ME: I think we play the Chiefs this week.
HE: Didn’t we play them last week?
(pause)
ME: Well, if you want to get technical about it.
the letter sisters: beatrice
This is Beatrice, the second of The Letter Sisters. In naming her Beatrice, I decided to make Scrumptious Jayne’s adorable but erroneous-at-the-time assumption that “Letter Sisters” meant “letters of the alphabet” somewhat true now. There are no letters of the alphabet in the sketches, but I think I’ll name the girls alphabetically. The first sister was Ada and now we have Beatrice. I’m going with more old-fashioned names because I think the girls have an old-fashioned feel to them.
Beatrice, sadly, did not scan all that well. Or the shrunken-down version I’m forced to use on the blog became pixellated in translation. Or I’m a goober. Poor Beatrice.
Each of these sketches is a jumping-off point for things I have in mind for them later — once I’ve, oh, taught myself Photoshop, which I’m getting — installing — downloading — whatever — this weekend. I’ve taught myself a graphics program before, one that is now obsolete, just by flipping through the manual and playing around, so I don’t really have any fear of Photoshop. I completely realize how arrogant and puffed-up that sounds, but please do not say anything to de-poof me or make me a’feared. The few times in my life when I’ve stormed into a situation with blind ignorant confidence it has worked out really well for me. Do not open my eyes in any way, shape, or form. I must sally forth undeterred and undisturbed in my ignorance. It’s really for the best. Thank you.
Oh, and yeah, Beatrice ain’t got no legs either. This was purposeful. I mean, sister Ada is legless, so it didn’t seem right to give Beatrice legs and start a whole sibling leg rivalry or be accused of favoritism or cause the dread sin of covetousness. I mean, I don’t need my sketches turning into high-maintenance divas. I’m the boss, girls. I decide if and when you get legs. And if you’re not nice, I will give you cankles.
Don’t think I won’t.
(image copyright Tracey/BTP 2008 — do NOT copy)
finally ….. i saw him do it
Yep. After all these eons of spying and waiting and frustrating my inner Gladys Kravitz.
I finally saw our neighbor, Australian Episcopalian priest Father Tony or “Tawny” or Jibbly, dump his trash in someone else’s trash can.
He didn’t see me sitting in my car, but I saw him.
Oh, yes, I did, Father.
I saw you …. yes, I did …. I saw it with my own two eyes …. So you can wipe off the grin …. I know where you’ve been ….. It’s all been a pack of lies
(All together now ….)
And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord
I’ve been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord
I can feel it in the air tonight, oh Lord, oh Lord
And I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life, oh Lord, oh Lord
Oh Lord, indeed.
hamlet-ophelia-mucha
Sheila has a post up with a vast gorgeous array of images of Ophelia through the ages. Etchings, drawings, paintings, photographs of actresses who’ve played Ophelia. It’s a smorgasbord of beauty.
Her post made me remember a piece from one of my all-time favorite artists, Alphonse Mucha, so I thought I’d make my minor contribution to the idea here. It’s one of his Sarah Bernhardt paintings/posters for which he become famous: Sarah Bernhardt as Hamlet, actually, and even though Hamlet dominates the frame here, if you look closely, underneath Hamlet, you’ll see Mucha included an image of Ophelia, in the chill of death, clutching her flowers.
I love contemplating what Mucha intended with the composition — Ophelia boxed in a kind of pretty casket at the bottom, Hamlet’s dark foot breaking the frame — doing what? acknowledging her? reaching to her? oppressing her? what? To me, it’s not accidental that the foot is outside the frame. She is literally under his foot here. It’s not like I picture Mucha having composition issues and being forced to paint the foot out of frame or not giving his subject’s legs and whatnot, like some people I know. Maybe it’s only interesting to me. A roomful of people could go round and round discussing the relationship between these two and, at the end of it, come to a roomful of different conclusions about it. And the views on their relationship shift with the times and the culture. This is a lithograph from 1899, late Victorian era, to give it a context, and based on the feel of the piece, I thought it would be interesting to include a couple of contradictory quotes on the Hamlet/Ophelia relationship from two prominent Victorian women.
The first, from writer Anna Brownell Jameson fromShakespeare’s Heroines: Characteristics of Women:
I have even heard it denied that Hamlet did love Ophelia. The author of the finest remarks I have yet seen on the play and the character of Hamlet, leans to this opinion… I do think, with submission, that the love of Hamlet for Ophelia is deep, is real, and is precisely the kind of love which such a man as Hamlet would feel for such a woman as Ophelia.
