The last thing that I saw on the Greek tragedy was that the country -- amidst huge protests -- is hurtling further down the loans spiral. If they cut back enough on the public good or even the public necessary, they may borrow enough to pay banks for what they borrow in order to pay banks, or so I got it. A vicious circle, might lead to chaos -- we owe the Greek for the word χάος and haven't paid for it yet. Another unpaid word is Economy: Oikos nomia once had to do with the art of tending to an oikos, a household. With the Euro, Greece should be part of the European oikos, for better and worse, but no. -- This isn't how to run a happy farm, Madame Merkel...
The most disturbing thing is that ordinary people get to pay for the mistakes of bankers and rulers. I understand that Her Excellency was one of the loudest voices for Greek appeasements (and I have a feeling that somehow ordinary Germans might get to pay for her lack of solidarity) so here goes...
I think that my Merkelmonster became a silly rather than a strictly evil bird. I haven't got that personal anger in me. I am pleased with beau Athena too. Pencil on one notebook page for each, electric stitching, a little Photoshop paint (not too much; I also played a bit with exposure to make the sketch rich in contrasts).
Fight on, Greece, fight on. I hope that Athena wins.
Digital sketch done in the manner of Exquisite Corpses, the surreal method of adding words to each other without thinking; if you say one word I add the first another without any prefrontal cortex censorship. (As sentences form around a festive table in the middle of the night, round and round from mouth to mouth -- do try! -- they tend to get more and more, hum, Freudian...)
This was drawn in the solo manner of this game, start with a line, add something else, see what it wants to become even if abhors you. (Something more or less like the Paranoiac-critical method, q.v.) A line and half an eyebrow wanted to be fish, inkdrops hint old school telephones and their shadows are sailing away, perhaps to find a Hungarian phrasebook.
Normally (warning, Photoshop geekery ahead) I have one layer for the outlines and one for colours behind and below a backdrop in progress, quite a stage. Here I had a background and a layer of pure improvisation. (Doing this in oil, adding and subtracting all the time, would be quite sticky, and you'd end up no less colourful than the painting.) It would be interesting to know if the background colour subconsciously affects the foreground (as we're taking this dream machine out for an airing with no leash or even dog goodies to bribe it with) -- we know that different wallpapers do. I once had to sleep in a room with stark red ones. The company wasn't very good either, but that's not the point, and the only thing that helped was a change of walls and roof and, sadly, company; merely tapestry didn't help a bit. And now I am babbling, for free drawing liberates the mind.
As for the title of the post, it is perfect. It has nothing to do with the subject; at least not consciously...
The lady had been going for a while and had but minutes left, when at last, in an eerie moment sudden of consciousness, she asked Susanne, the nurse --
"Are you the angel who will take me to the garden of death?"
And then she left this world.
The garden of death holds marigolds [tagetes]. They are glowing somewhat to cheer us up. And here we see sweet Ms. S. a little closer... (In the background we saw her beloved Lapponia, and the beautiful highlands may very well do as a hint of Paradise in the end of ends.)
I had a little fun miscolouring the feet. The cover and the medical staff sandals are in a traditional Hospital Green...
"Come dear, hold my hand. It won't take very long..."
This one will be dedicated to sweet Susanne, friendly soul and nurse with a lot of experience, some of it eerie. I might get back to this particular instance, and how she became an Angel of Death. I am still making the outlines. (We're a little tired. Being a nurse, or so I'm told, is a hard job of work.)
The Greek believed that Charon ferried the souls over to Hades on River Styx; in Voodoo tradition this honour befalls Baron Samedi (who prefers to be drunk during the process) and so forth. I think I'd prefer Susanne, actually...
The “paper” or background whilst “inking” (my wholly digital process calls for quotation marks) is my favourite nuance of tan; the colour of natural paper that has yellowed way past yellow.
To be continued...
