November 24, 2021

Give Thanks

         Tomorrow I will be celebrating Thanksgiving, and it is a good time to share a brand-new project that I think has a lot to do with gratitude.  Despite the complicated history of the origins of Thanksgiving, despite the fact that the national myth of The First Thanksgiving has been badly skewed, despite the fact that some people may feel they have little to be thankful for in the arrival of new people on these shores 400 years ago, I persist in my belief that it is a good thing to celebrate gratitude.  I am grateful for my home, which is on such beautiful land of the Pawtucket people — and of me and my family.  I am grateful for that family, and I am grateful for the people I don’t know or love so well, who still are part of the fabric of my community, and who love their own homes and their own families.  I’m grateful for the people who produce and sell me food and art supplies and books and all the other things - both necessary and merely delightful - that make my life so good.  I’m grateful for the people who buy my art and books (or even just say nice things about them!) so that I feel supported and encouraged in doing this thing I love.
        One of those people is a friend who last week saw the sketch of a block I’ve just started working on.  She said that I should make the design into a coloring page, and we could share it with anyone who needs a little reminder, in these times of fear and hatred and anxiety, that each day we can make the choice to try to live in a whole different mode altogether.  So that’s what I’ve done!
        Feel free to download this coloring page HERE and color it as beautiful or eye-catching or cheerful or soothing as you desire!  Print lots of copies and bring them with you to your Thanksgiving get-together, and let everyone in the family color as you wait for the turkey to come out of the oven!  Send the colored pages to family and friends who couldn’t be with you, or drop them in your neighbors’ mailboxes; share this link with everyone you know… and then do it: try to fill your day with love in every way you can, whether that’s forgiving someone who hurts your feelings, or realizing that you might be hurting someone else, or being kind to the people in the shops (especially if you actually go out shopping during the crazy post-Thanksgiving shopping rush when people tend to get a little harried and cranky!)  Reach out to someone you’ve lost touch with, send a note of gratitude to someone who is important in your life, smile at everyone you pass when you’re out for a walk - and don’t be swayed by anyone who’s trying to fill your day with hatred.  Just try your very best to love them anyway, even while firmly not allowing them to do their hateful things.  Even you being just one person doing this will absolutely make a difference, and if we all do it, it will a change the world.
        Okay, that turned into a bit more of a sermon than I was intending.  In fact, all I really wanted to say was that I am full of gratitude.  My art and my writing tend to be the parts of my gratitude that overflow and spill out so much that I want to share them with everyone, which is what I wanted to do with this coloring page today.  If you want to share it, too, that would make me very happy.  And if you want to share your colored masterpieces back with me and with the wider world, I would love to post a gallery of them all!  So snap a picture of coloring in progress and/or the finished piece, and email it to me.  (Rather than post my email here, I’ll direct you to go to my web site, go to the bottom right-hand corner, and smash that “Contact Me” link.)
          As for the block for which this was just the design, I started carving a bit at a demo last weekend, but I am exercising incredible restraint in saving it to carve during upcoming shows.  In due course, when the block is actually finished and printed, I will be sure to let you know.  Also, if you want some additional coloring pages of my designs, you can find a collection here: Stay-at-Home Activities 1.
        Happy Thanksgiving and love to all!

[Pictures: Fill This Day coloring page, by AEGN, 2021;

All in this Together, rubber block print by AEGN.]

