tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62220307689503707892024-02-06T22:03:40.926-08:00Danielle Pajak IllustrationsDanielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-53424080057768777452016-10-24T21:28:00.002-07:002016-10-24T21:30:06.545-07:00My Patreon: My Last Blog Post<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTRDIOJlTxVCS_1L_PNAJOzKjEN_KHi0Sd25vPztpmpWKPIGuWuEczsGhc7xXrdoTMFlrui1OWuSV7XYl7P4qyLdTB7j7aF_9KuxNo_VE7G9ptN88qyhGHOyEMHUQOgJuulDBi56iDc8/s1600/Sherlock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTRDIOJlTxVCS_1L_PNAJOzKjEN_KHi0Sd25vPztpmpWKPIGuWuEczsGhc7xXrdoTMFlrui1OWuSV7XYl7P4qyLdTB7j7aF_9KuxNo_VE7G9ptN88qyhGHOyEMHUQOgJuulDBi56iDc8/s400/Sherlock.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Art in the blood is liable to take the strangest forms." - Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>
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As October draws to a close, I want to let you all know about the changes happening here for me and on this blog. I have been ruminating awhile on what would be the best course of action for me as a freelance illustrator. It is a thought process that is continually on going, but I've officially decided to divert all my energies to developing myself on Patreon! Many of you have probably already heard of Patreon, a platform that enables artists to be supported directly by their fans and followers! It has something I have been considering for some time now, and I think it would be a good fit for me! I am pretty excited!<br />
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With that being said, this means that my blog here is going to be closed down. I will continue to keep it up for you all to peruse past posts and projects, but any future work and analysis is going to be done on my Patreon profile! It is my intention to be able to bring the same quality work that I have done here to my audience directly and to engage my followers in a way that would be more productive and beneficial for everyone; not to mention more fun. It is my hope that I will be seeing you there! ^_^<br />
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If you visit my profile, I'll explain all what you can expect from me and there are definitely some awesome awards for my contributors! I can't wait to get started! So, please come follow me on Patreon and I thank you for being a reader on my little blog here. There is nothing I enjoy more than creating and talking about art! Thank you!<br />
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Sincerely,<br />
-Danielle Pajak<br />
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<a href="https://www.patreon.com/dpillustrations" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXl4ujvWVkQ329rXAnyS8mFK-yURK-Xw4ENkzLqctCUCpVheDOFNtxOdcYHOmQbo4m-y3rB_qmKT3arw6HhSvqH-aB1PYdsya5eTKpTomXUwoVz03N2sBIa_0DuY8J-QCSCW9Yrg90Gqk/s400/PatreonButton.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>He has made everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i></div>
Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-10783089576950499452016-07-13T14:42:00.003-07:002016-07-13T14:58:04.869-07:00Demons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlikllqTXfQd3GoD5X2ToKB1qaQ03P0rOKmQQrN5oQK3SxGG6BtccXBRquopNMj0KWtguxG_EaJT-fKBDjf-Mpxf6RpEYgwOhsu1YahFgxkTnWgaUVXj6fHN7ZpQgGw-3R9aUJmyu3a4/s1600/13115954_10154284288223054_7212389498004145761_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlikllqTXfQd3GoD5X2ToKB1qaQ03P0rOKmQQrN5oQK3SxGG6BtccXBRquopNMj0KWtguxG_EaJT-fKBDjf-Mpxf6RpEYgwOhsu1YahFgxkTnWgaUVXj6fHN7ZpQgGw-3R9aUJmyu3a4/s400/13115954_10154284288223054_7212389498004145761_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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"<i>A famous man once said, "We create our own demons." Who said that? What does that even mean? Didn't matter. I said it 'cause he said it. So now, he was famous and it was basically said by two well-known guys. I don't... uhh... I'm gonna start again.</i>" </div>
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Tony Stark.<br />
He's my absolute favorite superhero.<br />
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(Well, there <i>is </i>Matt Murdock, but we won't go there. See<a href="http://daniellepajakillustrations.blogspot.com/2016/05/black-sky.html" target="_blank"> previous post</a>.)<br />
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What I want to do for today's blog post is to outline a few things and showcase a recent art piece I did in light of <i>Captain America: Civil War.</i> The movie itself was AMAZING. It was HEARTBREAKING. But everyone survived, including me, thank goodness. My focus, though, is Tony Stark's character arc and his unique role in CW. I was really fascinated by the direction they took his character and I think it is important to highlight what is exactly is going on and where I see him heading from here.<br />
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Recently I rewatched all three Iron Man movies and it was really interesting how all the events shifted a little and revealed new aspects of themselves in light of <i>Avengers 2</i> and <i>Civil War</i>. I still believe the three Iron Man movies were a complete arc in of themselves, but what they've done since then is fleshed out unfinished threads of Tony's character that I never noticed in my previous viewings. For example, the first Iron Man deals heavily with accountability, the very backbone of what the Accords is about in the CW: "<i>I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them. And I saw that I had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero-accountability.</i>" Ever since his awakening in the caves, Tony has been struggling with this concept of accountability, and the conflict of that movie happened <i>because</i> of Tony's choice to rise up and stop the machinery of corruption his company had become in his carelessness.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5AkZ7f97a_VQenjEVyjFIyBLkqmcs0Vt7nWjjVI5i6a11rdT8rRK1ZAtDu-29BbTAnojz2QF81esS4ypfXTwvwWLkyMgpxlqg3YuGhc6vXl6pqlNQ0HyQPIUGe9ppMriYQCrAjsXFcI/s1600/iron-man-1-robert-downey-jr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5AkZ7f97a_VQenjEVyjFIyBLkqmcs0Vt7nWjjVI5i6a11rdT8rRK1ZAtDu-29BbTAnojz2QF81esS4ypfXTwvwWLkyMgpxlqg3YuGhc6vXl6pqlNQ0HyQPIUGe9ppMriYQCrAjsXFcI/s400/iron-man-1-robert-downey-jr.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Then we have <i>Iron Man 2</i>, of which we can say is just another variation of Civil War, I would call it a mini-Civil War, as Tony and Rhodes were temporarily pitted against each other for very similar reasons that Steve and Tony were against each other over the Accords. In this, the American military finds it a threat that Tony has sole possession of the suit technology, as they believe there will be dangers (due to the creation of said technology) that Tony alone won't be able to handle. Just as the Accords was about the Avengers being monitored and controlled by a government body (Tony <i>did </i>compare the Avengers to weapons of mass destruction on a couple of occasions in CW, if you remember), so in <i>Iron Man 2</i>, the US government desired to control and monitor Tony's suit, of which Tony only glibly responds, "I have successfully privatized world peace."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMbuX3wBsl1v8kcWVAyBWZv8VOmWK3rqQfECObCTIiU9b5V0k-5oMAc9Vhg4iFegBUUGBCxnFiz09PWuSaGVw-0dbZ8z98ChusUaKOvohwfPXdNKkbChybJnnDaIGrAdMVmRVgE96xsuc/s1600/robert-downey-jr-talks-captain-america-civil-war-iron-man-4-and-tony-stark-s-final-o-881545.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMbuX3wBsl1v8kcWVAyBWZv8VOmWK3rqQfECObCTIiU9b5V0k-5oMAc9Vhg4iFegBUUGBCxnFiz09PWuSaGVw-0dbZ8z98ChusUaKOvohwfPXdNKkbChybJnnDaIGrAdMVmRVgE96xsuc/s320/robert-downey-jr-talks-captain-america-civil-war-iron-man-4-and-tony-stark-s-final-o-881545.jpg" width="320" /></a>It is the same concept. Tony desired to have free possession of his own property, just as Steve desired to have his freedom to make the calls as he saw fit. Then we see in the conclusion of the conflict in <i>Iron Man 2</i>, due to Tony's completely irresponsible behavior, has Rhodes having no choice but to confiscate the suit on the behalf of the military, just as Tony Stark, due to Steve not submitting to the Accords, found himself having no choice but to see his friends locked up in jail! </div>
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I'm not making any moral statements here, just outlining how Tony Stark's story has been building all along towards the conflict of Civil War and why we now see him on the opposition of our heroes. <i>Accountability</i> is a big theme in Tony Stark's story and it goes hand in hand with <i>his legacy</i>, the primary foundation of his character, driving <i>all</i> his motivations even when they go against his own better judgment or desires; and intrinsically connected to these themes is <i>Tony's own nature</i>. This is the main reason why I love Tony Stark so much, because unlike the other superheroes, who, although are dealing with their issues on varying degrees, always have villainous individuals as their main conflicts; Tony's greatest villain is <i>himself</i><i>.</i> True, in any superhero movie you need some baddies to fight for there to be explosions and stuff, but the<i> real</i> point of conflict here is Tony vs Tony and I find that much more fascinating! <i>Iron Man</i> showed a changed Tony fighting the consequences of his wantonness and carelessness which allowed Obadiah to run amok without restraint. <i>Iron Man 2</i> showed Tony at odds with his arrogance and pride which made him an easy target for Hammer and Vanko; Vanko, who ended up creating the exact same technology as the Iron Man suit despite Tony's egotistical assurance that no one could. Then <i>Iron Man 3</i> brought all of this to its head by showing us plainly how Tony Stark "creates his own demons," where through a drunken night stand and a cruel brushing aside, became the catalyst for the creation of Extremis and The Mandarin.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPFfrmsdX6viicTPBrAXgmcqhYcSTx4udiVDTXXAcYYJafwMHkOxZdtBAkrvljuOC48l7Dh0OGn8b3iGxaRcAt9i_6LuF8JCACsaO62P3j6efuty8hrzoe_qchnvV2dI3F0ojVSGEFoFw/s1600/2013-05-01-iron_man_3_stark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPFfrmsdX6viicTPBrAXgmcqhYcSTx4udiVDTXXAcYYJafwMHkOxZdtBAkrvljuOC48l7Dh0OGn8b3iGxaRcAt9i_6LuF8JCACsaO62P3j6efuty8hrzoe_qchnvV2dI3F0ojVSGEFoFw/s400/2013-05-01-iron_man_3_stark.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Many people have criticized <i>Iron Man 3</i> because of its villain reveal, but Tony's conflicts <i>always</i> lead back to him. It is the crux of what his character story is all about! So, going from <i>Iron Man 3</i> where Tony Stark inadvertently creates his own demons, to <i>Avengers 2</i> where Tony <i>literally</i> creates his own demons with Ultron, we see how events are just becoming bigger and bigger manifestations of what has been happening with Tony <i>the whole time;</i> so that, in <i>Civil War</i>, fueled by all this guilt, Tony, once again, creates even<i> more </i>demons, but this time amongst people whom he has called his <i>friends</i>! Now here is where things are getting pretty dark for Tony. Through this self-destructive cycle, he is now straddling villain territory! Say what you will about the Accords, Tony Stark's decisions are looking eerily like a villain's. He keeps Wanda imprisoned, basically, for what <i>he</i> deems as for her or other's "good." He manipulates <i>a sixteen year old</i> into fighting for him without question. He stands by as all his friends are considered criminals and aids in their imprisonment. As actor Tom Hiddleston said "<i>Every villain is a hero in his own mind</i>.” Tony Stark thinks he is doing the right thing, pursuing accountability, and assuaging his guilt, but he is really just falling further and further into darkness and isolation, as Civil War finds Tony alienated from pretty much everyone by the end of it, even Pepper (SOB!). Tony Stark is falling apart at the seams like one of his iron man suits! However, there is still hope. Steve <i>did</i> send him his love letter, Rhodey is still by his side, and there <i>is</i> Peter Parker, whom I really believe will be the final and lasting redemption for Tony Stark in the end. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixu7GCuRnzQQRxj47HXW6PdDkl2sg975jYTGAbPSncveEzOuzV1HGlJ62LToutj9BOM3pGCjavFEMovusf56AEtc6EHdaHHa-Ow51wAnnsPPrzo_AZBkE6ATrzw0cVintX2HEJ5RtQR7A/s1600/iron-man-1-robert-downey-jr-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixu7GCuRnzQQRxj47HXW6PdDkl2sg975jYTGAbPSncveEzOuzV1HGlJ62LToutj9BOM3pGCjavFEMovusf56AEtc6EHdaHHa-Ow51wAnnsPPrzo_AZBkE6ATrzw0cVintX2HEJ5RtQR7A/s320/iron-man-1-robert-downey-jr-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
You see, the Iron Man suit takes on duel symbolism in all of this. There is the part I've been talking about, the accountability, his legacy, and self-destruction, all wrapped up into the suit as it represents what Tony Stark <i>can</i> do and <i>has</i> done, the only thing he knows<i> how to do</i>: he "tinkers". Yet for all his tinkering he only has continually made things worse for himself, making bigger and bigger monsters to defeat. However, there is the other aspect of the suit, where it represents his salvation and transformation, but there is a catch! The only time Tony's "tinkering" became a means of redemption is when <i>others were involved</i>. Tony's life was saved by <i>Yinsen's</i> work in the cave, not his own. <i>Yinsen</i> was the one who put the arc reactor in his body and gave him the inspiration and the means to carry on. In <i>Iron Man 2</i>, Tony Stark was literally going to go out of the world through<i> drunkenness and donuts</i>, telling <i>no one</i> about it! Yet through Nick Fury and Natasha's intervention and the love of his father, Tony Stark was able to find the means of his salvation once again. In <i>Iron Man 3</i>, overcome by anxiety and PTSD, Stark is only able to find the means to save the day with the help a young boy, Harley, and perhaps even that crazed fanboy guy in the van! Even at the very end, it is <i>Pepper</i> who delivers the final killing blow to Killian, not Tony. Of course, we cannot say enough of all that Pepper has done for him and means to him, Rhodey too. Tony Stark only succeeds when he allows others in.<br />
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Now we see the road block in Tony's psyche that keeps him on this self-destructive path: <i>he tries to do everything alone</i>. I love the imagery in both <i>Iron Man 2</i> and in <i>Captain America:Civil War</i>, where both have opening scenes of Tony Stark going out on stage and presenting one face to the world, but then showing us quite a different Tony backstage. It is such a nice visual element that represents all that he is. It is the Tony Stark who, when asked in CW by Natasha "You alright?" answers "Always." We see time and time again, Tony Stark pushing away his friends, those who love him and care for him, as he isolates himself in his room of toys and ego. It only makes sense, then, that in order for Tony Stark to break free of his own nature, he will need the humbling help of another. I'm pretty sure this is what we are going to see in <i>Spiderman Homecoming</i>! Or at least the beginnings of it. I could do a whole other post about how Tony Stark seems to develop these relationships with young people more easily and what the could mean in regards to his relationship with his father! I only briefly mentioned Tony's legacy being the primary part of his character, and that is directly related to Howard Stark. For now, this post is already getting too long! Maybe next time. Tony Stark is a pretty complex guy.<br />
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I now give you my art piece which is my thinking about all these themes and ideas!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_APHwcQMIqzT7YiJHE4Y1dXMlzRn_-ABdf_QrwKuzJV8LssjiDOCcxXAFu7KqXVLUpQ14U2_g7FDoA2QJqezxjYXSTFCZKTDva5jyAvBrINQxcMEM57NVViqDIScVOF0DiDTUQ2d4z8/s1600/Demons_Blogger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_APHwcQMIqzT7YiJHE4Y1dXMlzRn_-ABdf_QrwKuzJV8LssjiDOCcxXAFu7KqXVLUpQ14U2_g7FDoA2QJqezxjYXSTFCZKTDva5jyAvBrINQxcMEM57NVViqDIScVOF0DiDTUQ2d4z8/s640/Demons_Blogger.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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It was intentional that I chose to emulate Rembrandt for this piece. I love Rembrandt's work; his dramatic use of light, the hushed, somber ambiance, the warm, intimate tones, and I wanted to create that same feeling here. The shadowy, enclosed atmosphere with the light and color limited only on Tony shows how isolated and alone he has made himself. It calls to mind a low burning candle about to be snuffed out. It is introspective and morose, as Tony contemplates all that he has become. I have him enmeshed in wires, clinging to him, as if he is being held captive there. The demon-like, broken down robots hanging in the corner further emphasizes the self-destructive nature that has laid hold of him and is always waiting there in the deepest parts, ready to undo him. There is, of course, the cracked shield, which represents that this will be his legacy if he keeps going down this same route: broken friendships and loss. I also purposefully made his Iron Man suit blend in and become a part of him, as if it were showing his muscles and sinews. I prefer drawing his suit this way, showing how he and the suit are one, and all the symbolism that comes with that idea; except in this case, it is breaking off and showing his vulnerabilities and wounds. It is a depressing piece, but it is where we find our hero. I thought I would end this analysis by posting some lyrics from a song that plays during <i>Iron Man</i>. I think it perfectly encapsulates everything I've been discussing here and the reasoning behind my art piece.<br />
Thank you for reading!<br />
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"<i>Sometimes I try to do things and it just doesn't work out the way I wanted to. </i></div>
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<i>I get real frustrated and I try hard to do it </i><i>and I take my time </i></div>
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<i>and it doesn't work out the way I wanted to. </i></div>
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<i>It's like I concentrate real hard and it doesn't work out. </i></div>
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<i>Everything I do and everything I try never turns out. </i></div>
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<i>It's like I need time to figure these things out. </i></div>
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<i>But there's always someone there going. </i></div>
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<i>Hey Mike: </i></div>
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<i>You know we've been noticing you've been having a lot of problems lately. </i></div>
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<i>You know, maybe you should get away and maybe you should talk about it, maybe you'll feel a lot better </i></div>
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<i>And I go: </i></div>
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<i>No it's okay, you know I'll figure it out, just leave me alone I'll figure it out. </i></div>
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<i>You know I'll just work by myself. </i></div>
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<i>And they go: </i></div>
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<i>Well you know if you want to talk about it I'll be here you know and you'll probably feel a lot better if you talk about it. </i></div>
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<i>And I go: </i></div>
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<i>No I don't want to I'm okay, I'll figure it out myself and they just keep bugging me and they just keep bugging me and it builds up inside and it builds up inside...</i>" </div>
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- <i>Institutionalized</i> by Suicide Tendencies.<br />
Played the first time we are introduced to Tony Stark in his element! </div>
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i></div>
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Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-50492982567452085162016-05-12T13:11:00.000-07:002016-05-12T13:26:23.224-07:00Theon Greyjoy"In the godswood the snow was still dissolving as it
touched the earth. Steam rose off the hot pools, fragrant
with the smell of moss and mud and decay. A warm fog
hung in the air, turning the trees into sentinels, tall soldiers
shrouded in cloaks of gloom. During daylight hours, the
steamy wood was often full of northmen come to pray to the
old gods, but at this hour Theon Greyjoy found he had it all
to himself.<br />
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And in the heart of the wood the weirwood waited with its
knowing red eyes. Theon stopped by the edge of the pool
and bowed his head before its carved red face. Even here
he could hear the drumming, boom DOOM boom DOOM
boom DOOM boom DOOM. Like distant thunder, the
sound seemed to come from everywhere at once.<br />
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The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down
out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were
rustling his name. “Theon,” they seemed to whisper,
“Theon.”<br />
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<i>The old gods</i>, he thought. <i>They know me. They know my
name</i>. <i>I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of
Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children.</i><br />
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“Please.” He fell to his knees. “A sword, that’s all I ask. Let
me die as Theon, not as Reek.”<br />
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Tears trickled down his
cheeks, impossibly warm. “I was ironborn. A son … a son
of Pyke, of the islands.”<br />
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A leaf drifted down from above, brushed his brow, and
landed in the pool. It floated on the water, red, five-fingered,
like a bloody hand. . ."<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Excerpt from A Dance With Dragons by George R.R. Martin</span><br />
