Autumn Nouveau

This one I did 3 or so weeks ago, and I don’t think it will ever get finished. This is happening to alot of drawings lately, but I just don’t know why! But finished or not, I like it, and hope you do too!

Copyright 2005 by Andrew Price, all rights reserved.

History #1; Pushkin and Russia

Aleksander Sergeivich Pushkin is the most important writer of all the Russians, for giving Russian its own voice and for declaring its mission in the world. The way was made straight for him when in 1812 Napoleon invaded Russia, and took Moscow (Pushkin’s birthplace), but the Russians torched the city, forcing Napoleon to retreat to France. The Tsar’s court which previously only spoke French, now began to speak Russian as a collective show of patriotism. But the language was thought to be Oriental or barbaric (synonymous thoughts back then), and nothing any true “European” nobleman would want to speak. There was no Russian speaking culture for a nation to be proud of. A few minor poets, and archaic medieval epics, but nobody like Goethe or Shakespeare for the world to adore and the nation to emulate. Here entered Pushkin. Pushkin was born in 1799 to an aristocratic family. He began writing poetry at age 8. These first poems were written in French, but the linguistic and cultural shifts in Russia meant that eventually Russian would become his language of choice.
In 1815 when Pushkin was 16 he was a published and renown poet in Russia. Throughout his life, Pushkin was very popular with literate Russians, but he was never a favorite with Tsar or with the Tsar’s court for his progressive impulses. This can be demonstrated by his 7-year exile between 1820, and 1827, after his radicalism and later for his association with some of rebels involved with the Decemberist revolution of 1820. After his exile of seven years he returned to Russian proper, and made his home in St. Petersburg.
In 1831 he married Natalya Goncharova, together they had four children. In 1837 he was killed in a duel, over his wife’s honor. Many accused the government of assassination; this is an idea that has not waned over time.
Pushkin was a poet, playwright, and novelist, along with being a translator of French and English poetry into Russian. By this work he absorbed these nations’ poets, most especially England’s Lord Byron. The swaying rhythms of Byron’s poetry greatly influenced Pushkin. So a Pushkin poem in its beginning may sound like Byron with a Russian accent, but the poem soon loses any sense of Englishness, and becomes totally Russian.
Pushkin gave his nation a sense of literary purpose, a mission to Europe from its Mechanistic decadence, and restore the Orthodox faith to the rest of the continent. No longer mere scribes, writers became prophets:
“[The Seraphim] thrust a coal — O flaming heart!
I lay exhausted– like the slain–
Till God commanded: “Rise Again!
See, Prophet! Hear, and understand!
Obey! The word which you proclaim,
In wanderings far, by sea and land
Shall set the human heart aflame!”

written on the 8th of September, 1826
by A.S. Pushkin, translated by John Coutts

And the confirmation of this call is received with “Amens” by his fellow writers, often showing a character’s spiritual renewal by a re-discovery of Pushkin. Or by
a character’s use of Pushkin’s poetry to illustrate the nation’s divine role. One such use in Dostoevskii’s novel The Idiot, when Aglaya Ivanovna Yepanchin fervently recites Pushkin’s “Lived a knight once, poor and plain” to equate his Quixotic knight with Prince Myshkin, The Idiot’s messianic hero. And in Andrei Tarkovskii’s film The Mirror, the one thing in the movie close to a monologue is when a character reads this letter written by Pushkin:
“The division of the churches separated us from Europe. We did not take part in a single one of her great events. But we had our own special predestination. Russia and its vast expanses absorbed the Mongol invasion. The Tatars did not dare [to] cross our western borders. They retreated to their deserts and Christian civilization was saved. To achieve this goal our way of life underwent a change which while preserving us as Christians, alienated us from the Christian world. As for our present insignificance, I cannot agree with you. Do you not find something in Russia’s present position to amaze the future historian? Although I am truly attached to the Tsar, I am not at all inspired with what I see about me. As a writer I am ashamed, I an annoyed, I am insulted, but not for anything in the world would I change my country, or choose another history, than the history of our forefathers as God ordained it.”

A letter from Pushkin to his friend Chaadyev,
dated 19th of October, 1836.

I quoted as fully here as in the film to reassert his belief that Russia has a divine, even ascetic mission in Europe and for the world. And for again showing the artist’s role within this mission, and for saying Russia is a flawed nation, with uncomprehending rulers, but will safeguard Christendom, nevertheless. Please notice the similarity between the Russian idea of a holy mission with the American ideal of the “City on the Hill” originally as a witness for God, later a demonstrator of democracy. I gave the comparison so Russia could not be thought of an exotic, alluring nation, (though I have fallen its allure, without seeing it.), but as nation similar to the US, with similar ideas of missions for the world. I hope to make the country more familiar by speaking of its greatest and most beloved voice, Aleksander Pushkin.

More Introductions!

I have the great priveledge of introducing a new ‘my old sketchbook’ blogger to our group, though not a new blogger at all. As a matter of fact, Johnnynorms has been a long time sketch blogger, and has administrated the blog Elbowroom successfully for quite a while. We met while I was wandering across bloggerdom, and I have been a regular visitor to his excellent blog.
On all accounts, he’s a great artist, and I hope you’ll all give him a warm welcome!

Copyright 2005 by Andrew Price, all rights reserved.

Eucharisto and Evelina

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Project1, originally uploaded by Tolkien Guy.

