Cover for electronic version of “Witness to a Rescue”.

Illustration No. 1.

I’ve been learning to design and format e-books for my own sake and professionally—I’m a designer, I had designed books for two publishers years ago, this is another exciting skill to learn and to offer to commercial customers as well as for my own writing. I used a brief illustrated story I’d written and published on my site, The Creative Cat, and used all the various formatting methods I read about everywhere—Word, Calibre, Kindle Previewer and a list of free programs that held promise for making the process simpler and more easily understandable than when I’d initially tried it a year ago.

Illustration No. 2.

I’m no stranger to formatting things. I began designing over 30 years ago and working as a typesetter nearly as long ago. I remember hand-setting wooden blocks for signs, “setting type” on a label maker that imprinted hand-set letters in ink on clear tape so that I could paste it up on a flyer, and reading the one tiny line of type on an LED screen in the middle of a refrigerator-sized computer that was an early Varityper. I followed each generation of computer from DOS screens to WYSIWYG to the intial Macintosh and PC, the Aldus, Adobe, Corel programs, Microsoft, Lotus, IBM…learning to format text and art has evolved, as has the underlying coding and process, which has actually made it easier to learn the next new thing.

Illustration No. 3

My first interest was my own books, most of which will have photos or illustrations and are just a little complicated compared to straight text, so I was glad to learn that first. Straight text was pretty straightforward. I’ve never cared for formatting electronic files of any sort in Word though even with all the extra unnecessary coding Word includes in the files they went through the process fine. I don’t have any e-book devices but I can read them on my computer. I use both Kindle Previewer and Kindle Cloud Reader to read books intended for Kindle, and a program called Calibre to read e-books in other formats, and these were also the end products I used to format the files for this book and others I’m drafting now.

The story is true, from 19 or 20 years ago and have had the story and illustrations in mind all these years. This apartment building is still there, still blue, still has a deck with doors at the backs of the apartments; I think of it every time I look at the building. I decided one day to finally write the story after I’d found the medium I wanted to use for the illustrations—watercolor pencils with which I could draw my ideas, then wash water over them to soften certain areas, and leave my drawing lines in others. The cover, above, is as simple as possible because it will be seen most often as a tiny thumbnail, though a print book cover usually has more information.

And now for the story

I don’t have any e-book devices but I can read them on my computer. I use both Kindle Previewer and Kindle Cloud Reader to read books intended for Kindle, and a program called Calibre to read e-books in other formats.

You can read it live in Witness to a Rescue on The Creative Cat.

Most electronic readers can open it as an EPUB file.

Kindle readers work best with a MOBI file.

Find it on Amazon.com.

Enjoy!

All images used on this site are copyrighted to Bernadette E. Kazmarski unless otherwise noted and may not be used without my written permission. Please ask if you are interested in using one in a print or internet publication. If you are interested in purchasing a print of this image or a product including this image, check my Etsy shop or Fine Art America profile to see if I have it available already. If you don’t find it there, visit Ordering Custom Artwork for more information on a custom greeting card, print or other item.

Today was an interesting day! In an out of the ordinary turn of events, I got to make a little presentation for my coworkers as part of a Share/Inspire session series held in the design department, talking all about my love interest, Torynova Couture. I got to do a little vis-a-vis modeling as well for our show ‘n tell sesh’. Yes, my workplace is hilarious and awesome (yay! Dumbo, Brooklyn).

For those who don’t know, TNC is an apparel collection I created some time ago, featuring illustrated garments based off of classical works of various literary arts. Inspired by such things like Swan Lake, Carmen, and Shakespeare, my prints have been been featured in a variety of locations, while the garments have been selling online and in select boutiques. The ladies and gents I presented to were fabulously patient with me as I fumbled through how the collection came about and other useless details. The photos have turned out looking awesome!

You are also welcome to watch my presentation below, which a coworker so cleverly captured for future sharing purposes! I hope you at least find it mildly entertaining. Also, a special shout out to my lovely model who was unfairly coerced by me to stand and be present throughout, yay camaraderie!

FYI, you can see the actual prints of the artwork on my website: torynova.com

– Tory
tn@torynova.com

…the beautiful, powerful, masterful sea.

Variegated pathways and mazes traversed…

…toward a widow…

…a wise man…

…and a curse.

…I look up now to be sure of my place…

…the nuclear light is obscuring your face….

…I can picture you now, just out of reach…

…lost again in the abyss that we breached.