<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-38306016084032063762016-05-11T15:01:00.000-07:002016-05-11T15:03:38.490-07:00Black Sky<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL0R_SGxiC0FOq3HGtRmmPwtW7fW2-XHRUkrgFvintBpQOzReKOC2PGGPAsCTujQ-OubfWx7Ztr7n9RkebbuPIK6Y2xPC8OhzEbc3d-EHAQF-Q3Vmb40mJodLSphnjB4jxc3_hVpzm-54/s1600/Blog3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL0R_SGxiC0FOq3HGtRmmPwtW7fW2-XHRUkrgFvintBpQOzReKOC2PGGPAsCTujQ-OubfWx7Ztr7n9RkebbuPIK6Y2xPC8OhzEbc3d-EHAQF-Q3Vmb40mJodLSphnjB4jxc3_hVpzm-54/s320/Blog3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
"<i style="text-align: center;">I know now what it feels. . . to be good. </i><br />
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><i style="text-align: center;">Does it always
hurt that much?"</i></div>
<i style="text-align: center;"><br /></i></div>
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<i>"Yeah, it always hurts that much." </i></div>
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<br /></div>
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***MAJOR DAREDEVIL SEASON TWO SPOILERS AHEAD***<br />
<br /></div>
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Okay, so no surprise, I'm a huge Daredevil fan! I am obsessed with all things Marvel, basically MCU trash on all accounts, so I'll watch pretty much anything they churn out. It goes without saying, though, that Daredevil is exceptional, and it is my favorite part of the MCU. It is just amazing on every level: characters, story, dialogue, themes, cinematography, acting, everything! It's all incredible, and I love every angst-filled, gothic-aesthetic moment of it! It is so beautiful and Season 2 didn't disappoint! It was someone on Twitter that said that you don't watch Daredevil, you <i>experience</i> Daredevil, and I think that is so true. I'm into a lot of shows and movies, but Daredevil is truly an unique experience. The kind where you can be up at 3 am binge-watching and having internal freak outs because of all the pain and awesomeness going on and you seriously just can't even with any of it. I love it!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMk_7eSCxWkBLoMJjrvs1JF3EZVxqPlsyWAQ1veaRqQWpoAEwScNy7OKv6DY79EldxrfCn7qmpsaumjTaBfUh1EM0sL-dDeHRiggq051ut4Z8BhLJOHi31XGkMeIMIXg6903H-bMuWn8/s1600/Blog4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMk_7eSCxWkBLoMJjrvs1JF3EZVxqPlsyWAQ1veaRqQWpoAEwScNy7OKv6DY79EldxrfCn7qmpsaumjTaBfUh1EM0sL-dDeHRiggq051ut4Z8BhLJOHi31XGkMeIMIXg6903H-bMuWn8/s320/Blog4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They are so cute! And lethal.</td></tr>
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My absolute favorite thing of this season (besides all of it), though, was the relationship they've built between Matt and Elektra. I wasn't expecting to get so involved in their story, but I did and it was amazing. It was so perfect, horrible, and tragic! My favorite kind of romances are ones that are antagonistic and complicated, and Matt and Elektra are certainly that, taken up a notch! We have the troubled Elektra who really is all about wrestling with her identity. She has this incredible darkness within her heart, the antithesis to empathy as you could get, and in fact, she gets this orgasmic thrill from killing. She is all about the sensations, the rush, and she lives her life in reckless abandonment. She abhors boredom, and being a spoiled rich girl doesn't help matters much. It doesn't matter if she has all she could ever want at her fingertips, she wants more. She wants excitement, the adrenaline rush at whatever cost. She's like this beautiful storm destroying all in her path, and regretting none of it. Or so it seems.</div>
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Enter Matt Murdock, who also struggles with his own kind of darkness, but Matt has convictions, his Catholicism and his values, and he doesn't waver from them. Elektra and Matt are like forces of intense gravity as they pull each other towards the other. At first it seems it is because they are both dangerous, both loving to dance with the dark side and living wild. The force of their personalities threatens to fuse into this black hole of destruction, and there is this incredible and intense electricity that happens between the two of them. I love how this plays out in the scenes together, where Elektra does things like cutting cheese on Matt's chest with a huge knife, or when they start breaking expensive glassware together. The inclusion of these sharp, cutting, shattering objects in their scenes exemplifies this on edge feeling of who they are together: destructive, disturbing and out of control.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Solving mysteries together! Like dweebs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
However, though it may seem like they bring the worst out of each other, it goes so much deeper than that, and this is where I really appreciate the writing. Elektra tried to convince herself that she loved Matt because of his darkness, and became distraught when he condemned her actions and wouldn't join her in her killing, but it was really <i>the light </i>she saw him that drew her to him. In Matt, Elektra found a fixed point, a foundation for the whirlwind of her soul; and in Elektra, Matt found a place to be alive, to be free. And what I love most of all is that Matt's love <i>transformed</i> Elektra, it showed her a better part of herself, and that it was possible to choose that part. Going back to Matt's Catholicism, which is such a prevalent though subtle theme in this show, I see Matt as exemplifying Christ in a lot of ways to Elektra. In his faith, he chooses to be something more than himself, and this is his light, the justice and goodness that guards his heart, and this is what Elektra recognizes. So, like Christ, who comes into the darkness of our souls and shows us a better way, and not only shows us, but transforms us, this is who Matt is to Elektra. And a very important distinction is that although Matt believed Elektra could be more than she was, he loved her <i>just as she was.</i> He met her where she was at and simply loved her. Where all the people in Elektra's life saw her as an object to covet, control, or destroy, Matt saw her as <i>person </i>to <i>cherish. </i>And here is where the Christ-like symbolism of Matt comes to its head. In my favorite moment <i>ever</i>, where at the season climax when the two of them face almost certain death from the Hand, Matt expresses his love to Elektra in the most beautiful and exquisite way possible. He tells her he would give up everything, everyone, he would cast everything off for her sake. He would live free with her and only her because she was his body and his soul. *cue internal gross sobbing*</div>
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Their romance is tragic, but it also transcends, and that is what I love about them. So, in my art piece I wanted to take the idea of Elektra being the "Black Sky", this prophesied embodiment of war and conquering which I see as being symbolic of Elektra's identity struggle with herself and her own darkness. Elektra believes that this person of destruction is her only identity, that she shouldn't fight it, that she might as well accept it as who she is and let it consume her. This is represented with how she is blending into the surroundings and the night sky. Her color scheme is also colorless to show the loss of her humanity and identity in becoming the Black Sky. Yet, it is Matt who embodies the idea that this isn't who she has to be, that she can change. This is represented by the signature Daredevil red, the color of life and passion, as it invades and challenges Elektra, infusing itself into her. I wanted the red to be vivid, with strips of it tearing its way into Elektra's blackness, to show the unveiling of her true self. The movement of the piece also helps in conveying this as it sweeps towards and into Elektra, only resting at the focal point where Matt is looking into her eyes tenderly. For although Matt is blind, he sees her more truly than anyone else. This is why I chose to have him with no mask. Matt is completely open with her, his hands and face bare, showing the intimacy he has with her, how forthcoming, and that he is a fixed and pervasive force in her path who will always love her. ^_^<br />
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Well, I hope you enjoyed this piece, and Season 2 of Daredevil! I am interested to see what will happen with Elektra now that the Hand has got a hold of her. If it is going to be Elektra vs Daredevil at some point, that will just be awful. Probably lots more internal sobbing at 3 am.<br />
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Thanks for reading!<br />
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-5236784815911702862016-03-14T21:24:00.003-07:002016-04-04T22:29:14.987-07:00Nevermore: A Graphic NovelI am excited to announce my finished graphic novel project, <i>Nevermore</i>! (Yay!) As many of you may know already through my blog posts or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DaniellePajakIllustrations" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, I was part of a team of filmmakers who put together a web series called <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/TheStingChronicles" target="_blank">The Sting Chronicles</a></i>. Told through a vlog (video journaling) format, the story regales the escapades of a young man who gets stung by a scorpion and believes himself to be in possession of super powers from the encounter. It is a little satire, a little comedy woven through a coming-of-age story of this young man and his path to greatness as a superhero in his home town. We filmed it locally here in Phoenix, Arizona, and it was a passion project for all involved. It spans two seasons, 14 episodes each, and we finished it off properly in a grand fashion through a short film! It was one-of-a-kind experience, and I certainly loved being a part of it. Now that it has been about a year since we finished the project, we decided to bring one last exciting chapter from our mini-superhero universe to life! If you have been following the story*, then you know through Ethan Harper's adventures that he runs into his nemesis, the enigmatic, Poe-inian, and perhaps psychotic, villain, <i>The Raven</i>. The Raven has had a history, as all good villains do, and I'm excited to be able to share it with you now through the pages of this graphic novel! I'm certainly a huge fan of the character (being the President of <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/350295677239908822/" target="_blank">The Raven Fanclub</a>, after all), and this was definitely a labor of love. I have enjoyed the character, and I hope you do as well! So, without further ado, I give you <i>Nevermore</i>!<br />
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<i>Is but a dream within a dream. . .</i></div>
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<i>*</i><span style="font-size: x-small;">If you have not watched the series, you can still enjoy this graphic novel, but watching the show will certainly fill in crucial information and have it make sense since it is based on events that occured in the show. ^_^</span><br />
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-46207067211325340762016-01-26T15:58:00.001-08:002016-04-04T22:29:01.776-07:00Boot Camp: Week 1<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwgYeH4yWIUoz4ZyKyF8OIku41bQ0kFnbARCg7kUTPfcktYo90lZh8iCENuJb8rzy1f1XPfLyyfRRWGFlOW6yD7Qj_e0yg0sOsEi0T4_c-3UYbFIRoHSgbMrg0dSg9DnD6H6Ai4EOCb6w/s1600/Sherlock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwgYeH4yWIUoz4ZyKyF8OIku41bQ0kFnbARCg7kUTPfcktYo90lZh8iCENuJb8rzy1f1XPfLyyfRRWGFlOW6yD7Qj_e0yg0sOsEi0T4_c-3UYbFIRoHSgbMrg0dSg9DnD6H6Ai4EOCb6w/s320/Sherlock.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"My mind rebels at stagnation. <br />
Give me problems, give me work [...]!"</td></tr>
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Hello, my friends and readers. I'm going to be trying something a bit different here in this blog post, as I want to talk about something a little more personal. Lately, I've been rather hard-pressed on what to do with myself as an artist. Self promotion is definitely not easy, and at times seems downright impossible within the void of the Internet. It has been a difficult learning process to say the least. On top of that, and probably most importantly, I also have been feeling under challenged as an artist. True, I'm constantly being challenged by <i>deadlines </i>and the projects I'm currently working on at the moment, which I never seem to have enough time for, but I really do need more than that. I need more than just the constant juggle of prioritizing and time budgeting, which can get pretty monotonous. That is pretty much the word I would use to describe how I have been feeling lately, <i>monotonous.</i> I feel like I hit a wall with the progress of my art, that I'm not thinking of anything new, that I'm not growing in my abilities. It is like I've just become an assembly line for churning out work. I don't want that! I want to feel as if I am <i>improving </i>in my work<i>,</i> being challenged <i>mentally</i> and <i>creatively</i>, so as to reach a new summit in my artistic ability. I've definitely realized that I need this due to the new sci fi graphic novel I've taken on, <i><a href="http://infinitysendgraphicnovel.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Infinity's End</a></i>. The vision I have for this graphic novel is somewhat above the level I can currently achieve, or at least the work I'm currently creating isn't reflecting the vision I have for that project. It is going to take a new approach from me, and I really don't know what that is quite yet. :-/<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spongebob Squarepants is always applicable...</td></tr>
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Enter <a href="http://artcamp.com/" target="_blank">Art Camp</a>, or as I like to think of it as, Art <i>Boot</i> Camp. I follow a variety of freelance artists whose work I admire on Twitter, and one of them is <a href="http://www.noahbradley.com/" target="_blank">Noah Bradley</a>. His work is exceptional, superbly crafted, provocative, and full of intensity and deep sobriety. I especially love his <i>Sin of Man</i> series, which you'll find on his website as well. Through his tweets, I became curious by his online art courses which make up his Art Camp regimen, and decided to check it out. What I read there about the material, the reasons why he started it and what he wanted to achieve with it really resonated with me, and it seemed exactly the sort of thing that I needed! Not only would I be learning from experts who are actually in the field that I want to be in, but I would be given material that I can really chew on and use to help expand myself, exploring new creative avenues. The course I'm currently going through is one that is taught by concept artist, <a href="http://www.tituslunter.com/" target="_blank">Titus Lunter</a>, who is partnered with Mr. Bradley, and it is on the topic of Environment Concept Design. Just from the first video alone for week 1, I found myself instantly inspired and it jump-started my brain into deep thought. I began to analyze myself as an artist, putting together the puzzle pieces of what I've been wanting to achieve through my work, but hadn't put a name to yet. It wasn't as if the things expounded upon were new to me, the different artist habits he outlined were things I already do on a consistent basis, but it gave me the means of an outlet and helped me to realign my thought process. I think it was also inspiring to hear someone <i>else</i> talking about things I feel are important as an artist, and hearing them from a fellow concept artist at that. It was really encouraging. Of course, I'm not out of the woods yet, but I feel like I am getting the mental and creative instruction necessary to push myself forward as an artist. I'm on the right path.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Danielle, you maggot!<br />
Give me fifty more!</td></tr>
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Now, one of the things the video went over was allowing yourself to be free to explore the canvas, to not be worried about composition or concepts just yet, but merely do free-form creating, seeing what you can come up with, playing with brushes and images, finding what looks right, and what you like/dislike about shapes and structure. This is something I'm actually not particularly good at doing, since I am an artist who always knows <i>what </i>I'm doing and <i>why</i> I'm doing it. I always have a set vision of what I want to create inside my head, and I merely transfer that vision from my head to the canvas, making it fit closely as I can to the original. Spontaneity and improvisation do not come easily to me, as I find myself hesitant and uncertain if I don't have clear idea of where I'm going. However, I do see the value in pushing myself in this area, because I might be able to find something new and different that I haven't done before. So, as part of the homework assignment, I decided to put this into practice. I'll never be able to achieve full on stream of consciousness creating, because it just isn't my nature, but I tried to keep myself from fully interpreting the images in my head, but allowing them to <i>just be</i> on the canvas. Or as much as I was able, at any rate. Fifteen thumbnails were the requirement, so I started the first set with some pencil sketch thumbnails. No matter how much Photoshop I use in my work, pencil will always be my treasured medium. There is nothing that compares to the feeling of tangible paper and graphite. It is lovely. ^_^ Here are the first eight thumbnails, where I also outlined the goals I wanted to achieve for this entire assignment exercise:<br />
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I felt pretty excited and confident about what I was coming up with here, even if it looked like some weird abstract art. It wasn't about making sense, though, but about allowing myself to work with the visual concepts in my head and getting them to come out organically on the page. After doing that, I moved on to the second set of thumbnails, this time using only Photoshop paint brushes. I experimented with different brushes that I have, and just continued doing what I was doing, hoping something cool happened:<br />
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Again, I enjoyed and was happy with what I was coming up with, even though it isn't the end goal of what I want to achieve just yet. I believe I'm heading in the right direction at least. For the last three thumbnails of the set, I decided to do them a little bigger and do a combination of pencil and Photoshop. This is usually my preferred art style, combining pencil and Photoshop, so I thought I would try it it out. I also was a little more intentional with them, taking ideas from both sets of the above thumbnails, and seeing what I could come up with. They didn't turn out as well as I had hoped, but I <i>did</i> feel like I got somewhere with them, so it wasn't a total loss:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thumbnail 13 </td></tr>
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Well, that is the end of week 1 for me and some of my thoughts on the whole process and what has been going on with me. I do hope to be able to find what I am searching for, as well as see a marked improvement in my art. I'll be posting about this as I go, but seeing as I do have many projects and that this is a self-paced online course, it isn't going to be too rigid. It is a twelve week course, but I probably will be taking longer to go through it. Making it <i>too</i> rigid will defeat the purpose of what I'm trying to achieve, which is free-flowing creativity and allowing myself to explore. These things take time. However, I do hope to be consistent, so there will be updates!<br />
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Oh! And before I end my post, as part of the homework assignment for week 1, you are supposed to take a picture of your creative space, seeing as it is all part of the introspection of the self as an artist. I decided to post that picture here, since it might be fun to share it with my followers, in case any of you were ever curious:<br />
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Yes, there it is. (Do you think I need more Sherlock Holmes wall art?) It is WAY cleaner than it normally is on a day to day basis, but I had to straighten it up for this photo. You don't need or <i>want</i> to see that. But I enjoy my creative space, my sanctum sanctorum as Sherlock Holmes would have called it. (I <i>may</i> have a <i>little</i> obsession here.) I love my desk especially, which is a drafting table that I <i>turned</i> <i>into</i> a desk. I use it as both now, taking my compy, whose name is Holmes, (I need haaaalp!) and other electronics off whenever I want to do some sketching. It works really well and it has a great industrial style! I <3 it! And yes, that's a legit octopus glass table down there. I <3 that as well! I love octopi as an aesthetic design motif! ^_^<br />
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Thanks for reading, my friends! I hope you enjoyed my angsty artist babblings!<br />
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-10758788716654218722015-08-28T15:31:00.000-07:002016-04-04T22:28:20.667-07:00Nymeria“"The star of home," said Denyo.<br />
<br />
His father was shouting orders. Sailors scrambled up and down the three tall masts and moved along the rigging, reefing the heavy purple sails. Below, oarsmen heaved and strained over two great banks of oars. The decks tilted, creaking, as the galleas Titan's Daughter heeled to starboard and began to come about.<br />
<br />
<i>The star of home</i>. Arya stood at the prow, one hand resting on the gilded figurehead, a maiden with a bowl of fruit. For half a heartbeat she let herself pretend that it was her home ahead.<br />
<br />
But that was stupid. Her home was gone, her parents dead, and all her brothers slain but Jon Snow on the Wall. That was where she had wanted to go. She told the captain as much, but even the iron coin did not sway him. Arya never seemed to find the places she set out to reach. Yoren had sworn to deliver her to Winterfell, only she had ended up in Harrenhal and Yoren in his grave. When she escaped Harrenhal for Riverrun, Lem and Anguy and Tom o’ Sevens took her captive and dragged her to the hollow hill instead. Then the Hound had stolen her and dragged her to the Twins. Arya had left him dying by the river and gone ahead to Saltpans, hoping to take passage for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, only…<br />
