It seems almost... mundane news to be finishing another book. I've been at this whole writing thing for years now, and it seems like just another day. Almost. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some writing veteran, but when you do something for so long, it starts to become the norm.
On the other hand, five years ago I never thought I'd write one novel, let alone multiple books. All things being equal, I'm pretty excited.
Only Gingers Can Be Witches was completed last week, and is ready to take its long nap while I begin editing The Sometimes Sword. It's been a weird ride, I can tell you that. I've experienced some of the highest highs and the lowest lows while writing this book, and I'm glad to see it's finally paid off. I've dropped it off to multiple beta readers, and I hope they enjoy, and don't rip me to shreds. *Chuckles nervously* Hopefully I'll be able to make it back to the book by this Fall, and then querying by Winter.
So now I embark on the strange and frustrating journey of editing, a journey I don't yet have much experience in. Wish me luck!
Diversity, show-don't-tell, and a query tip.
Oh wow, okay. It's been a very long time since I posted anything, but that doesn't mean I haven't been up to a lot. I've just passed the 50k mark on my current book titled Only Gingers Can Be Witches. I'm coming up on the official start of editing The Sometimes Sword version 2.0 (which some of you will remember I finished about two months ago). I'm now sitting on 4 novel-length works in my (admittedly short) writing career, which is a little mind-boggling to me. Hopefully I will be ready to begin querying The Sometimes Sword by the end of this Fall.
The Salem Witch Trials.
No, this is not going to be some intelligent study of the events that took place way back when. (See right there? I don't even know the dates.) I just find the whole thing really interesting, so I thought I'd talk about it a little bit. Over the last week I've been writing a new book while I let The Sometimes Sword rest, and it includes a young witch character. So I thought, hey, I'll do some research on witches and witchcraft, just for kicks you know? I even went to the library with Becky. Let me tell you, I never thought I would find myself looking up witchcraft in a public place using the Dewey Decimal System. But you live and learn right?
Anyway, I found some great books, some a little more.... technically informative than I preferred (let me just stress, I am NOT a witch, you people with torches and pitch forks), but overall there was some good stuff. A lot of the books focused on presenting thoughts and evidence on two sides of the whole witchcraft issue; for, or against. I'll just say this: the Christian pastor who tried to represent Harry Potter as evil in his arguments came off looking quite a bit worse than the self proclaimed Wicca did in her arguments. But that's beside the point.
Anyway, I found some great books, some a little more.... technically informative than I preferred (let me just stress, I am NOT a witch, you people with torches and pitch forks), but overall there was some good stuff. A lot of the books focused on presenting thoughts and evidence on two sides of the whole witchcraft issue; for, or against. I'll just say this: the Christian pastor who tried to represent Harry Potter as evil in his arguments came off looking quite a bit worse than the self proclaimed Wicca did in her arguments. But that's beside the point.
A quick update.
I've been really busy lately, which is a good thing. Sometimes I think back to two years ago when I worked full time and didn't go to college; and I wonder what I did with my time. True, that job was incredibly stressful and I usually worked over time (almost 60 hours a week around the holidays), but other than that, I didn't have much else to do. I'll admit to spending hours and hours playing World of Warcraft, mostly just to unwind after work.
Now however, I work a (relatively) low stress part time job (if my boss can keep the company afloat that is), attend school part time, and write. It's a pretty nice set up, and I know I'm lucky to have it. I was able to finish my rewrite of The Sometimes Sword just a couple of weeks ago, and it's currently in the hands of my beta readers. In a month or so I'll be starting up my web comic Kestrel with my brother Travis, and as of this last Monday, I've officially started my fourth novel. My brain is swimming in fiction and it's awesome!
It seems as time goes on I find myself wanting to write for younger and younger audiences. And I'm cool with that. I know it won't always be that way (I like to write violence and dark stuff too much to never return to adult fiction), but for now it's what's floating my boat. Here's how it goes: my first book ever was written for adults; the second, for the older end of YA; the third (which was a rewrite of the second) lowered that age by two years; and now I have this new book, written most likely for kids ages ten and up. Perhaps I'm just regressing, losing some of my ability to write mature material. Who knows.
Anyway, it's my first attempt at a diverse fantasy, and I'm really excited about it. It's about a young girl living in a smallish town in late 1996 (heck yeah, I'm way excited for a period piece). One day, another girl moves in down the street, and she just so happens to be a real, self taught witch, complete with pointed hat and striped stockings. They get into shenanigans and a mystery unfolds. Should be fun.
So that's what I'm doing so far! What about you?
Now however, I work a (relatively) low stress part time job (if my boss can keep the company afloat that is), attend school part time, and write. It's a pretty nice set up, and I know I'm lucky to have it. I was able to finish my rewrite of The Sometimes Sword just a couple of weeks ago, and it's currently in the hands of my beta readers. In a month or so I'll be starting up my web comic Kestrel with my brother Travis, and as of this last Monday, I've officially started my fourth novel. My brain is swimming in fiction and it's awesome!
It seems as time goes on I find myself wanting to write for younger and younger audiences. And I'm cool with that. I know it won't always be that way (I like to write violence and dark stuff too much to never return to adult fiction), but for now it's what's floating my boat. Here's how it goes: my first book ever was written for adults; the second, for the older end of YA; the third (which was a rewrite of the second) lowered that age by two years; and now I have this new book, written most likely for kids ages ten and up. Perhaps I'm just regressing, losing some of my ability to write mature material. Who knows.
Anyway, it's my first attempt at a diverse fantasy, and I'm really excited about it. It's about a young girl living in a smallish town in late 1996 (heck yeah, I'm way excited for a period piece). One day, another girl moves in down the street, and she just so happens to be a real, self taught witch, complete with pointed hat and striped stockings. They get into shenanigans and a mystery unfolds. Should be fun.
So that's what I'm doing so far! What about you?
T-shirt contest results announced!
Alrighty! It's Monday, which means it's free t-shirt time! This month's interview with Isaac Stewart was a huge success, with well over a thousand of you showing up on the first day alone to read the great stuff he had to say. Over one hundred people entered the contest by commenting, at which point Ink Wing Arts decided to add another shirt to the mix. Thank you everyone for entering and supporting Isaac, Ink Wing Arts, and myself.
okay, on to the good stuff. I drew two names, both of which ended up not having any contact info, which was too bad. After drawing again, the same thing came up. Unfortunately "Unknown" with no email, Twitter handle, or Facebook was not a valid entry! (Believe me, I tried to do everything I could to track down their info.) Ah, but such is life. So after a third try, success! Our two winners are:
Sean Jackson
Gandy93
Congrats guys, I'll be sending you an email here soon to give you further instructions!