Without you it’s ominous to walk here alone…

…I wonder what creatures inhabit these homes…

…what hungry beasts these conifers roam…

…if there will be anyone in there I know…

…I look around, the lights make me blush…

…I step outside and slowly look up…

…Who’s up? It’s late – vision’s amuck…

…laundry, T.V., and misconstrued thoughts.

…On now to the park bench, that one lonely spot…

…Seat taken? Hope not. Let’s see what you’ve got…

…Remember the partisans, the way that they fought?

…Now statues memorialize the freedom they sought…

On to it then…

…how about a game?

…The clouds are beckoning…

…let’s beat the rain…

…under the bridge…

…under the planes…

…approaching platforms and nightlights unnamed…

…The moon is sinking, it’s time to part ways…

…I remember your building from back in the day…

…I’m off to a spot where dawn and its haze…

…spill virgin daylight on the end of this maze.

“A chirping chorus wakens Annie” – a full color illo from part three of Douglas has a Dilemma. You can read some of parts one and two  here and here.

Douglas has a Dilemma, my illustrated love story for adults, has grown since its inception in the summer of 2009. Two years ago I was fortunate to be signed by a great lit agent. Since then, with her guidance, I’ve been rewriting, editing and sketching to prepare my small book for submission to publishing houses. This illo is one of the final (I hope!) steps.

You may also be interested in my blog, Half Agony, Half Hope, an illustrated memoir of thwarted love.

Yet, it is in the aftermath of lost homes and our beautiful Rockies that grips the heart, and wears down the spirit when one has to watch it all reduced to ashes and cinder. Whether it is someone’s primary residence, a cabin, or a quiet little camping refuge nestled among the pines, cedars and firs, atop the mountain peaks, it was ‘home,’ before the fire.

It is hard to financially and materially rebuild what has been lost. Rebuilding after a fire is difficult, or maybe even impossible to the average homeowner with a mortgage. It can never look the same, feel the same or hold the same memories as the one they had before. Still, one has to start over, somewhere and begin to heal. Lives lost, however cannot be replaced. A beloved pet that could not be taken, or died as a result of the fire can neither be replaced.

It is when these storms in life come and take from us what cannot be replaced that leaves one feeling the hopelessness and despair. It leaves one often wondering, What else is there out there that God or man can take from me when I have lost it all?

I do not believe it is God’s will to purposely take from us what he has given us, or blessed us with. But, when disasters come for those who do not know him there is a void He wants to fill that cannot be destroyed. It is what, and Who we hold in our heart that carries us through those times and storms like none other. 

God does not dwell in a house of mortar or stone, but in a heart made pliable by the potter’s hands.

This earth is not our home, but a temporary dwelling place.

In Acts 7:48-50, Stephen, one of the apostles defended the gospel of Jesus Christ, replying to the Jewish Sanhedrin who accused him of blasphemy, and disobedience to the Jewish law.

“The Most High does not live in houses made by men. As the prophet says, ‘Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me?’ says the Lord. ‘Or where will my resting place be? Has not my hand made all these things?’”

Stephen was stoned to death for his defense of the gospel, but the gospel lived on and lives on today. God becomes our refuge through the gift of His son, Jesus Christ. When storms come, and fires rage we have that assurance that though we may lose our earthly home it is in Him we dwell, and there is no destroying that. Sometimes, it is during these times that God wants to make new what needs to be changed.

 ***********

Coping with reality is often one of the most difficult things to do. One can only wish it was fiction, like the fiction I have written and shared on this blog site. But, life happens. Not all of it pretty. Not all of it sane. And in the aftermath of destruction, or chaos to see if there was any good that came from it maybe depends on one’s perspective. But, when we cannot see any, God can, and the future beyond it, if we believe there is a reason and purpose in His plan.

I will use the illustration of an event happening this week where  my husband and I, and our family live. Wildfire, the worst our county has ever seen has been raging through our region and mountains here in northern Colorado. We have waited through this entire week to see if the fires would spread further, hoping it would be contained. We remain hopeful that beauty will come forth from the ashes and embers burning our beloved Rockies. This is one of those difficult things to deal with, as I hope and pray for the rain to come and a rainbow to burst through the smoke-filled skies with a promise that God will bring new growth, lush  green trees, tall and erect, to our spacious beautiful mountains again. Colorado is my birthplace, a place I have always felt my true home although I have lived in other states and regions.

The devastating pine beetle infestation on the trees and their destruction is the only good thing I can think of that is the good to come from the fires. But, the destruction of homes and property where people have built their lives, raised families, or even just taken their families to picnic, camp out, climb a peak, or take a rafting trip down the Cache La Poudre River may be but only memories pushed back into history.

