the needed attention towards my fiance and our wedding day. If there is one thing that I've learned from Victor Frankenstein, it's that obsession in your craft is unhealthy and can/will destroy the relationships around you.

Now that the wedding is behind me and I can get back into my industrious passions, I felt it best to give you fiends an update on the Frankenstein book. Design has been cranking away on cleaning up artwork and placing text among my pictures. I couldn't ask for a better designer to be working with me on this project. She understands the typography of the era and how to blend it with my hyper-stylized work. I have received a forward from Bernie Wrightson which will be included in the book. Bernie is the illustrator of, what the majority would refer to as, the most comprehensive-quintessential version of Frankenstein published to date. I'm honored that he took the time to write up a few words. I'm sure you are familiar with his Frankenstein book, but if not, you HAVE to pick up a copy (buy it here).

Just today I received an email from design sharing the current version of the cover. What a great email to wake up to. I thought you would like to see it as well...

JUDGING THE BOOK...

They say you can't judge a book by it's cover, but we (especially those of us who work in the publishing business) know that the cover is essential in selling books. A few factors that I keep in mind when designing the cover are the following"

STYLE: I like to be consistent in my style. Although my style may evolve with new ambitions and influences, there are many things that have remained consistent over the past 12 years of illustrating books. I am heavily influenced by Victorian illustrators and picture books. Not only has my artwork reflected this love by era and wardrobe but also by line work and tone. Many of the covers out of the 20 books I've illustrated have been inspired by old covers or posters. Santa Claws was inspired by the old Saturday Evening Post, Sleepy Hollow was inspired by old Dennison Boogie Books, the Wicked Nursery Rhymes series was inspired by old Mother Goose covers, Little Jordan Ray's Muddy Spud was inspired by the old Farmer's Almanac cover, Grimericks was inspired by old circus posters, Boris and Bella was inspired by old movie posters, and The Dangerous Alphabet was inspired by old Alphabet books. Consistently, the Frankenstein cover is inspired by Victorian literature covers as well.

ORIGINALITY: Some editors and art directors want the cover to look like the covers of other best selling novels. I don't agree with this. I'm not saying this gimmick doesn't work. But I make my books, art and films for me and have to trust that my preference is the same as those who would be interested in my work. If I go into a bookstore and scan the shelves, the book that is going to stand out to me is the one that does NOT look like everything else. Then it is up to the quality and the description on the back to seal the deal.

NARRATIVE: It is important that the cover reflects the tone and concept of the story without saying too much as to spoil the mystery. This is the exact opposite of exploitation. Exploitation shows all the meaty parts to excite and entice. But usually the content lacks any substance and the promotional art is the best part of the product. That's what makes exploitation movie posters so amazing.

The story of Frankenstein to me, is about Victor and how his obsessive passion for his work destroys all his relationships, Elizabeth being the one closest to him. I chose to focus on the journey that Victor takes which is alone, forbidden and morbid. Setting him in the midst of a cemetery seemed most appropriate. At first a had the dark figure of his creation in the corner of the sketch, but decided that it would be better to keep this a mystery. Victor holding the shovel eludes to his immoral task at hand. The gears set in the title represent the industrial revolution and the irresponsible speed of scientific advancements. These are all things that I think reflect the bowels of the book.

Something found on old book covers that I think is a nice touch is the separation of spine from the cover. Some books had an actual separation from fabric to printed card stock. But in others, it was just illustrated that way. I plan on using a marbling meat texture for the end papers of the book. I thought it would kick crypts to add that same meat texture to the binding of the cover and make it look like it is stitched on.

This cover is only in beginning stages at this point. I have plans to add a small frame on the back center cover containing a shrine-like illustration of Victor's love interest Elizabeth. I'll keep you updated on those sketches as well as the end results.

F IS FOR FRANKENSTEIN...

