William Ackerman

Eight minutes of Bliss - wait for the voices, it's the best part.

Cheers and peace be with you.

Pencil Faeries - Lavender

Some recent pencil work for the Irish Faerie Tale I am presently illustrating entitled Lavender Blue and the Faeries of Galtee wood.

Lavender - Image 9

Lavender finally gets a little rest in the haunted forest. The wood spirits are watching over her.  This is another illustration for the Irish Faerie Tale I'm currently working on entitled Lavender Blue and the Faeries of Galtee Wood.

The Haunted Forest - Final

Lavender is entering the dark and dangerous woods. This is another illustration for the Irish Faerie Tale I'm currently illustrating entitled Lavender Blue and the Faeries of Galtee Wood. From here on in Lavender is going to have to be very brave.

Cheers and Peace be with you.

Phases

Hello - with this post I would like to draw your attention to a new online art journal entitled Phases, which is designed and produced by Thomas Haller Buchanan at the Pictorial Arts Journal.  Thomas has decided to kick off his new arts blog by profiling yours truly with a pile of unpublished and unseen sketchbook drawings. There is a lot of beautiful design work here as you can see below, so why not pop over and give it a peek.


Just follow this link   http://pictorialartsjournal.blogspot.com/2011/09/11-arcadian-art-of-larry-macdougall.html

Cheers !

The Haunted Forest - Rough

Even with two thirds of the final illustrations completed we are still working and reworking the picture concepts for our Irish Faerie Tale - Lavender Blue and the Faeries of Galtee Wood. In this case of  we have decided to delete an earlier illustration in favour of this new idea where Lavender is seen bravely entering the Haunted Forest. We want to show these supernatural woods as big and scary and Lavender as small and fragile, yet determined to press forward. Work continues.

Cheers

Travel Update - Coven

It's starting. You can feel it. Not too much - hardly worth mentioning, but I've noticed.  I guess because I'm waiting for it. Autumn. A zing of red here, a few spots of yellow there. The green is changing. I love this time of year, and so do they. The days are getting shorter. The nights are getting cooler. It's their time. Autumn.

There are several active covens known to be operating in the Gwelf area. The one most feared and least understood is The Sisterhood of the Dark Fields. Shadowy rumours of them run thick and fast through the local pubs and taverns  as the bright light of summer recedes into the cool grey of autumn. It's not certain how many of them there are in the coven but estimates have it at thirteen or perhaps more. They are for the most part dormant during the spring and summer months, presumably due to an aversion to sunlight. They will surface again when the leaves turn brown and fall off the trees. The shorter days and cooler temperatures bring them out on their secret, nocturnal errands. You can imagine their  long, twig fingers crawling spider-like over the innocent form of a sleeping child, stolen from her cradle on a starless night. This is what they do, stalking the innocent and attacking them in their beds.

The residents of Gwelf are for the most part safe from witch attacks. However the out lying farms and smaller towns are much more vulnerable. The first thing you may or may not hear are the foot steps on the roof, followed by a paralyzing spell blown down the chimney to freeze you in your night shirt. Then a whispered incantation at the front door and the sound of all your locks unhinging themselves. You needn't worry about your money or your valuables, that isn't what they're after, although by the time they are finished you might be wishing they had been. A shaved head will be the least of the indignities visited upon you if they have their way. They are also interested in teeth and blood, your individuality and the life energy that resides in your temporal form. They are searching for secrets and there isn't anything they won't do to uncover the dearest and most personal ones.

The Sisters are very determined. They are the most bold on winter landscapes, moving through leafless, skeletal trees on the edges of moon lit fields. The first dusting of late autumn snow  bringing with it some new arcane atrocity, announcing their return for another season of fear and desolation.

At this time of year a hearty defensive plan is critical. There are things we can do. Witches do not favour salt or mirrors so I would suggest a liberal and creative distribution of both in order to enhance the protection of your person and your loved ones. However, candles infused with the appropriate witch defeating particle magic are your best defense, although they may be expensive and difficult to obtain.  The very best candles will remain lit on even the stormiest of nights. This will, as you can imagine, make them even more expensive and rare but if you are the kind of person that simply has to walk down lonely autumn roads in the middle of the night it will probably be worth it. Much care and caution will be required.

I hope this helps. Safe and happy travels to you.


Cheers.

Random Sketchbook

I was hoping to get another travel up-date out this week but ran out of time - instead - a few scribble pages from a recent sketchathon.

