I had a thought.
Maybe the illustrator didn't "get" that Éowyn really was a woman?
January: Beauty is in the Ai! of the Beholder
-
Primula Baggins
- Living in hope
- Posts: 40005
- Joined: Mon Nov 21, 2005 1:43 am
- Location: Sailing the luminiferous aether
- Contact:
“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
-
truehobbit
- Cute, cuddly and dangerous to know
- Posts: 6019
- Joined: Mon Nov 21, 2005 2:52 am
- Contact:
What great boots! And Goldie does look like rippling water ....
I don't know if people are punching the links to vison's story, but I thought I would get the ball rolling with a few choice excerpts, paired to Maria Lombide Ezpeleta's extraordinary painting of Finwë and Míriel which captures as little other artwork could both the diaphanous garb and perilous predicament of our favorite heroine, Venus d’Ambergris .....
excerpts from The Ripping Yarn
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Venus d’Ambergris lay dreaming in her bower. Her lissome limbs stretched across the delicate 1,000 thread count cloth of her Egyptian cotton sheets, and her raven hair spilled like shimmering water over the genuine-Eiderdown-filled pillows that cradled her beautiful head. Though she generally slept in a State of Nature, this night she was wearing a sleeping gown of cerise silk so fine that the gown could be drawn through a wedding ring.
But Venus d’Ambergris had no wedding ring on her virgin finger. And not only her finger was virgin, but so was her whole exquisite body, that body so perfect that sculptors from around the world constantly clamoured to carve her likeness in the whitest marble the quarries of Italy could produce. Yes, no man had yet awakened Venus to the delights of love!
In her maiden slumbers she tossed and turned, her lipstick-free but scarlet lips slightly parted as she moaned. Some thought, some fantasy, disturbed her pure mind, some phantom caused a delicate unease in her heart. For only yesterday a god had appeared in her universe! She had seen him, lounging against the rail of a sleek steam yacht as it pierced the swelling waves of the bay beyond her window…………
Suddenly she woke, her great dark eyes wide as a startled fawn’s. She held her slim hands to her palpitating bosom, her breath coming quick, waves of emotion washing through her veins. What had disturbed her dreams?
The door to her bedchamber was flung open and Venus leapt from her bed in horror. “How dare you!” she gasped, and grasped the bedpost. Yet, though she was only a girl, her courage was equal to the occasion as she recognized her evil uncle Sylvester before her, leering and drunk.
Venus d’Ambergris and her unpleasant uncle Sylvester heard the entry doors below creaking as a servant opened them. Then they heard a man’s voice, raised in anger. Then they heard hasty footsteps on the stairs and once again the door of Venus’ bed chamber was flung open. Their butler Arsenio came in, wringing his hands. “Miss Venus, it’s that Knute Engekvistdahlberg!”
“Knute Engekvistdahlberg?” Venus said, lifting one white hand to her brow.
Arsenio nodded. “Yes, miss. He says he has to have speech with you.”
“Have speech with me?” Venus said, lifting her other white hand to her brow.
.... the broad frame of Knute Engekvistdahlberg filled the open door. He stared hungrily at Venus and she returned his gaze with hauteur expressed in every line of her lovely face and gorgeous body.
“Mmmmm,” he said, his voice low and husky with desire. “So that’s what you wear to bed, my little chickadee…..”
“I am no man’s chickadee,” she said, her voice cold. “Arsenio said you wished to take speech with me, Mr. Engekvistdahlberg?”
“Call me Knute,” he urged, coming close and catching her hand. He lifted her white hand and began to devour it with kisses.
She snatched her hand away. “You brute!”
“Yes!” He laughed. “Yes, I am thy Brute Knute! For thy beauty awakens the beast in me, I confess!” He caught her other white hand and began to slaver over it.
“Unhand me!” Venus hissed. “What is it that you would say to me?”
“I offer you the world, my precious! I lay the whole world and all it contains at thy feet! Say you will marry me!”
Venus d’Ambergris, daughter of eighteen generations of pure nobility and two of half-pure nobility and four of ordinary but pretty high-toned folks who lived in semi-detached houses on a good street, drew herself up and spat, “I would as lief marry a toad!”