 

 With all the page illustrations behind me, I'm onto the loose odds and ends. Over the weekend I finished up the initial caps which will be used to start each chapter. I wanted them to have a Victorian feel depicting elements of natural life, industrial machinery and human anatomy. This is what I achieved:

MY SPIRIT WILL SLEEP IN PEACE...

This is what volume 3 looks like completed and ready to ship. It feels good to have all the artwork done for volumes 1, 2 and 3 of this massive 200+ page opus called Gris Grimly's Frankenstein. But I'm not in the clear yet. There are still some tasks for me to complete before I can wash my hands of this wretched creation. I still have initial caps to design, the cover and some other elements. I need to prepare a forward or introduction, write a bio and figure out my bio picture. I will also be in contact and contributing to the design of the book with the editor and art director. So there is plenty more ahead giving me substance to post about on this blog in the future.

With that said, I leave you with the final page of the week (the final illustration of the book) where the monster carries the dead body of his "father" out into the arctic wilderness where they will burn as one.

Here is the text for this page:

"I shall collect my funeral pile, and consume to ashes this miserable frame, that its remains may afford no light to any curious and unhallowed wretch, who would create such another as I have been. I shall die. He is dead who called me into being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembrance of us both will speedily vanish. I shall no longer see the sun or stars, or feel the winds play on my cheeks. Light, feeling, and sense, will pass away. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly. The light of that conflagration will fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will sleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus."

THE END

ALMOST IN GRASP OF MY ENEMY...

Here's your page (or should I say spread) of the week!

In this spread, Frankenstein is hot on the trail, as he pursues his wretched creation. The monster leads him farther and farther north. Global warming must have been a concern of Mary Shelley's, because as she writes, the surface of the ice breaks apart knocking Victor from his voyage. A few of his dogs die and his sled is destroyed. Then, like a beacon from the heavens, he notices Walton's ship at a distance.

Here is the text for these pages:

Oh! with what a burning gush did hope revisit my heart! warm tears filled my eyes, which I hastily wiped away, that they might not intercept the view I had of the demon; but still my sight was dimmed by the burning drops, until, giving way to the emotions that oppressed me, I wept aloud.

 But now, when I appeared almost within grasp of my enemy, my hopes were suddenly extinguished, and I lost all trace of him more utterly than I had ever done before. A ground sea was heard; the thunder of its progress, as the waters rolled and swelled beneath me, became every moment more ominous and terrific. The sea roared; and, as with the mighty shock of an earthquake, it split, and cracked with a tremendous and overwhelming sound.

 In this manner many appalling hours passed; several of my dogs died; and I myself was about to sink under the accumulation of distress, when I saw your vessel riding at anchor, and holding forth to me hopes of succour and life.

IN THAT HOUR I SHOULD DIE...

Here is your page of the week.

The text for the page:

"I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your wedding-night."

All was again silent; but his words rung in my ears. Why had I not followed him, and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had suffered him to depart, and he had directed his course towards the main land. I shuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificed to his insatiate revenge. And then I thought again of his words - "I will be with you on your wedding-night." In that hour I should die, and at once satisfy and extinguish his malice.

The prospect did not move me to fear; yet when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth, - of her tears and endless sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously snatched from her, - tears, the first I had shed for many months, streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemy without a bitter struggle.

THE FEW DROPS THAT REVIVED ME...

 

Here is an example of how I made Frankenstein my own without adding text. In this abridged version, there is text that has been removed so that I can deliver 200 pages of art. For the most part, the text that we chose to omit was descriptive and found the book would have a strong visual side to it by depicting these words in illustrations. At times, I've made some changes to make the world more Gris Grimly. For example, instead of riding in horse drawn carriages, their "carriages" are rusty steam driven hot rods. Justine is executed by electric chair rather than hung. These, and more alike, are ways I've chosen to delineate from Mary Shelley's vision.