<br />
Braavos might not be so bad. Syrio was from Braavos, and Jaqen might be there as well. It was Jaqen who had given her the iron coin. He hadn’t truly been her friend, the way that Syrio had, but what good had friends ever done her?<i> I don't need any friends, so long as I have Needle</i>. She brushed the ball of her thumb across the sword's smooth pommel, wishing, wishing...<br />
<br />
If truth be told, Arya did not know what to wish for, any more than she knew what awaited her beneath that distant light. The captain had given her passage but he had no time to speak with her. Some of the crew shunned her, but others gave her gifts—a silver fork, fingerless gloves, a floppy woolen hat patched with leather. One man showed her how to tie sailor’s knots. Another poured her thimble cups of fire wine. The friendly ones would tap their chests, repeating their names over and over until Arya said them back, though none ever thought to ask her name. They called her Salty, since she’d come aboard at Saltpans, near the mouth of the Trident. It was as good a name as any, she supposed.<br />
<br />
The last of the night’s stars had vanished … all but the pair dead ahead. “It’s two stars now.”<br />
<br />
“Two eyes,” said Denyo. “The Titan sees us.”<br />
<br />
The Titan of Braavos. Old Nan had told them stories of the Titan back in Winterfell. He was a giant as tall as a mountain, and whenever Braavos stood in danger he would wake with fire in his eyes, his rocky limbs grinding and groaning as he waded out into the sea to smash the enemies. "The Braavosi feed him on the juicy pink flesh of little highborn girls," Nan would end, and Sansa would give a stupid squeak. But Maester Luwin said the Titan was only a statue, and Old Nan's stories were only stories.<br />
<br />
<i>Winterfell is burned and fallen</i>, Arya reminded herself. Old Nan and Maester Luwin were both dead, most like, and Sansa too. It did no good to think of them. All men must die.”<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Excerpt from</i> A Feast for Crows<i> by George R.R. Martin</i></span><br />
<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-65235405611332871732015-07-01T14:19:00.001-07:002016-04-04T22:28:13.763-07:00OathkeeperThen she heard Dog barking, loud and frantic.<br />
<br />
“Someone is coming.”<br />
<br />
“Friends,” said Gendry, unconcerned.<br />
<br />
“What sort of friends?” Brienne moved to the door of the smithy to peer out through the rain. He shrugged.<br />
<br />
“You’ll meet them soon enough.”<br />
<br />
<i>I may not want to meet them</i>, Brienne thought, as the first riders came splashing through the puddles into the yard. Beneath the patter of the rain and Dog’s barking, she could hear the faint clink of swords and mail from beneath their ragged cloaks. She counted them as they came. Two, four, six, seven. Some of them were wounded, judging from the way they rode. The last man was massive and hulking, as big as two of the others. His horse was blown and bloody, staggering beneath his weight. All the riders had their hoods up against the lashing rain, save him alone. His face was broad and hairless, maggot white, his round cheeks covered with weeping sores.<br />
<br />
Brienne sucked in her breath and drew Oathkeeper. <i>Too many</i>, she thought, with a start of fear, <i>they are too many</i>. “Gendry,” she said in a low voice, “you’ll want a sword, and armor. These are not your friends. They’re no one’s friends.”<br />
<br />
“What are you talking about?”<br />
<br />
The boy came and stood beside her, his hammer in his hand. Lightning cracked to the south as the riders swung down off their horses. For half a heartbeat darkness turned to day. An axe gleamed silvery blue, light shimmered off mail and plate, and beneath the dark hood of the lead rider Brienne glimpsed an iron snout and rows of steel teeth, snarling. Gendry saw it too.<br />
<br />
“Him.”<br />
<br />
“Not him. His helm.”<br />
<br />
Brienne tried to keep the fear from her voice, but her mouth was dry as dust. She had a pretty good notion who wore the Hound’s helm. <i>The children</i>, she thought. The door to the inn banged open. Willow stepped out into the rain, a crossbow in her hands. The girl was shouting at the riders, but a clap of thunder rolled across the yard, drowning out her words. As it faded, Brienne heard the man in the Hound’s helm say, “Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them.” The fury in the man’s voice drove Willow back a step, trembling.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Seven</i>, Brienne thought again, despairing. She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice. She stepped out into the rain, Oathkeeper in hand.<br />
<br />
“Leave her be. If you want to rape someone, try me.”<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Excerpt from <i>A Feast for Crows</i> by George R.R. Martin</span><br />
<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-81762705342064107852015-05-14T11:51:00.002-07:002016-04-04T22:28:05.551-07:00The Giant of Lannister"Why do you read so much?”<br />
<br />
Tyrion looked up at the sound of the voice. Jon Snow was standing a few feet away,<br />
regarding him curiously. He closed the book on a finger and said, “Look at me and tell<br />
me what you see.”<br />
<br />
The boy looked at him suspiciously. “Is this some kind of trick? I see you. Tyrion<br />
Lannister.”<br />
<br />
Tyrion sighed. “You are remarkably polite for a bastard, Snow. What you see is a dwarf.<br />
You are what, twelve?”<br />
<br />
“Fourteen,” the boy said.<br />
<br />
“Fourteen, and you’re taller than I will ever be. My legs are short and twisted, and I walk<br />
with difficulty. I require a special saddle to keep from falling off my horse. A saddle of<br />
my own design, you may be interested to know. It was either that or ride a pony. My<br />
arms are strong enough, but again, too short. I will never make a swordsman. Had I<br />
been born a peasant, they might have left me out to die, or sold me to some slaver’s<br />
grotesquerie. Alas, I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock, and the grotesqueries are all<br />
the poorer. Things are expected of me. My father was the Hand of the King for twenty<br />
years. My brother later killed that very same king, as it turns out, but life is full of these<br />
little ironies. My sister married the new king and my repulsive nephew will be king after<br />
him. I must do my part for the honor of my House, wouldn’t you agree? Yet how? Well,<br />
my legs may be too small for my body, but my head is too large, although I prefer to<br />
think it is just large enough for my mind. I have a realistic grasp of my own strengths<br />
and weaknesses. My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his<br />
warhammer, and I have my mind . . . and a mind needs books as a sword needs a<br />
whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.” Tyrion tapped the leather cover of the book. “That’s<br />
why I read so much, Jon Snow.”<br />
<br />
The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn,<br />
guarded, a face that gave nothing away. Whoever his mother had been, she had left little<br />
of herself in her son. “What are you reading about?” he asked.<br />
<br />
“Dragons,” Tyrion told him.<br />
<br />
“What good is that? There are no more dragons,” the boy said with the easy certainty of<br />
youth.<br />
<br />
“So they say,” Tyrion replied. “Sad, isn’t it? When I was your age, used to dream of<br />
having a dragon of my own.”<br />
<br />
“You did?” the boy said suspiciously. Perhaps he thought Tyrion was making fun of him.<br />
“Oh, yes. Even a stunted, twisted, ugly little boy can look down over the world when he’s<br />
seated on a dragon’s back.” Tyrion pushed the bearskin aside and climbed to his feet. “I<br />
used to start fires in the bowels of Casterly Rock and stare at the flames for hours,<br />
pretending they were dragonfire. Sometimes I’d imagine my father burning. At other<br />
times, my sister.” Jon Snow was staring at him, a look equal parts horror and<br />
fascination. Tyrion guffawed. “Don’t look at me that way, bastard. I know your secret.<br />
You’ve dreamt the same kind of dreams.”<br />
<br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Excerpt from </i>Game of Thrones <i>by George R. R. Martin</i></span><br />
<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-63238069285061218622015-03-24T21:01:00.001-07:002015-03-24T21:04:54.653-07:00Winterfell's Daughter<span style="font-family: inherit;">When she opened the door to the garden, it was so lovely
that she held her breath, unwilling to disturb such perfect beauty. The snow
drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on
the ground. All color had fled the world outside. It was a place of whites and
blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows
and black trees, the dark grey sky above. <i>A pure world,</i> Sansa thought. <i>I do not
belong here.
</i></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yet she stepped out all the same. Her boots tore ankle deep
holes into the smooth white surface of the snow, yet made no sound. Sansa
drifted past frosted shrubs and thin dark trees, and wondered if she were still
dreaming. Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and
melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the
weeping woman that lay broken and half buried on the ground, she turned her
face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes,
taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence.
The taste of dreams.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She
did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of
grey. <i>Dawn</i>, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she
hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant
for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a
weirwood to take root. <i>A godswood without gods, as empty as me</i>. She scooped up
a handful of snow and squeezed it between her fingers. Heavy and wet, the snow
packed easily. Sansa began to make snowballs, shaping and smoothing them until
they were round and white and perfect. She remembered a summer’s snow in
Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one
morning. They’d each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she’d had none. Bran
had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had
chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were
breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her
sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her
in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her
down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them
apart, laughing. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>What do I want with snowballs</i>? She looked at her sad little
arsenal. There’s no one to throw them at. She let the one she was making drop
from her hand. <i>I could build a snow knight instead</i>, she thought. <i>Or even</i>…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She pushed two of her snowballs together, added a third,
packed more snow in around them, and patted the whole thing into the shape of a
cylinder. When it was done, she stood it on end and used the tip of her little
finger to poke holes in it for windows. The crenelations around the top took a
little more care, but when they were done she had a tower. <i>I need some walls
now</i>, Sansa thought, <i>and then a keep</i>. She set to work.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle high, the
inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round
kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was
only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was
Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make
the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her
gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and
cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. Some things were hard to remember,
but most came back to her easily, as if she had been there only yesterday. The Library Tower,
with the steep stonework stair twisting about its exterior. The gatehouse, two huge bulwarks, the
arched gate between them, crenelations all along the top. . .</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And all the while the snow kept falling, piling up in drifts around her buildings as fast as she
raised them. She was patting down the pitched roof of the Great Hall when she heard a voice,
and looked up to see her maid calling from her window. Was my lady well? Did she wish to
break her fast? Sansa shook her head, and went back to shaping snow, adding a chimney to one
end of the Great Hall, where the hearth would stand inside. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dawn stole into her garden like a thief. The grey of the sky grew lighter still, and the trees and
shrubs turned a dark green beneath their stoles of snow. A few servants came out and watched
her for a time, but she paid them no mind and they soon went back inside where it was warmer.
Sansa saw Lady Lysa gazing down from her balcony, wrapped up in a blue velvet robe trimmed
with fox fur, but when she looked again her aunt was gone. Maester Colemon popped out of the
rookery and peered down for a while, skinny and shivering but curious. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Her bridges kept falling down. There was a covered bridge between the armory and the main
keep, and another that went from the fourth floor of the bell tower to the second floor of the
rookery, but no matter how carefully she shaped them, they would not hold together. The third
time one collapsed on her, she cursed aloud and sat back in helpless frustration. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Pack the snow around a stick, Sansa.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She did not know how long he had been watching her, or when he had returned from the Vale.
“A stick?” she asked.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“That will give it strength enough to stand, I’d think,” Petyr said. “May I come into your castle,
my lady?”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be...”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“...gentle?” He smiled. “Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it
not?”
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
“Yes,” Sansa admitted.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He walked along outside the walls. “I used to dream of it, in those years after Cat went north
with Eddard Stark. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“No. It was always warm, even when it snowed. Water from the hot springs is piped through
the walls to warm them, and inside the glass gardens it was always like the hottest day of
summer.” She stood, towering over the great white castle. “I can’t think how to do the glass roof
over the gardens.” Littlefinger stroked his chin, where his beard had been before Lysa had asked him to shave it
off. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“The glass was locked in frames, no? Twigs are your answer. Peel them and cross them and
use bark to tie them together into frames. I’ll show you.” He moved through the garden,
gathering up twigs and sticks and shaking the snow from them. When he had enough, he stepped
over both walls with a single long stride and squatted on his heels in the middle of the yard.
Sansa came closer to watch what he was doing. His hands were deft and sure, and before long he
had a crisscrossing latticework of twigs, very like the one that roofed the glass gardens of
Winterfell. “We will need to imagine the glass, to be sure,” he said when he gave it to her.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
“This is just right,” she said.<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He touched her face. “And so is that.”<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sansa did not understand. “And so is what?”<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Your smile, my lady. Shall I make another for you?”<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“If you would.”<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Nothing could please me more.” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She raised the walls of the glass gardens while Littlefinger roofed them over, and when they were done with that he helped her extend the walls and build the guardshall. When she used
sticks for the covered bridges, they stood, just as he had said they would. The First Keep was
simple enough, an old round drum tower, but Sansa was stymied again when it came to putting
the gargoyles around the top. Again he had the answer. “It’s been snowing on your castle, my
lady,” he pointed out. “What do the gargoyles look like when they’re covered with snow?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sansa closed her eyes to see them in memory. “They’re just white lumps.”<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Well, then. Gargoyles are hard, but white lumps should be easy.” And they were.<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Broken Tower was easier still. They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they’d raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a
handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his
collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. <i>From Winterfell,</i>
she thought. <i>I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell</i>.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">His face grew serious. “Yes, I played you false in that ... and in one other thing as well.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sansa’s stomach was aflutter. “What other thing?”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I told you that nothing could please me more than to help you with your castle. I fear that was
a lie as well. Something else would please me more.” He stepped closer. “This.”
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sansa tried to step back, but he pulled her into his arms and suddenly he was kissing her.
Feebly, she tried to squirm, but only succeeded in pressing herself more tightly against him. His
mouth was on hers, swallowing her words. He tasted of mint. For half a heartbeat she yielded to
his kiss... before she turned her face away and wrenched free. “What are you doing?”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Petyr straightened his cloak. “Kissing a snow maid.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“You’re supposed to kiss her.” Sansa glanced up at Lysa’s balcony, but it was empty now.
“Your lady wife.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I do. Lysa has no cause for complaint.” He smiled. “I wish you could see yourself, my lady.
You are so beautiful. You’re crusted over with snow like some little bear cub, but your face is
flushed and you can scarcely breathe. How long have you been out here? You must be very cold.
Let me warm you, Sansa. Take off those gloves, give me your hands.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I won’t.” He sounded almost like Marillion, the night he’d gotten so drunk at the wedding.
Only this time Lothor Brune would not appear to save her; Ser Lothor was Petyr’s man. “You
shouldn’t kiss me. I might have been your own daughter...”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Might have been,” he admitted, with a rueful smile. “But you’re not, are you? You are Eddard
Stark’s daughter, and Cat’s. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was,
when she was your age.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Petyr, please.” Her voice sounded so weak. “Please.”<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“A castle!” The voice was loud, shrill, and childish. Littleflnger turned away from her. “Lord Robert.” He sketched a bow. “Should you be out in the snow without your gloves?” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Did you make the snow castle, Lord Littlefinger?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
“Alayne did most of it, my lord.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
Sansa said, “It’s meant to be Winterfell.” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Winterfell?” Robert was small for eight, a stick of a boy with splotchy skin and eyes that were
always runny. Under one arm he clutched the threadbare cloth doll he carried everywhere.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Winterfell is the seat of House Stark,” Sansa told her husband-to-be. “The great castle of the
north.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“It’s not so great.” The boy knelt before the gatehouse. “Look, here comes a giant to knock it
down.” He stood his doll in the snow and moved it jerkily. “Tromp tromp I’m a giant, I’m a
giant,” he chanted. “Ho ho ho, open your gates or I’ll mash them and smash them.” Swinging the
doll by the legs, he knocked the top off one gatehouse tower and then the other.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was more than Sansa could stand. “Robert, stop that.” Instead he swung the doll again, and a
foot of wall exploded. She grabbed for his hand but she caught the doll instead. There was a loud
ripping sound as the thin cloth tore. Suddenly she had the doll’s head, Robert had the legs and
body, and the rag-and-sawdust stuffing was spilling in the snow.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Lord Robert’s mouth trembled. “You killed him,” he wailed. Then he began to shake. It started
with no more than a little shivering, but within a few short heartbeats he had collapsed across the
castle, his limbs flailing about violently. White towers and snowy bridges shattered and fell on all sides. Sansa stood horrified, but Petyr Baelish seized her cousin’s wrists and shouted for the
maester.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
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<div class="column">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Guards and serving girls arrived within instants to help restrain the boy, Maester Colemon a
short time later. Robert Arryn’s shaking sickness was nothing new to the people of the Eyrie, and
Lady Lysa had trained them all to come rushing at the boy’s first cry. The maester held the little
lord’s head and gave him half a cup of dreamwine, murmuring soothing words. Slowly the
violence of the fit seemed to ebb away, till nothing remained but a small shaking of the hands.