Peace be with you.

More soon.

The Best Coffee

Everybody has a favourite coffee shop. That place where you can get the perfect cup of coffee and really launch your day in the right direction. The best part of your morning, that first cup of coffee. Be they big or small, old or new, busy or not busy, we love our cafes. With this post I would like to talk a bit about my favourite coffee house.

The Up Tempo Cafe

The Up Tempo Cafe is located in a hitherto unknown and neglected little neighbourhood on the outskirts of Gwelf where the old city runs creatively alongside the river. This trendy establishment is owned and operated with humour and style by the now regionally famous five Tempo sisters. These five industrious girls have, in less than a year, taken their small, off the map neighbourhood and tuned it into a cultural hub and buzzing hive of activity simply by selling good coffee. Well, very, very good coffee. The best coffee.

Tempo One

Tempo Two

Tempo Three

Tempo Four and Five

What makes their coffee so special and different ? Let's put it this way - the java we all know and love gives you a sudden blast of energy and zings you awake in the morning, which is exactly what we want it to do. But, it can also make you nervous, jittery and jumpy if you drink too much and this is precisely what we don't want it to do. On the other hand, Tempo coffee brings on an enormous feeling of gratitude and well being, which is a completely different kind of rejuvenating energy, and of course, being grateful will keep you from over indulging. So don't worry, you won't go off the deep end. Instead you will find yourself truly appreciating your surroundings and a strong desire to cherish and protect them will grow in you. You will start paying attention to the details and aesthetics will begin to matter. Who can say what kind of primeval faerie glamour the Tempo sister are weaving into these exotic blends but whatever it is sure seems to be working.

Poet

The neighbourhood has been completely transformed. Artists, poets and creative spirits of every stripe are migrating to the area. Improvements and restorations are happening all over the place. Fences are being repaired and gardens tended to. Window boxes filled and litter picked up. There is colour everywhere now - murals, flowers, decoration and Topiary enliven the streets. Even the Luthiers have come back !

Luthiers

Muralist

And yet, somehow, surprisingly, magically, the people who oppose this point of view are unable to find the cafe - more of that faerie glamour I shouldn't wonder. They just never quite seem to make it. They get lost or forget what they're doing and go home, their dirty towels and unwashed dishes a more appealing option than some vague notion of a coffee shop they've heard about somewhere. There seems to be an obvious shortage of vandals, negatorians and nay-sayers in the Tempo neighbourhood.  Oh well, we'll just have to make do without them.

Vandal

So if you manage to make it over to the Up Tempo Cafe be sure to bring your journal, or your sketchbook, or your tin whistle or whatever it is that you do because chances are very good that you will be inspired. At the very least you will have a terrific cup of coffee.

Peace be with you and happy travels.

Cheers.

The Fortune Teller's House

With this post I thought I might bring your attention to a small, rustic tree house just east of Gwelf on the Old North Road. The Fortune Teller lives here with her two sisters and it is their business to tell you the truth. If you are not interested in the truth you will pass this house and continue happily on your way in comfortable and ignorant bliss. If however you are interested in the truth you will proceed with caution to the front door. By the time they get you to the back porch it will be too late. You are going to hear all the truth you could ever hope for whether you like it or not.

Shevka

Shevka is the middle sister. She reads the cards and tells the fortunes. Shevka is the one most people remember. She does not speak directly to you but to herself. Grenka is the youngest. She makes the wine and serves the wine. She asks the questions and does most of the talking.  People like talking to Grenka. Penyoval is the oldest sister and the one no one sees. She is very powerful. She makes and lights the candles. Candles infused with particle magic that play music in your head and unlock the doors in your mind. Candle waxing is the most subtle and difficult of the fortune telling arts. The cards and the wine and the candles will make the truth unavoidable. You will speak it and you will hear it. There will be no stopping it.

Grenka

Penyoval

Some people are okay with that much truth but not everyone is. The truths are told and then written on paper and placed in small clay pots. The pots are taken down to the bridge spanning the ravine and dropped over the side. This completes the process.  For some, the fortunes are too much to bear and they throw themselves over the side instead and plunge into the gorge below. The sisters cannot help this or stop it. It is not their business what you do with the your fortune but only that you hear it once you cross the threshold. The bones and broken pots are piling up down there. It's a very lonely place.

Please proceed with caution. Be well and go in peace. The sisters are waiting.