In this scene, which comes towards the end of the book, Victor follows the wretch all over the north eastern hemisphere. There is a moment where he is in the desert (which I visualize as being Karakum) and mentions that rain came always when he needed it. I chose to depict this scene differently. The cloud and rain that comes is a mirage. He is parched and close to death, but the rain that comes is an hallucination brought on by this state and his delusional self righteous quest. Just when he can travel no further, he believes that God quenches his thirst so he can press on. But we see that there is no rain at all...he is just loosing his mind.

Here is the text that is represented in this page:

"I pursued him; and for many months this has been my task. Guided by a slight clue, I followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly. The blue Mediterranean appeared; and, by a strange chance, I saw the fiend enter by night, and hide himself in a vessel bound for the Black Sea. I took my passage in the same ship; but he escaped, I know not how. 

Amidst the wilds of Tartary and Russia, although he still evaded me, I have ever followed in his track. Sometimes the peasants, scared by this horrid apparition, informed me of his path; sometimes he himself, who feared that if I lost all trace I should despair and die, often left some mark to guide me. The snows descended on my head, and I saw the print of his huge step on the white plain. To you first entering on life, to whom care is new, and agony unknown, how can you understand what I have felt, and still feel? Cold, want, and fatigue, were the least pains which I was destined to endure; I was cursed by some devil, and carried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of good followed and directed my steps, and, when I most murmured, would suddenly extricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties. Sometimes, when nature, overcome by hunger, sunk under the exhaustion, a repast was prepared for me in the desert, that restored and inspirited me. The fare was indeed coarse, such as the peasants of the country ate; but I may not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I had invoked to aid me. Often, when all was dry, the heavens cloudless, and I was parched by thirst, a slight cloud would bedim the sky, shed the few drops that revived me, and vanish. 

I followed, when I could, the courses of the rivers; but the demon generally avoided these, as it was here that the population of the country chiefly collected. In other places human beings were seldom seen; and I generally subsisted on the wild animals that crossed my path. I had money with me, and gained the friendship of the villagers by distributing it, or bringing with me some food that I had killed, which, after taking a small part, I always presented to those who had provided me with fire and utensils for cooking."

THE WRITING ON THE TREE...

I'm hitting you with two pages of the week this week since it slipped my mind to post last week. This is a good week for it since we start with July and end with August.

For this first posting, I wanted to do something a little more tutorial-like. I do all my work in traditional mediums and only use computers for color separating T-shirt and poster designs. But the computer is used to lay in all the type for my books (which all of you probably know already). But in this case, I hand lettered some type so that it would look more organic and humanistic.

There is a scene at the end of the book where Victor Frankenstein is hunting down his creation. This wretched abomination destroyed everyone he's ever loved, and has pushed Victor to a mortal vendetta. He follows the monster across countries, through Russia and the desserts of the Sahara, up through the uncharted ices of the north. Victor follows close behind and can usually track him through over sized footprints and destruction. But at times, the wretch would leave a message on a rock or a tree just to make sure his pursuer doesn't give up.

One message is left carved into a tree. First of all, on a stylistic side, I wanted this tree to represent life. This is before Victor reaches the icy north, and there is still beauty surrounding him. The tree is full of life, erupting from a grassy hill and sprouting flowers itself. Not only does the wretch scar this tree with his selfish message, but Victor too, with disregard for life, sets the tree on fire in a vengeful tantrum.

The message inscribed by the wretch needs to look like bark scraped from the bark. Often times, a font will be too unified and repetitious. So I hand drew the letters myself. To do this, I finished the piece of art first. then I laid a piece of tracing paper over the art and drew the inscription onto the tracing paper over "the tree". Next step, I laid the tracing paper over illustration board and transferred this same writing onto the board using carbon paper. Then, I inked this transfer. The inked version of the inscription was scanned into the computer and laid over the artwork in the computer, using a choice of color that I felt represented fresh wood. After adding a shadow, it looks pretty good.

