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."