Getting Sorted

Big apologies for the uneven posts lately. Just working some kinks out of the system. In the meantime, some recent sketchbook work.. More arthritic vagrants with beards.

Cheers.

New Lavender Image

Here is a new illustration for the Irish Faerie Tale project I'm currently working on entitled Lavender Blue and the Faeries of Galtee Wood. This is the point in the story, near the beginning, where things are just starting to get interesting. Lavender is encountering what appears to be a unicorn - what she thinks is a unicorn -  in a moment she will find out what it really is. The story kicks into second gear, right about here - poor Lavender.

More soon.

Travel Update 4 - Drawing

I believe I have mentioned before how much I enjoy getting out for a little impromptu life drawing. It's such good practice. Give me a sketchbook and a public place and I'm set for hours. There is just no replacing the kind of observations one can make when drawing in real life from real people. Any place will do - shopping malls, libraries, parks - wherever the people gather. This is of course true when traveling on "the other side" as well. The Faerie Realm is a great place to observe and draw people, which brings me to today's post.

One sunny afternoon last autumn I found myself at a table in the yard of the Forget Me Not Inn on the Old North Road near Gwelf. There were several occupied tables nearby which inspired me to take out my sketchbook and make a few notes.

What first caught my attention was a table of very intimidating looking old women who were having a lively meeting at one of the out lying tables near the trees. There seemed to be an unusual number of birds and cats in their general vicinity who were making themselves quite at home on and near their table. The other thing I noticed about them was that there drinking glasses remained full despite the fact that no one seemed to be serving them, and I shouldn't have to tell you that they were working their elbows quite regularly. I couldn't help but start drawing these ladies right away. What a group of terrific old characters they were.

The importance of discretion in a situation such as this cannot be overstated. It's best if you don't get caught drawing in public, especially if alcohol is present or the subjects have spell casting capabilities. You could have your sketchbook torched, your fingers frozen or your eyes crossed for even the mildest misdemeanor, and heaven help you if some more grievous offense, real or imagined, was suspected. I continued on cautiously from a safe distance.

 

There was also a table of monks close by who seemed to be more than interested in what the old ladies were up to. They were taking notes and whispering intently among themselves as they kept their disapproving eyes on the boisterous ladies across the way. The brothers were all drinking what is locally known as "Tar Ale" which is very similar to Guinness in most respects but somewhat sweeter and a tad thicker. I also was drinking this, although it had not yet started to show in the drawing.

The last of the occupied tables was populated by a group of Foresters who I had seen earlier in the day clearing some recent storm debris from one of the local side roads. Many hours of wood chopping and heavy hauling had led them here for dinner and drinks. They were all wearing their distinctive Forester caps and boots. They were not showing the least bit of interest in either the monks or the ladies. To a man they were interested in only one thing - our joyful and charismatic waitress, Tandy Loomis.

Foresters

Tandy was a fabulous server who had an uncanny ability to know exactly what you wanted and when you wanted it about ten seconds before you did. She made a lot of money in tips as you can well imagine. Tandy was cute and funny and made you glad she was your waitress. She was really working her magic on those poor Foresters who didn't stand a chance in the face of all that natural faerie glamour. I could only guess at how far under the spell I was. There was no way to know, but I did know this - I wanted to give her a tip, as much as I could afford. Luckily for me I was smart enough to bring no more money with me than I was prepared to lose.  Experience had taught me that lesson. Caution is always required.

Happy Travels everyone and peace be with you.

More soon.

Cheers.

Travel Update 3 - Booby Trap

Traveling on "the other side" can be a lot of fun and very exciting but it can also be tricky or even dangerous. Today I want to talk about a close call I once had and how falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book meant disaster for someone else.

It was a cold and wind swept Saturday afternoon in late November.  I was doing my best to keep up with a kid in front of me whom I had been following for the past several hours. He was leading the way south along the Kenilworth Station Road, heading for the now popular King's Head Tavern, a cozy little pub still a few miles ahead. I was hungry and cold and wanted nothing more than to get there as soon as possible, sit by the fire and have a hot meal.

We had reached a bend in the road when he suddenly stopped. As I closed the gap between us I could see that his attention was fixed on something sitting by the side of the road. I got closer and was able to make out a wicker basket containing a half dozen apples, apparently left there by the owner who was presently out of sight but likely close by. I had been warned about situations like this but had expected to encounter one so soon in my career. I was just about to say something clever like " I wouldn't do that if I were you" when he reached for one of the apples. He must have been as hungry as I was because he took a bite, but then immediately vanished. His now empty clothes, with nothing to support them, fell to the ground in a heap. His cap hit the ground last and rolled into the ditch.

