Illustration Commons^™

The Gates Of Jerusalem, Arthur Hollander

Manuscripts

Far away, in the eastern part of the land, by the banks of the Jordan, the Lebanon mountains raise themselves up. On the slopes of the mountains a valley streeches out. There are fields and vineyards, orange groves and forests. In this valley a small village is built. In this small village live simple farmers. Among the farmers lives an old man, ninety years old, and his old wife, eighty-two years old. The old farmer and his wife live in their small, simple tent. The stable in which their white ass stands is built by the tent. By the stable …

Not One Of Them, David Craig

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

The Shadowed Vale, Joan Fuller

Manuscripts

The setting sun was reddening with its last fiery glow the walls of the great castle at Blois where it stood on a rising slope above the skirts of the town. It tipped the carved and traceried windows of the roof and gleamed vermillion on hilts of swords and pour-points and slashed trunk-hose as officers and men-at-arms bustled to and fro in the yard.

But though their faces were long and they bustled nervously, often they stopped in excited knots to whisper and cast curious glances at the windows of the royal suite. For the Dowager Queen lay dying in …

Front Matter

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Comics And Illustration From The Written; The Conversion Of A Story From Prose To Graphic Depiction., Kayla A. White Ms.

Undergraduate Honors Theses

This is a thesis that details the process of writing a short 30 page novel, and then converting the subsequent story into a graphic format via illustrations and into a comic book layout. The story itself deals in reworking our learned assumptions of good and evil, specifically in the supernatural and human possibility for both. The comic book format is an exploration of my reader’s different responses to the written and the graphic.

Tiget Heart : A Short Story, Wai Yin, Catriona O'Neil

Artists-in-Residence Programme : Exhibition Catalogues

As an illustrator, Cat O'Neil's work resolves around telling stories through metaphorical imagery. Tiger Heart is an exhibition of one of these stories, which centres on the topic of street harassment.

[More Information about the exhibition with supplementary video]

All the works shown in this book is under the copyright of Cat O'Neil. Do not copy or reproduce the work without prior consent (except for review purpose).

(In)Famous Cover Tunes Of 2014, Simon Orpana

The Goose

A cartoon and commentary by Simon Orpana.

Grampy Hagen's Tale, Steven Schmidt

Manuscripts

"They's some folks what believes in haints," said Grampy Hagen. We, my brother Johnnie and I, were ready for bed, but first we huddled together in front of the fire while Grampy Hagen sat in the big old oak rocking chair. "Yes, sir, some folks believes in haints 'n spooks 'n things. But I weren't one of 'em, no sir! Leastwise, not afore I spent the night in the cabin down in the holler by the Willow Creek wash."

And Not To Yield, Lisa Nowak

Manuscripts

Harry Theobald, formerly called Ulderico Theobaldi, entered the kingdom of God today at 11:02 a.m. having lived his life with all the vigor he possessed. At age 76, he died of leukemia at the Golden Hills Nursing Home, leaving three children and three granddaughters the deed to his warm spirit. Included in his will was a document citing three basic inheritances--faith, hope, and love--to be practiced with positive consideration and serious contemplation in his remembrance.

Doughnuts At Night, Michael Martone

Manuscripts

Open, it says, all night.
the tacky lights talk
flicking around the yawning O
and the open hole of the doughnut.
a planet peers through.

Indian Summer, Noel Wyatt

Manuscripts

As the blood red sun began to sink, a silhouette broke the painted scene. It approached the Apache Reservation roaring like the Father Wind on a winter day. The beast seemed to shout its name above its own voice; across its shiny hood "Lincoln" defied any opponent.

A Fourtwothreelegs Poem, Ed Shacklee

Manuscripts

The first grade teacher greeted
with simplicity the coming of the Day

Untitled, Alice Monds

Manuscripts

He took an old Barlow knife from his pocket and eased into the cane bottom chair, tipping it back on two legs against the low stone fence. Methodically, he drew the gleaming blade across a fragrant block of red and yellow cedar. His gnarled, weathered hands moved deftly. He worked intently for some time, honing the block to a soft roundness and piling thin light curls of cedar around his feet. He peered at his companion from singular eyes set below incredibly unmanageable gray brows.

Of Sap And Tears, Diane Hale

Manuscripts

I sit in the woods
and watch the stream
admiring the trees as they ripple and flow
Waves sweep us in,
lulled into dream-sleep,
carrying us away--
content to settle beneath the gentle caress
certain to end as we began

Battle, Bob Sullivan

Manuscripts

Wet from the cold March rain, the white paint glistens fresh. It is almost as if the barn has been swept by a snowstorm of Elmer's Glue. In contrast to the radiant purity of this barn, the soil of the farm is a tiring alternation of milky gray and soggy brown. Tattered stubs of once-green corn cling to the ground in haggard remnants of narrow rows. Like the littered aftermath of Gettysburg, this land is hallowed--Mother Earth. The farmer sees himself as the victor. He has tamed the cycle with civilized plastic machinery.

Avatar, Mary Harter

Manuscripts

You see her in the supermarket every day. She wears size 14, stretch pants (that advertise plainly why she needs the stretch) and a matching print blouse. She wears them with tennis shoes.

A Child's Viewpoint, Alice Monds

Manuscripts

She beckoned to me, and with much apprehension I entered the door of the shabby unpainted house. Inside, the room was small and dark and almost the entire space was taken up by a big metal-framed bed which stuck out into the middle of the room. A ragged upholstered chair in one corner and a small pot-bellied stove in the other completed the furnishings. The windows, uncurtained, were filthy and one was covered with pieces of a cardboard box where the pane had been broken out.

The Surrender, Diane Hale

Manuscripts

Light revolves
patterning grey age faces
in flashing momentary brilliance--
exposing shadow dreams
of victorious kingdoms
built in bottle caps
the shrapnel of hope's treachery--
to be swept away with
debris of belief

The Hairy Arms Poem Or The Love Song Of J. Alfred Poofrock, Mary Harter

Manuscripts

I have encountered "The Love Song of J. Alfred Poofrock" in three different college English classes taught by three different teachers. They all agree that T. S. Eliot wrote the poem. On everything else they disagree.

Heat Lightning At Night, Michael Martone

Manuscripts

mute mimic,
the splashing spark