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."