Arisia Panel Signpost

        Everything’s packed and I’m about to head to the annual Arisia sci fi/fantasy convention, so today I’m putting up a signpost to content that relates to the panels I’ll be participating on this weekend.  Whether you’re attending Arisia or not, if you’re interested in any of these topics, here’s where you can find some relevant posts I’ve made in the past.

        Faiths of Fantasy and the Future - How can writers incorporate contemporary or invented belief systems into fantasy or future worlds, without replicating cliches about clergy, faith, and spiritual practice?  • My top thought is that when you’re making up religious systems in a fictional universe you actually get to (indeed, have to) make up two levels: what the people in this world believe, and what is actually true in this universe.

Apparently I haven’t yet posted on writing religions in fiction, even though it’s something I’m deeply interested in and have done a lot of in my own work.  (I guess I need to get on that!)  The resource I can share today, though, is the “religion” slide from a workshop on world-building that I presented for Broad Universe in 2020.  Also, beware these two pet peeve stereotypes that I personally am eye-rollingly bored of seeing:

1. the only possible ways to conceive of “God” are as a big old man with a beard up in the sky, or as a dark, evil (probably tentacled) Old One in the depths

2. religion is always opposed to science, and vice versa

        Creating Relatable Non-Humans - How do writers find the sweet spot when creating non-human sentient species: similar enough to be relatable, but not alike enough to be humans in bug suits?  • My top thought is to start with biology and consider what effect that could have on individual personalities and collective cultures.

Symbiote City - This post is about my making of a block print depicting Venusian medusae, but it does discuss the challenge of balancing too alien versus not alien enough when depicting imaginary worlds.

People of All Possible Forms - This post is about Camille Flammarion's work on the infinite variety of alien beings.

Also, above is the slide on sentient non-human people.

        Invented Languages - Snippets of invented languages add depth and interest to speculative fiction, but when is it too much of a good thing? Get tips about language creation with results that even an expert would believe.  • My top thought in the case of fantasy set in a secondary world or any place in which 21st century English is not in use, is to remember that your entire story is in a sense “in translation” from another language.  And then consider where translators tend to retain words from the source language.  Those will be places you can use your made-up language.

Character Names in Fantasy - The title says it, but remember that proper nouns are one of the first and most obvious places to use your invented language.

Indigenous Roots - This is about real English borrowed from real Indigenous languages, but the post is organized by categories of words that get borrowed when there’s contact between new places and peoples.

Words of the Month - If you’re interested in linguistics more generally, and especially in etymology, you can browse through all my monthly posts on tidbits of language.

        Readings - I’ll be reading a short snippet with the Broad Universe Rapid Fire Reading on Saturday, and a longer excerpt in an author reading on Monday morning.  For both I’ll be featuring Bittersweetness & Light to launch it upon its release.  Anyone interested in finding out more about this book and the short stories, poems, and art therein could, of course, purchase a copy of their very own.  There are also lots of posts featuring information about the book and its contents...

A Desperate Little Exhortation About (Bitter)Sweetness and Light - Why “happy” books are not necessarily “fluffy” and unserious.

An Overview of the Book

BOOK RELEASE! - Includes a few illustrations, along with their background and relationship to the stories in the book.

“Love Potion” and “A Life for a Life” - You can hear me read these two complete stories aloud on the December 11, 2024 episode of “Story Hour.”

“Knitting” - read it as originally published in New Myths, Winter 2024

“The Conduits” - read it (and a link to hear me read it aloud) as originally published in Friends Journal, November 2022

“Some Assembly Required” - read it as originally published in Fantasy Magazine, May 2023

        Art Show - As always, I’ve got a whole bay in the art show which I will cram full to the gills with relief block prints.  Here are posts that tell about my process for a few of them.

Autumn Fairy (Oaky Nutkin)

Beware the Jubjub Bird!

Bunyip’s Land

City I and City II

El Tenedor, Reading Glasses, Little Cyclops, and Kunchorn Waree

Fiery Salamander

Freedom

The Grand Marhoot

Keeping Off the Grass

Love Potion

Night Flight and Hatching Dreams

Parade

Portrait of the Artist

Seeds of Love

Singin’ in the Rain

Spring Fairy (Winged Peeper)

Steam-Powered Insectivore

Summer Fairy (Monarch Finch)

Sunbunny Loves You

Yale and First Flight

[Pictures: 3 slides from my presentation “World Creation for Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers,” 2020;

Riddle in the Sand, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2023 (Image from NydamPrints.com);

Poster for Bittersweetness & Light, 2025.]