Well, thanks to everyone else who entered; don't be too sad about not winning, I'll be hosting monthly giveaways from here on out, so make sure to add me and stop by to say hi! If you still want a shirt, stop by InkWing.com and check out their great deals.
Interview with Isaac Stewart, the man behind the maps of Mistborn and The Way of Kings! Also, a free t-shirt contest! Yay!
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| "Save the puppies." |
WANT TO WIN A FREE T-SHIRT?
The other big thing is this: by coming to my blog and checking out this super-sweet interview, you have taken the first steps toward the possibility, nay, the opportunity to win a free t-shirt of your choice from InkWing.com, the merch site for everything Brandon Sanderson (which is run by, guess who, Isaac Stewart). How does one win such a prize, you ask? By leaving a comment of course! Each unique visitor's comment will be assigned a number, which will then be pulled from a hat (you'll have to trust me that I'm actually using a hat, and not a coffee can or something). Please make sure you leave a way for me to contact you if you are the winner! (That's important.) Multiple comments by the same person will be considered as only ONE submission. The contest will close on April 15th, 2012, and the winner will be announced on this blog on April 16th, 2012.
UPDATE: Due to the volume of awesome people commenting (like you!), Ink Wing Arts would like to throw a second shirt into the contest! Meaning you no longer have to sharpen your swords to fight for just one shirt, but two! (Still only one shirt per winner; your chances simply went up.) Keep em coming!
UPDATE UPDATE: The contest has officially closed. Winners have been announced, check out the latest post for more info! Thanks everyone for your support!
Celebrating Diversity, Not Killing It.
I've been thinking about a lot of things related to our society lately, to the point where my brain has officially overflowed. I suppose I'll begin emptying it slowly by writing about it. I don't even know how this particular post is going to end up. We'll see, but be warned, this will be a true, flat-out ramble, so here goes.
I've been increasingly concerned with the state of our world in the last couple of years, and I don't know what to do about it. It seems like humanity is going to doom itself no matter what the few try to do. Violence, war, hate, disdain, anger, prejudice, and bigotry run rampant everywhere I look. What is it about being human that makes this okay? How has the world not stopped and said, "Hey, whoa. What's going on here? This isn't how things should be, let's fix this!"? Sure, over time there have been tons of individuals that say exactly this, such as Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., John Lennon, and others. (Note: they were all murdered.) Why is it only the people who truly care about what is right are labeled as "outspoken"? Shouldn't the violent ones, the hateful people of the world be the "outspoken" ones? What's wrong with us?
I've been increasingly concerned with the state of our world in the last couple of years, and I don't know what to do about it. It seems like humanity is going to doom itself no matter what the few try to do. Violence, war, hate, disdain, anger, prejudice, and bigotry run rampant everywhere I look. What is it about being human that makes this okay? How has the world not stopped and said, "Hey, whoa. What's going on here? This isn't how things should be, let's fix this!"? Sure, over time there have been tons of individuals that say exactly this, such as Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., John Lennon, and others. (Note: they were all murdered.) Why is it only the people who truly care about what is right are labeled as "outspoken"? Shouldn't the violent ones, the hateful people of the world be the "outspoken" ones? What's wrong with us?
My review of Chuck Wendig's DOUBLE DEAD. Goretastic. Goregasmic? Go to church to Goreship?
by Chuck Wendig
5 out of 5 stars. Imagine them.
First off, I'm gonna tell you all that Double Dead is not for the faint of heart. If you suffer from a severely overactive gag reflex, heart murmurs, are a nun, or you're just straight up noodle-necked (not a real thing), stay well back. If you don't fall into those categories, pick up the dang book. I give Double Dead 5 solid stars, and it deserves it.
Published Author Interview with Bryce Moore, the man behind VODNIK, available March 28th through Tu Books!
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| Out March 28th 2012! |
Alright, I know March's Writer Interview is really late, but I have a good reason, I promise! Just give me a moment to explain! Last year I had the opportunity to meet Bryce Moore at Conduit 2011 (where I also met Peter Orullian, another author interviewee of mine who you can read up on here). We chatted a bit about his book Vodnik, which (I believe) he had contracted recently. A year later, it's finally coming out! Last month I contacted Bryce about doing an interview to help publicize Vodnik to some of my readers, and he agreed, 'cause he's a cool guy like that. He provided me with the ARC (Advanced Reader's Copy) so I could familiarize myself with it, which I did enthusiastically. You can read my review here. We decided to hold off on releasing the interview itself until Vodnik was closer to being available, in order to help with the initial sales effort. You all know how important the first few weeks of a book's release are, right? Right? 'Cause a book's first month is huge in determining the continued support of marketing dollars, and plays a large roll in how many retailers want to stock it.
Anyway, Vodnik is great; probably my favorite book of this last year. It's different than most others I've read, and totally refreshing. But I'll let you read my full review yourselves. Make sure to check out the link Bryce provided at the bottom of the interview, where you can purchase the Kindle version right now (in case you didn't know, most smartphones, definitely the iPhone, have Kindle apps. FYI). The hardcover of Vodnik will be officially released on March 28th. So pick it up; it's totally worth it.
A review of Bryce Moore's VODNIK. In short? Excellent.
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| My unofficial rating. |
VODNIK
Every once in a while, I read a book that ends up being the equivalent to a tall, icy glass of water. Or better yet, Sprite. Just refreshing. I can think of several in my own reading experience (just to name a few): Harry Potter, Fablehaven, and most recently, Vodnik by Bryce Moore. Now don't mistake me, I'm not comparing these books to each other, or even grouping them up under some category, I'm simply saying they all gave me the same sense of excitement; the feeling that I was reading something new. With Harry Potter I was blown away in part because it was one of the first true Urban Fantasies I had read (not to mention a million other things, love that series). Fablehaven was bursting with simple imagination and adventure, something I really needed at the time I read it. Vodnik smacked me in my face and showed me that true wit, sarcasm, earnest story-telling, multi-layered plotting, grit, and fairy tales can all inhabit the same book.