“Help him to my chambers,” Colemon told the guards. “A leeching will help calm him.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“It was my fault.” Sansa showed them the doll’s head. “I ripped his doll in two. I never meant
to, but...”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“His lordship was destroying the castle,” said Petyr.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“A giant,” the boy whispered, weeping. “It wasn’t me, it was a giant hurt the castle. She killed
him! I hate her! She’s a bastard and I hate her! I don’t want to be leeched!”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“My lord, your blood needs thinning,” said Maester Colemon. “It is the bad blood that makes
you angry, and the rage that brings on the shaking. Come now.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">They led the boy away. <i>My lord husband</i>, Sansa thought, as she contemplated the ruins of
Winterfell. The snow had stopped, and it was colder than before. She wondered if Lord Robert
would shake all through their wedding. At least Joffrey was sound of body. A mad rage seized
hold of her. She picked up a broken branch and smashed the torn doll’s head down on top of it,
then pushed it down atop the shattered gatehouse of her snow castle. The servants looked aghast,
but when Littlefinger saw what she’d done he laughed. “If the tales be true, that’s not the first
giant to end up with his head on Winterfell’s walls.” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Those are only stories,” she said, and left him there. </span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsGf7dnWrAw6iRyBURoN22aLLfu0AysxZPWtV4KnRkV29uTegSNLht7TQ03dcyLBLwLC116tuhPVJaH8mx5C4wG5mXRsM1OoXGp06x4wIsIbDXgS9Y7IGhrBMuLar-j-luqM92hphmRc/s1600/WinterfellsDaughter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsGf7dnWrAw6iRyBURoN22aLLfu0AysxZPWtV4KnRkV29uTegSNLht7TQ03dcyLBLwLC116tuhPVJaH8mx5C4wG5mXRsM1OoXGp06x4wIsIbDXgS9Y7IGhrBMuLar-j-luqM92hphmRc/s1600/WinterfellsDaughter.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRomanPSMT'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"></span></div>
</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Excerpt from </span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;">A Storm of Swords</span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> by George R. R. Martin</span></i></div>
<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-87577879881383916012015-01-09T14:38:00.001-08:002015-03-23T17:55:31.406-07:00The Encounter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgaBRWH2nNwzjRMGvkgN2G2Y95TTRjbXnnUceQj2RXknJbFFEk8x0lLARI4bEs1lNu93gqWYcVgApkW3A3qCjoa7il3Qll5fIFSph0klSwWCYD0SweqKtXKEFjw0bPDdW6F_4OBO3u14/s1600/Interstellar-astronauts-e-014+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgaBRWH2nNwzjRMGvkgN2G2Y95TTRjbXnnUceQj2RXknJbFFEk8x0lLARI4bEs1lNu93gqWYcVgApkW3A3qCjoa7il3Qll5fIFSph0klSwWCYD0SweqKtXKEFjw0bPDdW6F_4OBO3u14/s1600/Interstellar-astronauts-e-014+-+Copy.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></div>
**THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR <i>INTERSTELLAR </i>*** SCROLL TO THE BOTTOM TO SEE JUST MY ART PIECE **<br />
<br />
Happy 2015! I would like to start off the new year with some <i>Interstellar</i> goodness! I've been dying to talk about this film and I knew I wanted to do an art piece inspired from it that would encapsulate what I got from the film. <i>Interstellar</i> is easily my favorite of 2014; saw it three times in the theater and all in the same week, one of those times was in the IMAX! (Yes. Yes. Yes.) It is a spectacular and beautiful film that hits you hard on many levels (Especially in decibels! Love that organ!). I love Christopher Nolan as a filmmaker and to me there is no filmmaker today who quite understands the art of ideas in film like he does. His Batman Trilogy and <i>Inception </i>are excellent examples of this, and <i>Interstellar</i> follows the same vein. He is able to take ideas and turn them into viable, engaging pieces of poignant imagery in threads of powerful storytelling that make an amazing cinematic tapestry! Must not forget his brother Jonathan Nolan (who's an amazing writer. <i>Person of Interest</i> anyone?) in this either, because it is really them together that make the movies sing like no other. <i>Interstellar</i> is probably my favorite of all their work (so far) simply because it is a science fiction story, and it actually <i>understands</i> what science fiction is as a genre. It is also based on <i>real </i>science. In fact I read on Wikipedia that Jonathan Nolan took a class on relativity while writing the script! That is so cool. So, seeing as I've fallen in love with the science fiction genre, it is only natural <i>Interstellar</i> would be the one. Besides, Michael Caine reciting <i>Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night </i>by Dylan Thomas. <i>In space</i>. Um. Yes please!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTKuSo1LW99YRIQB5jSHXElNNNPBczj-RSDXbW0FGpVNYNYldtYahvt0s0wBNrjPBysVtFVXvIjy8mHcMH5opSM4PrdQI3C7g2AzSMFQedIOcet6W8n9Z_qYMVimip4VtU3gn2ooa-sg/s1600/Mann.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTKuSo1LW99YRIQB5jSHXElNNNPBczj-RSDXbW0FGpVNYNYldtYahvt0s0wBNrjPBysVtFVXvIjy8mHcMH5opSM4PrdQI3C7g2AzSMFQedIOcet6W8n9Z_qYMVimip4VtU3gn2ooa-sg/s1600/Mann.jpg" height="153" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why, Matt Damon? Why? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I won't go into the whole film, since that would be a crazy long movie review, but I want to draw your attention to one scene in the film because it is what inspired my next art piece. One of my absolute favorite scenes in the film is Dr. Mann's entrance into the story and his inevitable betrayal. As we discover, Professor Brand and Dr. Mann knew all along that people back on Earth wouldn't be able to make it off, so they deceived everyone in favor of preserving the human race instead. In this sense they are both the "antagonists" of the story, especially Dr. Mann. However, in the superb slyness of the Nolan brothers, things aren't that clear cut. Dr. Mann is an antagonist, yes, but not <i>entirely.</i> Yes, he turns out to be a coward having gone completely crazy from having no human contact even losing all hope to the point where he puts himself to sleep permanently until Cooper and Co. come for him, yet the essential driving force in Dr. Mann's story is basically what <i>Interstellar</i><i> </i>is all about. In the scene, as he walks away from Cooper's death throes with unsettling detachment, Dr. Mann asks Cooper if he remembers the poem Professor Brand used to recite, and as the music rises, he begins to recite Dylan Thomas' poem. This poem is crucial in understanding this film, but most especially this scene. In the poem, Dylan Thomas himself is speaking to his father who was dying at the time. He is essentially telling him to not die, to "rage against" dying, to "not go gentle" into death. <i>This</i> <i>is</i> <i>Interstellar</i> which states: "Mankind was born on earth. It was never meant to die here." Rage, rage against the dying of Mankind! And what is even more interesting and telling about this scene is that Dr. Mann's betrayal coincides with Murphy trying to get her brother to leave the farm. I was instantly struck by this compare and contrast. Why were these two events happening simultaneously on screen? In Cooper's storyline, Dr. Mann makes the move towards survival (for himself), betraying the team. In Murphy's<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzHgfzHNa2GoN77p6YjFANzx-0W3l3_q-huGpUJtuzka_LN_9D6-_RAsO5nQgSXC_ZzFFfRpOo1SDo0W1G07I5HnAKknh696UC-BH-sChGwb6qC-ckisL601wH88_pApsRrZQ4YPWyaM/s1600/Murph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzHgfzHNa2GoN77p6YjFANzx-0W3l3_q-huGpUJtuzka_LN_9D6-_RAsO5nQgSXC_ZzFFfRpOo1SDo0W1G07I5HnAKknh696UC-BH-sChGwb6qC-ckisL601wH88_pApsRrZQ4YPWyaM/s1600/Murph.jpg" height="160" width="320" /></a></div>
storyline, Murphy<i> </i>is the one who makes the move in survival for her brother and his family, by setting fire to the crops. Murphy is the protagonist, so why is she mimicking the "antagonist" in this way? Because Murphy and Dr. Mann are both motivated by the same thing, survival, yes<i>, </i>but even more than that, a sort of metaphysical "rage" that pushes them to struggle, fight, and strive to not only overcome, but achieve something that is beyond their own limitations. True, Dr. Mann is doing it for cowardly, insane reasons, but that is besides the point, because in the end we know that Mankind not only survives, those from Earth and those who now have a new home on Edmund's planet, but they eventually become extra-dimensional beings that reside outside of space and time! Mankind has raged against the constraints of their inevitable doom and has not only won, but mastered the Universe itself! So, Dr. Mann is only doing, albeit tragically, what the movie exemplifies over and over, which is to rage against your circumstances, against the odds, against nature, against death, against even your own mortal finality, and <i>transcend them. </i>There is a lot more that I could go into on that note, but Dr. Mann's betrayal has shown there is more there than meets the eye. In my art piece, though, I wanted to explore this concept, this idea of the struggle of Man against his environment and his own finite nature.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ER_He9OANtplBbDWVe-Vi2D3zbPTWjqsi0K7DQ1IhQqdpGWCRB1yjSI_oKCVZ_7Tu2Rgb_zFhwucAx13jMP3yLtu8SOkXcq-cEnfdqAeUClPz6-3vwWoY9nvg3QwCEnywqria7fK1zE/s1600/TheEncounter_Blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ER_He9OANtplBbDWVe-Vi2D3zbPTWjqsi0K7DQ1IhQqdpGWCRB1yjSI_oKCVZ_7Tu2Rgb_zFhwucAx13jMP3yLtu8SOkXcq-cEnfdqAeUClPz6-3vwWoY9nvg3QwCEnywqria7fK1zE/s1600/TheEncounter_Blog.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Encounter</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
To begin, I wanted to keep the subject matter rather mysterious, i.e. Who are these figures? Who is the being whom the man is wrestling? Why are they wrestling? Etc, and have certain key items stand out instead. For one, I wanted the violence of the situation to show through, with the jaggedness of the cliff edge and the cosmic event happening in the heavens where some unknown moon or planet is ripping apart. There is an aggressive and fervent unrest in the environment surrounding the figures. Despite this, though, the alien being looks calm, firm, and in control of the situation. His serenity contrasts against all the violence that is around him. The man, on the other hand, is fighting with all his might. His helmet is gone, which shows extreme vulnerability, and he is in a spacesuit which reminds us that he is incapable of interacting with the environment around him directly. In this way, it would seem as if the man is in the weaker position of the fight, and yet he holds the being in his tight grip, the both of them poised upon the edge of the precipice, the world in great unrest around them. Perhaps, then, the man is not struggling in vain. So with these concepts at play in the composition and environmental elements, I wanted to show that all pervasive struggle of man to survive <i>and </i>conqueror that which conspires to keep him in bondage. Then, in taking the concept a bit further, I specifically named this piece <i>The Encounter </i>and I chose an intimate scene of a man pitted against a mysterious being, the both of them alone in a raging universe. I do this to raise the question that perhaps this wrestling is more than just the "survival of the fittest," but a persistent cosmic "encounter" with something greater, bigger, and more glorious than what we could have conceived; a a Something or Someone of whom we interact with in this unwavering and unquenchable violence of our souls, and just maybe this struggle could lead us to a mysterious and an unsearchable Beyond that we are longing for.<br />
<br />
Before I end this blog, I wanted to quickly mention that for this piece I was also inspired by retro science fiction illustrations. I've only recently been delving into this realm of art, back when science fiction was on the rise in popular fiction and cinema. True, much of the early conceptualization in science fiction was rather cheesy and limited by technology that had not yet birthed computers and the knowledge of the digital age, but these early works had something that is largely lost in science fiction now a days. They had mystery, adventure, and awe of the unknown, and it shows in their work. Worlds are bizarre, otherwordly, abstract, and just all out strange. The minds of that time were trying to push the limits of their imagination to envision the worlds and universes of the future and that brought out some pretty psychedelic, but wonderful material. I could go into a long rant about the generic and unimaginative conceptual art of science fiction (and all genres) of today, but that is for another day. Needless to say, I wanted to incorporate some of that vintage wonder in my own piece, to capture some of that mystery of an age when space exploration and technological knowledge was just beginning. Here are some examples of of the type of work I am talking about. This is a vein of thought and inspiration that I am going to continue to explore in my own artwork, especially for future projects that I have in mind, so watch this space! As always, thank you for reading.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTnmJ6d54DLTNQdsaZPIPOiPdHhzNZHyA9ibVR-phruPXNPGHzHDtzWU9tURnIa_B51YGc0iZFFTfxH9ZMgpsHAm5qP71qCQ27RgJsh9KFbM29Cqdj1xrDHAz_oxhSDCTRYXPGUCnsGU/s1600/Retro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTnmJ6d54DLTNQdsaZPIPOiPdHhzNZHyA9ibVR-phruPXNPGHzHDtzWU9tURnIa_B51YGc0iZFFTfxH9ZMgpsHAm5qP71qCQ27RgJsh9KFbM29Cqdj1xrDHAz_oxhSDCTRYXPGUCnsGU/s1600/Retro.jpg" height="247" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't know the artists of these. So pretty!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4blRcZXCqiPCaGvkGlM8Ygtx3AH7IAMW53YYdabQWs_q2Bxvu1FESFitz9m-qioA91nVdTRX3Y_XJLHuePzM2ilc2xT_0onl56FX57Q2Z-IBHA4ooQU-DlGZ5vP8-F2XvLIa7SFW2uHc/s1600/Frank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4blRcZXCqiPCaGvkGlM8Ygtx3AH7IAMW53YYdabQWs_q2Bxvu1FESFitz9m-qioA91nVdTRX3Y_XJLHuePzM2ilc2xT_0onl56FX57Q2Z-IBHA4ooQU-DlGZ5vP8-F2XvLIa7SFW2uHc/s1600/Frank.jpg" height="207" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love these images by Frank Frazetta</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxRF4BnGBCvSXlY8rBLnxLTy6iT-Dg4k9H429lEJ4A8QO0K7qGfTzH04QeN71cPHp7DtH-rnnQZ1bQ1VZvUxE9Lz65K0xAN5S44pzfqqRFKCbsUqW57_krUXim5_RbPoN-tMOmE9fV3Y/s1600/dan_mcpharlin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxRF4BnGBCvSXlY8rBLnxLTy6iT-Dg4k9H429lEJ4A8QO0K7qGfTzH04QeN71cPHp7DtH-rnnQZ1bQ1VZvUxE9Lz65K0xAN5S44pzfqqRFKCbsUqW57_krUXim5_RbPoN-tMOmE9fV3Y/s1600/dan_mcpharlin.jpg" height="209" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan McPharlin. A modern day artist whose work looks very retro!<br />
What is even going on here? Who knows.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i></div>
Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-33942834055943039612014-12-13T13:46:00.001-08:002015-03-23T17:52:54.198-07:00Snow"Night was falling fast. The shafts of sunlight had vanished when the last thin slice of the sun was swallowed beneath the western woods. The pink snow drifts were going white again, the color leaching out of them as the world darkened. The evening sky had turned the faded grey of an old cloak that had been washed too many times, and the first shy stars were coming out.<br />
<br />
Ahead he glimpsed a pale white trunk that could only be a weirwood, crowned with a head of dark red leaves. Jon Snow reached back and pulled Longclaw from his sheath. He looked to right and left, gave Satin and Horse a nod, watched them pass it on to the men beyond. They rushed the grove together, kicking through drifts of old snow with no sound but their breathing. Ghost ran with them, a white shadow at Jon’s side.<br />
<br />
The weirwoods rose in a circle around the edges of the clearing. There were nine, all roughly of the same age and size. Each one had a face carved into it, and no two faces were alike. Some were smiling, some were screaming, some were shouting at him. In the deepening glow their eyes looked black, but in daylight they would be blood-red, Jon knew. <i>Eyes like Ghost’s</i>."<br />
<br />
<br />
'“All those who wish are welcome to return with us. There is food and shelter at Castle Black, and the Wall to keep you safe from the things that haunt these woods. You have my word, no one will burn.”<br />
<br />
“A crow’s word,” the woman said, hugging her child close, “but who’s to say that you can keep it? Who are you?”<br />
<br />
“Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, and a son of Eddard Stark of Winterfell.” Jon turned to Tom Barleycorn. “Have Rory and Pate bring up the horses. I do not mean to stay here one moment longer than we must.”<br />
<br />
“As you say, m’lord.”<br />
<br />
One last thing remained before they could depart: the thing that they had come for. Iron Emmett called forth his charges, and as the rest of the company watched from a respectful distance, they knelt before the weir-woods. The last light of day was gone by then; the only light came from the stars above and the faint red glow of the dying fire in the center of the grove.<br />
<br />
With their black hoods and thick black cowls, the six might have been carved from shadow. Their voices rose together, small against the vastness of the night. “Night gathers, and now my watch begins,” they said, as thousands had said before them. Satin’s voice was sweet as song, Horse’s hoarse and halting, Arron’s a nervous squeak. “It shall not end until my death.”<br />
<br />
<i>May those deaths be long in coming. </i>Jon Snow sank to one knee in the snow. <i>Gods of my </i><i>fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance </i><i>find </i><i>her and bring her safe to me.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
“I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children,” the recruits promised, in voices that echoed back through years and centuries. “I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post.”<br />
<br />
<i>Gods of the wood, grant me the strength to do the same,</i> Jon Snow prayed silently. <i>Give me the </i><i>wisdom to know what must be done and the courage to do it.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
“I am the sword in the darkness,” said the six, and it seemed to Jon as though their voices were changing, growing stronger, more certain. “I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.”<br />
<br />
<i>The shield that guards the realms of men. </i>Ghost nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He could smell Horse’s unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant’s overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. When he looked across the grove at the woman with her child, the two greybeards, the Hornfoot man with his maimed feet, all he saw was men.<br />
<br />
“I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.”<br />
<br />
Jon Snow was the first onto his feet."<br />
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<i style="background-color: #16212e; color: #cdcdcd; font-family: Cambria; font-size: x-small; line-height: 14px;">Excerpt from </i><span style="background-color: #16212e; color: #cdcdcd; font-family: Cambria; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 14px;">A Dance With Dragons</span><span style="background-color: #16212e; color: #cdcdcd; font-family: Cambria; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 14px;"> </span><i style="background-color: #16212e; color: #cdcdcd; font-family: Cambria; font-size: x-small; line-height: 14px;">by George R.R. Martin</i><br />
<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-8835468289950976032014-11-18T00:02:00.002-08:002015-03-23T17:52:54.205-07:00Take What Is Mine!"When she woke, gasping, her thighs were slick with blood.<br />
<br />
