This post arose out of my inability to write a 25th post.
So K gave me an artistic challenge.
For your post
Draw a horse
Driving a Mustang
In outer space!
So this is the result:
I thought it best not to ask.
Two weeks ago, an out of state friend of mine went to visit her relatives back home.
She, her boyfriend and her kids took a six-day road-trip to Tennessee.
While there, she and her boyfriend decided to get married, so they did.
While their spontaneous barbecue/weekend get together wedding seemed to take all their friends and relatives by surprise, their day turned out to be exactly the sort of beautiful celebration that they’d been planning to have.
But it wasn’t so much of a surprise to me as she had told me of her plan to surprise everyone while she was on the road a day or two before.
She talked of how she wished that I could have been there on Thursday for their wedding on Saturday – which made attending a bit difficult if not impossible.
But I would have attended if I could have.
Though on that Friday night, I had a dream.
I had a dream that I attended their wedding…
And Loki was there, too.
Upon waking up, an image seemed stuck in my head
…of Him sitting in a chair, off to the side watching the festivities.
Some of the few details that struck me as unusual were that He was fully dressed *and* wearing boots, as well as He was holding a handful of black-eyed Susans.
On Sunday, my friend shared her wedding pictures on her Facebook feed.
And I was surprised to notice that both her bouquet and the flowers on the guest tables both featured black-eyed Susans.
I told her about my dream…and resolved to draw her a picture of Loki at the wedding.
So I did. ❤
In what has become sort of a tradition for this blog during the month of July, today’s post will feature some of my favorite artwork of Loki
First up, is a rather new favorite, ‘Loki in pencils’ by artist, Heidi Black on Tumblr:
I am amazed by this piece – look at those flames! – so effing bright that the subtle glow is reflected off the fur collar of His coat.
I just can’t even…*boggles*
I find these details especially impressive, considering that this stunning image is rendered in colored pencils.
(Personally, I find it damned near impossible to convey such crisp, clean lines in pencils myself….but she carries it off like a boss.)
Rock on, Ms. Black.
Next up is another example of stunning pencil work on tinted paper:
….from the incredibly talented Paige Carpenter, a depiction of Loki, titled ‘Balder’s Murderer.’
I love how His crown of mistletoe positively glows….and those eyes of His.
And speaking of His eyes…
Here’s ‘MythLoki’ by HaileyRenee, whose tumblr is here at Disturbingly Rendered.
And finally a delightful cartoon rendition of a playful Loki…
…by elreki-arts, on tricksterinthehedges on tumblr.
I love His grin.
I also love His stripe-y rainbow socks, the Burger King crown and the ridiculous pun on His shirt.
Welcome to the first day of July!*
So here I am again, facing another July with an ever-evolving devotional practice that includes Loki… and Odin.
To that end, a week or so ago, I ordered a pair of gorgeous prayer cards from Wyrd Curiosities on Etsy so you can imagine my delight when they were delivered this morning — just in time for the first of the month:
While Wyrd Curiosities sells several different prayer cards for Loki, I’d chosen this particular one mostly because it features Grace Palmer’s beautiful artwork as well as including one of my favorite prayers to Loki, written by F. Arismendi:
As well, I was delighted to see that the two cards I’d purchased were enclosed within a gorgeous notecard created by Dionysian Artist, featuring another stunning portrayal of Loki by Wayne McMillan…so that was an unexpected but pleasant surprise ❤
*As you may know, many Lokeans around the country celebrate the month of July by writing; that’s 30 days of devotional posts for Loki.
In what has become sort of a tradition for this blog during the month of July, today’s post will be a Loki artwork post.
First up, is one of my newest favorites – a digital piece subtitled
The Fire God says Hello…
(AKA Loke-Spam #2) by Striped Smoker on DeviantArt.
Another digital piece…
Loki, as Beast, by QuickReaver on DA.
I love that feral glint in His eye, the tousled mess of His hair…and of course, that jaunty tilt of His top-hat.
I am struck by something primal and dangerous in His facial expression
…and whatever that is, this image reminds me of Malcolm MacDowell from ‘A Clockwork Orange.’
Unfortunately as much as I really *lovelovelove* this image – and it is referred to all over the web as being ‘Norse Loki’ – I have absolutely no artist information/credit for this artwork.
When Googling this image, one is liable to come up with dozens of Pinterest hits and a few links back to a missing/deleted page on tumblr (media.24.tumblr), but other than that – there seems to be nothing more.
I’m sharing it in hopes that someone – anyone — has any leads for this artwork.