Partial review of THE MUPPETS, focused on one specific area.
The Muppets seemed to be the perfect candidate with which to
study narrative structure. After all, a beloved children’s
franchise famous for also entertaining adults was more than likely to
contain a Hollywood-style composition. It didn’t fail to deliver.
It has most of what makes a good screenplay: conflict, clarity of
plot, and a storybook climax. However, it lacks one very important
thing, split into three subcategories: resolution against a
believable, scary antagonist with clear motivations. This missing
piece was its undoing, destroying the rest of the film and
trivializing the conflict.
The story of The Muppets begins with a lighthearted montage
highlighting the relationship between two brothers: one a puppet
character named Walter who dreams of becoming a Muppet someday, the
other a human named Gary played by Jason Segel. It establishes their
appreciation of each other, and sets up one of the main conflicts:
Walter’s growing dissatisfaction with his differences. Over the
next few chunks of movie, we learn that they are setting out on a
trip to visit Los Angeles for Gary and his girlfriend Mary’s
ten-year anniversary, Walter in tow. The young puppet is thrilled to
have the chance to visit the Muppet Studios where all the episodes of
The Muppet Show were recorded decades ago.
Unfortunately, when they arrive they find the studio shut down,
derelict, covered in dust, and strung with spiderwebs. Only a single,
disgruntled tour guide remains, who takes them unenthusiastically to
Kermit the Frog’s former office. We learn that the Muppets have
been out of style for years, and after drifting apart, they were
forgotten.
Walter wanders off and happens to overhear a convenient conversation
between three suited figures, one of which is Tex Richman. He and his
cronies discuss a plan to take over the Muppet Studios due to a small
article within the “standard Rich and Famous” contract Kermit
signed years ago. It states that Tex Richman has the rights to the
property by a certain date, if the Muppets are unable to come up with
ten million dollars. This is the point where we learn that Tex is the
“bad guy”. Walter learns of the dastardly villain’s plot to
level the studios and drill for oil (which is strange, considering
the studios are located in the middle of the city…). Walter, of
course, then sets out on a journey to reunite the Muppets so they can
put on one last show, raise the money, and buy their studio back.
This seems like a relatively reasonable set up for the film that
follows, seeing as most audiences would be accepting of such a simple
plot. However, Tex Richman fails to live up to the image the film
makers want him to have. He is never scary, seldom intimidating, and
last of all, he has no reason to be doing what he is doing.
For a short time after the character is first introduced, Tex appears
to be nice, pretending to be converting the Muppet Studios into a
Muppet museum. Walter soon finds the real reason for the takeover by
listening in secretly, at which point Tex tells his henchmen to
perform a “maniacal laugh”. They do so, to the audience’s
confusion. Much later in the movie, we discover that the reason for
this is because of Tex Richman’s own inability to laugh, maniacally
or otherwise. It’s an interesting quirk to give a villain, but the
late reveal defeats the effectiveness, essentially robbing the
audience of something to identify the antagonist with for the
majority of the movie.
The only real encounter the Muppets have face to face with Tex is
well before the climax, in the billionaire’s office, where a
ridiculously embarrassing hip hop number takes place featuring the
villain himself, rapping about how he does anything and everything he
wants, because he is rich. Kermit sits bemused, while the audience
covers their faces in shame. Any smidgen of intimidation previously
present is very suddenly gone.
Even the climax of the film is lackluster (though it does have one of
the only instances of much appreciated nostalgia). Tex attempts to
shut down the power to the studio while the Muppets are filming a
telethon meant to save them and raise ten million dollars. He rams
his car into a power pole, severs a main power line, and eventually
tries to cut live wires on top of the building with nothing but bolt
cutters (never mind how deadly it would be if he succeeded). Through
all of this, there is no contact with the heroes of the story.
Eventually one of his own “turned-leaf” henchmen takes the bolt
cutters from him, and essentially knocks him out by accident. The
entire sequence only serves to make Tex look childish, incompetent,
and utterly un-threatening.
One of the main downfalls of the entire plot was the lack of
motivation Tex Richman had for doing what he does. By openly
acknowledging the fact that even the film makers don’t know why he
is such a bad guy, the audience is given nothing with which to
reconcile the events taking place. We are told that Tex is bad
because that is his nature, which only works for faceless Evil
Overlords in their towers, not men in business suits. To essentially
tell the audience, “Laugh with us, ‘cause Tex being a bad
dude just ‘because’ is a joke,” doesn’t work.
Mainly because it has been done before (and better) in The Great
Muppet Caper, when Kermit asks Steve Martin’s character, “Why
are you doing this?” to which the villain replies charmingly,
“Because I’m a villain!”.
Also, the city of Los Angeles would definitely not allow oil
drilling efforts to take place directly on top of the oil deposit.
The red tape, zoning issues, and most of all, the local public’s
involvement in the inevitable protests would be impossible to
surmount. At very least, Tex would have to introduce an angled system
to allow a long drill and line to access the oil from outside city
limits, thus leaving the Muppet Studio untouched. This would be his
only option, and hardly feasible. Thus the entire conflict of
the story is fundamentally flawed in a large, very noticeable way.
All of the above aside, the conflict fails to resolve properly. Tex
is not defeated or even shown up by the Muppets and friends (they
fail to get the ten million dollars by the time limit). There are
several resolutions across the board, from Walter’s inclusion into
the ranks of the Muppets, Kermit’s reconcile with Miss Piggy,
Gary’s proposal to Mary, to the resurgence of the Muppet’s
relevance in modern media. However, they do nothing to overcome Tex’s
“evil”, there is no comeuppance, and there is no resolution to
his involvement. Almost as an afterthought, the film maker’s have
Gonzo hit the (somehow) defeated villain with a bowling ball on
accident, loosening a laugh from him for the first time, after which
Tex decides to give the Muppets back their studio. It’s shoddy
writing, and a huge let down, trivializing the efforts of all the
characters involved.
Many people might say that all of these facts are pointless when
applied to a kid’s movie. That a movie like The Muppets isn’t
intended to wrap one’s mind in layers of mystery and plot. It’s
meant to enjoyed, simply and quickly. Well, it came close to
accomplishing that goal. But since the Muppets are famous for
entertaining all age groups with different levels of humor and
quality writing, it’s an excuse that doesn’t hold up. With just a
little tweaking of the antagonist in three key areas, it could have
ended as a much better film. Hopefully future Muppet movies take a
cue from their older predecessors and focus on a good story first,
and gimmicky characters last.