This version is just a mock up. The digital steps will be repeated by the designer once they get the original artwork from me. From there, she can continue to tweak it to perfection.

CLERVAL! BELOVED FRIEND...

 

Here's your page of the week. In this page, we see Victor's friend Clerval, how he sees him: a joyous, optimistic and sometimes delusional individual. Childhood friends, Clerval keeps popping into the story during Victor's gloomiest times. He cares for him, get's him out of the house and shows him a good time.

As simple as this piece is, I really enjoy it because it is one of the most purest watercolors in the story. Not only is it not cluttered up with darkness and narrative visuals, the technique is also airy without a lot of detail...the truest form of watercolor.

Mind you, the type was just thrown in for demonstrative purposes and is not representative of the actual font, placement or structure. It is just there to help you visualize where text will be place in the final book.

I CONTINUED WITH UNABATED FERVOUR...

As Victor trudges on his journey, one that has lasted a lifetime and has beaten the hell out of him, I can't help but think of my own journey illustrating Frankenstein. As he sees his quest coming to an end (to grapple with the wretch) I too see the horizon. With only 26 pages left I can see completion. Hopefully, it is much more glorious than that of Frankenstein's.

Here is your page of the week. Severed deer heads, blood and snow...all good things to share.

 "As I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened, and the cold increased in a degree almost too severe to support. The peasants were shut up in their hovels, and only a few of the most hardy ventured forth to seize the animals whom starvation had forced from their hiding-places to seek for prey. The rivers were covered with ice, and no fish could be procured; and thus I was cut off from my chief article of maintenance.

The triumph of my enemy increased with the difficulty of my labours. One inscription that he left was in these words: "Prepare! your toils only begin: wrap yourself in furs, and provide food, for we shall soon enter upon a journey where your sufferings will satisfy my everlasting hatred."

My courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words; I resolved not to fail in my purpose; and, calling on heaven to support me, I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts, until the ocean appeared at a distance, and formed the utmost boundary of the horizon. Oh! how unlike it was to the blue seas of the south! Covered with ice, it was only to be distinguished from land by its superior wildness and ruggedness. The Greeks wept for joy when they beheld the Mediterranean from the hills of Asia, and hailed with rapture the boundary of their toils. I did not weep; but I knelt down, and, with a full heart, thanked my guiding spirit for conducting me in safety to the place where I hoped, notwithstanding my adversary's gibe, to meet and grapple with him."

IT WAS INDEED A FILTHY PROCESS...

Another week almost slipped by without me posting the page of the week.

This is a fun one. I like all the pages with artwork containing skulls and corpses and death. Go figure. Fun stuff with stitched up hearts, bone heels and skulls with lipstick. Frankenstein begins to create the mate for the monster. But the process is not nearly as enjoyable as the first time. There is dread bearing heavily upon him. One image depicts Victor with his head pressed against the skull of the bride-to-be, concerned with his actions. This image mirrors a similar one in chapter one where he is holding the skull of his first abomination. But in that image, he looks upon the skull with hope and curiosity. He was still full of aspirations. Not anymore.

Most of this page is depicted in illustrations opposed to words. But here is the the text from the book for this page:

"In this retreat I devoted the morning to labour; but in the evening, when the weather permitted, I walked on the stony beach of the sea, to listen to the waves as they roared, and dashed at my feet. It was a monotonous, yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland; it was far different from this desolate and appalling landscape. Its hills are covered with vines, and its cottages are scattered thickly in the plains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky; and, when troubled by the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a lively infant, when compared to the roarings of the giant ocean.

In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived; but, as I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible and irksome to me. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my laboratory for several days; and at other times I toiled day and night in order to complete my work. It was indeed a filthy process in which I was engaged. During my first experiment, a kind of enthusiastic frenzy had blinded me to the horror of my employment; my mind was intently fixed on the sequel of my labour, and my eyes were shut to the horror of my proceedings. But now I went to it in cold blood, and my heart often sickened at the work of my hands.