For a moment she did not realize what it was. The world had just begun to lighten, and the tall grass rustled softly in the wind.<i> No, please, let me sleep some more. I’m so tired. </i>She tried to burrow back beneath the pile of grass she had torn up when she went to sleep. Some of the stalks felt wet. Had it rained again? She sat up, afraid that she had soiled herself as she slept. When she brought her fingers to her face, she could smell the blood on them. <i>Am I dying</i>? Then she saw the pale crescent moon, floating high above the grass, and it came to her that this was no more than her moon blood. If she had not been so sick and scared, that might have come as a relief. Instead she began to shiver violently. She rubbed her fingers through the dirt, and grabbed a handful of grass to wipe between her legs. <i>The dragon does not weep.</i> She was bleeding, but it was only woman’s blood. <i>The </i><i>moon is still a crescent, though. How can that be?</i> She tried to remember the last time she had bled. The last full moon? The one before? The one before that? <i>No, it cannot have been so long as that.</i> “I am the blood of the dragon,” she told the grass, aloud.<br />
<br />
<i>Once,</i> the grass whispered back, <i>until you chained your dragons in the dark.</i><br />
<br />
“Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …” Dany could not recall the child’s name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away. “I will never have a little girl. I was the Mother of Dragons.”<br />
<br />
<i>Aye,</i> the grass said, <i>but you turned against your children.</i><br />
<br />
Her belly was empty, her feet sore and blistered, and it seemed to her that the cramping had grown worse. Her guts were full of writhing snakes biting at her bowels. She scooped up a handful of mud and water in trembling hands. By midday the water would be tepid, but in the chill of dawn it was almost cool and helped her keep her eyes open. As she splashed her face, she saw fresh blood on her thighs. The ragged hem of her under-tunic was stained with it. The sight of so much red frightened her.<i> Moon blood, it’s only my moon blood, </i>but she did not remember ever having such a heavy flow. <i>Could it be the water?</i> If it was the water, she was doomed. She had to drink or die of thirst. “Walk,” Dany commanded herself. “Follow the stream and it will take you to the Skahazadhan. That’s where Daario will find you.” But it took all her strength just to get back to her feet, and when she did all she could do was stand there, fevered and bleeding. . ."<br />
<br />
<br />
"<i>You took Meereen, </i>he told her, <i>yet still you lingered.</i><br />
<br />
“To be a queen.”<br />
<br />
<i>You are a queen,</i> her bear said. <i>In Westeros. </i><br />
<br />
“It is such a long way,” she complained. “I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl.”<br />
<br />
<i>No. You are the blood of the dragon. </i>The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. <i>Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words.</i><br />
<br />
“Fire and Blood,” Daenerys told the swaying grass.<br />
<br />
A stone turned under her foot. She stumbled to one knee and cried out in pain, hoping against hope that her bear would gather her up and help her to her feet. When she turned her head to look for him, all she saw was trickling brown water … and the grass, still moving slightly. . ."<br />
<br />
<br />
"Dany watched him go. When the sound of his hooves had faded away to silence, she began to shout. She called until her voice was hoarse … and Drogon came, snorting plumes of smoke. The grass bowed down before him. Dany leapt onto his back. She stank of blood and sweat and fear, but none of that mattered. “To go forward I must go back,” she said. Her bare legs tightened around the dragon’s neck. She kicked him, and Drogon threw himself into the sky. Her whip was gone, so she used her hands and feet and turned him north by east, the way the scout had gone. Drogon went willingly enough; perhaps he smelled the rider’s fear.<br />
<br />
In a dozen heartbeats they were past the Dothraki, as he galloped far below. To the right and left, Dany glimpsed places where the grass was burned and ashen. Drogon has come this way before, she realized. Like a chain of grey islands, the marks of his hunting dotted the green grass sea.<br />
<br />
A vast herd of horses appeared below them. There were riders too, a score or more, but they turned and fled at the first sight of the dragon. The horses broke and ran when the shadow fell upon them, racing through the grass until their sides were white with foam, tearing the ground with their hooves … but as swift as they were, they could not fly. Soon one horse began to lag behind the others. The dragon descended on him, roaring, and all at once the poor beast was aflame, yet somehow he kept on running, screaming with every step, until Drogon landed on him and broke his back. Dany clutched the dragon’s neck with all her strength to keep from sliding off.<br />
<br />
The carcass was too heavy for him to bear back to his lair, so Drogon consumed his kill there, tearing at the charred flesh as the grasses burned around them, the air thick with drifting smoke and the smell of burnt horsehair. Dany, starved, slid off his back and ate with him, ripping chunks of smoking meat from the dead horse with bare, burned hands. <i>In Meereen I was a queen in silk, nibbling on stuffed </i><i>dates and honeyed lamb, </i>she remembered. <i>What would my noble husband think if he could see me </i><i>now? </i>Hizdahr would be horrified, no doubt. But Daario . . .<br />
<br />
Daario would laugh, carve off a hunk of horsemeat with his arakh, and squat down to eat beside her.<br />
<br />
As the western sky turned the color of a blood bruise, she heard the sound of approaching horses. Dany rose, wiped her hands on her ragged undertunic, and went to stand beside her dragon.<br />
<br />
That was how Khal Jhaqo found her, when half a hundred mounted warriors emerged from the drifting smoke."<br />
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<i style="font-size: small;">Excerpt from </i><span style="font-size: x-small;">A Dance With Dragons </span><i style="font-size: small;">by George R.R. Martin</i><br />
<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-12562687318974151922014-10-31T00:10:00.003-07:002015-03-23T17:52:54.193-07:00The Three-Eyed Crow"Bran was falling faster than ever. The grey mists howled around him as he plunged toward the earth below. “What are you doing to me?” he asked the crow, tearful.<br />
<i>Teaching you how to fly.</i><br />
“I can’t fly!”<br />
<i>You’re flying right now.</i><br />
“I’m falling!”<br />
<i>Every flight begins with a fall</i>, the crow said. <i>Look down.</i><br />
“I’m afraid...”<br />
<i>LOOK DOWN!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Bran looked down, and felt his insides turn to water. The ground was rushing up at him now. The whole world was spread out below him, a tapestry of white and brown and green. He could see everything so clearly that for a moment he forgot to be afraid. He could see the whole realm, and everyone in it.<br />
<br />
He saw Winterfell as the eagles see it, the tall towers looking squat and stubby from above, the castle walls just lines in the dirt. He saw Maester Luwin on his balcony, studying the sky through a polished bronze tube and frowning as he made notes in a book. He saw his brother Robb, taller and stronger than he remembered him, practicing swordplay in the yard with real steel in his hand. He saw Hodor, the simple giant from the stables, carrying an anvil to Mikken’s forge, hefting it onto his shoulder as easily as another man might heft a bale of hay. At the heart of the godswood, the great white weirwood brooded over its reflection in the black pool, its leaves rustling in a chill wind. When it felt Bran watching, it lifted its eyes from the still waters and stared back at him knowingly.<br />
<br />
He looked east, and saw a galley racing across the waters of the Bite. He saw his mother sitting alone in a cabin, looking at a bloodstained knife on a table in front of her, as the rowers pulled at their oars and Ser Rodrik leaned across a rail, shaking and heaving. A storm was gathering ahead of them, a vast dark roaring lashed by lightning, but somehow they could not see it.<br />
<br />
He looked south, and saw the great blue-green rush of the Trident. He saw his father pleading with the king, his face etched with grief. He saw Sansa crying herself to sleep at night, and he saw Arya watching in silence and holding her secrets hard in her heart. There were shadows all around them. One shadow was dark as ash, with the terrible face of a hound. Another was armored like the sun, golden and beautiful. Over them both loomed a giant in armor made of stone, but when he opened his visor, there was nothing inside but darkness and thick black blood.He lifted his eyes and saw clear across the narrow sea, to the Free Cities and the green Dothraki sea and beyond, to Vaes Dothrak under its mountain, to the fabled lands of the Jade Sea, to Asshai by the Shadow, where dragons stirred beneath the sunrise.<br />
<br />
Finally he looked north. He saw the Wall shining like blue crystal, and his bastard brother Jon sleeping alone in a cold bed, his skin growing pale and hard as the memory of all warmth fled from him. And he looked past the Wall, past endless forests cloaked in snow, past the frozen shore and the great blue-white rivers of ice and the dead plains where nothing grew or lived. North and north and north he looked, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then beyond that curtain. He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks.<br />
<br />
<i>Now you know</i>, the crow whispered as it sat on his shoulder. <i>Now you know why you must live. </i>“Why?” Bran said, not understanding, falling, falling.<br />
<i>Because winter is coming.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Bran looked at the crow on his shoulder, and the crow looked back.<br />
It had three eyes, and the third eye was full of a terrible knowledge."<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Excerpt from </i>Game of Thrones <i>by George R.R. Martin</i></span><br />
<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-14706007460002761222013-10-31T23:08:00.000-07:002015-03-23T17:58:09.767-07:00The Sting and The RavenMy final blog post for the month and I wanted to talk some more about the Youtube web series I am a part of, <i><a href="http://daniellepajakillustrations.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-sting-chronicles-superhero-of.html" target="_blank">The Sting Chronicles</a></i>. We finished our first season over the summer, and shall begin airing the second season here in a couple of weeks. The first season our hero, Ethan Harper, met with unexpected challenges of being given "great responsibility," but this second season might prove to be an even greater challenge for The Sting. Introducing, The Raven:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of our inspiration came from<br />
Vicious, the villain of the anime<br />
series, <i>Cowboy Bebop</i> and<br />
Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes.<br />
<br />
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This mysterious nemesis has made an unexpected appearance into Ethan's life and Season 2:1 shall give us more insight on this Poe-inian villain, so I won't give too much away. However, with our nemesis having taken on the name from one of Edger Allen Poe's most famous poems, we really wanted to convey the atmosphere of those Gothic poems by making our villain out-of-world steam punk, with heavy trench coat, pocket watch, and old-styled glasses. The dark, Victorian-esque assamble of our villain creates a nice contrast with our hero's contemporary, swashbuckling look. The heavy blues and grays next to the bright yellow really conveys the comic book antagonism between these two characters, of good vs evil:<br />
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I've really enjoyed doing the concept art for this web series, but I've also been able to work on the posters, which has been awesome. I love creating movie posters. It is always a challenge to make a convincing, original composite while conveying the concepts and themes of a movie, or in this case, a series. The poster concepts for The Sting Chronicles season 1 and season 2 weren't entirely mine, though, but my partners' in crime as well. I thought I would explain a little the concepts behind each of the posters:<br />
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In Season 1 we are introduced to the somewhat self-centered and naive Ethan Harper, who tells us that he undoubtedly has super powers after being stung by a scorpion on a school field trip. Clothed with these new powers, he takes it upon himself to follow his "superhero brethren" and document his fight against crime for future generations. He is cocky, but earnest, yet is mostly oblivious to much that is around him, and so we see Ethan go from "zero to hero," hero to zero, and back around again. The first poster reflects the beginning of Ethan's journey. He is boldly clothed in his costume talking to the camera and his backpack is full of his superhero paraphernalia. The color scheme is a bright, gregarious yellow, much like the colors of comic books, over-confident and optimistic. I also made the poster look like an old comic book, with texture, issue number and price, and even a bold headline of "This mish just got real!". It expresses everything about Ethan's journey into comic book-dom.<br />
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In Season 2, things are taking a much darker, more sinister turn. Ethan's life has suddenly become like something out of <i>The Dark Knight</i>, as he is faced with his very own nemesis, The Raven. The poster reflects this new transition of events, with Ethan walking in a deserted and lonely landscape (of the Phoenix Valley, of course) and an "ominous bird of yore" looming in the sky behind him. It is a flock of ravens that make up this ominous symbol. I chose to hand draw the ravens as a way to incorporate a grittier, comic book feel to the piece. I didn't think making this into a comic book issue, like I did for the first one, would work for the overall composition, so instead I brought the atmosphere of comic book by the hand drawn ravens, which works quite well. Also, in this photo, Ethan is much more wary, wearing his shirt underneath his clothing, another nice contrast to the bold statement of the first poster, and the overall color scheme of the shades of blue are subdued and isolating, emphasizing Ethan's trial with his enemy, which, as the tag line insinuates, (a line from Poe's <i>The Raven</i>) may cost Ethan much.<br />
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So, it is going to be quite an interesting season! I hope that this post has intrigued you into either watching our show or get you excited for Season 2, not to mention build anticipation for <i>The Sting Chronicles</i> at the comicon! On the right side of my blog here, is the link to our Youtube channnel, please check it out, subscribe, and favorite! Thanks so much!<br />
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">All material in this post is Copyrighted by Danielle Pajak Illustrations 2013.</span></i></div>
Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-28031629833103874202013-09-22T21:19:00.001-07:002013-09-22T21:19:55.095-07:00Between Rage and Serenity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still love this poster!</td></tr>
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"<i>I believe that true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity.</i>" - Charles Xavier<br />
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Before I go on to finish my Avengers Project, I was inspired to do another comic book inspired piece, this time from <i>The Wolverine. </i>I wasn't expecting too much from the film, (other than the awesomeness that is Hugh Jackman) for my X-men love has been somewhat dimmed of late. However, to my surprise, <i>The Wolverine </i>was quite a good film in many respects, exploring the ideas of the Wolverine's immortality, his inner struggles with his past, and the uncertainty of his future. In accordance with these, one thing that stood out to me was Wolverine's relationship with Mariko Yashida. Granddaughter to Yashida, a man Wolverine rescued during the bombing of Nagasaki now turned CEO of powerful technological corporation, Mariko is inexplicably thrown together with Wolverine through a mesh of power politics in which Mariko finds herself in danger of her life. Wolverine becomes her protector, the very legend her grandfather had told so many stories about when she was a child, whom she now finds to be a haunted and lonely man. He is burdened by countless nightmares and visions of Jean Grey, as he is unable to live with the decisions he has made or the never-ending curse of his immortality. He is paralyzed unable to move forward from his past and having no purpose to continue on to his future, truly a broken man. In this dark state, Wolverine is instantly struck by Mariko's quiet, intense spirit and they slowly fall in love through <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful scene when Wolverine first meets Mariko.<br />
In the Rain. Everything awesome happens in the rain.</td></tr>
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the course of the story, but what stands out to me is how Mariko is able to break through Wolverine's hardened outer shell to the man beneath, making him face his past and inevitably giving him the incentive for his future. One of my favorite scenes is when Wolverine awakens violently from another nightmare, his body tense, his claws extended ready to attack, but Mariko lays at his side, not even flinching, speaking to him quietly, and even lightly touching his claws without any fear. Slowly she calms him as she speaks, bringing stillness and serenity to the rage of Wolverine's spirit. It so perfectly illustrated her tranquility that irresistibly recalls Wolverine from the downward spiral of his life. I even love the visual contrast between Mariko and Wolverine, Mariko being lithe and delicate, a fragile thing in comparison to Wolverine's bulk and hardness. It is even interesting to note that when Wolverine first meets her, she is wearing white, the symbol of who she was going to become for Wolverine. It is very much a beauty and the beast type of concept as well, and in the end, Wolverine finds the freedom and strength to move on. It is a beautiful relationship, but subtly and quietly played out in the film, which I very much appreciate.<br />
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So, you are probably realizing by now why I chose the quote from <i>X-Men First Class</i> (another good film, by the way).<i> </i>That quote was something I instantly thought of while watching this movie, for Wolverine finds his true focus somewhere "between rage and serenity." In my piece, I wanted to really bring out these concepts. Keeping with the Asian-inspired style of minimalism, I have Wolverine and Mariko standing on either side, Mariko blossoming in the serenity of white, and Wolverine materializing from rage of darkness. The focal point extends from Mariko's face, from the blackness of her hair and gold dividing line to her hands caressing his hand in the sea of red, the red symbolizing the focus between rage and serenity. I've kept everything abstract in design, with rough. illustrative strokes with the clarity coming to the focal point of their hands. I've, of course, added texture, which I think always adds an extra dimension to any piece.<br />
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I hope you've enjoyed this post. This piece, along with my Avengers pieces, shall be available to purchase at the Phoenix Comicon next year, so hope to see you there! Information on my booth's location shall be provided soon and in a more official capacity so everyone can find me. Thanks! Here's to September!<br />