November 19, 2021

Observing the Moon

         In honor of last night’s lunar eclipse, I have for you today a collection of prints depicting the moon.  I begin with a diagram from 1540 that actually depicts an eclipsed moon in the shadow of the earth.  It doesn’t show us the weird rusty color, but I do like the way the moon’s face is in negative from the moon in its full light.  This wood block print was carefully hand colored, as part of one of the most lavish scientific works of the renaissance.
        The moon, of course, is one of the things that all humans have in common, so it’s no surprise that I was able to find beautiful depictions of the moon from all around the world.  Next up is a Japanese view with plum blossoms, which means it’s not an autumn moon, 
but I love it so much I had to share.  I particularly like how the great expanse of night sky that fills
 most of the composition is not really flat and empty.  You can see the wonderful wood grain in it.
        Travelling back in both space and time to renaissance Europe (about 150 years later than the first piece, however), we get a wonderful view of men observing the moon.  One points up at it, seeing something of significance or wonder.  This delightfully bold wood block print comes from a Hebrew prayer book, so I can’t read the 17th century Hebrew to know what the illustration has to do with the text.  It has a nicely stylized face in the crescent, and also demonstrates a characteristic of early wood block prints that is at once a ridiculous waste of the medium and endearingly backwards.  That is, the stars are black.  In a medium that does nothing better than black backgrounds with white shapes carved into them, a medium perfect for just such a scene as a night sky 
with glowing moon and stars
, the renaissance artists stubbornly and obtusely insist on making their prints copy a drawing in black ink on white paper, even though it’s both far more work and far less attractive to put black stars on a striped sky.
        So I shrug and move on to some modern depictions of the moon.  This is a silkscreen rather than a relief block print, but I include it anyway because I love the compare-and-contrast with the other depictions.  Even though it comes from the traditional imagery of the Kwakwaka’wakw Nation of the Pacific Northwest Coast, it shares with 
European moons the image of a human face.  I love the eyes that may be closed, but perhaps are simply looking downward, as the moon does.  Either way, it is serene, yet still with a strong sense of motion in all the curving shapes.
        And finally, another piece that could perhaps be a depiction of an actual eclipse, although the moon on the far side of Earth from the sun is not wholly shadowed.  This is made as a reduction print, and has wonderful colors as the fiery sun shades into a black sky.
        Were you able to observe the eclipse last night?   There was nothing to see here, as it was completely overcast, but I’ve been lucky enough to see a lunar eclipse once before, so I wasn’t too disappointed.  And the block prints are always there, rain or shine!

[Pictures: Diagram of lunar eclipse, hand colored wood block print from Astronomicum Caesareum by Petrus Apianus, 1540 (Image from Met Museum);

Moon over White Plum, color wood block print by Ohara Koson, c 1910 (Image from Hara Shobo);

Woodcut from Birkat ham-mazon, 1669 (Image from Bayerische Staatsbibliothek);

4 Phases of the Moon, silkscreen by Francis Dick, 2012 (Image from Cedar Hill Long House);

Sun Moon Earth, reduction linocut by Kylie Dally (Image from Etsy shop PotionsPress).]

November 15, 2021

Bite-Sized Writing

         This post is about writing process - and lack of writing process.  For the past several years I’ve had two novels “in progress,” except that they are really getting no progress at all.  It’s not that I’m not excited about them, and it’s not that I don’t have any ideas for them… It’s just that every time I sit down to write it seemed like nothing was going anywhere.  This has been deeply, painfully, infuriatingly frustrating.  But I was still doing plenty of block prints, thank goodness, and that got me off on the tangent of writing On the Virtues of Beasts of the Realms of Imagination, which is not a novel but a whole collection of individual pieces for individual beasts.  That came out two years ago, and not long after it was finished covid struck, and I felt like that should have been perfect for writing… Plenty of time at home, all my outside activities cancelled, just peace and quiet at my desk…  But I still couldn’t seem to focus on those novels.  And then this summer I finally made a breakthrough: short stories.  Taking a small idea and writing a bite-sized story about it is actually manageable, and since the summer I’ve written seven new short stories, and it feels SO GOOD to be writing!
        I’ve been a bit rusty at figuring out how much plot a short story needs, and how to dive in with the right level of detail, since I’d been writing long form for so many years, but I think I’m finding my way back into the hang of it.  Now that I’m focussing on these short stories, I’ve found my creativity popping, and when I sit down to write I can actually get stuff down and feel like it’s going somewhere, and I can actually finish these small projects.  So I’ve diagnosed my issue as stress, which may be glaringly obvious, but I hadn’t given it credit for just how badly it was interfering with my ability to persevere on large projects.  Covid sure as heck didn’t help, but this started before covid, with the stress of politics, environmental disaster, escalating violence, and all the rest of the panic-inducing news bombarding us.  However, these bite-sized projects are something I can handle: a single image, sketched, carved, printed; a single mythical creature, imagined with just a little twist; a single scenario, followed just a little way to see what happens next; a single character with an interesting perspective, given a little push; a single observation, clarified and polished into a poem...
        If you’ve been having trouble with writing or creativity, I encourage you to give yourself permission to take smaller bites.  Scientific studies demonstrate that stress is actually the enemy of creativity, so if you’re feeling like you’re struggling right now, it’s not your fault.  (More here, at the beginning of the summer.)  Just take a deep breath, take one little fleeting idea, and try playing with it for a while.  Here are the stories I’ve written in the past five months or so