 Thus situated, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed in a solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from the actual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; I grew restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded to behold. I feared to wander from the sight of my fellow-creatures, lest when alone he should come to claim his companion.

In the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerably advanced. I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eager hope, which I dared not trust myself to question, but which was intermixed with obscure forebodings of evil, that made my heart sicken in my bosom."

TRAVERSED THE SNOWS...

Wednesday and Thursday escaped me like a dog sledge on the frozen arctic plains. I awoke this morning only to realize it is Friday and I still have not posted a page of the week. Without hesitation, I scanned in a page and cleaned it up a bit, so I could present it to you on this Frankenstein blog.

 Like many other pages in this book, this is an example of how many words are represented by a few illustrations. This was necessary to present "Frankenstein" in this pictorial format. I see this book more of a companion to the Mary Shelly unabridged version. But it is necessary to make these cuts to present the story page by page with a constant flow of illustrations. Sometimes I cringe at the beautiful text that is being cut. But on the other hand, this version of Frankenstein will offer so much that the original Shelley version does not. I hope that, like my Edgar Allen Poe books, this book will drive the youth to be interested in this classic tale...and one of my favorite stories ever. That is why this book is not, and will never be, a replacement for the original but a companion on the shelf alongside Mary Shelley's, Cliff's and Bernie Wrightson's (at the least). Other great versions include Theodor Von Holst and Lynd Ward.

Here is the text from the original Mary's Shelley's version that is cut and represented by the artwork in this week's page:

"My courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words; I resolved not to fail in my purpose; and, calling on heaven to support me, I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts, until the ocean appeared at a distance, and formed the utmost boundary of the horizon. Oh! how unlike it was to the blue seas of the south! Covered with ice, it was only to be distinguished from land by its superior wildness and ruggedness. The Greeks wept for joy when they beheld the Mediterranean from the hills of Asia, and hailed with rapture the boundary of their toils. I did not weep; but I knelt down, and, with a full heart, thanked my guiding spirit for conducting me in safety to the place where I hoped, notwithstanding my adversary's gibe, to meet and grapple with him.

Some weeks before this period I had procured a sledge and dogs, and thus traversed the snows with inconceivable speed. I know not whether the fiend possessed the same advantages; but I found that, as before I had daily lost ground in the pursuit, I now gained on him; so much so, that when I first saw the ocean, he was but one day's journey in advance, and I hoped to intercept him before he should reach the beach. With new courage, therefore, I pressed on, and in two days arrived at a wretched hamlet on the seashore. I inquired of the inhabitants concerning the fiend, and gained accurate information. A gigantic monster, they said, had arrived the night before, armed with a gun and many pistols; putting to flight the inhabitants of a solitary cottage, through fear of his terrific appearance. He had carried off their store of winter food, and, placing it in a sledge, to draw which he had seized on a numerous drove of trained dogs, he had harnessed them, and the same night, to the joy of the horror-struck villagers, had pursued his journey across the sea in a direction that led to no land; and they conjectured that he must speedily be destroyed by the breaking of the ice, or frozen by the eternal frosts.

On hearing this information, I suffered a temporary access of despair. He had escaped me; and I must commence a destructive and almost endless journey across the mountainous ices of the ocean, - amidst cold that few of the inhabitants could long endure, and which I, the native of a genial and sunny climate, could not hope to survive. Yet at the idea that the fiend should live and be triumphant, my rage and vengeance returned, and, like a mighty tide, overwhelmed every other feeling. After a slight repose, during which the spirits of the dead hovered round, and instigated me to toil and revenge, I prepared for my journey."

THEY DIED BY MY MACHINATIONS

It has been almost two months now since I posted a new Frankenstein page. That would be due to other financial and industrial obligations that needed to be taken care of. You know...like grave robbing and monster assembling. But now that I'm caught up with my wretched duties in real life, I can get caught up illustrating a book about grave robbing and monster assembling.