Knute Engekvistdahlberg’s face darkened with anger. “A toad! You go too far, madam.” He gestured at the night that lurked beyond her chamber window. “You are now a penniless pauper. I know that your herd of pedigreed Holstein-Friesians is gone! Without those cows, and their milk, how can you think to pay your mortgage? Marriage with me is your only chance.”
Venus waved her long, tapering fingers dismissively. “Mr. Twitters at the bank will understand. He will give me time……”
“Hah!” ejaculated Knute Engekvistdahlberg. “Little do you know! For I hold the mortgage on this ranch!”
_________
Although the evil Knute Engekvistdahlberg received his just comeuppance in this installment, as the story closed the love of Venus' life was returning to sea even as giant bats were carrying off the prize Hostein-Freisian cows upon which the whole fortune of the Ambergris dynasty depends.
I don't know how anyone can put this down! The parallels to LotR are unmistakable. So what are you waiting for, fair posters? Go find pictures of them!
vison, chop-chop with the giant bats, dear.
Jn
I don't know if people are punching the links to vison's story, but I thought I would get the ball rolling with a few choice excerpts, paired to Maria Lombide Ezpeleta's extraordinary painting of Finwë and Míriel which captures as little other artwork could both the diaphanous garb and perilous predicament of our favorite heroine, Venus d’Ambergris .....
excerpts from The Ripping Yarn
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Venus d’Ambergris lay dreaming in her bower. Her lissome limbs stretched across the delicate 1,000 thread count cloth of her Egyptian cotton sheets, and her raven hair spilled like shimmering water over the genuine-Eiderdown-filled pillows that cradled her beautiful head. Though she generally slept in a State of Nature, this night she was wearing a sleeping gown of cerise silk so fine that the gown could be drawn through a wedding ring.
But Venus d’Ambergris had no wedding ring on her virgin finger. And not only her finger was virgin, but so was her whole exquisite body, that body so perfect that sculptors from around the world constantly clamoured to carve her likeness in the whitest marble the quarries of Italy could produce. Yes, no man had yet awakened Venus to the delights of love!
In her maiden slumbers she tossed and turned, her lipstick-free but scarlet lips slightly parted as she moaned. Some thought, some fantasy, disturbed her pure mind, some phantom caused a delicate unease in her heart. For only yesterday a god had appeared in her universe! She had seen him, lounging against the rail of a sleek steam yacht as it pierced the swelling waves of the bay beyond her window…………
Suddenly she woke, her great dark eyes wide as a startled fawn’s. She held her slim hands to her palpitating bosom, her breath coming quick, waves of emotion washing through her veins. What had disturbed her dreams?
The door to her bedchamber was flung open and Venus leapt from her bed in horror. “How dare you!” she gasped, and grasped the bedpost. Yet, though she was only a girl, her courage was equal to the occasion as she recognized her evil uncle Sylvester before her, leering and drunk.
Venus d’Ambergris and her unpleasant uncle Sylvester heard the entry doors below creaking as a servant opened them. Then they heard a man’s voice, raised in anger. Then they heard hasty footsteps on the stairs and once again the door of Venus’ bed chamber was flung open. Their butler Arsenio came in, wringing his hands. “Miss Venus, it’s that Knute Engekvistdahlberg!”
“Knute Engekvistdahlberg?” Venus said, lifting one white hand to her brow.
Arsenio nodded. “Yes, miss. He says he has to have speech with you.”
“Have speech with me?” Venus said, lifting her other white hand to her brow.
.... the broad frame of Knute Engekvistdahlberg filled the open door. He stared hungrily at Venus and she returned his gaze with hauteur expressed in every line of her lovely face and gorgeous body.
“Mmmmm,” he said, his voice low and husky with desire. “So that’s what you wear to bed, my little chickadee…..”
“I am no man’s chickadee,” she said, her voice cold. “Arsenio said you wished to take speech with me, Mr. Engekvistdahlberg?”