Finally I have posted to My Old Sketchbook! We hope we’re not too late. We were hoping you all would consider us fashionably late.
My name, Eucharisto, in greek, literally means ‘To give thanks’, which indicates the apparell worn at the first thanksgiving meal shared almost 400 years ago. My companion is Evelina, which means ‘lifegiving’, and she has brought joy and happiness, along with some delicious food to this good celebration.
Unfortunately, the means by which I was hoping to post this image is unusable at the moment, as that certain means happens to be at the computer repair store. Hopefully, the quality is ok for at least basic comprehension of the idea.
We are so very glad to be at this wonderful and festive occasion!

Copyright 2005 by Andrew Price, all rights reserved.

Midsummer

Gaillar

(More words later.)

Copyright 2005 by Andrew Price, all rights reserved.

This picture is WAY too small

Sorry I’m late, I had a bit of a horseshoe problem on the way up here. But here we are… (More to come later, I can’t talk now. I just wanted to get something up. Click on the image to see the rockin’ cool detail.)

Real Post:

I love parties, and I wanted this one to go just right so I wrote a script for the entire evening. Here it is:

THE ‘MY OLD SKETCHBOOK’ MASQUERADE

or

HOW THE FOOLISH KNIGHT SHOCKED AND AMAZED A WHOLE ROOM FULL OF PEOPLE AND ONE HORSE!

[THE FOOLISH KNIGHT enters the MAIN BALLROOM/SNACK BAR THING through the VERY LARGE AND COOL DOORS. He is mounted on WENDY (who has a BEEHIVE on her back). THE FOOLISH KNIGHT sees THE QUEEN OF ARTS AND ENGLAND and ERIOL chatting about ERIOL's poetry. ERIOL is nodding his head and waving his hands A LOT. THE FOOLISH KNIGHT's gaze quickly moves past them to SIR BERT BONO SHAKESPEARE WONKA SGT. OF PEPPER and THE DAWN waltzing to "Baby You Can Dive My Car". ERIOL and THE QUEEN OF ARTS AND ENGLAND join in on the "Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! WHOA!"s. THE FOOLISH KNIGHT, confident that this is the time to make his big entrance, decides to speak.]

FOOLISH KNIGHT: Hey guys! What’s up?

[At that moment MIDSUMMER and GAILLAR enter the room singing a duet they have memorized for the occasion from Andrew Lloyd Webber's, The Phantom of the Opera, and THE FOOLISH KNIGHT can no longer be heard over the enormous racket.]

ERIOL [pressing a button on a HEADPHONE in his ear, and speaking into a SMALL MICROPHONE]: Security, this the Big Man. We have a 2319. Commence operation ‘Phantom Menace’! I want all available security all the floor NOW! PRONTO! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!

[Quickly the MAIN BALLROOM/SNACK BAR THING is filled with LOTS OF BIG MEN IN SUITS AND SUNGLASSES, who escort MIDSUMMER and GAILLAR out of the room through a BACK ENTRANCE. Their singing, though still audible long after they leave the room, slowly dies out and the party commences once again.]

WENDY [to FOOLISH KNIGHT, irritated]: Niieghhh!

FOOLISH KNIGHT [calmly]: I know, I know. That’s one of my favorite Andrew Lloyd Webber songs too. Look, just give me time to make my big entrance and then we’ll see if we can get Midsummer and What’s-His-Face out of the clink.

[At this point the party is disrupted once again by the appearance of a GIANT QUESTION MARK and EXCLAMATION POINT, who begin bouncing up and down and correcting people's spelling. THE FOOLISH KNIGHT is, by now, very upset and, determined to get SOMEBODY's attention, beings to juggle the precocious punctuation marks and gargle "Jesus Loves Me" AT THE SAME TIME! EVERYONE stands back in amazement and awe. WENDY rescues MIDSUMMER and GAILLAR and, by WENDY's request they begin to sing "Ring Of Fire" instead. Soon everyone (filled with admiration for THE FOOLISH KNIGHT, because of his resourcefulness, uncommonly good looks, and sheer genius) is dancing, and the party is saved.]

THE END

Copyright 2005 by Andrew Price, all rights reserved.

Poem #19

SEE SUNSET FADE BEHIND YOU,
WE ARE OUT WEST,
LEAVES FLYING QUICKEST FROM THE ROOT.

SHE BY THE AIRPORT BAGGAGE CLAIM
WAITING FOR A BLACK SUITCASE
WITH A TAG SAYING “ITALY”

WILL HE EVER COME, WILL I EVER ARRIVE,
CARELESS OF THE FACTS I IMAGINE
HER COMING CLOSE,
HEARING HER VOICE IN A DREAM
AND SLOWLY WAKING
WITH MY PILLOW COOL ON THE FLOOR,
AND SUMMER HEAT.

SHE SINGS,
SHE SINGS WITH HER AGED VOICE,
“HE CAME FROM THE SKY,
CLOUDS SWEPT BY FINGERTIPS,
WORDS FROM CYRANO’S LIPS,
HE LEFT,
HELD MY HAND,
BRUSHED BACK MY HAIR,
COBWEBS ON THE PORCH,
ENCIRCLING HIS EYES.
HE LEFT,
WITHOUT MY HAND,
LEFT IN A BORROWED CAR,
AND WAS BORNE AFAR.”

I WILL HAVE A DAUGHTER,
I WILL HAVE A WIFE,
A CERTAIN BOY WILL LEAVE
ELECTRIC POEMS, AFTER
THE TONE.
STEADY PROSE IN SPEECH
<>
SHAKY RHYMES HEARD BY A MAN
AND A STRANGER
TO HIM.

Haiku #2

There’s a lady on
A cloud as my plane flies by;
Lovely, but I can’t stay.