   - sci fi about a loner pilot encountering an alien mycorrhizal network

   - folktale-fantasy about a trickster

   - sci fi mash-up between “Hope is the thing with feathers” and “The Tell-Tale Heart”

   - fantasy about a unicorn maiden whose job is to sit in a glade and tame unicorns

   - fantasy about Pandora opening the jar, seen from an unusual character’s view

   - fantasy about Rumpelstiltskin set in an early-industrial-revolution mill

        I’ve been submitting stories to various speculative fiction magazines, and collecting plenty of rejections, and only one acceptance so far: for a very short, humorous, sweet story set in a Lovecraftian town.  It's scheduled to be published in February.  In the meantime, I’ve got three more short stories with a few paragraphs jotted down, and several poems I’ve been working on.  I’ve got one block about half-way carved and another sketch ready to transfer to rubber.  (I’m saving these to work on during upcoming art shows.)  And I’m just enormously grateful to be working and finding satisfaction in actually being able to create things.  More than ever I’ve been trying to incorporate messages of joy and hope into my work, because clearly we all need as much of this as possible these days.  I know I do!

[Picture: Beyond the Thorns, rubber block print (two blocks) by AEGN, 2017.]

November 10, 2021

Woodcut in the Digital Age

         Christiane Baumgartner (Germany, b. 1967) has been a recent star in the world of printmaking, for her huge woodcuts that reproduce digital images.  Her usual technique is to take found photographs or stills from video, often from television footage, in all their graininess, distortion, and “noise,” convert to black and white, blow the images up to monumental sizes, and then carve them as wood block prints.  This first image, from a photograph of military cargo planes, is made into a print 14 feet long, which took ten months to carve.  Obviously we aren’t getting the real impact of the piece by seeing it small on a screen, which turns the huge, hand-carved woodcut back into the little photograph with which it began.
        Baumgartner says she’s interested in the juxtaposition between the oldest and the newest methods of reproduction, the laborious handmade with the instantly technological.  She also works a lot with series, which is related to turning video back into still images.  Here are a couple of pieces from a series of 6, which, although still larger than most of my own block prints, are a size more manageable to look at on a computer screen.  (Click on it to see it bigger.)  You can see how her carving is entirely horizontal lines, with the image formed by the relative widths of black and white.  This connects the piece physically with the technology of digital images made up of all their little rows of pixels.
        It would not be accurate to say that I like Baumgartner’s work, but I certainly find it interesting.  I can imagining making a piece or two experimenting with these ideas, but then I would get bored!  She does make extremely small editions of each piece, which is entirely understandable for the big ones, which must be quite a job to print.  I can admire the craftsmanship - not to mention patience and persistence - required for these pieces.  And I’d certainly be interested to see some of Baumgartner’s pieces in real life.  Seeing them in person would be a very different experience, where the handmade quality would be more visible.  I can imagine that I might really like them in person, but it’s harder for me to get excited about the images as they appear on my computer screen.  What do you think of this idea of reproducing video and photography in this way?

