red-handed

MB recently told me to put more writing on my site. Okay MB; who am I to resist peer pressure? This one's from the beginning: the very first piece I had published, in a literary journal from Newfoundland called the Fiddlehead , way back in the autumn of 1998. (It's also the very first thing I ever submitted, anywhere, which set a rather bad precedent in terms of future expectations.) -------------- The Seven of Cups I've got some real thematic power in my hands today. Here we have Boudica crawling on her big, red belly while the Romans execute a lesson in sword-hard discipline to wild-eyed savages flailing in the mud. (They look just like us.) And here. Machiavelli becomes an adjective for the cunning and diabolical by simply telling the blue-bloods the truth about the most effective ways and means of spilling the red. And look at this: Napoleon teaches the whole wide world about monuments to posterity; a colossus of ego made diminutive on a tiny island. Real iron-fisted st

Actually, it's the dark dream of cake.

And he certainly is sorry, this tragic fellow from quite a few years ago ... to the point of quoting Saint-Exupery.

The first of the worst, supposedly, while he considered himself absolutely divine ... anyway, despite drawing him a very long time ago, I do remember giving him a mirror to illustrate 'pride'.

These are red, simplified versions of some flawed angels I painted at Christmas.

This is another of Jon's illustrations, and here the devil is in plain sight, misshapen and monstrous, with no veneer at all.

This is my brother Jon's work, which is always rather churning and tortured. It's from a series of drawings he did as a favour to me ... "filler" artwork for a re-design of a fledgling litzine ... until the editors got cold feet and pulled the plug (boo!).