My World's Map. By Your's Truly.
I made this after attending a panel on mapmaking by Isaac Stewart at LTUE. Thought it might be fun to post. If you haven't realized, it's also my background.
Writing Is Uncertainty.
DISCLAIMER: I am not half as depressed as this makes me sound. Just keep that in mind.
I've been thinking lately about how I compare to other writers out there. I can't help but feel like I'm somehow different, broken, wrong. I always hear authors talk about how they doubted themselves back when they were writing their first five novels, but learned to get past it for the manuscript's sake. Kinda like a paralyzed dude triumphantly standing up from his wheelchair at the end of an inspirational movie. But then they leave it at that.
Well, I'm sorry to say, I'm not satisfied with that. I feel like I need to know more. I need to know if their pain (wow that's dramatic) is anything like mine, if their doubt is as soul-consuming. Do they struggle to understand their own writing's worth, like me? I'd like to someday see one of the authors I respect write about their issues, to really see if I'm so different and destined for failure.
Who knows if I'll ever get that wish. I guess they have a reputation to maintain, and such things would hurt it. Well, I don't have a reputation, so for what it's worth, here's my little list of things that I struggle with. If anything resonates with you, or you feel the same way, let me know, please.
I have no idea if I can write worth a crap.
When I write, the sentences often make me cringe.
I often hate my own imagination.
There are times when I look back at my day's writing, and feel a pit form in my stomach; I know I'll have to throw it all away.
I don't know who my characters are. I just hope to god someone else will. We talk all the time about building a strong personality with flaws and quirks, but at the end of the day, it means nothing to my brain.
As far as my own plot goes, it's all over my head, no matter how much I outline. I fly by the seat of my pants, praying I'll end up somewhere safe.
The concept of pacing completely eludes me.
I have no idea if my book is even the slightest bit original.
I don't know if my potential readers will get even the smallest bit of excitement from my action scenes.
When I try to write emotions, I feel they come off as corny and contrived.
When I post about writing, I feel like everyone is laughing at me. "Look at that idiot, he thinks he's an author!"
I don't know a damn about making people laugh.
I will never be a part of the "published author" community.
I don't have what it takes to get an agent or editor to like my books.
No one will ever want to read what I write.
Only spambots visit my blog.
When I look at all the people around me selling books, I know I'll never be as good as them. There are thousands of people writing, right now. I have no chance.
I'm wasting my life, doing this whole writing thing.
Everyone will lie to me when they read my book, tell me it's good. They most likely never read all the way through it.
I often feel like my family, of all people, care less than the strangers.
It's easy to end this by telling all of you to not let these things get you down. To keep going, and all that. I wish I could tell myself the same, and believe it. I won't stop writing any time soon, but I shudder to think that it will always be this way. Am I ready for a life of uncertainty?
I've been thinking lately about how I compare to other writers out there. I can't help but feel like I'm somehow different, broken, wrong. I always hear authors talk about how they doubted themselves back when they were writing their first five novels, but learned to get past it for the manuscript's sake. Kinda like a paralyzed dude triumphantly standing up from his wheelchair at the end of an inspirational movie. But then they leave it at that.
Well, I'm sorry to say, I'm not satisfied with that. I feel like I need to know more. I need to know if their pain (wow that's dramatic) is anything like mine, if their doubt is as soul-consuming. Do they struggle to understand their own writing's worth, like me? I'd like to someday see one of the authors I respect write about their issues, to really see if I'm so different and destined for failure.
Who knows if I'll ever get that wish. I guess they have a reputation to maintain, and such things would hurt it. Well, I don't have a reputation, so for what it's worth, here's my little list of things that I struggle with. If anything resonates with you, or you feel the same way, let me know, please.
I have no idea if I can write worth a crap.
When I write, the sentences often make me cringe.
I often hate my own imagination.
There are times when I look back at my day's writing, and feel a pit form in my stomach; I know I'll have to throw it all away.
I don't know who my characters are. I just hope to god someone else will. We talk all the time about building a strong personality with flaws and quirks, but at the end of the day, it means nothing to my brain.
As far as my own plot goes, it's all over my head, no matter how much I outline. I fly by the seat of my pants, praying I'll end up somewhere safe.
The concept of pacing completely eludes me.
I have no idea if my book is even the slightest bit original.
I don't know if my potential readers will get even the smallest bit of excitement from my action scenes.
When I try to write emotions, I feel they come off as corny and contrived.
When I post about writing, I feel like everyone is laughing at me. "Look at that idiot, he thinks he's an author!"
I don't know a damn about making people laugh.
I will never be a part of the "published author" community.
I don't have what it takes to get an agent or editor to like my books.
No one will ever want to read what I write.
Only spambots visit my blog.
When I look at all the people around me selling books, I know I'll never be as good as them. There are thousands of people writing, right now. I have no chance.
I'm wasting my life, doing this whole writing thing.
Everyone will lie to me when they read my book, tell me it's good. They most likely never read all the way through it.
I often feel like my family, of all people, care less than the strangers.
It's easy to end this by telling all of you to not let these things get you down. To keep going, and all that. I wish I could tell myself the same, and believe it. I won't stop writing any time soon, but I shudder to think that it will always be this way. Am I ready for a life of uncertainty?
Sprucing up a character.
I'm doing this right now. Hopefully some of my ramblings will make sense, possibly even be helpful if you're having the same problems as me. As most of you know, I'm in the middle of a second version of my book The Sometimes Sword. One of the main things I wanted to do this time around was inject more personality into everyone. I feel like so far I've been doing well. Most every aspect is a hundred times better than the first version: plot, descriptions, character voice, action, creepiness, etc. I can do even better though. I'm about halfway through with 61k words complete, but before I go any further, I want to go through and spruce up my main character Astrid.
She's always been the weak link. I've always been so focused on making her likable and relate-able. As I've been reading other books lately, I've been struck by how directly related character personality is linked to their foibles. They walk hand in hand. Therefore, it stands to reason that if Astrid lacks the proper amount of flaws, she also lacks an equal amount of personality. So I'm taking her back to the drawing board, re-evaluating her, and adding in some crap. We'll see how it goes.
