Archive for June 2011

A copy of Father's image of the old haitian storyteller

As I sat in the cabin perusing father’s journal, I caught sight of some of his sketches of the people he encountered along his trip that I now follow. The story of Les Fee Nuit was not the only thing that intrigued Father. The woman who told him the tale seemed to be character enough for him to record her in his journal. I’ve done a master study of his drawing here because, like him, it intrigued me. I suppose it is the genuine fear she has in her eyes over what these creatures can do. I wonder if the “stealing of souls” actually occurs or it is a myth these people create to explain things that science has not yet taught them. I have heard that in the backwater portions of the southern empire there are myths and fables still that people hold true. massive creatures with powers to destroy a human in seconds. Fairies who come in the night and steal children. All of this is poppycock! I wonder though, why father thought this woman believable enough to bother recording her story and her likeness?

Dearest Readers,

It has been six months since the beginning of this intrepid journey. I find that although my postings in this logbook have been lax, I find it ever so intriguing some of the feedback I have gotten. Though most would be just bait to my “phish” I do find that those of you actually reading along with the chapters of Cavan’s adventures have been checking in on his drawings and journals as well. For this, I am very grateful. So, without further ado, here are some more words and images from our young man in 1918:

Yours in Art,

Jason Robert LeClair

A quick sketch of a patron at the local cafe. She sits contemplating the world before her unawares that I am keeping this permanent record of her presence. In exchange for her unwitting patience, her moment now has gained immortality but only in the visage. I and anyone who ever reads this rambling will not know what she thinks or how she perceives what she is gazing at. That is the true immortality – the power of thought, the pursuing of records of our dreams and ambitions, our observations of the world. Why has that volume of humanity never made the shelves of our profound libraries filled with only the best? The real humanity lies in the mundane, the simple everyday. The extraordinary is only a poor reflection of the simplicity that is being human.