“Call me Knute,” he urged, coming close and catching her hand. He lifted her white hand and began to devour it with kisses.
She snatched her hand away. “You brute!”
“Yes!” He laughed. “Yes, I am thy Brute Knute! For thy beauty awakens the beast in me, I confess!” He caught her other white hand and began to slaver over it.
“Unhand me!” Venus hissed. “What is it that you would say to me?”
“I offer you the world, my precious! I lay the whole world and all it contains at thy feet! Say you will marry me!”
Venus d’Ambergris, daughter of eighteen generations of pure nobility and two of half-pure nobility and four of ordinary but pretty high-toned folks who lived in semi-detached houses on a good street, drew herself up and spat, “I would as lief marry a toad!”
Knute Engekvistdahlberg’s face darkened with anger. “A toad! You go too far, madam.” He gestured at the night that lurked beyond her chamber window. “You are now a penniless pauper. I know that your herd of pedigreed Holstein-Friesians is gone! Without those cows, and their milk, how can you think to pay your mortgage? Marriage with me is your only chance.”
Venus waved her long, tapering fingers dismissively. “Mr. Twitters at the bank will understand. He will give me time……”
“Hah!” ejaculated Knute Engekvistdahlberg. “Little do you know! For I hold the mortgage on this ranch!”
_________
Although the evil Knute Engekvistdahlberg received his just comeuppance in this installment, as the story closed the love of Venus' life was returning to sea even as giant bats were carrying off the prize Hostein-Freisian cows upon which the whole fortune of the Ambergris dynasty depends.
I don't know how anyone can put this down! The parallels to LotR are unmistakable. So what are you waiting for, fair posters? Go find pictures of them!
vison, chop-chop with the giant bats, dear.
Jn
A fool's paradise is a wise man's hell.
-
Primula Baggins
- Living in hope
- Posts: 40005
- Joined: Mon Nov 21, 2005 1:43 am
- Location: Sailing the luminiferous aether
- Contact:
Have you any idea what you're asking of us, Jn?
Have you any idea what happens when one plugs any of vison's adjectives into a Google Image Search when one has forgotten that while searching for classical art in the recent past one found it necessary to turn off Moderate Safe Search and one then forgot to turn it back on. . . .
I have washed out my eyes with soap.
Nevertheless, my poor offering. I realize the gown is not cerise, and Knute obviously served before the mast in the South Seas sometime in his shadowed past.
Have you any idea what happens when one plugs any of vison's adjectives into a Google Image Search when one has forgotten that while searching for classical art in the recent past one found it necessary to turn off Moderate Safe Search and one then forgot to turn it back on. . . .
I have washed out my eyes with soap.
Nevertheless, my poor offering. I realize the gown is not cerise, and Knute obviously served before the mast in the South Seas sometime in his shadowed past.
“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
Here is some soothing saline for your sullied eyes, Prim. 
Extraordinary Illustration! Why, that could be Arwen and Aragorn as easily as it could be the Last of the Mohicans or the Deliverance of Venus into the arms of her true love (we'll just have to imagine the cows mooing and/or the Evenstar glistening on that liberated boddice).
I do not think it could quite be Sam and Rosie but one never can tell. Hobbits are hirsute, after all, and Sam surely acquired a certain fierceness to his look after confronting Shelob and carrying Mr. Frodo half the way up that mountain.
Jn
Extraordinary Illustration! Why, that could be Arwen and Aragorn as easily as it could be the Last of the Mohicans or the Deliverance of Venus into the arms of her true love (we'll just have to imagine the cows mooing and/or the Evenstar glistening on that liberated boddice).
I do not think it could quite be Sam and Rosie but one never can tell. Hobbits are hirsute, after all, and Sam surely acquired a certain fierceness to his look after confronting Shelob and carrying Mr. Frodo half the way up that mountain.
Jn
A fool's paradise is a wise man's hell.
1) Angus McBridetruehobbit wrote:
1) name the artist!
2) find out what is depicted!
3) tell the real story!