Here is the first page since my excursion. At this point, Victor's father has just posted bail and he evades imprisonment for the murder of his good friend Clerval. Which, by the way, he didn't do. They avoid going to London (as to not bring up any good memories of Victor's trip there with Clerval which would actually be bad) and bee-line it straight home to Geneva. Here's the text for this page:

CHAPTER V

 We had resolved not to go to London. I dreaded to see again those places in which I had enjoyed a few moments of tranquillity with my beloved Clerval. As for my father, his desires and exertions were bounded to the again seeing me restored to health and peace of mind. My grief and gloom was obstinate, but he would not despair.

"Alas! my father, how little do you know me. Justine, poor unhappy Justine, was as innocent as I, and she suffered the same charge; she died for it; and I am the cause of this - I murdered her. William, Justine, and Henry - they all died by my hands."

"What do you mean, Victor? are you mad? My dear son, I entreat you never to make such an assertion again."

"I am not mad. I am the assassin of those most innocent victims; they died by my machinations."

I FOUND MYSELF AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE CEMETERY...

I found this moment in the story of Frankenstein very powerful. After Victor's wife Elizabeth is murdered by the monster, he returns home only to find his father dying in his arms. He visits the cemetery where his family plot exists. He visits the graves of his brother William, Elizabeth and his father. He snaps. It is here that he pledges vengeance against the wretched fiend he created.

The text for this page is as follows:

The deep grief which this scene had at first excited quickly gave way to rage and despair. They were dead, and I lived; their murderer also lived, and to destroy him I must drag out my weary existence. I knelt on the grass, and kissed the earth, and with quivering lips exclaimed, "By the sacred earth on which I kneel, by the shades that wander near me, by the deep and eternal grief that I feel, I swear; and by thee, O Night, and by the spirits that preside over thee, I swear to pursue the demon, who caused this misery, until he or I shall perish in mortal conflict. For this purpose I will preserve my life: to execute this dear revenge, will I again behold the sun, and tread the green herbage of earth, which otherwise should vanish from my eyes for ever. And I call on you, spirits of the dead; and on you, wandering ministers of vengeance, to aid and conduct me in my work. Let the cursed and hellish monster drink deep of agony; let him feel the despair that now torments me."

I SAW YOUR VESSEL RIDING AT ANCHOR...

Here's your page of the week. This illustration reflects the fantastical and timeless style that I am bringing to the book in a way that no other telling of Frankenstein has been done. Known to those familiar with the tale of Frankenstein (yet not addressed in my blog yet) is the explorer Walton and his crew whose story of obsession parallels that of Victor's. The two meet in the beginning of the book when Walton discovers Victor weak and on the verge of death in the far uncharted north. Walton's ship is embedded in ice and the crew's life is endangered if they press one. This is a choice that their Captain Walton has to make.

The ship in my story, like all the other forms of transportation in this world, is covered in rivets and rusty metal. Exhaust pipes, indicating a fantastical and unfamiliar origin of power, jut out from all around. The main cabin is illuminated with the same bright green as the fluid that sparks Victor's creations to life, mirroring the two obsessions and their similar fate...DEATH.

The text for this page is as follows:

In this manner many appalling hours passed; several of my dogs died; and I myself was about to sink under the accumulation of distress, when I saw your vessel riding at anchor, and holding forth to me hopes of succour and life. I had no conception that vessels ever came so far north, and was astounded at the sight. I quickly destroyed part of my sledge to construct oars; and by these means was enabled, with infinite fatigue, to move my ice-raft in the direction of your ship. I had determined, if you were going southward, still to trust myself to the mercy of the seas, rather than abandon my purpose. I hoped to induce you to grant me a boat with which I could still pursue my enemy. But your direction was northward. You took me on board when my vigour was exhausted, and I should soon have sunk under my multiplied hardships into a death, which I still dread, - for my task is unfulfilled.