Instantly my ears began to ring and there was a strong smell of sulphur in the air. The tell-tale signs of a dark magic spell having just been worked. I was rooted to the spot. A wave of vertigo was overtaking me. From the trees at the side of the road emerged a very unwholesome looking woman, her eyes looking straight at the pile of clothes nearby. Her skirt came right to the ground but could not hide the fact that her feet were large and bird like.
She moved right past me and out onto the road where she picked up the clothes and cap. She then went back into the trees to whatever evil purpose she had planned for the boy. Something very lethal had just crossed my path and only luck and a bit of good advice had saved me.

I was now alone on the road. The sun was going down, it was getting colder and I was immobilized.  The heavy cloud of sulphur was beginning to clear and I started moving, somehow making it safely to the King's Head Tavern. I booked a room upstairs and spent a sleepless night watching the road from my window. There was no sign of the woman or the unfortunate boy. I left the next morning, but only when the sun was well up and there were other travelers on the road.

The King's Head

It was very unlucky for the boy that he had not been made aware of this kind of trap - all too typical on the roads "over there". Fortunately for me I had been warned and I'm passing the information along to you - safety first.

More soon and happy traveling.

Peace be with you.

Travel Update 2 - Albion Bridge

We started our travel posts last week with a trip to the Belle Flower Inn and I thought it might be fun to head back that way again this week to investigate one of the local landmarks. I was directed to the Albion Creek Bridge by Wilton Plowright, a pipe smoking card reader and guest at the Belle Flower whom I encountered the last time I was there. Albion Creek Bridge was his recommendation and I now pass it on to you. I'm sure you will find it as interesting as I did. I would suggest packing a small lunch as you will have to hike several kilometers east down The Old North Road to get there. This I did bright and early the next morning.

Wilton Plowright

I had no idea what to expect when I arrived at the bridge but was told, with a wink, to plan on staying for a little while and so I found a pleasant looking bit of grass and made myself comfortable. Before long a bearded fellow turned up and stationed himself on the bridge overlooking the creek. He stayed put and I waited, watching and listening. The sun was warm.There were several long billed grackles in a tree nearby chattering away. The bees were buzzing and the dragon flies hovered on the breeze. It was very relaxing. I was content, and so apparently was the chap on the bridge whose eyes were closed.

Albion Bridge

 I was beginning to feel quite at home in my little spot on the sun lit grass when I noticed that all of the toad stools in the immediate area had little faces carved on them. Someone had obviously sat here, for some hours, and carefully carved a unique little portrait on to each mushroom cap. Who would do such a thing? It then began to gradually dawn on me that the muttering birds in the nearby tree were actually speaking to each other and that I could almost make out what they were saying. They hadn't sounded this way before. But when did they stop their bird chatter and begin speaking in words? I couldn't recall and was surprised that I had missed something so obvious. They were chatting back and forth in a calm, conversational tone. If you weren't actually paying attention to the words they were saying you might almost think they were a couple of lawyers casually discussing a case. But I was listening to the words. They were speaking in bizarre poetic riddles with odd foreign accents. None of it made any sense and yet I felt as though I was right on the verge of understanding them. I was still examining the mushroom heads when it occurred to me that the artist must have sat right here, presumably listening to this same nonsensical dialogue, and created these little caricatures. Had the grackles inspired this little flood of creativity? Who could say? I was beginning to get rather drowsy. Listening to these birds was starting to have an intoxicating effect on me. I nodded off. Their voices diminishing into the hazy background of sleep.

Long Billed Grackles

I awoke sometime later to find  my shoes on the wrong feet and that I was wearing someone else's socks. I quickly checked all my belongings to see if there were any other unexpected changes, but there were none. I had been lucky. The grackles were still there but had fallen silent. The man on the bridge was gone. I was feeling completely calm in spite of recent events and even mildly euphoric. It felt as though a message had somehow been conveyed to me and that I now knew a secret, although I couldn't possibly tell you what it was. The good mood lasted all day. I went back to the Belle Flower, had dinner and slept soundly. The next day I had an exceptional breakfast, left the Belle Flower and continued my journey in high spirits.

Happy adventuring everyone and peace be with you.

More soon.