[Pictures: Transnall, woodcut by Christiane Baumgartner, 2002;

Pink Moon 2 and 5, woodcuts by Baumgartner, 2019;

Nordlicht 1 (from a series of 4), woodcut by Baumgartner, 2018 (All images from]

November 5, 2021

Guess That Medieval Beast 9

         It’s been quite a while since our last round of Guess That Medieval Beast, so I’ll just remind you that if you’d like to start at the beginning and test yourself with the earlier rounds, go to the Labels list in the sidebar and click on “game,” which is down near the bottom of the list.
        And now, without further ado, our Round 9 Mystery Creature!  This creature appears in a copy of Der naturen bloeme from about 1350, one of those works that is just beginning the transition from medieval bestiary to renaissance encyclopedia.  To describe this thing is perfectly straightforward: it’s a fish with hands.  It seems to be using its hands to reach its big, toothy mouth, but that’s about all the picture tells us, although it does have very nicely detailed gills, scales, and fins, and an attractive coloration.  Go ahead and make your guess: what sort of creature is this?

November 1, 2021

Alcorn's Birds (and Frog)

         Stephen Alcorn (USA) has a distinctive style of printmaking that looks like a lot of fun to do — and is also a lot of fun to look at.  I’ve picked four creatures that show off the characteristics of Alcorn’s style that I like best.  First is this duck, whose feathers show a delightful mix of patterns.  They blend an accuracy of observation with a creativity of expression.  Then there’s that wonderfully embellished background, which could possibly represent some sort of trees or bushes in the background, but is really just an excuse to fill the space with a delightfully baroque pattern.  Combined with the ground that looks almost expressionistic or even cubist, and you have a piece that should be a mere mish-mash, but instead somehow works together.
        The next bird includes all these same traits: wonderfully stylized patterns for the feathers, renaissance-style embellishments in the sky, and early modern-style ground.  In addition, however, it adds two more characteristics to the mix.  One is the use of two blocks for a chiaroscuro effect.  (Find a refresher on chiaroscuro block prints here.)  Consistent with my general prejudices, I’m not sure it adds all that much to the image of the vulture, which I think I would like just as well (or better?) in plain black and white.  However, I do really like the grey border.  The border has a wonderful design, and the second color sets off the main image beautifully.  (Indeed, this is exactly the look I was going for in the illustrations for my book On the Virtues of Beasts of the Realms of Imagination.)
        The frog is a delightful creature, although I might wish he had more white!  I love the patterning in the background, as well as the border.  Alcorn uses an interesting technique to make the backgrounds lighter than the creatures: cutting fine lines across the entire design.  I do like the effect, although I tried it once myself and did not consider it a success.  This may be one of those things that just works better in the harder mediums such as lino and wood than the soft rubber, in which it is difficult to make very fine parallel lines.  Interestingly, each side of this border has a different design, but I like them all.  I also like the fine, all-over texture of the ground beneath the frog.
        The final bird is back to black and white, and its border is not patterned, but otherwise you can still see Alcorn’s characteristic style.  The owl is perhaps even more stylized than some of the others, so that it has almost a folk art vibe, especially in the slightly floral look to the pattern on the shoulder, for example.  All of these pieces are actually fairly large for block prints, so I’d love to see them in real life - I think they would have a lot of dramatic impact.

[Pictures: Mother Duck, With Her Ducklings, relief block print by Stephen Alcorn, 1987;

The Vulture, relief block print with two colors by Alcorn, 1988;

Kiss Me - I’m Really a Prince! relief block print with two colors by Alcorn, 1987;

The Great Owl, relief block print by Alcorn, 1988  (All images from The Alcorn Studio & Gallery).]