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-49267066831141730452013-07-23T15:50:00.001-07:002013-07-24T16:54:51.807-07:00July Observations: In Another WorldThe end of July draws nigh and I've been working hard, but alas I have nothing to show of my main projects. I am excited, though, to say that I have gotten some significant work done on my <a href="http://daniellepajakillustrations.blogspot.com/2012/05/elijah-graphic-novel.html" target="_blank">graphic novel</a> and I'll most likely have something to show you all next month. I'll keep plugging away, but I can actually see the half way mark in my progress, which is exciting for me. I still have so much to do on it, but I'm making head way and my plans for next year's promotion of my graphic novel might actually be doable. Yay. So, please keep coming back for updates on that! My Avengers Project isn't going as smoothly, however. The Cap is being quite stubborn and there is something about the piece that just isn't speaking to me. It is kind of like beating your head against the wall. After repeated experiences with the lack of inspiration, I've finally learned to just let it go and leave it. It is no use in trying to push something because you end up just wasting your time. I've even done a little pictured demonstration of what happens for everyone's amusement.<br />
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Haha. So, I'll probably move on to the green rage monster Bruce Banner and then come back to The Cap later. It's for the best. But now to switch gears on this post; I've been doing some sketches that I've posted on my Pintrest/Twitter, which have been of nymphs and faeries. Just letting my imagination roam free while listening to a lot of Carbon Based Lifeforms (a Swedish ambient music group). Probably one of my top favorite songs ever, though, is a song called "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KMVcLBUGDDw" target="_blank">Stolen Child</a>" by Loreena McKennit. It is a song about a faerie taking away a child, which is a common myth surrounding faeries and their mischievous ways. I find it haunting and beautiful, and I often find myself loving this idea of being beckoned away to another world. Whether it be faeries, sirens, the white rabbit, or some other elfin creature, I'm fascinated by this aspect of being drawn by something mysterious or alluring into another world (or death in some cases, haha.) There is such excitement and beauty in being drawn to another realm, to pass through "the grey-rain curtain"of this world to "a far green country" beyond (Lord of the Rings pg. 1007). It reminds me of this verse from Hebrews 11:13-16 "<i>These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city</i>." It is the idea of another realm beyond this world and of being part of that Otherworld so as to have longing of a stranger in a land not our own, then finding ourselves drawn away, called away by a Voice mysterious as it is beautiful; a Voice surrounded by "<i>clouds and thick darkness</i>," <i>"flashes of lightning, and rumblings and peals of thunder"</i> with "<i>a sea of glass, like crystal</i>" (Psalm 97:2, Revelation 4:5-6). How does this translate into faeries, nymphs, and sirens you may ask? Well, I think C.S. Lewis says it quite brilliantly: "We do not want merely to <i>see </i>beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words - to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. That is why we have peopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses and nymphs and elves - that, though we cannot, yet these projections can enjoy in themselves that beauty, grace, and power of which Nature is the image" (The Weight of Glory pg. 42-43). With this in mind, I shall always continue to be fascinated by the otherwordly, always following that White Rabbit down the rabbit hole <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vhUe560_ikU" target="_blank">to another world</a>.</div>
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So all these ideas swirling around in my head produced these two illustrations I've done in pencil (with some Photoshop magic!):</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Come away oh human child <br />To the waters and the wild <br />With a faerie hand in hand <br />For the world's more full of weeping <br />Than you can understand</i><br />
"Stolen Child" Loreena McKennit.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Observations in Kensington Gardens</i></td></tr>
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This second one is more sci-fi, surrealist in nature and it was largely inspired by Carbon Based Lifeform's "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xXOJ3Ss0Hg&list=FL482b6njn6FRGPUj-8LFAGg&index=37" target="_blank">Kensington Gardens</a>," thus the name. Listening to the song will really help in getting the atmosphere. You'll notice, though, how in both these images I have the veiny, branch-like patterns. One of the things that fascinates me about nature is how the world of the micro and the world of the macro have similar patterns. Whether it is our own arteries and veins, membranes and molecules, to nature's branches, foliage, and creatures, to the makings of a star or galaxy, there are such beautiful similarities in design. I love this aspect to our Universe and love the idea of blurring the line between micro and macro in my artwork. This especially comes out in "<i>Observations</i>" where the scale of things aren't exactly clear. I'll probably want to experiment more with this idea in my artwork, to see what other fascinating concepts I can come up with.<br />
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Well, that is what I have for July. Please check out either my Twitter or Pinterest if you are interested in more of my elfin sketches. (Yes, this is what I think about all day.) Don't forget to check back soon for updates on my graphic novel! God bless.</div>
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i></div>
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Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-9530442842345417182013-06-13T13:21:00.001-07:002013-06-13T13:44:42.585-07:00Sherlock and The Woman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"<i>To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex</i>." - Dr. Watson A Scandal in Bohemia.<br />
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You'll have all bear with me, I'm about to get a little geeky, even more than usual. Also, I've kept this post as spoiler free as I can, but you'll still have to read at your own risk. My best advice? Watch <i>Elementary</i>, then come back to this post. (<i>Yes, do it</i>!)<br />
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Inspiration for this post happened when I was perusing the exhibits at the comicon. I saw this piece of art related to BBC's <i>Sherlock </i>that I found to be intriguing of Holmes and Irene. I thought it would be cool if I borrowed some elements of the idea and do something of my own. It got me thinking of the characters and in particular the enigmatic and lovely Irene Adler herself. In the original story, she was <i>the woman </i>who outsmarted Holmes in a case involving her scandalous liaisons with a Bohemian King. In comparison to the aura that surrounds this character today, Doyle's original work is pretty tame. However, despite the grandiose nature of her character, I've never been pleased by any portrayal of Irene. Even in the Jeremy Brett adaptation, (which I love) though very canon in portrayal and beautiful in appearance, Irene was a little dull. Otherwise they usually portray Irene Adler in a very sexual way, very seductive, and always annoying. I was actually surprised, though, by Rachel McAdams, and by surprised I mean I didn't hate her portrayal. She's grown on me, and I do like that they took her character in a more vulnerable route, which I think makes her character sympathetic. However, even with Rachel there is still mostly sexual interplay and annoying self-assertiveness. So, I've not been very impressed by any Irene Adler. That is until Natalie Dormer's portrayal in <i>Elementary. </i>I instantly liked her face (I hadn't seen her in anything up to this point) and was confident that someone finally was going to do her character justice. I was not disappointed. Actually, my expectations were exceeded. Natalie Dormer brings to Irene's character a sophistication, feminine mystique, and most importantly of all, a razor sharp mind on par with Sherlock Holmes; after all, it was her<i> wits </i>that impressed Holmes, not her sexual appeal.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiuqWWkPqPUND0Sl9ceCICK4wDjMovShypoG7G-TSUgvVH9F0seMmFXaSM9BW3dsG-KjTyI25HeIjNoZ3jLiTsNj3a5vioAECeky28Wh5UG21Oi66XKGo_MJj2cmlhyRGxHDzikwoq_64/s1600/005.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiuqWWkPqPUND0Sl9ceCICK4wDjMovShypoG7G-TSUgvVH9F0seMmFXaSM9BW3dsG-KjTyI25HeIjNoZ3jLiTsNj3a5vioAECeky28Wh5UG21Oi66XKGo_MJj2cmlhyRGxHDzikwoq_64/s200/005.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You're beautiful!," says Irene<br />
to the unsuspecting Sherlock Holmes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In <i>Elementary, </i>Holmes is a recovering drug addict, self absorbed and somewhat childish, but with an exceptional gift of deduction and seeing the must minute of details. His love for puzzles makes him unyielding in a case and blunt in speaking the truth, whether anyone wants to hear it or not (TMI!). When he first meets Irene she is a restorer of old paintings and her own bluntness and disarming mind and beauty impresses him immediately. I love the almost old Hollywood-esque sharp banter between the two of them as Natalie Dormer is able to show the sensuality and seduction of Irene in a way that accentuates her intelligence and femininity, which is rather like the femme fatales of Film Noir. Natalie Dormer actually reminds me a lot of one of my favorite Film Noir actresses, Gloria Grahame. She has the same quality about her, the mischievous and intelligent eyes and impish face that makes her either vulnerable or untrustworthy, but carries an irresistible attraction that is all woman. With this quality about her, Natalie Dormer makes you truly believe that Irene is someone Holmes would say "eclipses and dominates" her sex. I would like to mention Johnny Lee Miller's performance further sells this point. Holmes is completely smitten by her. It's cute. . . in a disturbing way.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhon1gWknwnhngjmQiJcejc7gwp1-LDQGpbidNZbeLqpVy3BnYMgi-MKA18xgOHjlAi1twnE5D-PeTEBiJsEs7CzCJ5TtZiNWZSaUyam6v_7sNZiCSg_Jhbwfqy6SSw_Xv8tGPAhX8RLVE/s1600/DormerGraham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhon1gWknwnhngjmQiJcejc7gwp1-LDQGpbidNZbeLqpVy3BnYMgi-MKA18xgOHjlAi1twnE5D-PeTEBiJsEs7CzCJ5TtZiNWZSaUyam6v_7sNZiCSg_Jhbwfqy6SSw_Xv8tGPAhX8RLVE/s320/DormerGraham.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See what I mean?</td></tr>
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All this to say that I did two pieces of work based on Guy Ritchie's Holmes and Irene and Robert Doherty's Holmes and Irene; more character studies, I guess you can say. The first one, <i>Catatonic</i>:<br />
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I wanted to bring out the vibrancy, passion, and disturbance that Irene brings to Holmes' world which is usually controlled and logical. Irene challenges Holmes, but there is definitely a mutual attraction and love between the two of them; though Holmes keeps his distance, showing his true feelings in only fleeting moments. As Watson says, "<i>Why is the only woman you've cared about a world class criminal? Are you a masochist</i>?" Haha. This version of the characters is the farthest from canon, but it is clever, actually rather sweet, and great fun. I am awaiting eagerly for the third installment!<br />
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In this piece, <i>Games and Puzzles, </i>show an entirely different kind of relationship dynamic, also not canon, but I think an impressive interpretation. Here Irene is in white to represent how Holmes sees her, an ideal, someone whom he loves intensely and unreservedly. Here he is moving towards her, grasping her, as if to keep her as he sees her, but she keeps her distance. She looks vulnerable, but is she? I love the darker interpretation of the Sherlock Holmes universe in <i>Elementary, </i>it is very poetic, but Holmes is still Holmes, and what is revealed in this complex relationship, I think, is very much in the spirit of Sir Conan Doyle's work.<br />
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Well, I hope you enjoyed this very nerdy post and art pieces. Gotta love the world of Sherlock Holmes.<br />
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"<i>My mind," he said, "rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram, or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with artificial stimulants. But I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation. That is why I have chosen my own particular profession, or rather created it, for I am the only one in the world.</i>" - Sherlock Holmes Sign of the Four<br />
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-54583634345505113462013-05-29T17:39:00.001-07:002013-05-29T21:49:48.826-07:00Persephone and Hades II: Another Random Concept PieceSo, over the weekend I attended the <a href="https://www.phoenixcomicon.com/" target="_blank">Phoenix Comicon</a>. Thanks to all those who voted for me in the <a href="http://www.daniellepajakillustrations.blogspot.com/2013/03/sherlock-and-phoenix-comicon.html" target="_blank">badge art contest</a>, I was able to win two free passes to the comicon! I was happy to be able to go with my brother and my cousin. I love the Phoenix Comicon. It is full of nerdy fun, great atmosphere, and you never know what is going to happen or what type of people you are going to meet. I particularly love walking through the exhibition room where there are hundreds of booths of artists and merchandise to peruse. I actually met some lovely artists, particularly one artist named <a href="http://lylawarren.com/" target="_blank">Lyla Warren</a>. She has a lovely style, working in both animation and sculpting, and her pieces are full of movement and character. I'm happy to say I own some of her work, which is now on my "wall of crazy", and I would recommend anyone to go check out her website, blog, and Etsy shop!<br />
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What does this have to do with another concept piece of Persephone and Hades you might ask? Well, at the comicon I went to a panel that had animators and artists for video games and films that were doing a Q & A type session to help artists who are desiring to get into the industry. They were very helpful, friendly, and of course knowledgeable in their field. The advice they gave me I am already doing, which is good to know, but I also sensed that I should probably step it up a notch, as far as drawing goes. Being a concept artist means drawing<i> all the time. </i>The one panelist mentioned 40 hours a week should be the kind of work I should be putting into drawing, which is a full time job. It is true. You have to keep up the practice and drawing is a constant learning process of refining the skill. I have no qualms about how much hours I put in, but of course, what is doable is the question. I think I already put in at least 20 - 25 hours a week, so I'm going to see if my life permits me to add more in. So, as the summer goes on, hopefully you'll be able to see more work from me! For now, enjoy this concept piece of <a href="http://www.daniellepajakillustrations.blogspot.com/2013/05/persephone-and-hades-random-concept.html" target="_blank">Persephone and Hades</a>. For some reason I was struck with inspiration again with these two characters and came up with this piece. I don't know if I'll be doing anything with these characters in the long run, but there is definitely something compelling about them.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-AkEy6c1m0oA84WfdwO6sdZvfU-ymt2fTeGYKSZe3us7EOgPPLBfNLrTYPIDb0k04w7l0qem7TodYBtnazmpjg1KoQAPn3YW2ozlQ81rTRMNsz2TNs9Q4UMsqgdbSqfns8glPffp34dA/s1600/PersephoneandHades2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-AkEy6c1m0oA84WfdwO6sdZvfU-ymt2fTeGYKSZe3us7EOgPPLBfNLrTYPIDb0k04w7l0qem7TodYBtnazmpjg1KoQAPn3YW2ozlQ81rTRMNsz2TNs9Q4UMsqgdbSqfns8glPffp34dA/s400/PersephoneandHades2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Persephone, meet Cerberus." - Hades is kind of a jerk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Oh, before I end this random post, I would also like to mention that another great thing about this year's comicon is that my cousin and I were able to promote our webseries, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TheStingChronicles" target="_blank">The Sting Chronicles</a>! Production is going well, promotion is going well, and the scheduled air date is June 7th! We are all very excited! So, don't forget to check it out on Youtube!<br />
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-20874515623678326782013-05-10T21:06:00.000-07:002013-05-10T21:07:18.189-07:00Persephone and Hades: A Random Concept Piece<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidTkuXL95pm4wpPv74QlTvP3Swiqez4zaSUhP0XbZgf-eBBlslqtkvaLnpd3ju3azmGkjNGFh1ugaykyVcANtJ_-BPcQ8Vq7dNHdHyg9PsR_IAgeyiBhbulEGTmH2t8wFRB1N5CzR000Y/s1600/2fac9e9653aea81aa28e08609b1a0ef3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidTkuXL95pm4wpPv74QlTvP3Swiqez4zaSUhP0XbZgf-eBBlslqtkvaLnpd3ju3azmGkjNGFh1ugaykyVcANtJ_-BPcQ8Vq7dNHdHyg9PsR_IAgeyiBhbulEGTmH2t8wFRB1N5CzR000Y/s320/2fac9e9653aea81aa28e08609b1a0ef3.jpg" width="210" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"We dance, we kiss, we schmooze,<br />
we carry on, we go home happy."</td></tr>
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The other day I was watching Disney's <i>Hercules, </i>and admiring the artistry and excellence of that film. I haven't seen it in many years, I can't remember the last time I'd seen it, but watching it with fresh eyes I really was able to appreciate the humor, the art direction, the music, and the wonderful characterizations. It is definitely one of my favorite Disney animations. One of my favorite things about that film, though, is the villain Hades and his Underworld. He is definitely a different type of Disney villain, and one that stands out as truly unique. Unlike other villains, there isn't decisive destruction, an absolute end to him. His plan is foiled and he gets trapped in the whirlpool of death, but he is immortal and god of the underworld, so he can't really be destroyed entirely. Even more than that, though, he's hilarious and zany. I like the tongue in cheek humor of the film, which is due in large part to Hades characterization. He's the fast-talking, deal-making, god of the underworld and you can't really dislike him all that much because he's funny. His character design, is excellent, with his hair flames (<i>"Whoa, is my hair out?"</i>) telling of his mood and his greek-esque hulking figure with swirling smoke and snake-like face that really emphasize this sinister, quick-tongued villain. The underworld in which he is charge is also amazingly designed. I need to get the <i>Art of Hercules </i>to really be able to study the concepts behind all of this, but I do have a fascination for the dark and macabre and there is a lot going on here in this design work:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbJggBJ-Xz4UV-nRGNR37W-LtkwQ4L7VlpDSzlROyyFk2zLgt0oqu_J630ZL2Al5xn2oh_bUpsUhsQfitvGtoNfJ8A011PIUBr-CJDQ4lrKmnJZA50gOk9-xGT4TRiY2wzZa66Faxlsw/s1600/Underworld_DisneyHercules.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbJggBJ-Xz4UV-nRGNR37W-LtkwQ4L7VlpDSzlROyyFk2zLgt0oqu_J630ZL2Al5xn2oh_bUpsUhsQfitvGtoNfJ8A011PIUBr-CJDQ4lrKmnJZA50gOk9-xGT4TRiY2wzZa66Faxlsw/s320/Underworld_DisneyHercules.jpg" width="281" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"While the angels, all pallid and wan,<br />
Uprising, unveiling, affirm<br />
That the play is the tragedy "Man,"<br />
And its hero, the Conqueror Worm."<br />
- Poe</td></tr>
