The brain your mad ancestor broke

I’ve caffeinated myself pretty well to the end of Mad Ancestor. About 5 small bits left. Two I have to fix, since they’re little clarity/continuity glitches. The others are just a matter of trying to hit the right notes, or the least wrong notes (see this post by M. John Harrison). I am applying myself to the task with the focus of a master yogi watching Crayon Dragon.


A Clockwork Loki

In that scene where Loki is at the museum/theatre, whacking that guy with his magic stick and then getting all ultraviolent on the other guy, how badly did I want the background music to be The Thieving Magpie? (Not, of course, that Loki would say thinking was for the gloopy ones.)

Well, ask and ye shall receive, or close enough. Drawn perfectly by clownkid666:  The God of Mischief in A Clockwork Orange/Night Porter.


The artist also has another Night Porter picture with Thor and Loki. Coincidentally, the inimitable Fyodor Pavlov has recently visited The Night Porter too. I haven’t seen the movie — I really should have a look at it.


25 words that English needs

This is great!


Though I’d say we’ve got “schadenfreude” on permanent copy-loan.

My favourites:

Age-otori (Japanese): To look worse after a haircut.

Gigil (pronounced Gheegle; Filipino): The urge to pinch or squeeze something that is unbearably cute.

Ilunga (Tshiluba, Congo): A person who is ready to forgive any abuse for the first time, to tolerate it a second time, but never a third time.

Tingo (Pascuense language of Easter Island): to borrow objects one by one from a neighbor’s house until there is nothing left.


Milan Bauer

Gorgeous bookplates!

Milan Bauer’s website.

When I was in Prague I got the impression that the Czech Republic has a strong tradition of fantastical art. Maybe I just homed in on what I like, but Prague is the only place I’ve ever gone on a spending spree in an art gallery. There seemed to be an abundance of artists working in an oneiric/imaginative vein.

Posted in Art |

‘Alastair’, Baron von Voigt: where have you been all my life?

I was vaguely aware of the artist who went by the name ‘Alastair’ when I ran into his work agan recently — I say ‘again’ because a couple of pictures looked familiar — and presumably I knew the name because I had seen his work — but the vast majority were new to me. I can’t think why I didn’t look him up properly at first sight (was it before the Internet?) because, my god, they are very much my cup of absinthe.

‘Alastair’ was the nom-de-guerre of Hans Henning von Voigt. Though born of nobility, ‘Baron’ was a later addition to his name. As well as an artist, he was a pianist, composer, dancer, mime, poet, singer and translator. He claimed to be a changeling.

As Coilhouse (whence the above info) says, Aubrey Beardsley and Harry Clarke are obvious influences — sometimes very obvious — but I agree on the whole with the article writer that Alastair’s illustrations are distinctly his own.

Caresse Crosby recalled him thus: ‘He lived in a sort of Fall of usher House, you know, with bleak, hideous trees drooping around the doors and the windows… a blackamoor ushered us into a room where there was a black piano with a single candle burning on it. Soon Alastair himself appeared in the doorway in a white satin suit; he bowed, did a flying split and slid across the polished floor to stop at my feet, where he looked up and said, “Ah, Mrs. Crosby!” ‘

Links to his work here.









Posted in Art |