The calm monochrome that follows the feast days

These days following the winter feasts bring a quiet with them, not necessarily unwelcome. Often grey and a little lonely, or too-quiet for some, yet there is a gentleness to them that eases the emotional tumult forced by the calendar shift into a new year. When I was younger, I longed for the new year… Continue reading The calm monochrome that follows the feast days

Day twelve: A preview of Winter when the first wind arrived, bringing leaves down

Day twelve: They felt a preview of Winter when the first wind arrived, bringing leaves down. Seasons no longer followed the rules they'd known all their lives. +   +   +

Winter itself is exhausted; kicks and screams against its scheduled retreat nonetheless

I think the original title of this was A sick thing upon the rocks in the very early morning. It's from when I was a teenager in college. (I think the sketch that precipitated this ink drawing originated during an acid trip; that coming down feeling—) As I see it now, looking through the archive,… Continue reading Winter itself is exhausted; kicks and screams against its scheduled retreat nonetheless

Circling back to that red oak tree on the farm, amid snowfall

Beyond the Red Oak v6 from Elizabeth Daggar on Vimeo. I haven't had time the past two weeks to get much farther with this, but I'm hoping to get back to it on the weekend. Here's where I left off in my motion tests and atmospheric meanderings.

a jaunty little row of art nouveau trees

On offer today: a pencil drawing of yet more winter trees, stylized and simple.

A small woods, cloaked in the lonesome air of winter

A Snow Story [in progress] from Elizabeth Daggar on Vimeo. Here are the bare beginnings. (And more Ravel, as it happens.) For context, see this post and this post.

This winter has conspired to plant seeds for a story

I've embarked on a project that has decided it wants to be something much larger than I'd planned, which is awfully exciting (to me). What began yesterday as just a few drawings of trees and birds to layer into another snowscape has planted the seeds of a short film, a proper story. The spark has… Continue reading This winter has conspired to plant seeds for a story

It is quiet, and all the city’s a snow globe this bright morning

I've been given a snow day from work on account of this storm (referred to by meteorologists as a Bombogenesis, Bomb Cylone, and Winter Storm Greyson). It has settled in Brooklyn in the form of a persistent and blanketing snowfall out the window all morning, and not a soul around. It inspired me to make… Continue reading It is quiet, and all the city’s a snow globe this bright morning

Within an hour of waking, the sun has gladdened the windowpanes

I stayed home last night; missed several parties, missed toasting with friends who I've not seen enough of. A head cold has been slinking ‘round the door for a few days (probably a few weeks), and by Midnight it'd overtaken me. I didn’t have any the past two winters, but I've been burning candles at… Continue reading Within an hour of waking, the sun has gladdened the windowpanes

Our hopes such as they are, invisible before us, untouched and still possible*

Returned from the snow farm for the last few days of the year’s closing book. Serene here, too— quiet and white-blanketed. Few people are on the sidewalks, chilled and brittle. The emptiness of the playground today: a witness to the mercury, its height diminished despite bright sun. And here we meet our fabricated bookends for… Continue reading Our hopes such as they are, invisible before us, untouched and still possible*