My husband and I own property in a part that sits in wait right now to see if it will be spared. We have had our lot in Glacier View Meadows for over twenty years now. Our grandchildren were just babies when we took them up there with us to enjoy the camp-out, campfires, smores, hikes, and family outings. The remains of five (dogs) of our family’s pets are even buried up on our lot. They all loved the wide open space, and roamed it, as did we all, enjoying Spring rains that preceded the blooming of beautiful wildflowers in the summer, strong winds that blew the smell of our fragrant Cedar trees, Douglass fir, and Ponderosa pines across the mountain’s landscape, and fresh, deep snows that promised a good supply of run off in our streams and rivers. It was ‘postcard’ picture perfect and we relished every picture of our secondary home and family refuge. Our collection of pictures and videos show it all the way it once was before the fire. But, the way we imagine it can look after the fire is one implanted in our minds and hearts we don’t want to keep, but have to cope with. It is reality.

So, we wait. And we keep praying: for the protection of the firefighters and rescue crews, for the wild life and animals, pets – large and small – to make it down and out of harms way, and for the homeowners’ homes to be spared. But, that is not the case as many have lost their homes in the fires. One life has been lost in the fire. We are thankful there has not been more. Homes can be rebuilt, new trees planted or regrown from seedlings popping up months later. But, there is no replacing a loved one lost, or a pet that lived a part of its life with one, now gone. 

Chaos, and catastrophic events ordained or allowed by God cannot be explained. One cannot know when to expect them, or even how to be prepared for them. But, we can be ready to go regardless our fate when we know the one who holds our destiny in His hands. It is ultimately in His control, and we must just deal with it, coping with it the best we can. I am thankful I know my Redeemer lives. It is what makes the coping with reality not easy, but more bearable. And it is with Him where I count it my real home, one day.

**********

,

Down the coast and out to sea,

a voice, a whisper beckons me.

It is the sound of her calling my name.

Would she still love me, a man with my shame?

Will she remember the hands that caressed

her face and body, and how I confessed

of the love and tenderness for her in my heart,

wrenched and torn, when we had to part?

Now, I’m returning and will look for her,

alive with the burning desire to stir

the love we shared when I left for the sea.

I pray she’s still there, waiting for me.

There was a fight. Oh, God! What a mess.

It was late that night. I drank to excess.

I did not know, but did not care

that her husband knew of our love affair.

Coming alive with a fist to my jaw

intent on surviving once the knife I saw

I sprang with shifting feet in dread,

landing a blow with my right to his head,

then felt the piercing pain and might

of flashing silver turned crimson bright.

With his knife to my flesh, and muscle it tore.

Bleeding and enraged I came down and bore

the knife I captured, to his chest then came

in self-defense went at him the same.

His breathing stilled, and he lay dead.

Was justice served this way instead?

I went away broken, feeling despair

leaving her behind, her grief to bear.

Like an anchor weighed down

with heavy remorse

wherever I sailed, wherever my course

I could not forget how she once loved me.

Now I’m returning from a dark, cold sea.

*************

Poem by: Joyce E. Johnson

Poem by: Joyce E. Johnson © 2009

A blushing face under a bonnet one day

Stopped my heart and roving eyes that May.

With swishing skirt she coyly walked,

  Her voice, a soft whisper when she talked.

Could she have known? Did she see?

Could she tell from my look how she affected me?

She was like sweet nectar on a flower to be

  Planted beneath the old withered tree.

 Some will say that love is blind,

  That eyes cannot see what the heart doth find;

 A moment of pleasure, a moment in time,

 No word spoken and no thought of mind.

 Like a love that is destined from the start

 Like a bud in bloom from out of the heart.

 Pledging her love that day to me

We embraced beneath the old withered tree.

But there came another. Bold was he

intent on stealing my sweetheart from me.

“Too experienced in love,” they say,

he charmed his way to her heart that May.

His reputation followed. Stories told

 of “a man who broke hearts, was callous and cold.”

I hoped she’d come back and want only me

to be married beneath the old withered tree.

Her hair in the wind, her face from the sun

  trying to protect me, she started to run.

Wanting to shield me, she came to cover

my body from the bullet, the one from her lover.

She fell silent to the ground alongside me

 her skirt turning red against my knee.

I carried her back to the spot where we

  once sat beneath the old withered tree.