October 27, 2021

Words of the Month - Dinosaurs

         The field of dinosaurs includes some of the biggest, most exciting words your average four-year-old is learning, but this joy should not be confined to little kids.  Today we’re going to look at the etymologies and histories of some most excellent dino-related words.
        We should certainly start with dinosaur itself.  The word was coined in 1841 from the Greek roots for “terrible lizard.”  British naturalist Richard Owen came up with the word to describe the group to which several recently-discovered fossil specimens belonged, including Iguanadon (“iguana-tooth,” named in 1825 by Gideon Mantell), Megalosaurus (“great lizard,” named in 1824 by William Buckland, who also coined the word coprolite for fossilized feces), and Hylaeosaurus (“forest lizard,” named in 1832 by Mantell).
        Dinosaur names are probably most people’s introduction to the whole idea of identifying Latin and Greek roots.  Sometimes names are based on people or places involved in a fossil’s discovery, but often they are based on physical properties or other perceived qualities of the animal.  Here are a few that I think are rather interesting.
        Apatosaurus - “deceptive lizard,” named by Othniel Charles Marsh in 1877, based on certain bones that looked more like those of marine reptiles than other dinosaurs.  However, I like the name because I grew up in the era when we called them Brontosaurus (“thunder lizard,” also named by Marsh, but in 1879), and I consider it a sneaky trick to switch the name on us!  (Although apparently now Brontosaurus may be getting its own back again, as a separate genus.  So it seems that Brontosaurus is the deceptive one.)
- “elegant or dainty jaw,” named in 1859 by Johann A. Wagner.  It just strikes me as funny to call a theropod’s jaws “elegant,” even if it is a petite dinosaur.  (Theropod, by the way, means “wild beast foot.”)
        Oviraptor - “egg thief,” named in 1924 by Henry Fairfield Osborn because the first skeleton was found over a clutch of eggs which it was presumed to be preying upon.  However, this is a terribly slanderous name, as it is now known that the eggs were the same species, so the current belief is that this noble dinosaur was guarding its nest even unto death.  Interestingly, Osborn himself was not entirely convinced by the egg-eating theory, even as he bestowed the name, which just goes to show that one should always give the benefit of the doubt.
        Stegosaurus - “roof lizard,” named in 1877 by Marsh.  This is another mistake, as Marsh originally believed that the plates on the dinosaur’s back were arranged like shingles on a roof, rather than standing up on edge.
        In addition, lots of dinosaur names have been inspired by mythology, which is not surprising as dinosaurs certainly seem as fantastical as any imaginary dragon and as mighty as any hero of myth.  Some of the namers have gotten quite clever in their choices, finding referents with specific local and circumstantial significance.  Here are a smattering of examples:
        Achelousaurus - a hornless ceratopsian named in 1995 by Sampson for Achelous, a Greek river god whose horn was broken in battle.
        Anzu - a theropod named in 2014 by Lamanna et al for a feathered demon in ancient Mesopotamian mythology.
        Aorun - a theropod named in 2013 by Choiniere et al for Ao Run, a dragon king from a Mandarin epic.
        Balaur - a theropod named in 2010 by Csiki et al for a dragonoid beast from Romanian myth.
        Citipati - a species of Oviraptor named in 2001 by Norell and Barsbold for wrathful deities that are often portrayed in Buddhist tradition as dancing skeletons.
        Garudimimus - “Garuda mimic,” a theropod named in 1981 by Barsbold for the magical king of birds in Hindu tradition, and the national emblem of Indonesia and Thailand.
        Jobaria - a sauropod named in 1999 by Sereno et al for a giant mythical monster of the Tuareg, on whose land the fossils were found.  (Indeed, it is possible that the myths were inspired by the fossils.)
        Kakuru - an Australian theropod named in 1980 by Molnar and Pledge for one of the names for the “Rainbow Serpent” of Aboriginal mythology, appropriate because the bones of the dinosaur had fossilized as opal - the only known instance of this.
        Mercuriceratops - a ceratopsian named in 2014 by Ryan et al because its skull ornamentation was reminiscent of the wings on Mercury’s helmet.
        Oksoko - a theropod named in 2020 by Funston et al for a three-headed eagle from Altaic myth, because the original group of fossils discovered included three skulls (not, however, all from a single individual.  That would be a dinosaur to see!)
        Siats - a Utah theropod named in 2013 by Zanno and Makovicky for a monster of Ute legend.
        Xintianosaurus - a theropod named in 2019 by Qui et al for a Chinese deity.  XingTian continued to battle even after his decapitation, and the original fossil was missing its head.