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Anyway, I can geek out about this all day. Needless to say I was inspired, and it got me thinking about Hades and the tale of Persephone. In the Greek myth, Persephone is the daughter of Demeter (goddess of the harvest) and Hades sees her, desires her, and kidnaps her. After much angst, Hades is finally forced to return her, but tricks Persephone into eating some pomegranates from the underworld before she leaves. Eating food from the Underworld makes her a part of it, so she must always return to the Underworld and be by Hades' side as his queen. Thus this is why, as Greek myths go, we have winter every season, when Persephone has to return to her place as Queen of the Underworld. I thought all of this could be really fascinating as a retold story, a twisted and dark "Beauty and the Beast". It was also reminding me of <i>Once Upon a Time'</i>s Rumpelstiltskin and Belle, this idea of an anti-hero and his journey from darkness to light. It would be done even deeper way than simply just "don't judge a book by its cover" concept. Hades would truly be, in many ways, despicable and unlikable, but as anti-heroes go, there is hope for redemption and who doesn't like a good anti-hero now and again. So, I just let myself imagine what that story would be like and the characters and I came up with this concept piece:<br />
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Maybe one day this will be animation masterpiece of death, vanity, true love, redemption, responsibility, and the human condition, but for now I just have this piece. Enjoy!<br />
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-5424011104733562312013-04-16T01:06:00.000-07:002015-03-23T17:58:09.773-07:00The Sting Chronicles: Superhero of Arizona<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3BUzaIuBDPdSa_BzjxBc3s-Fmwup4KELxMsX-uCysh6j4I_4-DmZYzRC3aetLoGC5F1c0FredDeF0EjJKWfZyNElMuwfZ0y91h-9Ayg9ebHsj9VZWA7W08awsxHUqxIwWYburAILR-s/s1600/TheStingChronicles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3BUzaIuBDPdSa_BzjxBc3s-Fmwup4KELxMsX-uCysh6j4I_4-DmZYzRC3aetLoGC5F1c0FredDeF0EjJKWfZyNElMuwfZ0y91h-9Ayg9ebHsj9VZWA7W08awsxHUqxIwWYburAILR-s/s200/TheStingChronicles.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
This summer is going to be full of new projects, some old ones, and is going to be wonderfully productive. I'm pleased to announce one of the new projects I'm going to be a part of. In collaboration with my cousin Alexis Johnson (<a href="http://reelreflections11.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Reel Reflections</a>), actor, film critic Radcliff Misseri (actor of <i>Sundown, </i>mentioned in my post<a href="http://daniellepajakillustrations.blogspot.com/2012/09/sundown-in-retrospect.html" target="_blank"> here</a>), a group we are assembling together, and I will be creating a Youtube webseries called <i>The Sting Chronicles. </i>It is a satirical, coming-of-age story of a young man who thinks he has superhero powers and records his adventures via video records. It seems as if webseries are going to launch creativity in media into a whole new sphere, Youtube full of webseries cropping up to popularity, and I'm happy to be a part of this new media outlet. One of the main inspirations for this webseries is the new, highly innovative adaption of Jane Austen's novel, <i>Pride and Prejudice, The</i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/LizzieBennet?feature=g-user-u" target="_blank"> <i>Lizzie Bennet Diaries</i></a><i>. </i>It records the story of Lizzie Bennet, a college student studying Mass Communications, as she recalls to her audience the antics and drama of her life with her family and friends. It is a very clever, heartwarming, and downright hilarious retelling of <i>Pride and Prejudice, </i>there is nothing like its kind out there. Using the internet as a mode for storytelling, but have the story be told as if it is actually a real-life scenario is ingenious and we hope we can capture that same spirit and connection with the audience that the creators of the <i>Lizzie Bennet Diaries </i>have achieved with their webseries.<br />
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So, I begin with my work that I've done so far on this project, and it starts with The Sting logo. As I said, this young man feels he has gained super powers, and in this case the story is set in Mesa, Arizona, and he happens to get stung by a scorpion, thus The Sting is born. The Scorpion logo design concept is a collaboration with Alexis Johnson, as she wanted something that would look menacing, but unique. With my own love for Art Nouveau, studying many pictures of scorpions, and with a touch of Celtic knot influence, we both came up with this idea:<br />
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We purposefully chose the yellow and black, because we are going for this aspect of "Danger". With reptiles and insects, there are the colors red, black, and yellow to warn other creatures that they are dangerous and poisonous, and so in this way the main character, Ethan Harper, is using this idea as a way to show he is a threat to all crime; a blaring "Danger Ahead" symbol fighting for justice! Of course, as a final touch, and as is my usual staple, adding texture adds that rustic edginess, which fits to the "wild west" atmosphere of Arizona.<br />
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Continuing with these themes, I then came up with a concept piece of the character himself, also in collaboration with Alexis Johnson. She is the writer of this series, and so much of the ideas and concepts are her own, and so she and I both agreed that this character's superhero costume would have the feel and look of <i>Indiana Jones </i>crossed with <i>The Punisher. </i>There were other influences as well, <i>Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog </i>being one of them, but Indiana and Frank Castle were what I drew from the most while creating my piece.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-_1zJrxzAIBInn7mUq1RmsH9VK0bVK6JAxW48l4H5Wq68FyL4LWXy7di2peVdJAIk8aeXF5SdWsSg7nR7Keh7Mx561FD0GbcS-THLQi-b1qNK_Br9d2W9euKI5CClueI6e5lQJVySDI/s1600/Inspiration_TheSting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-_1zJrxzAIBInn7mUq1RmsH9VK0bVK6JAxW48l4H5Wq68FyL4LWXy7di2peVdJAIk8aeXF5SdWsSg7nR7Keh7Mx561FD0GbcS-THLQi-b1qNK_Br9d2W9euKI5CClueI6e5lQJVySDI/s320/Inspiration_TheSting.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We have the roguish, rustic adventurer mixed with the edgy, city superhero, and the results:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFE0R0o1WYj0OaRin4YYigPXbVxiEibuFqcVVRyX2q0yBHaHUgTS4xd_DEEav43x7OuQxL6FltBxUwEs9cTuLRkltXmgqpeRLkzT9DVl_kh0RDiypYTXagybjTi5m-8bQbBk_rjJejYo/s1600/TheStingConcept.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFE0R0o1WYj0OaRin4YYigPXbVxiEibuFqcVVRyX2q0yBHaHUgTS4xd_DEEav43x7OuQxL6FltBxUwEs9cTuLRkltXmgqpeRLkzT9DVl_kh0RDiypYTXagybjTi5m-8bQbBk_rjJejYo/s400/TheStingConcept.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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One of the key aspects of our Arizonian superhero is his bullwhip, which is how we draw the idea of the "scorpion" into his superhero persona. The stinging whip is how he battles against the forces of darkness and keeps criminals at bay! The rest came easily enough, and with high contrast, lots of texture, and simplistic design, we have our superhero ladies and gentlemen.</div>
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It is certainly going to be an adventure in bringing this story to life. As my viewers, you can have a chance to be a part of bringing this project to fruition. We are currently doing two fundraisers to raise money for the project, and it starts at a $1 minimum pledge. Alexis Johnson and Radcliff Misseri have put together a video where you can learn more information on this project as well as get to know our vision and sense of humor. <a href="http://youtu.be/91zruHveUD4" target="_blank">Click Here.</a> You can find out more information as well as keep up with the project on our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TheStingChronicles" target="_blank">Facebook</a> page. </div>
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I'll keep you up-to-date on any new artwork on do on this project, but I do hope you'll join us in bringing Ethan Harper, our desert crime fighter, to life. </div>
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<i>He makes everything beautiful in its time . . . Ecclesiastes 3:11</i>Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-53155495282045780012013-03-15T23:05:00.000-07:002013-06-26T01:39:00.820-07:00Long Ago Surrendered...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This week I've been really focusing on getting a lot done in regards to promotion of my artwork. Not everything has worked out as planned, but I'm excited for future opportunities. Right now, I want to showcase my new graphic for my blog, and the journey behind the making of it. I will soon be printing business cards for myself and this is part of that process.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimceS7K9OnsJXCyzfRKnAO28paspnrj-e8MU8jCXQzEEtvUwJ98zlSrm7gN-EE0_8QTQSDXUmmlN9Xg33V_sZ1X5WD544auQyV564O74Q4jtLnywv-VsnRKqys_3k_F5cKrnOFGTE3zZw/s1600/DandelionSeedHead02_natalieparkerdotcom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimceS7K9OnsJXCyzfRKnAO28paspnrj-e8MU8jCXQzEEtvUwJ98zlSrm7gN-EE0_8QTQSDXUmmlN9Xg33V_sZ1X5WD544auQyV564O74Q4jtLnywv-VsnRKqys_3k_F5cKrnOFGTE3zZw/s320/DandelionSeedHead02_natalieparkerdotcom.jpg" width="320" /></a>During my education at my college I had to make a branding logo for myself along with a business card, letterhead, etc. This was all part of the learning process, and the name I had come up with was Ixia Illustrations. Ixia is a flower and it lent itself well to the Art Nouveau style I was going for with my name brand. However, as time went on I realized that this particular logo, though pretty, wasn't what I wanted to symbolize as myself. Ixia flowers were just a random flower I discovered and meant nothing to me or to my artwork. It wasn't until one day on Facebook that a friend of mine asked in her status if there was one symbol you could choose for yourself, what would it be? Her answer was a thistle. From there, I began to brainstorm, because her love for thistles was very much like my love for dandelions. I've always loved them, ever since I was a little girl. Yes, they are weed, but a beautiful one! I love picking them and blowing them, and always get excited when I see one. I decided, then, that the dandelion was a perfect symbol for me as an artist, and not just because I love them so much.<br />
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<i>"The dandelion has long ago surrendered its golden petals, and has reached its crowning stage of dying - the delicate seedglobe must break up now - it gives and gives till it has nothing left... There is no sense of wrenching; it stands ready, holding up its little life, not knowing when or where or how the wind that bloweh where it listeth may care it away. It holds itself no longer for its own keeping, only as something to be given: a breath does the rest, turning "the readiness to win" into the "performance" (2 Corinthians 8:11). And to a soul that through "death oft" has been brought to this point, even acts that look as if they must involve as effort, become something natural, spontaneous, full of "heavenly involuntariness," so simply are they the outcome of the indwelling love of Christ."</i> - Lilias Trotter.<br />
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Lilias Trotter was a kindred spirit of mine who lived in the late 1800s and she was an artist turned missionary to the people of Algeria. She had a chance to become a great painter of her day, but chose instead to serve Christ in Algeria and spread the Gospel there. Yet, it was <i>because </i>of her being an artist that she was really able to speak to the people there, who loved bright colors, storytelling, and visual imagery, and so her talent was used quite grandly after all, though just not the way she might have originally thought. (You can purchase a lovely book of her images and quotes<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Blossom-Desert-Reflections-Writings-Trotter/dp/1572932562/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1372234264&sr=1-3&keywords=Lilias+Trotter" target="_blank"> here</a>) With her lovely images and story of her life in my head, I read this quote above and it really spoke to me. I desired to live my life in that way, surrendered and free, to have what I do with my artwork really express that love and freedom in Christ. I've known my talents and what I "wanted to be when I grow up" ever since I was a little girl, and it has stuck with me through the years, only growing more and more as the time passed. I know this is my calling, and that it will one day take me to a different world entirely from my own right now, and I want my heart and my artwork to express that "readiness" and "heavenly involuntariness." I've long ago surrendered.<br />
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So, I decided to change my logo and go ahead with this idea of the dandelion symbol. However, as I began to recreate my logo I was running into issues with the design. It wasn't conveying at all the idea I was trying to get across. I actually dislike designing logos. They are so difficult in their simplicity! They must always remain readable at any size you make them, which means the design cannot be too complex. Yet at the same time it must represent the persons, company, and/or vision. I don't like it very much, and so after much frustration, made the big decision that I won't be using a logo at all. It isn't as necessary for me as a freelance artist, especially now with the world of the Internet, and how you can network and promote yourself in an nontraditional way. Business cards aren't even that necessary anymore when everything is accessible at your fingertips! Once I made that decision, the ideas began flooding in! I then came up with the design that you see now on my blog. Here is a bigger view of it:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EvFhONXtrZdR4hzMhCviEbZLoOxq7D1q7nqhv5qXfAoLsvOR0AO-pCdEFXAkLRqmHVzFpxX6o4d8pzmO41Iuy0CQJ1hJBLfScb0Ptnrt5sCA97ndtuP7CcsGMdOukxcJxBRZU5Jy5L4/s1600/DPIllustrations2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EvFhONXtrZdR4hzMhCviEbZLoOxq7D1q7nqhv5qXfAoLsvOR0AO-pCdEFXAkLRqmHVzFpxX6o4d8pzmO41Iuy0CQJ1hJBLfScb0Ptnrt5sCA97ndtuP7CcsGMdOukxcJxBRZU5Jy5L4/s400/DPIllustrations2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The delicate seedglobe surrendering its petals. I wanted this image to convey my whimsical, day dreamy nature while at the same time, showcasing the symbol of the dandelion which is the insignia of my work. One image I was inspired from was this <i>Vanity Fair </i>magazine cover from the early 1900s, an art deco piece that I have hanging on the wall of my room:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahYZwWAM3ZylyPGTUZedSnj2jFHTzeoJka64_OdOGnrSYQDNpfHCpLT68FrkqBgQQBmcA2g9TkYvVoU9T-TLYQ9FgBWMX_WPIrFCMZCSe3Ft6Sb8gRzuhFQJcCUtiMl-VlzRZX1uYDFM/s1600/1cbcc480b9cbb872ed6ccf29cec65f0f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahYZwWAM3ZylyPGTUZedSnj2jFHTzeoJka64_OdOGnrSYQDNpfHCpLT68FrkqBgQQBmcA2g9TkYvVoU9T-TLYQ9FgBWMX_WPIrFCMZCSe3Ft6Sb8gRzuhFQJcCUtiMl-VlzRZX1uYDFM/s320/1cbcc480b9cbb872ed6ccf29cec65f0f.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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I love this image! It is so whimsical and full of movement. The colors are vibrant and the line work delicate. I really wanted to capture this dreamy atmosphere within my own art piece. Strangely enough, though, I've come full circle because it came to my mind my very first illustration that I ever created when I was in school. It is when I really began to understand Photoshop and it became a turning point in my journey as an artist:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRxoiYC0sT8-bL8VpvenNQ78DVxelDCXbTplMYjRAjTMOsNlwXSrzaDDbm8Gp2912l6U9h8xBmq4HI53hh69maEuqsUKM-Aq58V9zsWfWGXtrdLcbBFoqMwZH5lyYBAfGUbRraakbeDM/s1600/MyFirstIllustration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRxoiYC0sT8-bL8VpvenNQ78DVxelDCXbTplMYjRAjTMOsNlwXSrzaDDbm8Gp2912l6U9h8xBmq4HI53hh69maEuqsUKM-Aq58V9zsWfWGXtrdLcbBFoqMwZH5lyYBAfGUbRraakbeDM/s320/MyFirstIllustration.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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So you can see that my first illustration began with dandelions and now on the cusp of my career as an artist, dandelions have made their way in again! Me thinks it is not all just a coincidence. </div>
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I've hope you've enjoyed my story on the process of this piece and that you enjoy looking at it as part of my blog design. My business cards will be incorporating this new design as well and the way I see it now, this image represents me as an artist. It may be unconventional, but it fits perfectly.</div>
Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-60533440565810303602013-03-14T15:24:00.003-07:002013-04-29T14:07:34.891-07:00Sherlock and The Phoenix Comicon<div style="text-align: left;">
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Well, after years of people telling me I should enter art contests, I've finally have. I'm sure it is no surprise that it is a contest in connection with the <a href="https://www.phoenixcomicon.com/page/1" target="_blank">Phoenix Comicon</a>. I've only been to the comicon once and it was my very first time experiencing the event, and I have to say I loved it. (Of course.) In 2011, I went with my family and friends and got to dress up as Padme Amidala, hear Leonard Nemoy, Adam Baldwin, and Billy Dee Williams (Lando Calrissian) speak, have fun with Doctor Who fans, and peruse lovely artwork and nerd merchandise of all varieties. (<i>Firefly</i> and tea?! Who could ask for more: <a href="http://www.sereni-teas.com/?cat=1" target="_blank">Serenitea</a>) I've been wanting to go back, but haven't had the chance. However, in my email I get the latest Phoenix Comicon news, and it was late last month that I found out about the art contest they do annually for the comicon. You see there are different memberships for the comicon, Full Day pass, Sunday pass, Saturday pass, Volunteer pass, etc. When you purchase a membership, you get a badge to wear during the comicon, and on these badges they have all sorts of artwork. When I went, I was happy to get a lovely piece of fan art of Quorra from <i>Tron: Legacy </i>on my badge. So, apparently they hold a contest every year for local artists to compete and get their artwork on these said badges. I was super excited when I found out! I would love more than anything to get my artwork on a badge for the Phoenix Comicon. It may not seem like such a big deal, but to me as a fan, I love it. If there is one thing I will never lose is my love for fans precisely because I shall always be a fan myself. I've sent in my piece, then, and I shall know soon if I pass the First Stage of the judging process. This contest has three stages of judging, which is one of the reasons why I'm blogging about this now. If I get through the First Stage, then in the Second it is up to the public to vote. I will need the support of all you in that part of the competition, so I'll keep you updated on the whole thing.<br />