Oh! when will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the demon, allow me the rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet live? If I do, Walton, satisfy my vengeance in his death. When I am dead, if he should appear, swear that he shall not live - swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulated woes, and live to make another such a wretch as I am. He is eloquent and persuasive; and once his words had even power over my heart: but trust him not. His soul is as hellish as his form.

THE OTHER BRIDE...

In my previous post, you were introduced to "The Bride" to the Monster. But Victor, like many creators, is obsessed with his work, and in this way he is married to his work. You could say that the creation of the bride is his affair.

His "other" bride awaits his return home so that they can get married. But Victor is out two-timing with his diabolical dabbles. Things don't go so well for him (like with most cheaters) and Victor finds himself loosing his best friend, getting nailed by the fuzz and framed for a crime he didn't commit. So it goes.

But lucky for Victor, he has a very rich and powerful father who gets him out on bail. On his return home, it is decided to wait no longer and get hitched to his cousin Elizabeth. And so they do.

I PASSED WHOLE DAYS...

I can't believe it is time to post another page of the week. Days are passing by quickly like those days of Victor after his return home from the valley of Chamounix. With a blackened conscience and the pressure of commitment, I can relate to the troubled Victor.

Speaking of which, here is the page of the week, illustrating the following text from the book Mary Shelley's Frankenstein:

At these moments I took refuge in the most perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the lake alone in a little boat, watching the clouds, and listening to the rippling of the waves, silent and listless. But the fresh air and bright sun seldom failed to restore me to some degree of composure; and, on my return, I met the salutations of my friends with a readier smile and a more cheerful heart.

It was after my return from one of these rambles that my father, calling me aside, thus addressed me:-

"I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your former pleasures, and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are still unhappy, and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost in conjecture as to the cause of this; but yesterday an idea struck me, and if it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a point would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all."

I trembled violently at this exordium, and my father continued -

"I confess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your marriage with your cousin as the tie of our domestic comfort, and the stay of my declining years. You were attached to each other from your earliest infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositions and tastes, entirely suited to one another. But so blind is the experience of man, that what I conceived to be the best assistants to my plan may have entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as your sister, without any wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you may have met with another whom you may love; and, considering yourself as bound in honour to your cousin, this struggle may occasion the poignant misery which you appear to feel."

THE WICKEDNESS OF MY PROMISE...

I almost forgot to post the page of the week for you. I've been so busy and time has been sped up by some alien technology that I was shocked to find it was already Friday and naught a page posted.

So I give you two! I've been sharing my works in progress on Facebook and Twitter and these bride images got a great response. So I thought I would present to you the full spread in all it's finished monstrosity.

Enjoy!

BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN...

Finally, riding through the vast eerie mountains of Frankenstein once again. This should be the last grueling waiting period. With the final chapter mapped out and laid down on a template, I've embarked once more on my journey into wretchedness.

Here is the first page of Volume III and the first page in almost three months. With all the details figured out, I will be back on my schedule of producing a page almost daily. And I will be back to my regular updates on this blog with news, progress, workshops, insights and the "page of the week".

In this page, the contrast between Victor and his best friend Clerval are evident. Clerval is alive, joyful and happy while Victor is...well...his usual emo self. But don't take it from me. In Clerval's own words, "But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are you desponding and sorrowful?"

Why do you think, Clerval? He's just come back from a trip to the mountains where he was kidnapped, against his will, by his rejected child who just happens to be a hulking reanimated corpse. He was blackmailed and left with a dire proposition. He is to create another diabolical anomaly of the female gender or death will come to everyone he loves. On top of this, his father arranges his marriage with cousin Elizabeth. This is great and all because they are in love (in an insestual kind of way). But it's bad timing to plan a wedding.

So Clerval decides to take him on a trip to London.

What a good start into Volume III! Enjoy your page of the week and look for more to come.