Lowell's Castle

         Today’s fantasy poem is by James Russell Lowell (USA, 1819-1891) and is really more about fantasy than being true fantasy itself.  This was published in 1869, I think.

Aladdin

When I was a beggarly boy
  And lived in a cellar damp,
I had not a friend nor a toy,
  But I had Aladdin's lamp;
When I could not sleep for the cold,
  I had fire enough in my brain,
And builded, with roofs of gold,
  My beautiful castles in Spain!

Since then I have toiled day and night,
  I have money and power good store,
But I'd give all my lamps of silver bright
  For the one that is mine no more;
Take, Fortune, whatever you choose,
  You gave, and may snatch again;
I have nothing 'twould pain me to lose,
  For I own no more castles in Spain!

        This is not an autobiographical poem, as Lowell was very far from being a beggarly boy, and grew up not in a cellar damp, but in a magnificent estate in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  On the other hand, perhaps it told more about his future than his past, as in 1877 Lowell was appointed to be Ambassador to Spain.  (However, with the early death of 3 of his 4 children he did certainly know plenty about lost dreams.)

        The sentiment this poem illustrates is, on the one hand, something I always agree with: the value of imagination and the tragedy of its loss among so many adults.  On the other hand, this is a somewhat tritely overblown statement of the sentiment.  What led me to choose this poem today, though, is that I’ve been reading Hope For Cynics: The Surprising Science of Human Goodness by Jamil Zaki, and I’m tying this poem in with the idea of how so many of us are growing more cynical.  Zaki’s point is not only that we’re living in an epidemic of cynicism (which is just as damaging to health as many physical issues!), but also that we can choose to be skeptical of the forces that encourage cynicism.  We can, in short, reclaim that Aladdin’s lamp that tells us bright things are possible!

        The stories and poems in my new book Bittersweetness & Light are also part of my attempt to spread that message and invite readers back to the lamp.  That castle in Spain is still standing, and there’s plenty of room, so come on in!

[Picture: Castle on a Cloud, linocut by Brian Reedy (Image from the artist’s web site BrianReedy.bigcartel.com).]

BOOK RELEASE!

        Bittersweetness & Light has officially been released and is now available far and wide!  This collection of magical speculative fiction short stories, poems, and art is printed in a larger format than your average paperback, in full color, with decorations throughout and notes at the end.  From love potions to alien spores and from dream fish to a puzzled ghost, find magic that can be knitted, glimpsed from the kitchen window, or assembled from a flat-pack kit.  In twelve fantastical short stories, ten evocative poems, and dozens of whimsical relief block prints, this magical collection invites you to look for goodness, find joy, and share reasons for hope.

        To celebrate, today I’m sharing a few of the block prints included in the book.  I’ve chosen representatives of three different categories.  Up first is “After Rain,” which is included in the book as an illustration with the short story “The Rainlings.”  I made this rubber block print in 2022, before I wrote the short story.  The story was not based on the illustration, but it did spring from some of the same inspirations that had given rise to the block print.  Therefore, when I needed an illustration for the story, it was natural to go back to this piece - even though in the story the Rainlings are a little bigger and fit only one house per raindrop.

        Today’s second piece, on the other hand, was made explicitly to illustrate a poem included in the book, “Fire on the Wind.”  (The poem in this case is much older, but I never thought about illustrating it until putting together the book.)  Although this is a small piece, it’s fairly complicated.  The background is a reduction print with three layers (more on reduction prints here).  The dragon itself is a separate tiny block printed onto the background.  I experimented with two kinds of ink for this one: regular printing ink and also archival stamp pad ink.  The latter ended up being a bit of a problem and in several impressions the ink spread and became mushy-looking.  Because a reduction print destroys the block during the process, I can’t go back and print new impressions to replace the ones I’ve thrown out, so there are now simply a few holes in the edition.

        Finally I include today an example of a third kind of image I made for the book.  These were made to include in the book as illustrations for a poem, but unlike the other two shown today, they aren’t exactly real block prints.  Rather, they’re digital collages of elements cut from other block prints I've done.  Indeed, you should be able to recognize the background of the moon!  A few of the stories and poems needed illustrations that I didn’t think warranted a whole edition of actual block prints that probably wouldn’t have much of a market to sell on their own, and that’s when I use the digital method instead.

