A friend, an artist, phoned me up and said,
What shall I do for flesh? And what for bone?
All has some white, and the best white is lead.
But lead gets in the flesh and in the bone,
And if you are a woman, in the child
You bear years hence, and I know, have read
That you may use titanium or zinc,
Not poisonous, but you may be reviled
Because you lack the seriousness bred
For art in men—or else how could you think
Of compromise in this. And I own
I’ve tried them both, but the best white is lead
For making up the colors bold and mild,
Conceiving still lifes, matching tone with tone
To reproduce the spectra of the dead.
And I have stood for hours at the sink
Scrubbing white from hands until they bled.
And still my hands are stained, and still I think—
O flesh and blood—but the best white is lead.
Director's commentary about the Fake Woodcut Project
I guess it's pretty self-indulgent to write commentary on my own drawing because like, nobody asked? And who do I think I am, Moebius? And artists don't write commentary anyway. But I want to write down some things regardless.
There were specific sources of inspiration for it: really awesome map of Westeros by other-in-law (this is fanart), "Strange Religion" piece by The-Mirrorball-Man (not a fanart of anything specific, sort of a parody of religious imagery in general) and this whatever it is, from Midsommar.
What they have in common: all done in a primitive style, all very detailed and they tell a kind of story visually. I really liked all these pieces for a long time and wanted to do something in the same spirit. And another source of inspiration was the episode from the Book of the New Sun by Gene Wolfe, where a character in the unimaginably distant future retells the story of Theseus, only it becomes twisted and garbled with misunderstandings and confusion (Theseus is also a thesis another character creates, Minotaur is replaces by Monitor, the confederate submarine and so on. It makes more sense in the story). I hate Gene Wolfe, terrible author only ever read by pompous assholes, but that bit was really good. I recall it even now in its entirely thanks to my flawless photographic memory, btw.
So I wanted to take the Intercalate narrative, imagine how it would be re-told by some poor Latvian peasants in 18th century and create a kind of fake-folk-art piece they would have made, maybe. I came up with it as I was walking through an old cemetery. It was a very cold and windy morning and I wanted to snap some photos, but it was just too unbearably cold, and I was freezing. And as I was walking and photographing I kept coming up with stupid ideas for this project and all the stupid jokes I'd put into this, giggling to myself all the while.
And I also wanted to use ye olde derangede fpelling. What's that? Well, you know ye olde Englishe fpelling? Latvian also used to be goofy like that in its own way, there were no familiar modern diacritic marks and the spelling was very German-inspired. This, of course, would make it extra difficult for anybody to actually translate the damned thing, but I made sure that GPT4 can sort of do it. Our AI overlords are very smart, but not yet quite able to understand ye olde derangede Latvian with 100% success. Fun fact: I myself never knew about the old Latvian orthography and only learned about it while walking though another old cemetery (not the one where I came up with the picture). The inscriptions on the gravestones were odd and it took me some time to even realize it was Latvian, but then I realized they were the result of some letter/diphthong substitutions. So, I felt I had to do something with it.
One question I struggled with a little bit was: "do I want to put a bunch of swastikas in there?" I had decided that I'd put traditional Latvian symbols of various deities in the drawing and what not. Well, swastika is one of the more common such symbols that can possibly represent fire, or perhaps the sun, pretty fitting for the Intercalate. But I also thought: "if I put swastikas in there, this will be the only thing anyone wants to talk about. the conversation will be entirely about swastikas and nothing else. do I really want to do that to myself?" I went for half measures: one authentic, but not very noticeable swastika with fancy decorations, and that's it. This seems to have worked: it satisfied my craving for verisimilitude and I only got one question about it.
I thought my idea to give Sun-in-Rags an executioner's sword was very clever. You would think swords are edge-aligned, and you would be right, generally. But there is a type of sword not meant for a fair and glorious battle against an evenly matched opponent. Too heavy and unwieldy to do fancy fighting moves, too short for fighting, lacking the sharp point, designed for one purpose alone: to quickly, mercifully and beautifully end the life of someone already defeated and helpless. Such sword has no edge-element. Such sword is winter-aligned, and if Sun-in-Rags uses any weapon, this will be it. Also cool: one executioner's sword I found even has 3 holes on the tip, making a Winter sign. How neat is that?
There's a bunch of jokes in there nobody seemed to have got, but that's the running theme with all the stuff I draw.
56 Of the Punic Masks, it is said they can be used to exact revenge as follows:
fashion three human effigies from sticks and rope, and place the masks upon them. Wrap the effigies entirely in fabric, covering all parts, save the masks. (This is only done for your comfort and not necessity.) Set them around a dining table as if preparing for a feast. On the table, place pomegranates, fresh figs, and fine olive oil.
57 After sunset, offer a short prayer to Baal and Melek, and greet each effigy by name Azmelkar, Barekbaal, and Gershahar using Punic words of invitation. Think of the one who wronged you and whose harm you wish avenged. Smear pomegranate juice on the lips of Azmelkar, saying, “This is the flesh of my foe, who wronged me grievously: how tart it is.” Smear olive oil on the lips of Barekbaal, saying, “This is the yellow bile of my foe, who wronged me grievously: how savory it is.” Finally, smear the soft matter of the fig on the lips of Gershahar, saying, “This is the bone marrow of my foe, who wronged me grievously: how sweet it is.”
58 Leave the room after this, cleanse yourself, and do not return until the next day. Continue this rite for twenty-seven days. You will notice the effigies growing corpulent and elongated, as if fed by your offerings. Leave their wrappings untouched.
59 On the twenty-eighth day, clear the table of food and offer nothing further. Instead, remind the effigies of your foe and the taste of his substance. Continue this for another twenty-seven days. You will see the effigies grow gaunt and hungry, their expressions sharpening.
60 At the end of this second cycle, after the twenty-eighth day, the effigies will be gone. Soon after, you will hear of a great misfortune befalling your foe. If his body is nowhere to be found, take comfort - the effigies feasted without interruption, their hunger was satisfied, and they will not appear before you in the night, and neither will they trouble you in any other way. Whereas if if the body of your foe, or even the smallest part of it was found, then it is otherwise.
61 Some say this rite works by imbuing the effigies with one’s vengeful spirit, and that the invocation of Punic names is mere superstition. Others claim that it is the performer who, upon completing the rite, feels compelled to don a mask and enact the vengeance himself.
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