2) It's artwork for Middle Earth Roleplaying and isn't meant to depict any particular scene from the books. I think this one might be the cover art for "Lost Realm of Cardolan"
3) I'll leave that to Vison
Angus McBride actually does some nice work. Here's one of my favourites.
-
truehobbit
- Cute, cuddly and dangerous to know
- Posts: 6019
- Joined: Mon Nov 21, 2005 2:52 am
- Contact:
Prim! 
I like that one! (Though I'm not a fan of Daniel Day-Lewis, normally.)
Hehe, Sam and Rosie? Awesome thought!
Hmmh, typing vison's adjectives in google - I hadn't thought of that! Will try - will be wearing protective glasses, so don't worry!
Ah, cool, Alatar, thanks for the info!
Yes, I did say that there was some not so bad stuff, too!
I quite liked the Éowyn pic.
I must admit I even quite liked this
:
I guess it's Fëanor - although I don't know what all the stuff around him is. And if it's not, it might be him.
In spite of the kitsch it oozes, I somehow think it's hot!
(And in spite of there being something distinctly feminine in his stance, much more so than in Conan above! )
I like that one!
(Though I'm not a fan of Daniel Day-Lewis, normally.)Hehe, Sam and Rosie? Awesome thought!
Hmmh, typing vison's adjectives in google - I hadn't thought of that! Will try - will be wearing protective glasses, so don't worry!
Ah, cool, Alatar, thanks for the info!
Yes, I did say that there was some not so bad stuff, too!
I quite liked the Éowyn pic.
I must admit I even quite liked this
:I guess it's Fëanor - although I don't know what all the stuff around him is. And if it's not, it might be him.
In spite of the kitsch it oozes, I somehow think it's hot!
(And in spite of there being something distinctly feminine in his stance, much more so than in Conan above!
)
Last edited by truehobbit on Fri Jan 13, 2006 12:25 pm, edited 2 times in total.
but being a cheerful hobbit he had not needed hope, as long as despair could be postponed.
-
truehobbit
- Cute, cuddly and dangerous to know
- Posts: 6019
- Joined: Mon Nov 21, 2005 2:52 am
- Contact:
Interestingly enough, I think Mithril Miniatures have used some of McBrides images for inspiration. He's not credited, but their Celebrimbor figure and their Éowyn Diorama show remarkable similarity to the pics in composition and pose.
Of course I also suspect the Venegeance of Smaug was inspired by Howe's painting of the destruction of Esgaroth.
Of course I also suspect the Venegeance of Smaug was inspired by Howe's painting of the destruction of Esgaroth.
-
truehobbit
- Cute, cuddly and dangerous to know
- Posts: 6019
- Joined: Mon Nov 21, 2005 2:52 am
- Contact:
My eyes.....my eyes!
When I read excerpts from my "romance" I think to myself: "I wrote that?"
Must have been in a fevered dream.....or like Coleridge writing "Kublai Khan".
Some of these pictures are pretty bad. Well, "pretty bad" doesn't really cover the awful truth. Some of them are REALLY bad and as such are entirely worthy of illustrating my magnum opus. Only the highest quality of badness is good, you know.
The one with the deer could ever so easily be altered. The deer could be black and white, just like Holstein-Friesians..........
Or not.
The Muse is stirring. The Giant Bat is still airborne and is getting tired, so I guess I'll have to bring him down to earth pretty soon.
When I read excerpts from my "romance" I think to myself: "I wrote that?"
Must have been in a fevered dream.....or like Coleridge writing "Kublai Khan".
Some of these pictures are pretty bad. Well, "pretty bad" doesn't really cover the awful truth. Some of them are REALLY bad and as such are entirely worthy of illustrating my magnum opus. Only the highest quality of badness is good, you know.
The one with the deer could ever so easily be altered. The deer could be black and white, just like Holstein-Friesians..........
Or not.
The Muse is stirring. The Giant Bat is still airborne and is getting tired, so I guess I'll have to bring him down to earth pretty soon.
Dig deeper.
-
Hachimitsu
- Formerly Wilma
- Posts: 942
- Joined: Fri Dec 02, 2005 1:36 pm
- Location: Canada
- Contact: