I am Columbine until I am something else

[caddyman]

You mind the baby, said L’Isola.

You mind the baby.

Oh, I will mind the baby, said Pulcinella, and when L’Isola was not looking, Pulcinella tried to do something very naughty indeed. But the little girl was not, perhaps, as little as Pulcinella thought, and certainly was more resourceful than one might be led to believe. When Pulcinella had finished screaming and pleading and weeping and the floor was all covered in tree sap and wood shavings, the girl said and now you will teach me, Pulcinella, the ways that you know. And perhaps I will not hurt you any more.

And Pulcinella said why should I teach you anything you evil little brat, so the little girl showed him the knife, and then he did as he was told and taught her the tricks and the secret ways of L’Isola. But Pulcinella thought himself clever, and he tried many times to trick the little girl. "Look, little girl," he would say, "here come your mother and father". But every time he tried, the little girl picked up her knife and set to. She ignored the screams and the pleading and the begging, until she had whittled him away to just a little mask.

Now you are just a little mask, Pulcinella, said the girl. I can pick you up and put you off as I need to. That was what I wanted you to teach me, Pulcinella, not all the rest of this business, though it is useful and interesting. Thank you, Pulcinella.

But from Pulcinella, there was no reply at all, for after all, he was just a mask carved out of wood and paint.

Eventually the little girl grew up and men came and looked, and said "Where does she come from?"

And the girl said "I am from L’Isola."

The wise men scratched their heads, and like foolish ants scurried round the paper maze, looking for an answer. The little girl squinted at them, and if she concentrated, she could just make out the strings, just like those of marionettes, that ran from their wrists to their pasts. "There are no magi of this House in Venice," they said, "and yet clearly by your markings you are of the Criamon. Whom was your master in magic? Where did you learn your Art? How did you come by your marks of unfolding wisdom?"

And the girl said, with perhaps a hint of exasperation, "I am from L’Isola. Do you not understand?"

The wise men danced at the end of their marionette strings and said; "It is the Criamon way. Perhaps she walks in Twilight. Should we seek assistance? Perhaps another Criamon magus might be able to decipher these riddles she speaks in"

And so they called to the Primus Criamon of the time, Magister Pupae, and he asked many questions and the girl answered, eventually becoming bored of this game. Only one question could she not answer: What Is Your Name. She listened and listened, but L’Isola was silent, the canals and byways rippling gently to themselves. She strained and strained and listened as far back as she could, trying to catch a hint of anything that might be a name, might be a touchstone. But nothing came. The little girl was not as unhappy at this as one might expect because without a name, nobody can command or demand anything of you, and your strings are cut. It was important, somehow, for some reason, that the little girl not remember her old name; vital she avoided such a thing. But for convenience’ sake at least, the little girl would need something to be called by, even if it were not a name.

"Columbine," she said. "I am Columbine until I am something else."

She remembers too, in the dark of night the little girl waif who ran barefoot and ragged through the alleys and streets of the settlement, mute and playful, but knowing her place always. Then there was always someone, someone from afar with a strange voice and the confusing custom of the Romioi. Someone to tell her what to do, how to behave and where the tribute lay.

And as the waif grew, the men from The City came by but seldom, and she grew in confidence and strength: La Citta. Until one day there was no need again for the orders by the men from The City, from the Romioi. Now when they come, they come to pay court, to ask of La Citta. For she has grown and is independent and haughty, yet gay and frivolous, hidden and open, expansive and reclusive.

La Serenissima, mistress now, with no need of a master.
-excerpt from player brief for the Manifest Genius Locus of Venice: Columbine

This picture has had a gestation period of about three years. I drew the initial sketch shortly after we ran NWO: Rome and filled it out before scanning it. Then the outline lay fallow for some months because I could not find a background for it. nyarbaggytep came to my rescue by allowing me the use of one of her Venice photographs, showing a quiet little backwater somewhere in the labyrinth of Venice. Then nothing happened for a while longer through a combination of inertia and technical failure. My ancient ArtPad would not work on my most recent motherboard, so it stalled again.

Now it is fixed and for some reason, over this weekend, I have found the enthusiasm and creative drive to finish the picture. It is not quite what I envisaged when I started out all that time ago, and it is a less than accomplished mishmash of techniques, but seeing as all apart from the initial out line sketch has been done with a mouse, a keyboard and an ArtPad, I am not too displeased with the result.

One of the days, I may post up the sequence of development and variations that the picture went through to get to this.

Comments

[delvy.livejournal.com]

I don't know if this will please you but I did know who the picture was without reading the entry or noticing the title in the bottom left :)

[lupercal.livejournal.com]

We approve!

[lucyas.livejournal.com]

That is very impressive work - I didn't realise you did artwork.

[kt-peasant.livejournal.com]

That is extremely fine. Would it be possible to get a copy? I've been questing quietly for something to adorn the wall I stare at when I should be working, but nothing's been quite right up til now.

[caddyman.livejournal.com]

Just download a copy from the photobucket page; it only exists as a jpeg! I have a larger, marginally different version on my PC as I played with the mist effects.

If you print it full size at landscape it is just a bit smaller than A4. Let me know if you want a larger version and I'll email it to you.

I would volunteer a print, but I don't think my printer is up to the task, sadly.

[dreamfire.livejournal.com]

I like.

Am trying to figure out if there is any of me left in there - the face shape nose and hair line maybe from the original photo? The eyes are your invention entirely I think?

[caddyman.livejournal.com]

Glad you like ;-)

Most of the face is still yours, but I added an unearthly glow to the eyes and added the hair beyond the hair line - in the original photo it was too dark to see where your hair ended and the background started without running so much gamma correction as to ruin the picture.

As it was, matching your silver make up was a swine; I had to paint in the shoulders and hands in flesh tones, add a layer, copy the skin tones across, darken them, swap them to negative and add a chrome overlay. I then added 15% translucency to allow some skin tone to show through and then boosted the luminosity!