CHRONICLES archives the successive newsletters.
Or A Few Thoughts From Somewhere Near Asgard I’m writing this in Leipzig, next to the Völkerschlachtdenkmal, quite content to be here, having set off across town unable to even pronounce the interminable name, even less remember more than one or two syllables. (My...
Or the Uses and Abuses of Documentation I have masses and masses of documentation. Likely enough to be convicted of collusion in the untimely death of a decent-size grove of trees. The wall behind the computer has a daunting set of shelves containing well over 100...
Or “There and Back Again” (Again) “There and Back Again” (as the title would tend to imply) is getting around a lot more than I manage to. After Comic-Con in San Diego, it will be shown and the 2nd DOCNZ International Documentary Film Festival, to will be held in...
Or All About Grail Hunting: Means, Ends and Time Allotted For: My admiration of Mervyn Peake is no secret, and I’ve written clumsy but enthusiastic words of praise of his work before. So, you can well imagine, when asked to contribute a little text for a new book on...
Or Pebbles, Thoughts and Shells (Collected But Unsorted) Introducing the low-calorie vacation newsletter. No high-carb contemplations, no deep-fried ruminations, no artificial sweeteners. Just light musings and lots of cholesterol-free photos. A summer diet, in sum…...
Or A Little Fantasy, But for Real This Time I get lost easily, and some places make me lose my way more completely than others. I believe in getting all tied up and involved with places, especially when the ties are those of mood, spirit or simply something in the...
Or the Fine Art of Displacement I’m writing this from Toronto. Not really a newsletter; a few thoughts from somewhere closer to and farther away from home. The one undeniable thing about one’s birthplace are those inescapable ties, whether we deny them or wish to...
Or Opening Boxes in the Attic I’ve not been gifted with an organized mind. It is rather like an attic, (my attic, actually; are our attics perhaps accurate manifestations of our minds?) not very big, with roof beams I continually bang my head on in a moment of...
Or Conversations from Outer Space Here is an exchange I recently had with a local newspaper: “Picture research, please.” “Speaking.” “Hello, I’m phoning about an image of mine printed in last Sunday’s paper.” “?” “You know, the paper you print on… well… Sunday. The...
Or the Meretricious Merits of the Mists of Yesteryear I practically had an epiphany the other day. Or rather, I would have, except I was too busy watching my childhood flash before my eyes. (It was mercifully brief, but very vivid; so Mike Horvath, if you’re out...
Or Sketching in Stone Carcassonne is a dream location for visiting illustrators. Walking about Carcassonne is like wandering inside a vast sketch. Carcassonne is done in broad strokes, with that ambivalence of line that all sketches have. Viollet-le-Duc, undoubtedly...
Of Nomadism and Pencil Lead I cannot recall if my parents resorted to that all-too-familiar subterfuge to keep me occupied during trips: a pencil and a cheap block of paper. I know we certainly did with our son - the result: at least dozen weighty cardboard boxes full...