Archive for Kafka

A Triptych of Dead Writers with a Triptych of Epic Love Letters

Posted in Literary Masterpieces, Loves, Personal work with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 14, 2012 by ccartlidge

I said I was going to draw a portrait of Kafka and pair it with a love letter, but decided that it would be so much better / creepier if I just went ahead and drew three. It’s an adorable matching set of great, dead writers! Huxley is creepy, Hemingway is stoic, and Kafka is mad sexy. (I took some liberties.) And, yes, I spilled coffee on Hemingway. Lets us just pretend that it’s rum. It’s fitting that way and it seems like something Hemingway would do, so it stays.

A love letter to Aldous Huxley:

I am continually fascinated by the manner in which you respond to the word ‘pneumatic’. I’m pretty sure I just called you a commodity, but since you don’t seem to mind, Imma keep on keepin’ on. Bring on the kink and don’t be stingy with the hallucinogens.

 

A love letter to Ernest Hemingway:

Great sex.

 

A love letter to Franz Kafka:

Eat something. Still nervosa vibrates from your fragile eyes and your words give away effortless pain. It would be a fittingly tragic conundrum to choose between your gift and your sanity. If I could choose for you, I wouldn’t. Either that or I would choose your gift, playfully flick the winged beasts that live on the sides of your head and say, “I know you’re sick, but seriously don’t burn anything.”

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Dino Buzzati: Disturbed, Handsome, Brilliant. Worthy of muse status.

Posted in Literary Masterpieces, Loves with tags , , , , , , , , on March 30, 2012 by ccartlidge

I would be so lucky to find a muse like this. Tragically lucky.

Yes, brilliant. These images will bounce around my head for the next few days (I am in a cloud and will face certain death and exile to Niflhel with dignity. I knew it would come back to me eventually!) Click on the links for more Poem Strip images.

Must find English translation of Le Notte Difficili. Also The Bears’ Famous Invasion of Sicily, even though it is a children’s book. BUT it’s a children’s book written by a dead, swarthy Italian artist. Slightly Disturbed? Yes. Handsome? Yes. Brilliant? Yes. Good, good, good. Also, I could learn Italian? No, this is unreasonable. I’m much to impatient.

On a side note, I’ve decided to put my creative energies into a project which I’m tentatively calling a faux-children’s book. Something I will actually finish one day. (?) Don’t worry: it will be dark, cursey, and full of regret and absurdism. You will read it and wish you hadn’t because you’ll know too much about what goes on in my head if you didn’t already.

Also, I’m thinking that Franz Kafka will be the subject of my next Portrait of an Intangibility will be accompanied by a love letter. This post is getting more and more uncomfortable, isn’t it? It’s okay. I’m here for you. And so is Dino Buzzati.