How would you describe your illustrative style? Do you fight against having a particular style, or do you embrace your style as your “brand”? That moment made me realize it was time to get serious. In 2011 I failed to answer my first New York Times Magazine assignment email because I was hungover after a birthday celebration. When did you discover that “Hey, this could actually be a career”? All of this and my parents’ careful guidance brought me to six years of architecture in university, simultaneous graphic design work in local agencies and drawing/painting in my bedroom by night. cartoons, MTV, video games and finally the internet. Add in years of academic drawing classes, occasional Warner Bros.
At some point I discovered my mom’s architecture and art bookshelf and dad’s rock and jazz tapes, my brother’s bubblegum wrapper collection, video games, my friend Tigran’s box of Legos and the CD shelf with endless booklets. Perhaps the beginning for me was piano classes and learning jazz improvisation. Where did your childhood artistic inclinations come from? (but based in Tartu, about every kid can draw, but not every kid is particularly gifted at it. This time around, we have an Armenian editorial illustrator who loves his coffee black and his desk with a view. This has proven to be one of our most popular themes, and we are excited to keep it going into February!įor the third day in a row we are reaching out beyond the United States to showcase a very talented ADC Member. As such, it’s left me feeling profoundly inspired.ADC’s Illustration Month continues to impress, as even more artists who are also card-carrying ADC Members step into the spotlight and share their stories and their skills. Like the authoress herself, this is a profoundly intense, individual and brilliant piece of work. But nothing without any meaning is impossible it seems to me for the master of poems.” Prior to this ultimate, clearly considered conclusion, the authoress writes: ”Are they these faithfullys the last shudders of a madman’s howls? Or the withdrawal, the lull after the convulsion, the detumescence of a word, the death rattle of a god’s dream of faithfulness? Or else nothing. It conveys love over a dense duration of forty years – that recoils and recalls itself – by way of the (forever) lost and (never) found.Īnd each of the nine pieces herein, never stray too far away from the dictum that is the very last line of the seventh chapter (‘Faithfully Forever’): ”Life has two faces one of shameless happiness the other of shameless pain.” Love Itself in the Letterbox, is, as its title suggests, an acceptance, if not appreciation of, the poetry of the post. That Derrida has already said it, it goes without saying that Cixous is ”very much a poet and a very thinking poet.” Right down to the placing/non placing of commas which Oscar Wilde was renowned for agonizing over. This sentence is also tall and beautiful, but for its part or her part, she does not come, she precedes everyone.”Īre not the lines: ”haunted once by the death of Socrates who is a beautiful woman, dressed in white, beautiful as her name tall as her soul dressed in daylight, more exactly in the hour of the day’s dawning” more poetic than fictional? More involved than they might otherwise be? More elaborate in explanation, almost to the point of expressing three or four different emotions/things, simultaneously? When I awoke Olivier de Serres following your lead, I am in the midst of reading Demeure, Athenes the strange twice-haunted text by Derrida: haunted once by the death of Socrates who is a beautiful woman, dressed in white, beautiful as her name tall as her soul dressed in daylight, more exactly in the hour of the day’s dawning, a second time in truth perhaps the first, by a sentence. As on page seven of the opening chapter ‘Olivier de Serres – A Single Passion,’ Cixous writes: ”Who could have told me that everything that seemed incredible at Olivier de Serres when we were down there as if knocked over and trampled beneath paws, now forty years later we ourselves would look upon from above like gods looking at the affairs of mortals. One need only read a few pages of Love Itself in the Letterboxto (perhaps partially) ascertain and come to metaphorical grips with the above quote by Derrida. For a very great writer must be a poet-thinker, very much a poet and a very thinking poet.” Perhaps this ought not be totally surprising, especially when Jacques Derrida writes: ”Helene Cixous is today the greatest writer in what I shall call, if I may, my language, French. I recently watched an interview with the French authoress Helene Cixous, and like this book, she is so intensely focused, it made me feel almost guilty for not writing more.įor not truly investigating the inner-sanctum of my literary (self-worth and) value.
”How different we are I thought: the same words say things otherwise to us.”