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Now on to my actual art piece. I would have thought up lovely ideas for <i>Avengers </i>or <i>Star Trek, </i>but I figured that they would most likely have many entries about those as well as other comic book related material. I decided then to go with Sherlock Holmes because first of all, I love it and secondly, all things Holmesian have risen to popularity. With the release of Guy Ritchie's excellent Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law version to the modern retellings in BBC's <i>Sherlock </i>and CBS's <i>Elementary, </i>everyone is crazy for Sherlock Holmes and his loyal companion John Watson. I've recently become a huge <i>Elementary </i>fan, so I thought it would be perfect to create a Sherlock Holmes piece. I thought it would probably be more fitting to keep it in Guy Ritchie's universe, though, with the visage of Robert Downey Jr. So, I came up with this idea:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5PrC8gdY91ZYJ7vluLJKiif1OGgLZPRjhrksKKbRc1ImCI1xKFHNtkLux2BmZCkv2wUA2zIAy5lj8M4ZxijG0tl7e3cmqB3lJvQ-ZO_O2yZ5Ig4HLorPbuRNWAZbzRKtpzWrXDEeLv0/s1600/HolmesBadgeArtH_BlogVersion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5PrC8gdY91ZYJ7vluLJKiif1OGgLZPRjhrksKKbRc1ImCI1xKFHNtkLux2BmZCkv2wUA2zIAy5lj8M4ZxijG0tl7e3cmqB3lJvQ-ZO_O2yZ5Ig4HLorPbuRNWAZbzRKtpzWrXDEeLv0/s400/HolmesBadgeArtH_BlogVersion.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It was a little bit of a challenge because they require you to have the art piece in two different sizes, horizontal and vertical, so I had to make sure this design worked in both. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfkseynDm_aaxChQE95SYhYBK69LNqSdhwcA7h64Rp_tBNoV-I6dZvFwALhu_j5tW08CfGxAgZZOUpA-ic_fwA4E_cDeU45tovqHpvUhvMAj8IBeUtUUZfdDDAEmbRsZVVkGjBVo_o6k/s1600/HolmesBadgeArtV_BlogVersion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfkseynDm_aaxChQE95SYhYBK69LNqSdhwcA7h64Rp_tBNoV-I6dZvFwALhu_j5tW08CfGxAgZZOUpA-ic_fwA4E_cDeU45tovqHpvUhvMAj8IBeUtUUZfdDDAEmbRsZVVkGjBVo_o6k/s400/HolmesBadgeArtV_BlogVersion.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>
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I actually had to recreate the smoke for the two different versions, but I think they both work well in composition and movement. I must always have movement in my piece! As for the rest, I kept with the metallic, artsy, grunge theme of Ritchie's <i>Sherlock Holmes, </i>with the shadowy color scheme, ink-styled drawings, and lots and lots of texture. Another thing I kept in mind is one of the things I have observed about previous badge art for the comicon which is that they usually chose art pieces with a lot of contrast and/or color. It makes sense, seeing as a lot of comic book artwork is colorful and graphic. So, with that in mind, I added in the punch of red in different elements to really draw the eye across the piece and engage the viewer. I think it came out very punchy and graphic, and I love the texture of it. I've titled this piece: <i>Sherlock Holmes: It's Elementary. </i>With the puff of his pipe, Holmes can solve any crime in the streets of London (or New York), and it is all just<i> elementary</i>. </div>
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I hope to be able to announce more good news as time goes on. Thank you for viewing and I hope you've enjoyed this!</div>
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<b>3-26-2013</b></div>
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I'm excited to announce that I have made it to the second round, which is the voting process! I will be needing every vote I can get, so please come and vote for me at:</div>
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<a href="http://badgeart.phoenixcomicon.com/" target="_blank"><b>Badge Art Contest</b></a></div>
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Here are the directions:</div>
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1. You can use your Facebook or Twitter to login, but you can also create your own unique login name with your email and they'll send you a password. </div>
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2. You are able to vote for me every day, so it isn't just a one time voting process.</div>
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3. Voting is open until April 21st.</div>
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Thank you so much!</div>
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<b>4-29-2013</b></div>
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I'm thrilled to announce that I won the contest! A shout out thank you to all who have voted for me and made it possible for me to win this contest. My artwork was used for the "Press" Badge, which is fitting. You can view the winners <a href="https://www.phoenixcomicon.com/page/67">Here.</a> Thank you all!</div>
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Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-23424491796522934812013-01-30T17:15:00.003-08:002013-01-30T17:15:35.178-08:00Illustrations of Earthsea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you've been reading my blog, it has probably become apparent what I love to read and watch, what inspires me and fuels my imagination. Avengers to Isaac Asimov and now to Ursula K. Le Guin. I adore her Earthsea Cycle. Though I haven't finished reading all the books in the series, her style is very old school (i.e. C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and George McDonald), and her tales of Earthsea are haunting and rich with the traditional folklore of wizards, dragons, and magic, but have a lot of philosophical depth and originality.<i> </i>I love that her stories are driven by the characters and their inner growth, rather than the externals, i.e. the wizards, dragons, etc, yet all of it is thoroughly developed and woven together. Of the books I have read, I loved every one, but something particularly drew me to <i>The Farthest Shore, </i>which is the third book in her series. It is centered on the Archmage Sparrowhawk (or Ged as is his real name) and the young prince Arren and their quest to save the world as they know it from a great Darkness that is undoing all things. Pretty traditional, but her execution is not as the story follows these two characters. I find it rather reminiscent of the journey Frodo and Sam take into Mordor in <i>The Lord of the Rings, </i>as the Archmage and Arren meet many trials on their journey into the Dry Land (the place of the Dead), and sacrifices are made. The book approaches ideas about Death and Immortality, but also of personal growth. Simple, but somehow profound through its telling. It is mournful, ethereal, but not without hope. The imagery really stuck with me, and so when taking an advanced drawing class at my college, I decided to do 5 illustrations for this story.<br />
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The illustrations had to be large format, 18 x 24, which is not traditional for me. I also used charcoal and white conte, which is not my normal medium. It was challenging for both these reasons and since I was working on a colored paper, which would serve as my medium tones, and had to work in the darks and lights with the charcoal and conte. It was a little awkward because I usually build up my shading by many, many layers of light shading, so going from light to dark, but I sought help from a great early 20th century illustrator (my favorites!) Elihu Vedder and his work on the Rubaiyat. It is hard to find really good examples of his work on the internet, but I once saw a show where they had all of them displayed at my local art museum, and they were absolutely stunning to see in person! Here are just two examples:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxTHZQO7PK0BcCCHclB4WsDB9tzauBhXHZnv6e5eD0WEM0cPeAb-gZ5xOLbM8lY_EcSFRCThRo-1M0_T-2wKWM8awxk4jpo3CKbNsUHcPyfkW3762J1MGmjs8AeGZJYyak8n1XbBFiBc/s1600/BlogExample2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxTHZQO7PK0BcCCHclB4WsDB9tzauBhXHZnv6e5eD0WEM0cPeAb-gZ5xOLbM8lY_EcSFRCThRo-1M0_T-2wKWM8awxk4jpo3CKbNsUHcPyfkW3762J1MGmjs8AeGZJYyak8n1XbBFiBc/s320/BlogExample2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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He worked with the medium toned paper, building his dark and light value tones. His touch is so soft and subtle, and I love the movement he creates in his figures as well. In these two examples, the one on the left you are drawn in by the twisted arms of this angelic creature leading this young woman. Your eye follows down the delicate twists of his cloak and her dress, but then you are drawn upward by his wings. On the right, the weeping woman's contorted body becomes one with the swirling contortion of the cloth around her. It is so elegant in its execution. There was just something about those early 20th century illustrators in the way they were able to capture the emotion and power of stories, fairytales, and poetry in their use of line, texture, and subtle hues. Normally they had a very minimalistic color palette, or at least from those I am usually inspired by, and I think that adds to the atmosphere and power of their art.<br />
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My main source of inspiration for my illustrations was Elihu Vedder, but I also drew from Gustave Dore and Arthur Rackham, who I've spoken on before. Here are examples:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOMvb6TLgALm-SmNc5VDbh6lbMjBvDxwELoHxU3zpARwdA5gwmzxfHqRW24QRYTOptjj-t6zP4w7f-FvwKV_6e5vtVuoU_iyYG8rqZfKkO3RBha33lqZRQAic-rqRxaro_xGpZ1Ss_5I/s1600/BlogExample1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOMvb6TLgALm-SmNc5VDbh6lbMjBvDxwELoHxU3zpARwdA5gwmzxfHqRW24QRYTOptjj-t6zP4w7f-FvwKV_6e5vtVuoU_iyYG8rqZfKkO3RBha33lqZRQAic-rqRxaro_xGpZ1Ss_5I/s320/BlogExample1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Destruction of the Levithan" by Gustave Dore<br />
& "Undine" by Arthur Rackham</td></tr>
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Gustave Dore was an illustrator who mostly worked in engravings, which I think is so impressive considering the scope and detail he was able to achieve. Looking at the example I had here of the leviathan, you can see the drama he creates with movement and line. The swirling mass of leviathan and water is so dynamic and it is all engraved into a wood block! Arthur Rackham's work is just gorgeous, and what I love is that in many of his pieces the characters almost become one with their surroundings, by the uniform of color, movement, and lines. In this example Undine is blown by the wind into the very landscape of branches and forest growth. It is otherwordly and rich with detail.<br />
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With these images in mind, I began my work. They are listed in chronological order of the story and I have below each of them the excerpts that I chose.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RY8-K8vyVBUFzHmNQb_SsJl0UW5yjIyONXOuhWqMXG1QAeJIo3_pT7-_94IHesnrWHY4g4fh-Ido2XoXpqqC5uAlfd_6cVeB_BN4DgOQe2cEMTvk-YezVY1EL-azYwS7XtOj9oX_xzE/s1600/FS_Illustration_05blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RY8-K8vyVBUFzHmNQb_SsJl0UW5yjIyONXOuhWqMXG1QAeJIo3_pT7-_94IHesnrWHY4g4fh-Ido2XoXpqqC5uAlfd_6cVeB_BN4DgOQe2cEMTvk-YezVY1EL-azYwS7XtOj9oX_xzE/s400/FS_Illustration_05blog.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The oarsmen sat like carved statues. <br />
Crewmen stood in the waist of the ship, their eyes shining a little. <br />
Alone on the port side stood a man, and it was from him that the light came, <br />
from the face and hands and staff that burned like molten silver.<br />
At the feet of the radiant man a dark shape was crouched."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy44cVbAOrE0uh6SOQquiKc8rtLZTxCvGhUllfE_76tmhb6U0PewKR0lvl-Pk222kVtpNGOHHO4dwghfUZRApZpDEmdqCpRNp_ziIBKsZcU4xRzWQjqhMmbhcfyq8nKvEI2wYSi6kSavI/s1600/FS_Illustration_01Blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy44cVbAOrE0uh6SOQquiKc8rtLZTxCvGhUllfE_76tmhb6U0PewKR0lvl-Pk222kVtpNGOHHO4dwghfUZRApZpDEmdqCpRNp_ziIBKsZcU4xRzWQjqhMmbhcfyq8nKvEI2wYSi6kSavI/s400/FS_Illustration_01Blog.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"He was running the darkening gloom, faster and faster, around the sinking <br />
inner lip of a pit, an enormous whirlpool sucking down to darkness..."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqF5wK2n47QIYVx00qWIXgKGxDkRnhCyAQ4oWzSF9qx-puBOXHV-_vcJxOsZ7AAKXiioTgJqztGlrcep3Fh6iiNImDkYe_3Mffwz5X9wGdfCSs4bOvfYta1qrVajX4eSHsU5JIOCJL5w/s1600/FS_Illustration_02Blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqF5wK2n47QIYVx00qWIXgKGxDkRnhCyAQ4oWzSF9qx-puBOXHV-_vcJxOsZ7AAKXiioTgJqztGlrcep3Fh6iiNImDkYe_3Mffwz5X9wGdfCSs4bOvfYta1qrVajX4eSHsU5JIOCJL5w/s400/FS_Illustration_02Blog.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"As he gathered brushwood for their fire in a creek-valley, in that red light,<br />
Arren glanced up and saw a man standing not ten feet from him. <br />
The man's face looked vague and strange, but Arren knew him, <br />
the Dyer of Lorbanery, Sopli , who was dead.<br />
Behind him stood others, all with sad, staring faces. They seem to speak,<br />
but Arren could not hear their words, only a kind of whispering blown<br />
away by the west wind. Some of them came toward him slowly."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlunsfgaQ8p2Xo41FjK39vOkR9lJU5t1p69xvyzLJqQgOuFVRRFmWR_2R4nSw6JgceQr8J_cdiF6940Jma8c3HNaLPmRI_G92F5_oJ533Qs8YVTDOufQwPqjERqq3XgNnWcmqFHZzx3-8/s1600/FS_Illustration_03Blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlunsfgaQ8p2Xo41FjK39vOkR9lJU5t1p69xvyzLJqQgOuFVRRFmWR_2R4nSw6JgceQr8J_cdiF6940Jma8c3HNaLPmRI_G92F5_oJ533Qs8YVTDOufQwPqjERqq3XgNnWcmqFHZzx3-8/s400/FS_Illustration_03Blog.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"With all the skill of his life's training and with all the strength of his fierce heart,<br />
Ged strove to shut that door, to make the world whole once more."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4EUlVOGncBWhddjvELNlrwkq_G9StVHGnSMhUgSDxKdsFG_XlAYmkL9gr1OYcmINb_BH2O3rWcxcS-6W2PNo38ltjeAxIQqLkR2YMHK64WMyljn17kZqExD8ZuSYd5NDRvIKg1RfOmV8/s1600/FS_Illustration_04Blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4EUlVOGncBWhddjvELNlrwkq_G9StVHGnSMhUgSDxKdsFG_XlAYmkL9gr1OYcmINb_BH2O3rWcxcS-6W2PNo38ltjeAxIQqLkR2YMHK64WMyljn17kZqExD8ZuSYd5NDRvIKg1RfOmV8/s400/FS_Illustration_04Blog.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"When Arren woke, a grey fog hid the sea and the dunes and hills<br />
of Selidor. The breakers came murmuring in a low thunder<br />
out of the fog and withdrew murmuring into it again."</td></tr>
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I really wanted to make the surrounding atmosphere strong around these characters, with swirling clouds, water, or stone, and the characters flowing with it as one. This is how I felt while reading the book, her atmosphere thick with the Darkness that was invading the land. It was isolating, cold, and mysterious and this effected the landscape. I kept with the movement of the lines, clouds moving into sky, into water, into stone, into cloth, into trees, etc which creates a steady rhythm. In this way, I feel that it heightens the feeling of the fantastical, making the landscapes like dreamscapes, more surreal and magical. This movement is something that I felt was key in the early 20th century illustrators that I've listed above and one of the reasons why I'm so drawn to their work. <br />
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So, despite my often frustrations in working with charcoal, I enjoyed creating these pieces. I hope you have enjoyed them as well. My next posts I hope to be able to share new pieces, but seeing as this month was so busy for me, I thought it would be a good opportunity to show some earlier work that I don't usually get to show. It was also a great excuse for me to photograph and make this into digital copies. Anyway, please come back in a few weeks, and have a good February!</div>
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Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222030768950370789.post-56536880572005474202012-12-29T22:08:00.003-08:002015-03-23T17:54:21.803-07:00Not By Bread Alone<i>And the word of the LORD came to him: “Depart from here and turn eastward and hide yourself by the brook Cherith, which is east of the Jordan. You shall drink from the brook, and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there.” So he went and did according to the word of the LORD. He went and lived by the brook Cherith that is east of the Jordan. And the ravens brought him bread and meat in the morning, and bread and meat in the evening, and he drank from the brook.</i><br />
1 Kings 17:2-6<br />
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We are coming upon the new year, and I thought I would do one last post before 2012 is ended. It is a piece that I was inspired to do based on my graphic novel <i>Elijah. </i>I haven't been able to do much on my graphic novel for various reasons, but the past couple of weeks I've gone back to my ideas and began brainstorming and working on it. Thankfully, I was able to solve some problems I was running into which lead to me be inspired to take it up again. So, God willing, it is my full intention to really pursue my graphic novel in 2013 and to see if I can finish it within the year. It would be so exciting if I could! For now, I have this piece which I've entitled <i>Not By Bread Alone. </i>Keeping with my inspiration from<a href="http://www.daniellepajakillustrations.blogspot.com/2012/05/four-sketches-in-movement-and-metaphor.html" target="_blank"> Amano</a>, I came up with this character piece of Elijah of the scene where he is being fed by God through ravens at the brook Cherith.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBTgngl0ss_COGh_lSkxbBL4hF_8ap1V7ez6Vh_5YyJDizKelsvII7BmHXjcqMVxmw51LqEUgmsT6JpzGRASJsqtBvfehmM1peyZ9ntpbBYM_pgzC3hqhzDzqQL617PYKZXpiJKKV0GU/s1600/NotByBreadAlone_BlogVersion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBTgngl0ss_COGh_lSkxbBL4hF_8ap1V7ez6Vh_5YyJDizKelsvII7BmHXjcqMVxmw51LqEUgmsT6JpzGRASJsqtBvfehmM1peyZ9ntpbBYM_pgzC3hqhzDzqQL617PYKZXpiJKKV0GU/s400/NotByBreadAlone_BlogVersion.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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With the movement and the abstraction of the composition, I wanted to achieve a feeling of suspension and serenity considering the scene being depicted. The word of the Lord has come to Elijah to keep himself hidden from King Ahab for a time. There the Lord, by His grace and power, sustains and protects His servant by the brook and the ravens. The surrealistic quality of the water, ravens, and Elijah flowing as one element creates that ethereal atmosphere of a prophet being fed by his God. For it is not merely the physical needs that are being met, but that through this miraculous act of ravens, it shows that it is not by bread alone that we are to live, but by the Word of the Lord; for it was by the word of the Lord that these ravens had come.</div>
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It might look as if I had done this image in pen to create the line work, but I actually did this piece all in pencil first. The shading of the ravens behind him and all the lines are pencil work. I then went into Photoshop and did the rest of the coloring and manipulation there. I actually love a lot of the techniques that are used for pen, but I've never been able to get used to the pen itself. So, lately I've been using pen techniques with my pencil work, and have been pleased with the results. As for this piece, I wanted to use those pen techniques to achieve that two-dimensional look. This is a lot like the<a href="http://www.daniellepajakillustrations.blogspot.com/2012/07/low-whisper.html" target="_blank"> Japanese woodblock</a> prints that I've discussed before on this blog, but with the texture I've added and the coloring, I've also noticed that it is like the medieval <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Illuminated_manuscript" target="_blank">illuminated manuscripts</a> as well. The golden hue of this piece has that glow of the gold leaf that the monks used in their manuscripts at the time to achieve that feeling of the heavenlies. The art of illuminated manuscripts, just like with Art Nouveau, is always there subtly influencing my work.</div>
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Well, this is a short post, but as I said, I hope to be posting progress on my graphic novel soon. I hope you all have a Happy New Year!</div>
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<i>But he answered,</i><br />
<i> “It is written,</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“‘Man shall not live by bread alone, </i><br />
<i> but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”</i><br />
Matthew 4:4Danielle Pajakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10678551471984388801noreply@blogger.com4