Raven Ravenson and the Crescent Moon

My purpose here was to create a simple, heavily stylized illustration in the realm of Slavic mythology--as if for a children's book--using natural materials, in this case, wood, golden buttons (tansy), and tea leaves. 

This illustration features, you guessed it!, two of my favorite characters  as part of a recurrent motif.

Raven Ravenson and the Crescent Moon--they meet again! 

Slightly modifying a particular tale from Slavic folklore, we have:

Simargl, having lost his first-born, died of grief, his heart aching like that of a wounded bird. And he turned into a black Raven Ravenson known as the Iron Beak. And he took off and landed atop the Crescent Moon made of copper. And he began to oversee human affairs, becoming a god.

 

Whenever I create images out of natural materials, photography is as important as the original. You can see the difference between the pictures above and below: the latter was shot outside, with sunbeams lighting the tansy Moon as if it were its real equivalent up above.  

Domovoi

Getting some corn from a local organic farm the other day, I--once again--realized just how anthropomorphic this grain is.

So I used photography with a few digital effects, splicing gaming or comic-book imagery and Slavic folklore. 

The modernized result is this illustration of a domovoi, a Russian (Slavic) house spirit. This bearded creature is sometimes helpful, yet also quite the trickster.

Don't anger it.

Sleep (and Fires Within)

Sleep is a curious thing.

On the one hand, it is "a-kin" to Death. 

In terms of mythology, this is literal: Morpheus is the nephew of Thanatos. 

On the other, it is possible to obtain clarity regarding certain personal situations; last year, I've even been able to formulate some of the best arguments in my dissertation, as my brain continued to mull over all those disorganized thoughts swarming in my head during waking hours.

And then there are meaningful dreams and welcome illusions.

Lately, I've been waking up with Russian (Slavic) childhood rhymes that popped into my head seemingly out of nowhere. I remember exactly what some of them are. Others--not so much--for instance, one that begins with "burn, burn bright." (Imperfect grammar--deliberate.) I suspect that this was something we said in the context of lighting camp fires.

At the golden hour, even the most common mountain weeds resemble torch lights.

I translated it into English:

Burn, burn bright,
Keep it alight.
Stand aside,
Look outside,
Trumpeters pass by
Eating braided pie.
Face the sky:
Stars are glowing,
Cranes are calling:
—Hey, hey, I'll run away.
One, two, don't miss the game,
And run like a flame!

The original Russian: 

Гори, гори ясно,
Чтобы не погасло.
Стой подоле,
Гляди на поле,
Едут там трубачи
Да едят калачи.
Погляди на небо:
Звёзды горят,
Журавли кричат:
— Гу, гу, убегу.
Раз, два, не воронь,
А беги, как огонь!

The source of these lines, however, was quite different from what I assumed. Gorelki, "burners," was an ancient Slavic game, not unlike tag, for young single men and women, related to various pagan rites such as the coming of Spring and the Summer solstice. 

Nowadays, this game is exclusively for children.

Midday Sun.

Perhaps, the appearance of this rhyme is a cryptic reminder to tend to one's inner fires.

Tablecloth Road

Imagine being a warrior or even a merchant in the lands of eastern Slavs, ancient Rus. The roads away from home could prove to be dangerous: you could encounter other warriors serving a hostile prince, bands of outlaws, and all kinds of mythic creatures, good and not so much. 

Was that the wind or Nightingale the Robber--born and raised near Briansk, my father's birthplace--up in the tree where the path disappears in the brush? 

And sometimes, there would be no roads all. 

This is why, whenever one had a long journey ahead of him, my ancestors would say, "Let the road become a tablecloth," smooth and predictable. 

Nowadays, that expression has the opposite interpretation, "Good riddance!", as do many others. "Putting a spell on one's teeth," for instance--in order to cure them--was once literal. Today, it means to distract someone's attention away from the real issues at hand.

Incidentally, the way I shot this image reminds me of Takao-san forest outside of Tokyo, although it is from the prairies.