Yes, I was in love, and I was the fool

to challenge her lover to a duel:

the man who stole from me is now gone.

My remorse and regret adds more upon

 my guilt and the sound of the wind like a song

singing a sad refrain of what I did wrong:

it plays a eulogy for my sweetheart where she

   lies buried beneath the old withered tree.

***************

beautiful butterfly (Photo credit: Amy Berry)

Parable of the Butterfly

 By: Joyce E. Johnson

             The butterfly struggled, working to free itself in the jar. A few holes in the lid allowed only a small amount of air to enter the glass chamber. But the heat and humidity was suffocating. It would not live much longer. Kept in a dark confining place since coming out of its cocoon, it would never know wide open spaces, or retreat to a flower under a bright sun.

            It worked hard, pushing against the lid on the jar, but it became more difficult with each effort. One wing broke leaving the butterfly weak and disabled as it slid once more to the bottom of its chamber.

The captor held the jar up to his face peering intently at his prize, smiling. What a specimen I have caught.

There was little movement now from the defeated, dying butterfly.

Soon, someone came along, seeing the trapped butterfly in the jar and said to its captor. “I will give you any amount of money you want if you will let me buy your butterfly.”

The captor asked, “But, why? It’s almost dead. It’s part of my experiment.”

The prospective buyer replied, “It is mine. It is beautiful, special. Look at its color and markings. The orange on its wings are the color of sunset, and the black markings like peaks meeting the sun at dusk. There is no other like it in all of creation.”

The purchase was made, and the captor walked away clutching his wad of money.

The rescuer was happy too, buying back what He had created. Opening the jar he allowed a gush of sweet, fragrant air and warm sunlight into its chamber.

A gentle touch from his finger nudged life and energy back into the broken, disabled body of the butterfly. It soon made its way back up the mouth of the jar, feeling it’s way around, looking out at the vast amount of space beyond.

It climbed out, hugging the rim of the chamber, too afraid to go further. But, a large hand cupped close to the chamber opened, welcoming the butterfly onto its palm. Soon, the butterfly   began to explore its space, thankful to this one who rescued it, giving it a new life, freedom.

Amazingly, the broken wing was healed. Testing its wings it began its ascent into the unknown. It felt whole and strong. Taking off like a tiny glider, it soared into the sky, lifted by a soft breeze.

The rescuer stood tall, larger than life watching, smiling as the butterfly swooped higher, now free to be all he was created to be.

***********

            I wrote the  story, “Parable of the Butterfly” as an illustration based on the following scriptures found in Psalms 18:1

“He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me.”

“He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.”  Psalm 18:17 & 19 (NIV)

I love the  Psalms that David wrote as he went through the most difficult times in his life, crying out to God to deliver him from his sorrow, anguish and torment.  He was set free from those things and from his enemies (King Saul) who kept him running for his very life. He was in grave danger, hiding from his enemies, but God knew where he was all the time, watching over him, protecting him. Not only did God deliver David, and spare his life, but made him the new King of Israel, blessing him beyond and above what he once was before, a shepherd watching over his father’s flock. (Story can be found in I Samuel, chapters 17,18 & 19).

*********

A Strange Encounter

“I couldn’t have knocked it in a worse spot,” declared Titch in an anguished voice. “The trouble is it would have bounced such a lot in amongst all these stones. It might even have hit the cloister wall over there and bounced off in another direction.”

“I wonder if it rolled down that passage and into the cellar,” queried Bunny.

“I hope not,” replied Gogs. “It’s jolly dark down there.”

“It’s not very light out here now the sun’s gone down,” added Titch.

After searching unsuccessfully for some twenty minutes, Titch, feeling a little guilty as the main cause of the search, suggested that, as they really had no idea of the whereabouts of the ball, they should split up and each look in different places.

“Miff and Bunny, you look in the old refectory there,” he said pointing to what had once been a long room where the monks had eaten their meals. “You can get over that gap there where the wall is lowest. Gogs and Smudgie, you can look along the passage leading past that old room to the cellar. I’ll look over on the other side of the cloisters.”

This new search, although well organised, was equally as unsuccessful as the first. After a further fifteen minutes’ searching, the light was failing rapidly and Bunny and Miff rejoined Titch at the other end of the refectory.

“Sorry about your ball Bunny,” murmured Titch apologetically.

“Oh, that’s all right,” returned Bunny sportingly. “I don’t suppose . . .”

He broke off and all three looked quickly in the direction of the old cellar. They could distinctly hear the voices of Smudgie and Gogs who seemed to be having a heated argument with someone.