        If we allow ourselves to consider other great prehistoric reptiles, there are many more, including:
        Alcione - a pterosaur named in 2018 by Longrich et al for Alcyone of Greek myth, who threw herself from a cliff in grief and was transformed into a seabird.
        Indrasaurus - a prehistoric lizard named in 2019 by O’Connor et al for Indra, who was once swallowed whole by a dragon.  The original fossil of the lizard was found swallowed whole inside the skeleton of a small dinosaur.
        Mauisaurus - a plesiosaur from New Zealand, named in 1874 by Hector for the famous Maori demi-god.
        Quetzalcoatlus - the largest known pterosaur, named in 1975 by Lawson for the Aztec feathered serpent god.
        Simurghia - a pterosaur named in 2018 by Longrish et al for the mythical bird from Persia.

        I will end with two more words that belong in any etymological discussion of dinosaurs:
        fossil - dating from the 1610s, the word originally meant anything dug up or obtained by digging (from French from Latin “dug up”).  Our fossil fuel retains that original sense.  The more specific meaning of “geological remains of ancient living things” dates to 1736.
        thagomizer - the array of spikes on the tails of some dinosaurs such as Stegosaurus, the word was coined in 1982 by cartoonist Gary Larson.  Although originally just a joke, the word was adopted by paleontologists and is now an accepted term.

[Pictures: L’Iguanodon et le Mégalosaure, engraving by Riou from La Terre avant le déluge by Louise Figuier, 1863 (Image from Librairie de L. Hachette);

Stegosaurus and Compsognathus in a landscape of araucarias, engraving from De Wereld vóór de Schepping van den Mensch by Camille Flammarion, 1886 (Image from Project Gutenberg);

Anzu, illustration from Monuments of Nineveh by Austen Henry Layard, 1853, portraying a Neo-Assyrian wall relief c865 BCE (Image from Wikimedia Commons);

Xingtian, drawn by Jiang Yinghao, 17th centurey (Image from Wikimedia Commons);

The Primitive World, color engraving by Adolphe François Pannemaker, 1857 (Image from Wikimedia Commons);

Far Side cartoon by Gary Larson, 1982 (Image from Wikimedia Commons).]

October 22, 2021

How to Summon a Giant Skeleton

         As we get into the Hallowe’en season, now seems a good time to share this epic fantasy/horror Japanese wood block print.  It dates to about 1844 and is by Utagawa Kuniyoshi (Japan, 1791-1861).  It illustrates a historical/mythological scene in which Takiyasha, the daughter of an executed rebellious warlord, uses her witchcraft to summon a giant skeleton monster.  You can see her using a scroll or spell book to work her magic, and the monster is menacing a government official who had come to search for any of her father’s allies.  The sheer size of the skeleton makes it absolutely monstrous, but apparently it was summoned up from the presumably vengeful bones of those who had died in the battle in which her father was defeated.  Another version of the myth says that Takiyasha unleashed this monster in vengeance for the disrespect shown to her father by displaying his head in Kyoto.  The monster wrought havoc on Kyoto until the head was taken down and treated properly.
        It is a rip-roaring illustration with wonderful use of contrasts for drama.  In the background we see slashes of shape and texture that make up the dilapidated manor where Takiyasha lives, as well as the monster tearing right through the wall and curtains.  The colors are dramatic, too, with dark blacks and reds punctuated by the huge whiteness of the skeleton.  The monster’s details are masterfully depicted with its shape barely even fitting into the borders of the print.  Indeed, it overwhelms two sheets of the triptych.  From my interpretation of wikipedia’s slightly contradictory explanation of giant skeleton monsters in Japanese mythology, this story - and largely this print itself - was the inspiration for a kind of monster popularized in the later 20th century.  Called Gashadokuro, these spirits are giant skeletons created from the ghosts of unburied dead.  Gashadokuro capture travelers at night, bite off their heads, and drink their spurting blood, until all their anger is finally sated.  If you are out after midnight, you can have warning of the approach of a Gashadokuro by the loud ringing sound of its rattling teeth, and Shinto charms can be of some protection from them.
        While my brief overview of the story doesn’t show any of the characters involved to be particularly noble or heroic, sorceress Princess Takiyasha certainly sounds like an interesting character.  I wonder what other magic she performed.

[Triptych of Takiyasha the Witch and the Skeleton Spectre, wood block print by Utagawa Kuniyoshi, c 1844 (Image from Wikimedia Commons (from V&A)).]

