Friday, February 25, 2011

Onward and upward...

Not literally...  
But, I am going to try something different.  Something sort of new.

Next week, I'll be participating in another group show.  And the theme:  Coffins.

50 artists were given a small coffin to paint up however they want.  
I think I'm going to cut it close, but I finally had an idea of what to do ,and I hope it all works out.

I decided to make the coffin, itself, a character.

This is the angel of death seeks the souls of lovers meant to be together.  Even into the afterlife.

Unlike her sibling Death, known for his black and brooding attire.  She is seen robed in white, believing it symbolizes the innocence and purity of love between the two souls she collects.  In fear of tainting the souls and their love at her touch, she had Death cut her limbs, she rely on her minions of fallen cupids to do her deeds.  And, in exchange, they can continue to exist by feeding from her own soul.

Here are some sketches and the start of production...

La Mort des Amants
Nous aurons des lits pleins d'odeurs légères,
Des divans profonds comme des tombeaux,
Et d'étranges fleurs sur des étagères,
Ecloses pour nous sous des cieux plus beaux.
Usant à l'envi leurs chaleurs dernières,
Nos deux coeurs seront deux vastes flambeaux,
Qui réfléchiront leurs doubles lumières
Dans nos deux esprits, ces miroirs jumeaux.
Un soir fait de rose et de bleu mystique,
Nous échangerons un éclair unique,
Comme un long sanglot, tout chargé d'adieux;
Et plus tard un Ange, entr'ouvrant les portes,
Viendra ranimer, fidèle et joyeux,
Les miroirs ternis et les flammes mortes.
— Charles Baudelaire


The Death of Lovers

We shall have beds full of odors, light
Couches deep as tombs,
And strange flowers on shelves
Blossomed for us Under more beautiful heavens.
Exercising at will their last heats,
Our two hearts will be two immense torches
Which will reflect their double lights
In both our minds, those twin mirrors.
One evening made of rose and mystic blue,
We exchange a single flash,
Like a long sob, charged with farewells;
And later an Angel, opening doors,
Will revive, faithful and joyful
The tarnished mirrors and the flames died.

-Charles Baudelaire