One View of Strength
Preliminary sketching for the Stength card, Tarot Major Arcana VIII.
(Pencil on Paper)
The Rider-Waite-Smith tradition, which I’m mostly pulling from, included switching the number and position of Strength and Justice. In earlier decks, Justice was VIII and Strength was XI. This same change occurred in other Golden Dawn decks.
In Crowley’s Thoth deck, card VIII is Adjustment, a different take on the original Justice card and position. Card XI, instead of being Strength, is Lust.
I’m focusing on the red lion as the alchemical symbol for the philosopher's stone, the final work, instead of either Waite's somewhat bland taming of the subconscious or Crowley’s (very on-brand) confrontation of the desires. The complexity of the alchemical goals enacted in an active struggle with the fire of wisdom strikes me as more complex, and more interesting, than either of those iconographies.
The Four of Wands
(Ink on Paper; see more in the Tarot Gallery)
The fours are done. Which is fun because what better way to welcome in the darkness of the fall season than to plunge into the realm of Geburah and the fives.
I’m absolutely positive this will be nothing but beneficial for my wellbeing.
The Limits of a Cathedral
(Ink and Pencil on Paper; Digital Color)
I made some inking progress in the Four of Wands tonight and then decided to digitally color this segment for fun.
Four of Pentacles, Redux
The first card I’ve remade.
(Ink on Paper; see more in the Tarot Gallery)
The original was too blobby….
(Ink on Paper; original on the right, redux in wip stage on the left)
I’d like to take this moment to reiterate that I don't always finish a whole drawing in a day; I just draw every day. Between both of these versions, I spent a lot of time inking drapes and confronting my egregious geometry skills.
The Hero Departs (but is most definitely still alive, a note I'm including because someone said this title freaked them out)
A quick sketch of the Bert…
(Digital)
…as he left the bed as soon as I got in it.
Tonight I decided to have the first fire of the season in my wood-burning fireplace. And everything went terribly awry. The house filled with smoke and the fire department came and it was all fine because the attic wasn’t on fire, and now I need to have someone come back out and check my fireplace… but I found out two things:
I actually do know where my fire extinguisher is (or was; I need a new one now) and how to use it
Fire extinguisher contents taste awful.
Huh. More than two things and here’s the most important:
3. The Bert is awesome.
Because I only found out about the problem at a fortunate time because he told me.
After the fire had been going in the fireplace for a bit, and I was blissfully drawing and listening to yet another Discworld book (Carpe Jugulum), the Bert came to stand at the top of the stairs and complain at me. It wasn't a sad little whine and it wasn’t a bark, but it was definitely insistent. I went to the bottom of the stairs and asked him what he wanted. He turned and looked at the kitchen and then looked at me and made that noise again. So I went upstairs. And found a nice, gray haze of smoke.
The firefighters were very nice when they came to make sure I wasn’t going to burn to death in my sleep later. They promised they wouldn’t judge my pantry (which is how you get into the attic) and told me to give the boy some steak tomorrow.
The Bert is quite unmoved by the praise I've given him already, but he did enjoy the extra treat and I’m sure he’ll be pleased about his upcoming meals. He’s the best boy even if he doesn’t do anything fancy, but it is nice to know someone in this house is paying attention to our welfare.
Fuck Love; Get Your PhD
Based on my favorite piece of graffiti I’ve ever seen in real life and a sink I saw at a doctor’s appointment today.
(Digital)
I can't remember if I was still writing or had just finished writing my dissertation when I saw that beautiful statement written in Sharpie on the bathroom wall in Amsterdam (the bar in St. Paul, not the Dutch metropolis, obvs, because I’m writing about when I was a grad student).
It’s a tremendous piece of advice and an inside joke for all academics who have navigated the weird social currents around doctoral completion. Like anything that has even the tiniest fraction of elitist aura, whether it's the arts, superb racecar driving, or exceptional wealth, getting a PhD can turn one person into an insufferable jackass and another into a apologist who uses self-deprecation to hopefully assuage any incoming fists or the sleeker, yet somehow more crippling, social punishment.
The former specimen, by the way, is found thriving in academia proper, usually annoying the hell out of the smart, kind, and thoughtful folks who love their research and their students. The latter is usually found in different environs, having fled academia for something less… pressurized.
I’m the latter. There’s only so much social stress I can take. But I still love research, I love art, I love history. And I really love architecture. Most people who know me don’t think much about my academic background and they really don’t think about my research. Except for one of my closest friends, who recently told me I can’t be trusted to drive without a copilot because I’m too easily distracted by handsome buildings.
….
I think what I love most about Fuck Love; Get Your PhD, is that everyone can apply it to everything. Broadly (and somewhat nauseatingly) speaking: fuck everything; get anything. Fuck approval; get donuts for dinner. Fuck the government; get wire-cutters. Fuck love every time it’s conditional. Get whatever the fuck you want.