Acryllic paint and marker on paper.
Part of my series inspired by fiction books. This is based on Deb Rogers’ Florida Woman. The book takes place on a macaque reserve, and some of the monkeys are dangerous carriers of the Herpes B virus, as depicted in the painting.
This book was more red herring than plot. I don’t recommend it.
This is going to sound bananas, but I’ll tell it from my end and you can tell me how you feel about it if you’d like. When I watch/see/listen/hear something that sits in my mind. I have to make an art piece about it. Because I have to take some of this inner energy, and express it outwards to sort of transcribe a fixation of mine. I feel like that’s what’s happening here. You’re processing your feelings of the book -> paper. Might be wrong, but it’s what it feels like. Either way, fuck herpes. Also the smoosh together got me here. Which is for sure not where you were going with this =P
I wish my intentions were more like what you describe. It’s more that I’m actively looking for abstract art inspiration. I know some people use music, and I’ve considered it. But after reading Night Circus, I thought the black and white esthetic would be fun to interpret, and once I hit on that idea, I decided to keep doing it. It’s a good way to keep myself regularly practicing since I average one book a week. I’ve done five so far, but none of the books has really moved me emotionally. I look forward to doing a piece after I eventually hit a five-star read.
I think for me, it’s whatever inspires me. You know? So like…could be a song, could be a movie, could be a show, could be a book, a play - eh, anything that moves me to want to illustrate what I feel/see in my head. The only catch is as the sands of time turn, it’s hard to keep the names in line. I once saw a play about four people who get kidnapped in a backwoods area and ultimately tortured. There is an individual who acts as a totem, a wooden hummingbird carving that gets burned alive. She narrates from her viewpoint, how it feels to be immolated. I don’t actually remember that much about the play by this point, but I do remember going in blind and walking out started. I went home and pulled out my markers and had to draw that little bird being burnt alive. Just took a peek and it, and sure enough it still feels fresh of the feelings I had put into it. It was like a transference of energy or something. I think you’re still sneakily doing that here, but maybe it’s a bit too woo-woo of a concept. Maybe it’s not emotions, but perhaps you’re just an archivist and this is how you’re transcribing your knowledge =)