She's always been the weak link. I've always been so focused on making her likable and relate-able. As I've been reading other books lately, I've been struck by how directly related character personality is linked to their foibles. They walk hand in hand. Therefore, it stands to reason that if Astrid lacks the proper amount of flaws, she also lacks an equal amount of personality. So I'm taking her back to the drawing board, re-evaluating her, and adding in some crap. We'll see how it goes.
Non-Fiction: A Study of Five Pieces of Art and Their Periods.
Baroque
The Calling of St. Matthew was painted from 1599 to 1600 by an artist known as Caravaggio, and was the piece that won him lasting fame. I chose this work because the dramatic lighting and easily identifiable emotions on the subjects’ faces are common qualities of the Baroque style. It highlights several new techniques and ideas of the times, and endures as an impressive work, even today. The figure of Christ is placed on the edge of the painting, only his head and upraised arm visible, emerging from deep shadows. This positioning is directly contrary to the Renaissance practice of placing the most important figure in the center of a work. A robed man stands next to Christ, possibly a disciple or apostle. A group of well-dressed money-lenders sit at a table counting coins and poring over ledgers, two of which fail to see Christ’s arrival. St. Matthew is one of these, his head bowed as his hands greedily separate gold coins. One of the lenders points to himself wonderingly, mistaking Christ’s pointed finger as intended for him. A dynamism to the figures’ arrangement and form speaks of the tension of the event, with the lenders looking on in confusion at the solemn face of Christ. Warm light spills from a high window, casting complicated shadows from limbs and folds of clothing. The palette is narrow, mostly earthy browns and yellows, but saturated reds and even greens can be seen.
While difficult to assign a specific set of characteristics to, the Baroque period certainly saw painters emphasizing realistic depictions of un-realistic subjects in everyday situations. For example, Caravaggio took this well-known scene from the Bible and placed the fantastic event (Christ calling a sinner from his greed to join Him in his ministry) into a very human and naturalistic setting. His subjects are relatable, not idealized, shown in believable positions, not contrived postures. The pronounced chiaroscuro (called tenebrism) of the lighting and darkened background, painstakingly rendered through real-world observation in his studio, was a stylistic breakthrough and influenced many artists of the Baroque period and later. It brought a new level of three-dimensionality and a theatrical quality to art.
This scene is more than just a depiction of a biblical story. It also serves as an allegorical warning. By placing the figures in contemporary clothing (of the time), Caravaggio gives the viewer pause, perhaps in an attempt to spark a thoughtful and emotional reaction in them. The meaning is clear: we are all sinners and slaves to greed. Only Christ can save us, if we but listen to his call.
The Calling of St. Matthew brought a new standard to painting, challenging artists to observe and recreate the reality of the natural world. Its subjects, blemishes and all, brought art closer to the common people, inviting everyone to benefit from its message, not just the aristocracy. This humanization of biblical figures was no doubt an instrumental influence on the later works of Realists, beginning a tradition that eventually led to the Impressionist movement and the popularity of candid photography.
Neo-Classic
Parnassus was painted in 1761, a work by Anton Raphael Mengs. I chose this piece because of its solid embodiment of the Neo-Classical ideals of simplicity, harmony, and order. The clothing stays firmly within the expected Neo-Classical palette of primary colors, and the figures within the careful framing pose with decorum, formed with severe idealism. The clear connection to the tenants of the Neo-Classical movement is thorough and plain.
The scene depicts Apollo (the god of music, intellectual inquiry, and poetry) surrounded by muses. He stands as a vitruvian nude, save for a drape across his shoulders. A wreath of laurels crown his head and another is clutched in his formally upraised hand, perhaps intended as a gift. A lyre rests on his hip, calling to mind his role of dominion over music. The muses surrounding him are arrayed in colorful clothing from antiquity, dancing, composing music (or poetry), and posing with elements of the theatre. Aspects of Classical architecture are evident in the fluting of the small corinthian column and Apollo’s sandals. The collection of figures calls to mind a sculptural frieze, with little attempt at creating a sense of depth or three-dimensionality. Little to no ornamentation shows the Neo-Classic reaction to the gaudiness of the Rococo, and the calm, almost sedated expressions of the subjects defy the emotionalism of the Baroque.
The laurel leaves symbolize accomplishment, and combined with the elements of dance, performance, and music, is meant to convey worldly achievements in the arts. The message is nearly didactic in its overt depiction of excellence, championing the merits of the Classical era and adherence to tradition (the use of Classical orders and ornamentation in art and architecture), suggesting that the viewer also, should claim such virtues as honor and restraint.
Paintings such as Parnassus contributed much to the growth of Neo-Classicism, influencing later works that in turn brought a renewed interest in the ideals, or virtues, of the classical past. With its noble air and simple execution, Parnassus helped bring about the development of many new styles, some complimentary, others in direct opposition to Neo-Classicism.
Romanticism
Romanticism was a direct reaction to the values of Neo-Classicism, replacing didactic pieces featuring reason, primary colors, and statuesque figures with the strange and fanciful, portraying feeling and imagination. Johann Henry Füseli embraced this rebellion when he painted The Nightmare in 1781. The subject of this painting is that of dreams, specifically nightmares. It gives an fantastical portrayal, going so far as to show the dreamer within the composition, side-by-side the ghouls she dreams of. A young woman lays draped upon a bed, her upper torso and arms falling over the side, long tresses of wavy hair cascading toward the ground. She is dressed in clothing reminiscent of the Classical past: a simple but well-made garment of filmy white material. The contours of her body show through sensuously, revealing an idealized form not unlike those within Neo-Classical pieces. A nightstand plays host to several jars and perfume bottles, while the carved wood and gold-trimmed tassels speak of wealth. Her face might be that of a former lover from Füseli’s own life.
Upon the dreamer’s stomach perches a sinister incubus, caught in the motion of turning to face the viewer, his bulging, darkened eyes piercing through the surface of the painting. Thick limbs and stocky legs give it a sense of immense weight, as do the shadows cast across the majority of its body, pinning the woman to her bed. This could well be a reference to the sensation many report feeling while experiencing nightmares: being unable to move despite the clawing desperation of fear. It is said that the incubus’s grim face bears a resemblance to Füseli himself, a fact that if true, casts the portrayal of a former lover as the dreamer in a new, disturbing light. In the background, the night mare pushes its head through the thick red drapes, nostrils flared, teeth jutting, and eyes rolling wildly.