        So that’s a little behind-the-scenes of some of the art included in this book.  If you’re curious to read the whole thing, please check it out on amazon, Barnes & Noble, or directly from me.  Consider putting in a request with your local library and they might stock a copy.  And if you do read it and enjoy this book, please consider posting a review and telling any friends or family who might also enjoy it.  More than ever this world needs us to build the connections of sharing with each other the things that bring us joy, and I’d love to get this book launched in that spirit.

[Pictures: After Rain, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2022 (originals sold out);

Fire on the Wind, rubber block reduction print by AEGNydam, 2024 (Image from Nydam Prints);

Tiny Galaxy, Day and Night, digital collage of elements scanned from rubber block prints by AEGNydam, 2024 (Images from Bittersweetness & Light).]

The Flight Into Egypt

         As our communities brace for threatened mass deportations of immigrants carried out by people who claim to speak for Christianity, it seems a good time to continue my series of block prints covering the Christmas story, and move to the next chapter: the Flight into Egypt.

        Not long after the visit from the Three Wise Men (see block prints in my previous post), Joseph was warned in a dream that Herod wanted to kill the baby Jesus, and that he should take his family into another country where they would be safe from persecution.  They went to Egypt, where they lived for about four years as immigrant refugees, until it was safe from them to return to their homeland.  Given that Jesus preached so much about welcoming the stranger, I can’t help thinking that his own family’s experience as refugees informed his understanding of how to

love “neighbors” in a much more inclusive sense.

        The image of the Flight into Egypt has been a popular one to illustrate.  I’ll start once again with Albrecht Dürer, whose version is beautifully detailed with a little bridge, date palms, grapevines, an ox along for the journey, and a cloud of putti in the upper right.  Mary is smiling, though Joseph seems to be a little bowed down by his concerns.

        Albrecht Altdorfer, working at around the same time, has a less technically virtuosic version, but I still like it.  This time Joseph’s face is turned away and Jesus looks a bit like a rag doll, but Mary is again smiling gently, no doubt secure in the love that surrounds her.  My favorite parts of this one are the skyline in the distance and the arabesque clouds above.

        Switching gears to a piece from the 1940s, this linocut is by Peter Agostini, which includes only Mary, Jesus, and the donkey.  I don’t much like this one!  Mary looks like the Emperor’s Royal Guard from Star Wars (good thing she’s at least painted in blue instead of red), and she’s all out of proportion for the poor muppet-faced donkey.  Still, it’s variety, right?

        Moving on, here’s a twentieth century one I like much better, by C. Pál Molnár.  This has lots of bold, geometric texture to give bold lighting and dark shadows.  Mary isn’t smiling here, but she is looking down at the baby held to her heart.  Joseph just looks tired.  Like Altdorfer, we’ve got a town in the background, and like Dürer we’ve got angels in the sky.  These angels, however, are huge and sturdy as a roof!

        I kept my focus pretty narrow in selecting these versions, and there are two popular types of “Flight into Egypt” I did not represent.  As artists were beginning to explore landscape as a subject in its own right, they often used the Holy Family’s journey as an excuse to paint large, beautiful landscapes.  Today, however, I chose block prints that focus more on the family rather than the landscape through which they travel.  I’ve also chosen pieces that show them on the road, rather than resting idyllically beneath a palm, which was another popular trope.  “The Rest on the Flight into Egypt” always makes a point of how miraculously they were cared for, but I think we should remember that leaving your home is never easy, and fleeing into the unknown because you're desperate to protect your family is even harder.  I hope we can all remember that whatever we do for the least of these brothers and sisters, we do to that family who had to flee their homeland and seek refuge in a foreign country two thousand years ago.

[Pictures: The Flight into Egypt, woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, ca. 1503-5 (Image from The Cleveland Museum of Art);

The Flight into Egypt, woodcut by Albrecht Altdorfer, ca. 1515 (Image from The Cleveland Museum of Art);

Flight into Egypt, linocut with watercolor by Peter Agostini, 1940s (Image from The Philadelphia Museum of Art);

Flight into Egypt, wood engraving by C. Pál Molnár, 1933 (Image from The Cleveland Museum of Art).]