Their footsteps echoed as they ran through the old cloisters and, on turning a corner at the end of the refectory, they saw Gogs and Smudgie standing near the cellar passage and arguing strongly with a burly and rough-looking man in a black  leather jacket who held both boys by their collars.

“You let us go!” protested Gogs in his high-pitched voice. “These ruins don’t belong to you.”

“No!” joined in Miff. “An’ we’re staying till we’ve found Bunny’s cricket ball.”

“Oh!” grunted the man. “And who’s Bunny?”

“I am,” announced Bunny, calmly walking in the direction of the arguing trio.

“Oh, you are, are you? And what are you snoopin’ around here for, may I ask?”

“We’re looking for a ball,” returned Titch. “I accidentally knocked it into the ruins when we were playing cricket.”

“Well, my advice to the lot of you is to get out of the ruins, and quick!” yelled the man placing his hands on his hips and glaring at the boys who showed no sign of moving.

“All right Mason, I’ll handle this,” said a quiet voice. Turning round the boys saw a well-dressed and pleasant-looking man making his way towards them.

“Go back to the car. I’ll join you in a moment,” he said to the man he had called Mason, who, without a word, immediately left. When he had gone the man turned and smiled at the boys.

“Now then, what’s the trouble, eh?” he asked.

Titch explained about Bunny’s cricket ball getting lost and how they had failed to find it. Gogs and Bunny joined in and explained how the man had grabbed them by the collar and told them to go.

“Ah! I see,” said the man still smiling. “You must forgive my friend. I’m afraid he’s a little quick tempered and hasty. You see, we are members of the South London Occult Society. We make a hobby of investigating ghosts and haunted buildings and the like. At the moment we have some sensitive scanning equipment hidden at various places in the old abbey. Naturally such equipment costs a lot of money and I expect my friend, Mr Mason, was afraid you might accidentally damage it. I expect you’ve heard that a ghost is supposed to walk this place, and we hope that, with our instruments, we will be able to find out whether there is any truth in the story.”

“Oh, I’m pos’tive we haven’t damaged any equipment,” blurted out Gogs. “We haven’t even seen any, have we boys?” The others agreed.

“No, no, of course not,” hastily added the man. “The stuff is well hidden, naturally, and I’m quite sure you haven’t touched it. Now then, to whom does the lost ball belong?”

“It’s mine,” replied Bunny.

The man offers Bunny a £5 note to buy another ball.

“Well, then,” said the man putting his hand into his pocket and pulling out a wallet, “suppose I give you a five pound note and you get another ball. I’m sure you won’t find it now it’s almost dark, and we really must get on installing our equipment. If I were you I should have a look for the ball when it’s light. If you find it, then you’ll have two.”

“Thank you very much sir!” exclaimed Bunny taking the proffered note.

“Well, boys, I really must be getting back to my car to rejoin my friend. Good evening!” And with that he walked away in the direction of the Straight Mile which was the main road bordering the common.

Yes, Melissa, there IS a Latte Lounge!  This commissioned piece has a great story behind it. As I love my art to be narrative, it was a joy to create.

My client and his wife met online several years ago. After a few emails and phone conversations, they agreed to meet for coffee at a central location, as they lived in cities about 30 miles apart. D. looked up coffee houses in the mid-city, picked the Latte Lounge and sent the info to M. The appointed time came and passed. M. was desperately driving up and down and around the given address but no Latte Lounge, as was D. After multiple, harried cell phone calls, they finally met (for the first time!) at a corner gas station and went on the hunt together. Alas, the mysterious Latte Lounge was never found but Cupid’s shot was straight. The story has become part of D & M’s family lore and I was honored to put it on paper.

I like incorporating arcane details in my illustrations and paintings; there are several in the Latte Lounge, including Spike, the lizard with the mutated tail. Watercolor, gouache, colored pencil and ink on hot press Arches paper. 16″ x 12″.

            Closely related, and often seen as synonymous by parents and laypersons, is the illustrated story. Here the pictures are nonessential; remove them and the story remains intact. Illustrations may be lavish, although artistic design is becoming increasingly less traditional. A good example is any piece of literature set into a typically 32-page color format, from illustrated versions of Clement C. Moore’s The Night Before Christmas, Truman Capote’s The Thanksgiving Visitor, or Virginia Woolf’s Nurse Lugton’s Curtain. Of course the majority of illustrated storybooks feature texts initially intended for children, but keep in mind that to the purist, not all illustrated books are picture books.