Please let me know – I’d love to give credit where credit is due! Thanks!
And finally, in the realm of Pop Culture Paganism…
Here is Sergey Razumovsky.
So I went searching for more of this artist through Google, and I kept finding some really interesting stuff…in Russian.
Translated, it turns out that this is fan art associated with Bubble Comics’ Major Grom/Major Thunder the Citizen comics.
This character is named Sergey Razumovsky. He is an orphan, a brilliant hacker, an Entrepreneur of social networking, a philanthropist, and a rather engaging and flirtatious fellow.
He is quite possibly Bubble Comic’s most popular character, according to http://bubblecomicsarehere.tumblr.com/
Sergey is similar to Loki in many ways, both in looks and attitude…and there are some subtle yet unmistakable similarities with the lore between Odin and Loki in a few story arcs of the comic as well. O.o
I don’t know how much of that is intentional on the part of the
original artist (who seems to be named Phobs.)
(The first image is fan art; the second is an original from the Major Thunder the Citizen story arc, by ‘Phobs‘)
Hail Loki, I love Your face ❤
I was talking with a friend about an hour ago, regarding an article that someone else had posted concerning how – theoretically – if one were to consider structures in nature as ‘order’ (the natural order of things in a system) then attempts by humans to impose their own concepts or systems of ‘order’ upon natural structures by other means (by sorting, categorizing, or classifying) is therefore a form of ‘disorder,’ because such imposition is creating artificial (unnatural) systems:
I ❤ this graphic. Artificial order imposed upon systems *is* chaos because they’re useless to anybody BUT those utilizing the artificial order system.
To the greater system itself? It’s meaningless. Piles? Columns? Sorting by type? That’s all concessions to the limitations of our cognitive systems.
Sure, our cognitive systems are natural too – even the artificial/natural distinction isn’t “quite” right.
But in the greater scheme, the one where humans are optional, those piles and sorting is chaotic and meaningless.
I’d never thought of order or disorder as being defined this way, and yet, I have been thinking of the relation between the concepts of ‘order’ and ‘disorder’ a lot lately. It began, as most things do, with a simple conversation in a Rokkatru group concerning someone’s UPG of the Aesir representing ‘order’ and ‘civilization’ in the cosmos while the Rokkr represent ‘nature’ and a ‘natural sort of disorder.’ Of course, there was discussion of how nature has its own sense of ‘order’ – but how, from the point of view of ‘civilization,’ nature’s sense of order is random and therefore, considered by civilization to be ‘disorder.’ As well, others discussed the concepts of open and closed systems and how a closed system eventually falls apart because it can’t self-sustain and whatnot, and things quickly became rather meta.
And being a Rokkatru group, of course, this discussion wound its way towards discussion of Ragnarok, and the role of Loki, Fenrir, and Surtr in bringing on the end of the world. The world is a closed system and the role of the Rokkatru is to bring about the destruction of this closed system in order to make way for a new (and perhaps more open) system.
And so, it’s odd but not surprising to me that that conversation gave me a headache…because chaos theory usually does.
But then, there I was again tonight, having a conversation about order and disorder again, but this time, it was on a smaller scale.
I was talking to my friend about how Loki has laughed at me concerning my OCD need to arrange the items in a specific configuration on His altar, or my habit of overthinking that is a hallmark of my social anxiety, or my inability to let things go and/or trust the process.
I have no problem admitting that I am sort of control freak regarding several aspects of my life and practice. And my friend agreed that she has some of those issues too.
And then, she said a funny-strange but interesting thing that hit me like a ton of bricks:
She said that her life as a child was hellish and the only way that she could have control over her environment was to draw. The only world that she could control could be found at the end of a pencil. So she drew pictures and created stories. She created worlds. She told me how Loki told her that her best artwork seemed to come when she experienced personal turmoil. How He has asked her why she would draw, and she told Him it made her happy. But the truth was that she was often unhappy/angry/miserable while drawing. (And, of course, He noticed that.)
Well, that reminded me of my own artistic coping strategies.
Honestly, I suppose that it’s nothing new, but I wrote and drew my way through a miserable childhood…and adolescence…and fuck, I *still do.*
And yeah, that realization, of how I tried to make sense of confusing experiences by filling up notebooks, and drawing my imaginary friends, and how much it shocks me to think that it wasn’t just me being escapist.
That art was …that art is a rather dysfunctional coping mechanism for me.
I don’t make money with it.
It doesn’t make me happy.
Things still pile up in my head, and writing them, drawing them doesn’t serve to make me any more sane or stable.