Words of the Month - Plain Sailing (Part II)

         English is full of so many idioms with nautical origins that I had to split my selection of them into two posts.  This is the second, so if you want to read about the first half, you can find them at Plain Sailing Part I, which I posted back in September.  And now without further ado, here’s the scuttlebutt on some more…

by and large - sailing alternately into the wind (by) and close to the wind (large).  A vessel sailing by and large is covering a range, giving (from about 1665) a metaphorical sense of “for the most part.”  Note, while we’re here, that we also have the metaphor of sailing close to the wind for doing something risky.

dead in the water - originally a ship without wind, utterly without means to move

take the wind out of someone’s sails - If you block the wind from reaching a ship’s sails (usually by sailing upwind of it), you cause them a sudden loss of movement and momentum.  Indeed, they may be dead in the water.

go by the board - fall overboard, the board in both cases being the side of the ship.  The metaphorical sense of being lost or gone is from around 1835.

cut and run - If you need to sail away so quickly that there isn’t time to pull up the anchor, you might just cut it loose.  This entered general use around 1704.

in the offing - in the more distant part of the open sea as seen from shore.  The original metaphor was the distant future (around 1779), but now (since about 1914) it usually implies something impending.

overbearing - originally of a wind that would blow a ship onto its side, but expanded to any overwhelming and repressive force by around 1560.

rummage sale - In the sixteenth century rummage was to stow cargo in a ship’s hold.  That’s where we get the verb of searching through a whole bunch of stuff (and possibly disarranging it).  By around 1800 a rummage sale was a sale of unclaimed goods from a ship’s cargo, sold at the dock.

toe the line - to stand with your toes at a line drawn on the deck,  demonstrating disciplined obedience, from the early 19th century.  (No, the phrase is not “tow the line,” as I have several times seen it written!)

three sheets to the wind - The sheet is the rope that holds the corner of a sail.  If it’s loose the sail can flap around in the wind, and if the sheets of all three sails are unsecured the ship will be out of control.  (This is one of those idioms that I’ve never actually heard anyone use in real life, although I’ve certainly encountered it in literature.)

under the weather - The earlier version of the phrase was often “under the weather bow,” and the “weather” side of anything is the windward - the side that’s getting hit by the roughest weather.  One theory is that sick sailors went below decks, or under the deck where they’d be out in the weather, but another theory is that anything “under the weather” was being hit by tough circumstances.  Although in my idiom the phrase metaphorically refers to physical illness, many of the earlier usages from the early nineteenth century refer to a wider variety of difficulties.

groggy - I covered this one before, but if you missed it or have forgotten, you can find its nautical origins here.

        As this is the last post of the year, I will end with the wish that despite any anxiety about worrisome changes in the offing, I hope you will weather 2025 on an even keel.  As always, may you find joy and share hope.

[Pictures: The Bachelor’s Delight approaching the San Dominick, woodcut by Patrick de Manceau, 1946 (Image from invaluable);

Fair Winds, rubber block print by AEGNydam, carved ca. 1994, edition printed 2013 (Image from Nydam Prints, now sold out);

Korweta, woodcut by Stanisław Ostoja-Chrostowski, 1936 (Image from Polona).]

We Three Kings

         I’m continuing the Christmas story in block prints today, by focussing on a chapter of the story that comes after that first Christmas night.  The arrival of the Three Kings (aka Wise Men, aka Magi) traditionally is considered to be the Twelfth Night of Christmas, or Epiphany, on January 5 or 6.  (Of course the confusion of calendars and denominations means there are multiple interpretations of exactly when that date should fall.)  This means that I shouldn’t really be celebrating the Three Kings yet at all, but for me they’re simply all part of the Christmas story, and if you look at the collection of Christmas block prints I shared in past years (you can find all the links in the previous post), there are quite a few that feature these Wise Men from the East.  This year, however, I’m giving them their own post, and I’ve got a few  block prints of them for you today.

        First is a classic, a woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, in which the three magnificently attired kings show up with their gifts at the ruined stable that’s hardly even a porch.  Joseph looks pretty sullen and suspicious about this, but Mary is being more gracious.  My favorite thing about this one is how the baby Jesus is grabbing for gold as if it were candy!  (At only 12 days old he shouldn’t be grabbing for much of anything at all, but he was a precocious child in many ways.)

        The next piece is cropped tightly in on the people.  The kings have removed their crowns, but only the one in the foreground is really focussed on the baby.  The others seem to be watching Mary instead.  I really like all their faces.  As for Mary, however, she looks a lot more zoned out than I would expect.  Admittedly she may be pretty exhausted by her newborn, but I know I would have been a lot more interested if three astronomer kings from foreign lands had unexpectedly shown up to pay homage to my offspring!

        The third piece is quite simple, but I find it very pleasing.  One of the kings has removed his crown as he kneels before Jesus, and seems almost to be kissing his feet.  Above, the star is whizzing up the sky, and another of the wise men is watching it, perhaps just confirming the address.  Despite the relative roughness of the piece, the faces are all pleasant.  Mary is serene, and the baby has the hint of a smile.