            The popular Golden Books from my youth, my favorite The Poky Little Puppy, is a typical illustrated story. Illustrated folktales, like Paul Galdone’s The Three Billy Goats Gruff, are another subset.  Many publishers actively pursue fresh versions of non-European fairy tales and nursery rhymes. Don’t worry if you can’t draw. Although author-illustrators are increasingly being sought, most publishing houses have anArtDepartment, and they will select the artist who accompanies your words. Indeed, expect little input toward the final design. Vocabulary need not be basic. Consider Peter Rabbit’s “soporific” lettuce and the aforementioned rumpus. Publishers know parents and caregivers will be reading these books at story-times or bedtime: adults are the number one purchaser of children’s books.

Tomorrow: Easy Readers 

Have you ever wondered how Eric Carle illustrates his books while reading one to your child? Illustrate your own stories with your kids using this simple technique. 

He woke up in the clammy heat of the sheets pressed against him, fighting them off and trying to catch his breath, hoping to remember how it feels not to have the weight of the Universe on his chest. Forcing himself on his feet, he drags his lifeless body onto the cold shower tiles, the water hitting his face so rapidly; it feels like little needles, eager to penetrate through the mask he had been hiding behind for longer than he can remember. The mask he doesn’t recognize when he stares at himself long enough in the mirror. All he sees are tired eyes, dilated pupils, and anguish staring back at him. He often wondered how much longer before she packed her things and bolted. She was destined for so much more than this; she has always been slowing down her pace, pretending that it was for her own good, and letting him catch up with her. He remembers a life before the darkness; he didn’t always have this bottomless, devastating emptiness inside him, she used to have a reason for her infatuation and blind devotion. Nowadays, it was merely nostalgia and a glimmer of hope that kept her here.

pictures and stories by CortoM

RAŠOMONIJADA U SUMRAKOVCU

tj. autentična priča ili direktna asocijacija na stanje “3D artista i dizajnera” nasoj zemlji.

Godina je 2114, Evropa je podeljena na divlja, ratoborna & slobodna plemena.

U poslednjem bastionu tehno-birokratske civilizacije, “United Kingdom of Serbia”,
pre 2 godine, ugusena je pobuna Robo-Robova za digitalnu ravnopravnost i slobodno izražavanje.

Vođe (Lideri) pobune su uhvaćeni i egzekucija nad njima je izvršena.

Preživeli Roboti, pomirili su se sa sudbinom, i nastavili svoj robovski život u lokalnim tehno studijima i medijskim kućama.

Ali u podzemlju i katakombama Sumrakovca preostali sledbenici Robo-Pobune,
okupljali su se da bi i dalje održavali iskru slobodne volje i ideje, odajući poštu svojim Herojima palim za svetu stvar.

Sačuvane su Svete Relikvije, desne šake, jedini ostatci Heroja, preostali posle krvave odmazde Gazda-Gospodara.

One se već godinama predaju iz ruke u ruku, najboljim predstavnicima Robo-Robova onima koji su uspeli da ubace svoje ideje i rešenja u strogu matricu digitalnih radova.

Naši izveštači su uspeli da vam nabave snimke Skrivenih Relikvija, kao i da dođu do svedočenja očevidaca o sada već čuvenim Herojima.

gold!

Priča prva – Lokalni Robo-Robot:
“E, ZLATNI im je pokazao šta misli o njima i njihovim rešenjima…SREBRNI je hteo da miroljubivo pristupi rešenju i da se dogovori…
a BRONZANI je mislio da je dobro da prihvatimo njihov pogled na stvarnost, kao i rituale Gospodara, pa da tu nađemo svoj prostor…”

Priča druga – Lokalni Gazda:
“A taj Pozlaćeni, mu ja mmnjgv robotsku, on će mene da brže i bolje zna kako ću dezajiram livin-rom i da će bolje od mene da mi
isčačka slince, mjbgbžjg…A tek oni Rašta, Svilenkasti, će se dogovara, on se kao razume bolje u robove, pa će pomogne, da zajedno, Malo Morgen, čupavac i narkoman, vido je on svoje…Ma viđe onog Pozelenelog, uvlaku, taj će mi uđe u Crkvu-Kafanče i će igra naše rituale, eee, i njemu smo pokazali…”

silver!