The prominent shadows, reminiscent of tenebrism, dictate the use of copious blacks, highlighted dramatically by light source from beyond the frame that makes the pure white of the dreamer’s gown glow. Deep red drapes and blankets add color, as do the browns of the incubus’s corrupted skin. Paint is applied with less attention to detail than previous works; the lack of defined outlines representing rather than describing details.
The fantasy with which this supernatural piece is painted, along with the dark elements of fear and the indiscernible madness of the horse draw the viewer in, eliciting an emotional response, a primary goal of Romantic art. The beauty of the dreamer’s form and the grotesque features of the incubus are shoved side-by-side, displaying a juxtaposition that was thought to lead to the Sublime, a state of great admiration and awe.
Romanticism isn’t one particular style, or even collection of styles. It is an approach that attempts to find truth in intense emotions and experiences, be they exquisite or ghastly. The Nightmare contains elements of both, though the painting as a whole leans to the disturbing. The meaning of the work is ambiguous, though some conclusions can be drawn: the inclusion of recognizable features from the artist’s own life can be interpreted as a venting of negative feelings after being shunned. Even so, the meaning of the piece remains subjective rather than reasonable and easily interpreted, another tenant of Romanticism.
Impressionism
Claude Monet’s Impression: Soleil Levant (Sunrise) was the first true Impressionistic painting, created in 1873. It was painted as one of many works intended for exhibit outside of the accepted Salon system in order to rebel against the Académie. Thirty oft-rejected artists sought to engage the art viewing public directly, bypassing the critics. The reviews of the resulting works were generally positive, but one man named Louis Leroy, dubbed Monet’s contribution scathingly as impressionistic because of its obvious brushstrokes and unfinished look, not knowing that the term would stick, and eventually come to represent an entire art movement (Stokstad et al 984). It was this rebellion against the Salon system that brought about the modern art age. Monet uses colors exclusively to represent the scene. A small boat drifts in a harbor, the two men inside mere silhouettes against the rising sun. In the background to the right a group of masted ships ride at anchor, their bulk barely visible as a collection of vertical and diagonal lines of color. To the other side we see the tall smoke stacks of industry, plumes of smoke hovering in the air, partially obscuring the sun. This scene would have been absolutely common in his time, making this a modern-life painting.
Monet uses pure pigments in this work, with little mixing of paints, instead relying on the science of optics and color theory to create the proper hues. Blues, purples, oranges, and yellows are all applied with care and purpose. The palette lacks any blacks, whites, or grays, utilizing varying saturation of pigments to represent light and shadow. Brushstrokes themselves also play a role in the forming of shapes, using differently sized swathes of color to create a “feeling” of the objects, as opposed to plainly describing them.
One of the main components of Impressionism is realism, in that objects and people are represented as they are, true to life. Many artists, such as Monet, employed the practice of plein-aire painting (open air paintings, where the subject is directly observed). Because of this, casual subjects such as the harbor in Impression: Sunrise became popular, in part from the growing popularity of photography, a relatively candid art form. The realist ideas of the Impressionism movement eliminated symbolism and iconography within paintings, instead focusing on communication of moments-in-time to a viewer. The depiction of casual events led to the idea of “art for art’s sake”, the thought that making art is its own motivation, without any extrinsic need for symbols or religious meaning. Impression: Sunrise wasn’t the first work to feature objects suggested with paint (not explicitly depicted), and it wasn’t the last. However, it does hold a place in history as the painting that sparked a new era of art, leading into modern day. Monet’s work directly influenced the styles of Modern painters like Henri Matisse with their focus on color and shape, not line. Impression: Sunrise is still greatly admired for its simplicity of detail and complexity of artistic composition.
Mannerism
The Triumph of Death is a work by Pieter Bruegal the Elder, completed in 1562. I chose it because of its clear separation from the naturalism and idealism of the High Renaissance. Unnatural color tints, elongated proportions, and a high emotional content all make this piece a prime subject for study as a Northern Mannerist piece. The Triumph of Death was an unusual painting in its time, and can still illicit a fair amount of unease from viewers today.
Death is the focus of this scene, both allegorically and literally. The terror of sickness and plague was not far from anyone’s thoughts in this era, and brought such devastation that towns and cities were wiped out in less than a year. This fear and despair is depicted here with gruesome detail. Hundreds of figures fill the frame, some mortals, others the harbingers of death. Skeletons, withered corpses, and grotesques cavort in black delight as they wantonly slaughter men and women alike for sport. The carnage is complete and nearly pornographic in the amount of delight it takes from itself.
Everywhere horrors abound: gaping wounds pour blood, naked men are netted like fish and herded into the depths of hell, and bodies are spitted by spikes. Men are tossed into a pool with millstones tied to their necks while the grim parody of a fanfare is played by the bodies of the dead dressed in the robes of the church. All around lies the sickly green of plague upon the ground, poisoning the very air, mixing with the smoke of bodies burned alive. In the lower-middle foreground, a bound man’s throat is slit by a robed ghoul, and on the far right a skeleton gropes a woman dressed in fine clothes from behind, and toward the bottom edge a skeletal dog eats the face from a baby. A kingly figure in the robes of office and expensive armor lies dying upon the ground, oblivious to the figure of death propping him up, his own short life dwindling within an hourglass clutched by spidery fingers.
The Christian symbol of the Crucifix stand impotently as the host of the dead march over the land. This speaks clearly of the terror so many useless prayers would have brought. Two figures ring a large bell, announcing the coming of death, possibly even an advance on the viewer’s life. The visceral quality of the victims’ faces (screams, disbelief, and weeping), are direct connections to the emotional centers of the viewer, bypassing the intellectual from the start. Mannerist form is also observed: long-limbed skeletons and twisted corpses exist within irrational spacial relationships, putting the viewer on edge.
The color palette is comprised of browns, burnt reds, deep blacks, infectious yellows, and malignant greens. While incorporating many different hues, the general range of color stays relatively narrow, as Bruegal uses secondary colors in place of the typical Renaissance primaries. The resulting effect is an overall feeling of dread and distaste, once again bringing the viewer’s emotions into play.
