Final Week of #INKtober 2019

I just wrapped up those last 5 days of the INKtober drawing challenge yesterday. I have to admit I was losing steam and even a little bit of interest after four weeks of daily drawing, a feeling I remember now from past years of doing this challenge. But the creatures I'd picked as my final five were ones I really wanted to work with so even though I missed days and lacked some motivation, they got drawn. Some presented quite the challenge because the colors of ink I have on hand are limited, and it doesn't always work to try to mix them on the page. That parakeet is a case in point. Still, I'm pretty pleased with these last bestiaries.

When paging through the book for candidates, I thought this eagle was actually a phoenix rising from the ashes. Although there was another eagle candidate I'd still like to draw, I stuck with this one because of the drama. It was only recently that I spotted a similar one and realized this depiction was quite common in the early days of the United States where I live. In its double-headed version as well as one looking much like the one I've drawn, it was used as a sign of power, both by the church and by countries, becoming the emblem of kings and emperors. All varieties of eagles can be found on antique American quilts (including the two-headed variety - see two examples as you scroll down this page), some closely copying the eagle on the Great Seal of the United States, others looking embarrassingly like a chicken (if you are on Pinterest, there are lot of examples here). As for the bestiary eagle, it was regarded as the king of birds due to its strength and noble bearing, keen eyesight and mastery of the skies.

You might remember my basilisk on a mission. Well, I felt the same way about this parakeet, who not only looks on a mission but looks pretty angry too. According to the text, ring-neck parakeets like this one were highly prized as pets by wealthy Europeans beginning in the 15th century when they began to be imported into Europe from India and Africa. Exotic plumage and its ability to mimic human speech accounts for its popularity in spite of the expense of importing it. But by virtue of how often it showed up in the margins of manuscripts as early as the 13h century, it was already known to illuminators who added it to margins of manuscripts based on descriptions by Pliny, Solinus and Isidore. Towards the end of the middle ages, depictions became less exact between different varieties in the parrot family and more fantastical and colorful in general as they were used more for decoration than any kind of symbolism.

I've already discussed dragons in week three, but they come in so many varieties that I found another one to draw. This one was featured in a folio titled "Wild Animals, Wild Men, and Wonders of Ethiopia" in a chapter devoted to A Geography of the Cosmos: Observation and Myth. The Text notes that "the presence of animals in mythic places and dream spaces was not limited to the celestial domain. It was also strong in imaginary realms closer to humankind, those associated with wonders . . . and miracles... Since the first half of the thirteenth century, clerics had drawn a distinction between "natural" curiosities such as giants and fairies and everything pertaining to divine interventions. But the boundary between the two categories was porous . . ." The text that accompanies the illustration where my dragon appears shows how people of this era "delighted in fantasy" even though there were actual travel accounts available: "Ethiopia is a region . . . where there are a great many venomous beast such as serpents, basilisks, grand dragons and aspics, and unicorns . . . in Ethiopia there are people call Blemies . . . They have no heads on their shoulders and eyes and mouths on their chests . . ." Indeed, my dragon is hissing at a serpent with a human head while a unicorn looks on, looking ready to either attack or flee. Above them in the scene sits a rather glum man entwined with several snakes while further up there's a trio of those Blemies. An alligator drinks from a river beside them while over on the right and looking totally unconcerned about what else is going on around it is an elephant - a truly odd mix of images in an otherwise bucolic setting.

I've noted before that my choices have often been driven by some kind of quirkiness in the image. I had no idea what kind of animal my next one was, again, just flipping through the pages for ideas, so was very surprised to see it was a tiger/tigress, looking like no tiger I'd ever seen. According to the text, that really isn't a surprise because "The tiger we encounter in medieval manuscripts has very little to do with the real animal. Most often, it is a canine creature with a speckled coat shown contemplating its reflection in a mirror on the ground while an armored horseman flees in the opposite direction carrying a tiger cub." The idea of throwing down the mirror was to trick the tigress into thinking her reflection was her cub because otherwise, the tigress would be too fast to escape from. Tigers rarely show  up in manuscripts save to illustrate this story because they were practically unknown.

Finally, we have these two rabbits, looking decidedly unhappy. whether they are in a spat with each other or angry at something else, it's impossible to know but I couldn't resist the interplay between them. Rabbits and hares do show up quit a bit in manuscripts, often being chased by dogs. Hunting, after all, was a mainstay of the times. There is a sexual interpretation if it is a rabbit rather than a hare being chased because of a play on words of the Latin names, leading to the dog-chasing-hare being used in profane manuscripts. But generally speaking "these scenes of pursuit have no other aim than to adorn the page; they simply evoke one of the most prized activities of the medieval nobility. . ."

Thanks for sticking with me through another INKtober challenge. Thinking back on the experience, a few things stand out, although I'm not sure how they may factor into my textile work. I've been rather fascinated by how a slight change in the rendering of an eye (by changing the position of a pupil or the angle of the upper lid) can change an expression from angry to surprised to blank. Equally important in getting an expression right in a profile shot can be the angle of the head/snout/face. Take that Tigress, for instance, I changed the angle from top of head to tip of nose three times before I got it slanted enough, and when I did, suddenly I'd captured that puzzled and mesmerized look. As for the birds of the bestiaries, I've never seen so many big feet! I think of bird's feet as either being small and delicate or big talons. So many of these birds had feet that looked totally out of proportion.  Were they rendered that way on purpose, as a joke, because they didn't know any better, because fantasy ruled? I admit, it made drawing some of them more fun.

And now I'm anxious to exchange the time I've been spending on this sketching for a different pursuit. Watch for upcoming posts hinting at a return to art quilting as well as something somewhat new.