Priča treća – Neutralni ugao ( Politički Analitičar ):
“Zlatni je u stvari bio samo Pozlaćen, ali je uvek pretpostavljao i verovao da svi ostali misle da je on Zlatan, i da je prirodno da ga slušaju i slede…
Eh, Srebrni, on je u stvari bio od preprskanog Nikla, znao je da ne vredi mnogo i voleo je sa svima da se dogovara…
Bronzani je naravno bio od Bakra, što je svako mogao da vidi, ali on nikako nije mogao da prihvati i imao je stalnu potrebu da se predstavlja kao neko drugi i pokusao da se sliže sa Gazdama…eee bre, čekajte, samo još ovo da vam kažem…”

bronze

A ONDA….

Još jedan zakošen pogled na stvarnost u Sumrakovcu.

Godina je 2050. United Kindom of Serbia. (ostatak Evrope je i dalje rascepkan na ratoborna, divlja & slobodna plemena)
Akcija uništavanja poslednjih tragova otpora Robo-Robova se privodi kraju.
Jedan od ciljeva akcije, pronalaženje i oduzimanje Robo Relikvija je delimično uspeo. nađene su 2 relikvije,
jednoj se izgubio trag u toku akcije. Potraga se nastavlja…

KillBill 4:

Priča peta – Devojčica Android:
Androfuksa je samo pokusala da spase jednu od Svetih Relikvija, kad su specijalci upali u naše skrovište.
Nije bila naoružana. Mene i Suzi je Gazda Specijalac poštedeo. Mislio je da smo bezopasni.
Androfuksa je bila jako dobra prema meni i puno toga me je naučila. Zato smo uradili ono što je ona želela.
Gazda je bio vrlo iznenađen, kad nas je video…

Priča šesta – AndroLutka (Suzi):
Sačekali smo ga kod Kazimira, iza ugla. Pogodila sam ga narkostrelicom u oko.
Još se trzao i zaprepašteno nas posmatrao drugim okom, kad sam mu iz ruke uzela Svetu Relikviju.
Sada je Zlatna Šaka ponovo dobro skrivena, a Marinina obuka lepo napreduje.
Za godinu dve biće spremna da za osvetu Velikom Gazdi-Gospodaru i vraćanje dve preostale Relikvije.

images and story (c) 2010 Milos Simic  Corto M

blog (c) 2010 Wolffien

Pehari

Karya perancangan cerita bergambar ini bertujuan supaya masyarakat lebih memahami dan menyadari peran orang tua, khususnya ayahanda sebagai sosok di balik layar sebuah nama besar yaitu Bung Karno sebagai Bapak Proklamator. Selain itu, profesi R. Soekeni Sosrodihardjo sebagai guru yang menghabiskan seluruh hidupnya untuk mengajar dengan berbagai nilai-nilai yang diwariskannya baik pada murid maupun puteranya sungguh patut menjadi suri tauladan. Sehingga sungguh layak jika beliau diberi gelar Guru Bangsa.

Keyword : illustrated story, father, teacher

Sumber : http://repository.petra.ac.id/3962/

Karya perancangan cerita bergambar ini bertujuan supaya masyarakat lebih memahami dan menyadari peran orang tua, khususnya ayahanda sebagai sosok di balik layar sebuah nama besar yaitu Bung Karno sebagai Bapak Proklamator. Selain itu, profesi R. Soekeni Sosrodihardjo sebagai guru yang menghabiskan seluruh hidupnya untuk mengajar dengan berbagai nilai-nilai yang diwariskannya baik pada murid maupun puteranya sungguh patut menjadi suri tauladan. Sehingga sungguh layak jika beliau diberi gelar Guru Bangsa.

Keyword : illustrated story, father, teacher

Sumber : http://repository.petra.ac.id/3962/

Perancangan komunikasi visual buku cergam mengenai haute couture ini menitiberatkan pada sejarah perkembangan haute couture yang menjadi bagian penting dalam dunia fashion hingga fenomenanya di Indonesia. Haute couture adalah sebuah ajang bergengsi yang diadakan dua kali dalam setahun untuk menonjolkan citra diri para desainer ternama di Perancis.Dapat dikatakan haute couture adalah sektor paling elit dalam industri fashion yang mampu menggambarkan kekuatan simbolis dari Perancis. Haute couture atau dalam kata lain disebut high fashion dan di Indonesia sendiri dikenal dengan sebutan adibusana ini memiliki keunikan dalam menampilkan gaya, olah bahan, teknik pengerjaan dan sangat memperhatikan keindahan sebuah busana yang dikenakan wanita. Rancangan cergam ini juga melibatkan format dan penyajian yang efektif bagi sebuah cergam yang memiliki nilai edukatif namun mampu menarik perhatian audience khususnya kalangan remaja hingga dewasa.