It is works such as this that began the movement toward the macabre, filtering down the centuries. It also openly addressed the fears of the people of its time, assisting in the development of self-awareness that society required. Without The Triumph of Death and others like it, art might have shied away from such subjects as death and horror. The Mannerist practice of irrationality vs rationality was instrumental to the breadth of styles and art forms we enjoy today.
The Calling of St. Matthew was painted from 1599 to 1600 by an artist known as Caravaggio, and was the piece that won him lasting fame. I chose this work because the dramatic lighting and easily identifiable emotions on the subjects’ faces are common qualities of the Baroque style. It highlights several new techniques and ideas of the times, and endures as an impressive work, even today. The figure of Christ is placed on the edge of the painting, only his head and upraised arm visible, emerging from deep shadows. This positioning is directly contrary to the Renaissance practice of placing the most important figure in the center of a work. A robed man stands next to Christ, possibly a disciple or apostle. A group of well-dressed money-lenders sit at a table counting coins and poring over ledgers, two of which fail to see Christ’s arrival. St. Matthew is one of these, his head bowed as his hands greedily separate gold coins. One of the lenders points to himself wonderingly, mistaking Christ’s pointed finger as intended for him. A dynamism to the figures’ arrangement and form speaks of the tension of the event, with the lenders looking on in confusion at the solemn face of Christ. Warm light spills from a high window, casting complicated shadows from limbs and folds of clothing. The palette is narrow, mostly earthy browns and yellows, but saturated reds and even greens can be seen.
While difficult to assign a specific set of characteristics to, the Baroque period certainly saw painters emphasizing realistic depictions of un-realistic subjects in everyday situations. For example, Caravaggio took this well-known scene from the Bible and placed the fantastic event (Christ calling a sinner from his greed to join Him in his ministry) into a very human and naturalistic setting. His subjects are relatable, not idealized, shown in believable positions, not contrived postures. The pronounced chiaroscuro (called tenebrism) of the lighting and darkened background, painstakingly rendered through real-world observation in his studio, was a stylistic breakthrough and influenced many artists of the Baroque period and later. It brought a new level of three-dimensionality and a theatrical quality to art.
This scene is more than just a depiction of a biblical story. It also serves as an allegorical warning. By placing the figures in contemporary clothing (of the time), Caravaggio gives the viewer pause, perhaps in an attempt to spark a thoughtful and emotional reaction in them. The meaning is clear: we are all sinners and slaves to greed. Only Christ can save us, if we but listen to his call.
The Calling of St. Matthew brought a new standard to painting, challenging artists to observe and recreate the reality of the natural world. Its subjects, blemishes and all, brought art closer to the common people, inviting everyone to benefit from its message, not just the aristocracy. This humanization of biblical figures was no doubt an instrumental influence on the later works of Realists, beginning a tradition that eventually led to the Impressionist movement and the popularity of candid photography.
Neo-Classic
Parnassus was painted in 1761, a work by Anton Raphael Mengs. I chose this piece because of its solid embodiment of the Neo-Classical ideals of simplicity, harmony, and order. The clothing stays firmly within the expected Neo-Classical palette of primary colors, and the figures within the careful framing pose with decorum, formed with severe idealism. The clear connection to the tenants of the Neo-Classical movement is thorough and plain.
The scene depicts Apollo (the god of music, intellectual inquiry, and poetry) surrounded by muses. He stands as a vitruvian nude, save for a drape across his shoulders. A wreath of laurels crown his head and another is clutched in his formally upraised hand, perhaps intended as a gift. A lyre rests on his hip, calling to mind his role of dominion over music. The muses surrounding him are arrayed in colorful clothing from antiquity, dancing, composing music (or poetry), and posing with elements of the theatre. Aspects of Classical architecture are evident in the fluting of the small corinthian column and Apollo’s sandals. The collection of figures calls to mind a sculptural frieze, with little attempt at creating a sense of depth or three-dimensionality. Little to no ornamentation shows the Neo-Classic reaction to the gaudiness of the Rococo, and the calm, almost sedated expressions of the subjects defy the emotionalism of the Baroque.
The laurel leaves symbolize accomplishment, and combined with the elements of dance, performance, and music, is meant to convey worldly achievements in the arts. The message is nearly didactic in its overt depiction of excellence, championing the merits of the Classical era and adherence to tradition (the use of Classical orders and ornamentation in art and architecture), suggesting that the viewer also, should claim such virtues as honor and restraint.
Paintings such as Parnassus contributed much to the growth of Neo-Classicism, influencing later works that in turn brought a renewed interest in the ideals, or virtues, of the classical past. With its noble air and simple execution, Parnassus helped bring about the development of many new styles, some complimentary, others in direct opposition to Neo-Classicism.
Romanticism
Romanticism was a direct reaction to the values of Neo-Classicism, replacing didactic pieces featuring reason, primary colors, and statuesque figures with the strange and fanciful, portraying feeling and imagination. Johann Henry Füseli embraced this rebellion when he painted The Nightmare in 1781. The subject of this painting is that of dreams, specifically nightmares. It gives an fantastical portrayal, going so far as to show the dreamer within the composition, side-by-side the ghouls she dreams of. A young woman lays draped upon a bed, her upper torso and arms falling over the side, long tresses of wavy hair cascading toward the ground. She is dressed in clothing reminiscent of the Classical past: a simple but well-made garment of filmy white material. The contours of her body show through sensuously, revealing an idealized form not unlike those within Neo-Classical pieces. A nightstand plays host to several jars and perfume bottles, while the carved wood and gold-trimmed tassels speak of wealth. Her face might be that of a former lover from Füseli’s own life.
Upon the dreamer’s stomach perches a sinister incubus, caught in the motion of turning to face the viewer, his bulging, darkened eyes piercing through the surface of the painting. Thick limbs and stocky legs give it a sense of immense weight, as do the shadows cast across the majority of its body, pinning the woman to her bed. This could well be a reference to the sensation many report feeling while experiencing nightmares: being unable to move despite the clawing desperation of fear. It is said that the incubus’s grim face bears a resemblance to Füseli himself, a fact that if true, casts the portrayal of a former lover as the dreamer in a new, disturbing light. In the background, the night mare pushes its head through the thick red drapes, nostrils flared, teeth jutting, and eyes rolling wildly.