And it sure as hell doesn’t help me or my loved ones to understand me any better than before.
It’s just another method I hide behind. (Funny -autocorrect suggests that the word ‘method’ should actually be ‘met God’ over and over. No, I’ve never met God by writing or drawing. Psht. I should be living.)
Perhaps my incessant writing and drawing are what I do to keep myself from meaningfully engaging with others.
I hemmed and hawed about writing this post, as yesterday was a meaningful date in my personal history.
On the evening of Friday, 19 October 2007, my father died.
I would not find out about until the next day – Saturday – as my mother called me almost 8 hours later, leaving a four-word message on the home answering machine, to inform me that my father had passed.
My husband, my sons, and I had returned from a local skate tournament to see that little flashing light notifying us of an incoming call that we had received earlier that afternoon from an unfamiliar number.
I had been estranged from my parents for several years at that point. To put it bluntly, my mother had ‘disowned’ me in 2005 over something so incredibly petty that I am ashamed to admit now that I honored her wishes for nearly 2 years. And, unfortunately, my father did, too.
But I remember that last conversation that I’d had with my father in early October 2005.
Cancer had returned – malignant melanoma – but my father had insisted that it wasn’t such a big deal.
We danced around the subject of the impending surgery that would require the loss of his right eye, and, in typical form, my father joked about his options upon coming to terms with the reality that he’d probably have to wear an eyepatch.
He insisted that he couldn’t decide if he should tell people that he’d become a pirate, or if he should tell people that he’d given his eye to Odin, for knowledge.
I didn’t know what to say; I was just pleased to be speaking to my father, and I told him that I would be delighted to support him in either choice. In a roundabout way, I was trying to comfort him, but honestly, I would have agreed to support him in any way that I could, even if most of the time my support of him simply required that I cheerfully go along with his jokes.
That was my father. That’s the way that he coped best with adversity – through joking about it.
Though I didn’t want to discuss our own adversity — that elephant in the room — concerning how he missed me, and how he hoped that my mother and I ‘could somehow work things out’ so that he would be ‘allowed to talk to [me] again.’
I was inwardly furious that he felt like he had to sneak around – while my mother was not home – just to talk to me. (Of course, I was too stubborn to look the other way concerning my mother’s obviously toxic and controlling behavior. I was well aware of what a rare occurrence it was that my mother was not at home.)
Despite this, I truly thought that my father and I would speak again.
But we didn’t.
After my father died, my brother told me that the cancer had spread rather fast – but my father was overly proud man and it surprised no one that my father insisted on downplaying the debilitating effects on his quality of life – but as a result, my father refused to allow anyone to contact me concerning this reality.
I’ve no doubt that my father thought that he’d live forever, as long as he could joke about it, but he told my brother that he was even more ashamed to be seen as sickly or frail by anyone, let alone, his daughters.
Please let them remember me the way that I was was what I was told that he had said.
It turned out that my older sister -who was also estranged, also ‘disowned’ by my mother – didn’t even know that he’d died until two months after the funeral. While I am grateful that at least I had been informed in time to actually attend his funeral, I’m ashamed to admit that I was told that she knew but that she just didn’t show.
I regret that I didn’t question that further.
But, my dysfunctional family aside, I miss my father dearly, even now, even today, eight years later.
So what do I do to honor my father?
I will hold a ‘silent supper’ for him this week, wherein I provide him offerings of his favorite foods. Steak and potatoes. Blueberry pie. Sardines. Figs.
As well, it is likely that I will go to McDonald’s today. I will order – and mindfully consume – a Big Mac and a strawberry milkshake. It was the meal that my father loved, the ‘last meal’ that I was told that my father would often insist that he wanted – and then insist upon eating – even though I’d imagine that his body could scarcely have handled digesting such ‘junk food’ towards the end of his life. (Though that wouldn’t have deterred him, however.)
But I will enjoy it, as he would have wanted to enjoy it. (I mean, what the hell, I can imagine him arguing, I’m dying. I don’t worry about nutrition now. Fuck that. I want McDonald’s.)
As well, I have a playlist of his favorite songs that I will allow myself to listen to, and it is very likely that I will have a good cry over this one:
Perhaps I will read him Philip Levine’s poem, ‘Starlight’
(This is the poet, Philip Levine, reading ‘Starlight’)
This is a photo-booth photo of my father and I from 1974ish or so.
It is one of my favorite photos that I have of my father.
This is a photo of a self-portrait that my father painted in early 2007.
I miss you.
I love you, Dad.