Keyword : commercial, graphic design, visual design, communication, costume, illustrated story, fashion, designer

Sumber : http://repository.petra.ac.id/7079/

Perancangan Komunikasi Visual Buku Cerita Bergambar mengenai kisah Affair of the diamond Necklace ini mengisahkan skandal yang terjadi di Perancis pada abad 18. Skandal ini melibatkan Kardinal Perancis, keturunan terakhir dinasti Valois, dan memperparah reputasi buruk ratu Antoinette yang sebenarnya tidak terlibat apa-apa dalam hal ini. Diceritakan Jeanne de la Motte-Valois, keturunanbangsawan yang bertekad untuk meraih apayang seharusnya ia miliki. Yaitu nama, dan harta. Ia melakukan segala hal untuk meraih keinginannya, meskipun ini berarti menyeret pemerintah Prancis ke ujung kehancuran, Rancangan cergam ini melibatkan format dan penyajian menarik, dengan nilai informatif dan moril yang bisa diterima dan menarik perhatian pembaca remaja maupun dewasa.

Keyword : commercial, comic book, graphic design, visual communication, illustrated story

Sumber : http://repository.petra.ac.id/6262/

Perancangan Cerita bergambar ini mengisahkan tentang mitologi yang ada dibalik 12 zodiak dalam astrologi, dimana mitologi tersebut mempengaruhi sifat-sifat manusia. Diceritakan bahwa Aries adalah seekor biri-biri emas yang dikirim Nephele untuk menyelamatkan Phrixus dan Helle. Taurus adalah Zeus dalam wujud banteng yang menculik Europa pergi ke barat. Gemini adalah 2 orang putra dari Zeus, Queen Leda, dan King Tyndareus, yaitu Castor dan Pollux. Cancer adalah kepiting raksasa yang dikirim Hera untuk membunuh Herakles. Leo merupakan Nemean Lion yang meneror penduduk Nemea selama bertahun-tahun. Virgoadalah Astraea, dewi kesucian. Libra adalah Themis, dewi keadilan yang merupakan putri Gaia, Scorpio adalah kalajengking raksasa yang dikirim Gaia untuk membunuh Orion. Sagittarius adalah Chiron , centaur yang bijak. Capricorn adalah Amalthea, kambing betina yang menyusui bayi Zeus. Aquarius adalah Ganymede, seorang laki-laki yang rupawan. Pisces adalah wujud ikan dgn ekor terkait Aphrodite dan Eros. Rancangan cergam ini menggunakan format dan penyajian yang menarik, dengan nilai informatif yang bisa diterima dan menarik perhatian remaja putri.

Keyword : illustrated story, star signs, zodiac, astrology, mythology

Sumber : http://repository.petra.ac.id/8371/

Perancangan komunikasi visual buku cerita bergambar bertema kerajaan Majapahit ini bertujuan untuk menyampaikan dan melestarikan makna maupun esensi dari nilai-nilai kehidupan yang terkandung dalam sejarah kepada generasi muda. Buku cerita bergambar dipilih sebagai media dalam menyampaikan pesan karena lebih mudah dipahami oleh target audience jika dibandingkan dengan cara verbal. Pendekatan fantasi digunakan dalam menyampaikan pesan visual dan verbal. Kerajaan Majapahit adalah kerajaan terbesar di Nusantara pada abad ke-14 yang menjadi cikal bakal negara Indonesia sehingga layak dijadikan tema dalam membangkitkan ketertarikan target audience terhadap sejarah bangsa.

Keyword : illustrated story, kingdom, majapahit, fantasy, digital painting, commercial art, graphic design

Sumber : http://repository.petra.ac.id/8937/

Karya perancangan cerita bergambar ini bertujuan supaya masyarakat lebih memahami dan menyadari nilai sejarah suatu daerah, khususnya daerah wisata Goa Selomangleng Kediri. Banyak cerita sejarah yang tidak diketahui oleh kita orang awam, sehingga sungguh layak bagi kita untuk menggali lebih dalam tentang sejarah Goa Selomangleng Kediri agar kita dapat menjaga dan melestarikan warisan budaya ini.

Keyword : illustrated story, history, cave, culture?s heritage, commercial art, graphic design, comics

Sumber : http://repository.petra.ac.id/8862/

This is the cover to my recently completed illustrated short story, which you can see in its entirety by clicking here.