The prominent shadows, reminiscent of tenebrism, dictate the use of copious blacks, highlighted dramatically by light source from beyond the frame that makes the pure white of the dreamer’s gown glow. Deep red drapes and blankets add color, as do the browns of the incubus’s corrupted skin. Paint is applied with less attention to detail than previous works; the lack of defined outlines representing rather than describing details.
The fantasy with which this supernatural piece is painted, along with the dark elements of fear and the indiscernible madness of the horse draw the viewer in, eliciting an emotional response, a primary goal of Romantic art. The beauty of the dreamer’s form and the grotesque features of the incubus are shoved side-by-side, displaying a juxtaposition that was thought to lead to the Sublime, a state of great admiration and awe.
Romanticism isn’t one particular style, or even collection of styles. It is an approach that attempts to find truth in intense emotions and experiences, be they exquisite or ghastly. The Nightmare contains elements of both, though the painting as a whole leans to the disturbing. The meaning of the work is ambiguous, though some conclusions can be drawn: the inclusion of recognizable features from the artist’s own life can be interpreted as a venting of negative feelings after being shunned. Even so, the meaning of the piece remains subjective rather than reasonable and easily interpreted, another tenant of Romanticism.
Impressionism
Claude Monet’s Impression: Soleil Levant (Sunrise) was the first true Impressionistic painting, created in 1873. It was painted as one of many works intended for exhibit outside of the accepted Salon system in order to rebel against the Académie. Thirty oft-rejected artists sought to engage the art viewing public directly, bypassing the critics. The reviews of the resulting works were generally positive, but one man named Louis Leroy, dubbed Monet’s contribution scathingly as impressionistic because of its obvious brushstrokes and unfinished look, not knowing that the term would stick, and eventually come to represent an entire art movement (Stokstad et al 984). It was this rebellion against the Salon system that brought about the modern art age. Monet uses colors exclusively to represent the scene. A small boat drifts in a harbor, the two men inside mere silhouettes against the rising sun. In the background to the right a group of masted ships ride at anchor, their bulk barely visible as a collection of vertical and diagonal lines of color. To the other side we see the tall smoke stacks of industry, plumes of smoke hovering in the air, partially obscuring the sun. This scene would have been absolutely common in his time, making this a modern-life painting.
Monet uses pure pigments in this work, with little mixing of paints, instead relying on the science of optics and color theory to create the proper hues. Blues, purples, oranges, and yellows are all applied with care and purpose. The palette lacks any blacks, whites, or grays, utilizing varying saturation of pigments to represent light and shadow. Brushstrokes themselves also play a role in the forming of shapes, using differently sized swathes of color to create a “feeling” of the objects, as opposed to plainly describing them.
One of the main components of Impressionism is realism, in that objects and people are represented as they are, true to life. Many artists, such as Monet, employed the practice of plein-aire painting (open air paintings, where the subject is directly observed). Because of this, casual subjects such as the harbor in Impression: Sunrise became popular, in part from the growing popularity of photography, a relatively candid art form. The realist ideas of the Impressionism movement eliminated symbolism and iconography within paintings, instead focusing on communication of moments-in-time to a viewer. The depiction of casual events led to the idea of “art for art’s sake”, the thought that making art is its own motivation, without any extrinsic need for symbols or religious meaning. Impression: Sunrise wasn’t the first work to feature objects suggested with paint (not explicitly depicted), and it wasn’t the last. However, it does hold a place in history as the painting that sparked a new era of art, leading into modern day. Monet’s work directly influenced the styles of Modern painters like Henri Matisse with their focus on color and shape, not line. Impression: Sunrise is still greatly admired for its simplicity of detail and complexity of artistic composition.
Mannerism
The Triumph of Death is a work by Pieter Bruegal the Elder, completed in 1562. I chose it because of its clear separation from the naturalism and idealism of the High Renaissance. Unnatural color tints, elongated proportions, and a high emotional content all make this piece a prime subject for study as a Northern Mannerist piece. The Triumph of Death was an unusual painting in its time, and can still illicit a fair amount of unease from viewers today.
Death is the focus of this scene, both allegorically and literally. The terror of sickness and plague was not far from anyone’s thoughts in this era, and brought such devastation that towns and cities were wiped out in less than a year. This fear and despair is depicted here with gruesome detail. Hundreds of figures fill the frame, some mortals, others the harbingers of death. Skeletons, withered corpses, and grotesques cavort in black delight as they wantonly slaughter men and women alike for sport. The carnage is complete and nearly pornographic in the amount of delight it takes from itself.
Everywhere horrors abound: gaping wounds pour blood, naked men are netted like fish and herded into the depths of hell, and bodies are spitted by spikes. Men are tossed into a pool with millstones tied to their necks while the grim parody of a fanfare is played by the bodies of the dead dressed in the robes of the church. All around lies the sickly green of plague upon the ground, poisoning the very air, mixing with the smoke of bodies burned alive. In the lower-middle foreground, a bound man’s throat is slit by a robed ghoul, and on the far right a skeleton gropes a woman dressed in fine clothes from behind, and toward the bottom edge a skeletal dog eats the face from a baby. A kingly figure in the robes of office and expensive armor lies dying upon the ground, oblivious to the figure of death propping him up, his own short life dwindling within an hourglass clutched by spidery fingers.
The Christian symbol of the Crucifix stand impotently as the host of the dead march over the land. This speaks clearly of the terror so many useless prayers would have brought. Two figures ring a large bell, announcing the coming of death, possibly even an advance on the viewer’s life. The visceral quality of the victims’ faces (screams, disbelief, and weeping), are direct connections to the emotional centers of the viewer, bypassing the intellectual from the start. Mannerist form is also observed: long-limbed skeletons and twisted corpses exist within irrational spacial relationships, putting the viewer on edge.
The color palette is comprised of browns, burnt reds, deep blacks, infectious yellows, and malignant greens. While incorporating many different hues, the general range of color stays relatively narrow, as Bruegal uses secondary colors in place of the typical Renaissance primaries. The resulting effect is an overall feeling of dread and distaste, once again bringing the viewer’s emotions into play.
It is works such as this that began the movement toward the macabre, filtering down the centuries. It also openly addressed the fears of the people of its time, assisting in the development of self-awareness that society required. Without The Triumph of Death and others like it, art might have shied away from such subjects as death and horror. The Mannerist practice of irrationality vs rationality was instrumental to the breadth of styles and art forms we enjoy today.
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