October 18, 2021

Fantasy Fungus

         I said a couple of posts ago that when it comes to mushrooms, “for this blog it has to be block prints.”  But of course that’s not true; it can also be fantasy, and fantasy actually loves its fungus!  Here’s my most recent block print, which is one of the elemental aliens I was commissioned to illustrate (ruthenium).  I set it in a mushroom forest because that seems appropriately weird and alien.  And I’m not the only one to think mushrooms belong in the world of fantasy.  Tons of people have shared this sense that mushrooms are strange, alien, fantastical, magic, mysterious…  They appear on alien planets and have been a mark of fairyland for centuries.  Mushrooms become houses for magical creatures, tables and chairs, umbrellas, hats and skirts, island-like platforms… and that’s when they aren’t magical creatures themselves.
        In trying to find some images to share today, the problem is the ubiquity of fantasy mushroom art.  There are thousands of different illustrations of mushroom houses, from cutesy to creepy and everything in between.  There are endless parades of mushroom people, again in versions both adorable and terrifying.  I have chosen some older works, those by some of the more famous children’s illustrators, some that seemed to represent a bit of variety, and of course some I particularly like.  But this selection isn’t even close to being comprehensive.
        So the question is why there is such a prevalent sense of the appropriateness of mushrooms for sci fi and fantasy (and horror).  I think there are many reasons.  For one thing, the fact that some mushrooms are psychadelics and have been used in shamanic rituals for centuries gives them an association with magic, strange powers, and crossing into other worlds.  For another thing, they are neither animal, plant, nor mineral, 
but belong in their own strange group that can’t be categorized with normal, everyday sorts of things.  On top of that, their growth habits are unlike the plants and animals we understand better: they can pop up overnight, seemingly fully grown out of nothing; they have bizarre structures, which can change color and form in strange ways; they are associated with decay and seem to flourish in the midst of death.  Their colors can be beautiful or dull, their shapes and sizes adorable or disgusting.  They can be nourishing delicacies or deadly poison.  I think people have always simply sensed their strangeness - that they really are something quite alien.
        Thus we see mushrooms personified as sweet little fairies and babies, and shambling monsters of death and decay - and everything in between.  We see mushrooms turned into charming cottages for gnomes or dark palaces of necromancers - and everything in between.  We see mushrooms as the right and proper settings for all manner of magical tea parties and sinister goblin gatherings
 - and everything in between.  We see planets of mushrooms as horrifying or (as in one of my recent short stories) utopian - and everything in between.  The one thing that everyone can agree on is that mushrooms are no ordinary form of life.  There can be no doubt that they are magical.

[Pictures: Webs in the Mist, rubber block print by AEGN, 2021;

Mushroom Forest, illustration by Obsidian, 2006 (Image from Deviant Art);

Mushroom Town, illustration by Shinya Komatsu (Image from The Pnakotic Manuscripts);

Sophies Slip, ceramic sculptures by Renee Lewis (Image from artist’s Etsy shop CurlyFernCeramics);

“Alice meets the Caterpillar,” illustration by John Tenniel from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, 1865 (Image from Wikipedia Commons);

“The Elf and the Dormouse,” illustration from Artful Anticks by Oliver Herford 1894 (Image from British Library);

Illustration from Liliana by Apeles Mesttes, 1907 (Image from Biblioteca Digital Hispánica);

Two illustrations by Arthur Rackham from Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens by J.M. Barrie, 1906 (Images from Wikimedia Commons);
Mushroom Folk, illustration by M0AI, 2010 (Image from Deviant Art);
Postcard illustration by Heinz Geilfus (1890-1956) (Image from Weirdland TV);

Mushrooms, illustration by Andrew McIntosh, 2015 (Image from ArtStation);

Morille, illustration by Xavier Collette, 2020 (Image from;

Zangarmarsh, screenshot from World of Warcraft (Image from Wowhead);

Cover art by Robert Henneberger from The Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet by Eleanor Cameron, 1954 (Image from Wikimedia Commons).]