Thursday, August 30, 2012


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."


Friday, August 24, 2012


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.

Friday, August 10, 2012


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.

Friday, August 3, 2012


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."