kerya

Art?

Soo september is here, full of school exam and much more.
Yesterday I did the first exam, now I have one more today and then again next week and the next week.
I'm also trying the get the driving license, but I'm sure I hate cars. I must phone my friends to say to them to not going out they houses when I try to drive. It's...sad.

This evening, and for two evening again, my best friend is going to play in a play (this sentence in english confuses me). We met this girl who writes plays, and she started playing with her and her company. I can't evene image how is to write a play, it's too difficult for me. Instead, I'm drawing a comic with the play's story.

Before going back to school I'm going to spend a weekend in mountain with friends, and maybe another weekend going to concerts with other friends. It seems quite a busy month.

I'm starting a series of illustration based on Poe's poetry. I started with

The conqueror worm

Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly-
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Woe!

That motley drama- oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!- it writhes!- with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out- out are the lights- out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm

And this is the first illustration for this poem. You'll find this and the others on my deviantart page



I'm not sure if I like it more in b/w or with colours. What do you think?