Monday, September 3, 2007

Image : Hand Skirt

Project : Hand Skirt
Date : September 16th, 2007
Media : Pencil sketch gone over with a 0.03 pen


Thoughts :
I did this while stuck on a flight from San Fran to Germany for work. Started with just the woman's face, then the midget because I couldn't bring myself to erase some of the hands, and then... I don't know. It went from there and a very clear story unfolded in my mind mid-way through the sketch. The rest of the image was like playing a game- illustrating tidbits I thought of and trying to rationalize things I illustrated. In the end, I'm very fond of it. I also found that such things make me a good candidate for long flights since the trip and seat confinement bothered me not one bit as long as I could sketch.
I currently have it hanging on my cube wall despite several disparaging comments against it by a coworker who seems to especially dislike it of all my pieces. Screw him- looking at it pleases me.
I would be highly inclined to trade artistic favors if anyone managed to write a short (or longer!) story based off this image...
He reached up to caress her face and was met with a heavily lidded gaze filled with cold disgust. It broke his heart that his faith angered her so- he had tried so hard the bloody night before to explain it to as they purified her for this dawn. How could she not see that this sacrifice was the highest sign of his love. To lose her hurt him more then the hangman's noose could ever inflict upon her.

He felt no anger at her for the enchantment cast upon him as he and his men had ridden up to the cottage. In fact, it rather pleased him to know that this unnatural adoration she inflicted upon his heart would be useful upon his eventual return to court. No saucy Duchess or sultry Baron's daughter could ever manage to cloud his reason with worldly wants now. His heart was forever bound to his witch, he knew this. But in order to ensure their eternal bliss he had to do this. Those fingers and flesh distorted from a lifetime of dealing with the Dark Arts had been lovingly parred from her by his very own hand. He was strong enough think ahead- to lose her in this life time was worth their eternity together.

Besides, she was a witch and had long since lost the fear of death. It was not the noose, but rather her failed attempt to enslave him that made her so recalcitrant this morning. The least he could do was let her wear her bloody skirt, sewn from the hands of her victims, on this, her last day.

1 comment:

Pam said...

eww a bloody hand skirt sewn from the hands of her victims eww