        I include one more little bonus detail from a painting by Hieronymus Bosch.  This king is very handsome, not to mention elaborately dressed, but what caught my eye is that it looks like he’s brought his pet dragonling to the party!  Closer inspection leads me to believe that this is more likely a parrot or similar bird, but needless to say I like the dragon interpretation better!

        Whether Jesus was presented with gold, candy, or dragons, the real lesson here is to be willing to see the bright stars, follow the signs, and acknowledge the miracles of love that may manifest in the world.

[Pictures: The Adoration of the Magi, woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, 1511 (Image from The Met);

The Adoration of the Magi, woodcut by anonymous copying one by the workshop of Lucas van Leydan, ca. 1515 (Image from Philadelphia Museum of Art);

Adoration of the Magi, woodcut from Legenda Sanctorum trium regum by Johannes Hildesheimensis, 1490 (Image from The Met);

Detail from Triptych of the Adoration of the Magi, oil on panel by Hieronymus Bosch, ca. 1494 (Image from Museo del Prado).]

Beginning to Look Like Christmas

         Not only am I finally able to give some thought to Christmas, but we had a lovely winter-wonderland snow yesterday, and today is looking very seasonally appropriate for both the solstice and Christmas.  Therefore, here are a few wood block prints to celebrate the season.

        I’ll begin with the snowfall, and a piece by Tsuchiya Kōitsu (Japan, 1870-1949).  This one reminds me of our walk last night, with the sparkling snow covering every twig in white lace against the black velvet of the night.

        A different snowy view shows a city, and where the first piece captured snow in its luminous magic, this piece captures the muted grey feeling that a snowy day can have.  I love the black and white geometry of it, contrasted with the hazy sweep of the blowing flakes against the  black buildings, and the fine lines of the sky.  This one is by Asa Cheffetz, a favorite of mine whom I’ve featured frequently before.  Different as these first two pieces are, they were both made the same year: 1943.

        Shifting into Christmas mode, I also have three manger scenes to share.  The first is from Albrecht Dürer in about 1502, from a series of 20 wood block prints depicting “The Life of the Virgin.”  This one shows the adoration of the shepherds, and some of the details include the star in the upper right, angels in the upper left and also clustering around the baby, and the ruinous state of the stable, which I mentioned in a previous post on Nativity Scenes (link below).

        Second is a much smaller view of the Holy Family, with Mary and Joseph adoring their miraculous baby while a couple of oxen look on.  We don’t actually see the baby at all, but the tuft of hay in the manger creates a star or halo of light in the dark, illuminating the faces of the parents.  This appears to have been made as an illuminated initial letter, and I like the way it’s designed around the capital N.  This one is by Lorenzo Homar (Puerto Rico, 1913-2004) and was made in 1962.  (I’ve featured some of Homar’s work before, as well.)

        Focussing in still further, this last piece shows only the Madonna and Child.  By Desmond M. Chute (England, 1895-1962), it’s quite simple.  There are no angels or shepherds, only the merest suggestion of a background, and no finely carved intricate details.  I like the simple pattern and fringe of Mary’s wrap, offering both visual interest and the story suggestion of an ordinary homespun blanket.  The halo belongs not to Mary or Jesus individually, but embraces the two in their relationship together.

        If you want to explore more wood block print scenes of the Christmas story, I’ve shared a bunch in past years, so you can revisit these prior posts:

Nativity 1

Nativity 2

Nativity 3

Merry Christmas (2017)

Merry Christmas! (2018)

Merry Christmas! (2019)

Merry Christmas! (2021)

More Merry Christmas! (2022)

        Plus, Happy Hanukkah (2017)

Happy Hanukkah! (2019)

Hanukkah Greetings (2020)

        Whatever holidays you may be celebrating at this time of year - or even if you don’t feel much like celebrating at all - may you find moments of peace, sparkles of joy, and the embrace of love.

[Pictures: Sumidagawa Suijin Forest, woodblock print by Tsuchiya Kōitsu, 1934 (Image from Ohmi Gallery);

Cold Chimneys, woodcut by Asa Cheffetz, 1934 (Image from The Clark Museum);

The Adoration of the Shepherds, woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, ca. 1502-3 (Image from the Davis Museum at Wellesley College);

Pesebre, wood engraving by Lorenzo Homar, 1962 (Image from Princeton University Library);

Madonna, woodcut by Desmond M. Chute, ca. 1915-1924 (Image from Art Institute of Chicago).]