Skook Words (and Pictures) #51

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Hello, hello! You’re looking fabulous, as usual.

This is the last newsletter of 2023 and the last newsletter for a while. You will (huzzah! hooray!) continue to get emails (or see posts). Starting on Monday I will be posting daily. I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions so much as I invent yearly projects. This is my project for 2024. As I’ve mentioned in previous newsletters, I’m working on mastering drawing using Clip Studio Paint and my Wacom tablet. I’m working on the sketches as if I’m doing a daily comic strip – six small sketches from Monday to Saturday with one large sketch on Sunday. I’m restricting myself to a half hour for the smaller sketches and an hour for the larger ones. (With a little wiggle room in these early days as I have to figure out how to do things in CSP that I already knew how to do in Photoshop.)

A new format means it’s time for new website banners. You won’t see these if you only see these newsletters in your email. These will be appearing randomly over at Skookworks.com starting January 1st.

Aside from improving my skill with CSP, I’m experimenting to see if I can increase my audience.

I’ll be simultaneously posting the sketches to my Substack newsletter.

I’ll be posting details of the sketches to my Instagram account that will feed to my Facebook page. (Instagram crops images to 1×1 ratios. The sketches are 2×1 and 2×3. I’m precropping the sketches because Instagram can’t be trusted to make good crops.)

I’ll be posting hi-res downloadable versions of the sketches to supporters of my Ko-Fi account.

Here in the real world I’ll be working on Sunk Cost Elegy, illustrations for a new Oz book and … stuff. And delivering mail. Of course.

I’ll undoubtedly write the occasional essay post but, for the next few months, expect more pictures than words.

Thank you for tuning in so far. Your attention is appreciated.

See you Monday!

Skook Words (and Pictures) #50

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Dancing Spirits
by Sarah Byam

A winter Whisp rose from the cobblestones just outside Grandma’s house. As she and little Anders made caramel on the stove with Carnation sweetened condensed milk, cinnamon, cardamom and anise, the scented steam puffed up the chimney and over the roof.

The wind led the Whisp up and up, as she drew up the kisses of sweet and spice into her arms.

Together they danced across the world, gathering in scent as they went. The bite of coffee brewing at the Simpsons. The tang of berbere from the Tedesses. The luscious warmth of fresh baked challah bread at the Friedmans. Woodsy rosemary. Sharp lime. Comforting vegetable stew. The earthy embrace of the forest. The salt and sour of the sea. The freshness of rain.

In their wake they carried bits of snow and music, the choir of a clapboard church, the cry of a starling mourning its mate. The horns or a mariachi band, the smoke of burning money, the flavor of chocolate, nutmeg, lemon grass, basil and thyme.

They danced down the click of clocks, the canon of bells, and the flowers of frost draping themselves around the earth like a snow globe.

Then, as the world spun, the first star in the sky followed the sun crossed the ice cold Angel and her sweet suitors. They crackled and melted, dew mixing with with breath, In a slightly sweet sunrise against winter sky.

Changed, combined, stirred and warmed, people felt a little more hopeful, the Angel and her mates gave their gift as they were briefly inhaled around the world.

Merry Merry!

Peace on Earth. Goodwill to All.

Good food and good drink and good sleep at the end of a good day.

Thank you for stopping by. The world is a better place with you in it.

True fact.