~ Anna Brownell Murphy Jameson, Shakespeare’s Heroines:Characteristics of Women.
The second, from a well-known Victorian actress who played Ophelia, Helena Faucit:
I cannot, therefore, think that Hamlet comes out well in his relations with Ophelia. I do not forget what he says at her grave: But I weigh his actions against his words, and find them here of little worth. The very language of his letter to Ophelia, which Polonius reads to the king and queen, has not the true ring in it. It comes from the head, and not from the heart – it is a string of euphemisms, which almost justifies Laertes’ warning to his sister, that the “trifling of Hamlet’s favour” is but “the perfume and suppliance of a minute.” Hamlet loves, I have always felt, only in a dreamy, imaginative way, with a love as deep, perhaps, as can be known by a nature fuller of thought and contemplation than of sympathy and passion.
~ Helena Faucit, Lady Martin, On Some of Shakespeare’s Female Characters (1888).
I, for one, although I like how Brownell states her point, tend a bit towards Faucit’s interpretation. The composition and the general feel of Mucha’s piece makes me wonder if he did, too. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but, let’s face it, my entire life is based on reading too much into everything.
keeping up with the joads
“I just know we’re gonna end up living in that trailer in your parents’ driveway.”
question
Why is the nightly news revealing the code names of the new first family?
Why??
No, I really want to know. I thought their code names were supposed to be secret.
But again, I cannot remember where my shoes are on a regular basis.
yum
Trader Joe’s Multigrain Crackers
topped with
Trader Joe’s Goat Cheese
topped with …. my latest TJ’s discovery ….
Trader Joe’s Cranberry Apple Butter
Ohhhhhh mmmmmy …….
by contrast
This year, I didn’t see my first Christmas commercial until November 1st.
I’m not proud of the fact that I keep track of this.
I cannot find my shoes on a regular basis and yet this, this, I remember.
this is fabulous news
7-Eleven makes sugar-free Slurpees now. They’re a Crystal Light product. And I gotta tell you, when it’s 137 degrees and -43% humidity outside in freeekin’ November already, the only way to cool down your internal organs and revive your shriveled dermis is to get yourself one of them-there cherry limeade sugar-free Slurpees.
Yes. That is the ONLY way.
There is NO OTHER WAY.
You may think well, that’s silly; that can’t be the only way, but, nope, you’d be wrong.
Wrong wrong wrong.
Cherry Limeade Sugar-Free Slurpee is THE ONLY WAY.
ONNNLLY WAAAAAY.
So yes.
I think I’ve made my point.
the letter sisters: ada
This is Ada, the first of The Letter Sisters. (Uhm, it scanned huge and I’m sorry and I’m also lazy so it’s not gonna change. I scan various sizes and it’s sometimes hard to find the right size for the blog with each drawing/painting. Oh, boo hoo hoo, Tracey.)
Anyhooey.
Yes, this is Ada, the first of The Letter Sisters. There’s another letter sister in existence right now, but one at a time, ladies, one at a time. You must await your turn on the stage. Wait for your cue. Not sure how many letter sisters there will ultimately be. I just started drawing girls with letters because the whole concept of letters has — well, some interesting and varied meanings in my life. Some good. Some not so good.
Note to Ada:
I am very sorry you have no legs. I have issues. Which is a terrible insensitive self-absorbed rationalization in the face of your double leglessness. But, honestly, I’m afraid that I am obsessed with big heads that take up lots of space — which you have, in case you didn’t notice. If you’re really unaware of that fact, I can hold you up in front of a mirror and you can see what I’ve done to you with that big giant head. But then, if you don’t know about your big giant head, maybe you don’t know that you don’t have legs, either, and it’s best to just let it lie. Let it go. But then, I’d kinda feel like I’m lying to you, Ada, and I’m a very straightforward kind of girl. That’s just the way I roll. On the other hand, I am your creator and just as I find that my Creator doesn’t always engage in full disclosure, perhaps I could take a page from His book and do the same. Although, that might be blasphemous and such and I really don’t want to be smited. Smote. Smoted. Smitten. No, that’s not it. Whatever.
Someday, Ada, through the magic of Photoshop, you will have legs; I promise. That’s the goal here. You’re a kind of template. A work in progress. As are all the girls you hang out with. What you are now, you will not always be because I have plans for you. Double-legged plans. Yes, I do. So, carry on, Ada. Just hang out. Sit tight. I mean, that’s really all you can do, anyway.
Signed,
Me
(image copyright Tracey/BTP 2008 — do NOT copy)