Illustration Commons^™

Three Reasons Why, Ted Lemaster

Manuscripts

The United States is a great nation not because of its natural water ways, acres of timber, acres of wheat, corn, oats, rye, mines of iron, coal, copper, tin. It is the people who man the water ways, level the trees and run the mills, sow the crops and reap the harvest, operate the mines who make the United States so great a nation. The people of the United States have made this a nation to be proud of because they have kept it growing, kept fighting, and kept the spirit of competition alive.

Elmer's Evolution, Maryann Mclaughlin

Manuscripts

Spring is here! Can't you hear the rumble of skates as the children zip by the house in their youthful glee? Can't you hear the mingled chatter of the spring birds? Can't you smell the sweetness of the pure, clean air - such a relief from that choking smog of the long winter? Can't you see the first buds as they peep through the small gray tips of the dismal twigs? And can't you see Elmer - his beautiful red hair and his bright eyes gleaming as they catch the ray of the warm, mellow sun? Can't you see him? …

There's A Soldier, Donna Hoffman

Manuscripts

As the peircing north wind blew his icy gusts around the corners and swept the streets with his broomlike blasts, the people stamped their feet and drew their coats more closely about them. It seemed as though Wind and Sun were having a terrific argument and Wind was doing his utmost to win this battle. The crowd was beginning to lose a little of the feverish excitement that a military parade always seems to cause. Suddenly the strains of the national hymn were carried to their ears; and, forgetting the cold, the crowd cheered and sang as the band marched …

Americanism, Herbert Eaton

Manuscripts

Americanism. This is not a new word to me; in fact, it is one with which I have been familiar for several years. Yet it has not been long since I have come really to understand and appreciate it.

The Cathedral Of Our Lady, Betty Alice Hodson

Manuscripts

Just one block from the central plaza of a small Mexican town, on La Calle de Las Rosas, stands a small Cathedral, built in 1830 by the hands and the sweat of peones who labored on nearby haciendas. It is built of limestone and marble, and is one of the finest Cathedrals in Northeastern Mexico, even though it is small, and seen by few but the townspeople. I shall try to show how it is seen through the eyes of three different people.

Team Fights Team, Robert L. Zinkan

Manuscripts

On a cool brisk Saturday afternoon in the late fall of the year, thousands sit watching two teams warming up to engage in a fierce battle scheduled to be raged long before by the coaches of the opposing teams. They have been practicing, putting themselves into condition for months, maybe years, in order to be prepared to defeat any team which they come up against. Later in the dressing room the coaches try to rouse their tempers by speaking strongly against their opponents. After making their blood boil with hate, he reminds them not to lose their heads because strategy, …

Tribute To "Bessie, The Jalopy", Bill Freeland

Manuscripts

"Bessie" was a good old Ford, even if she was of the 1924 vintage, with old-fashioned clincker tires and all the out-of-date accessories that made her comfortable like an old, old shoe.

In Fond Remembrance, Arthur Graham

Manuscripts

The late Rupert St. James, whose violent, tragic death created. heartfelt repercussions throughout the literary world, was born May 1, 1915. Rupert; although he early showed signs of poetic genius, did not come into his own until after the still unsolved disappearance of his father, himself a versifier of ability, in 1929. Graduating from Harvard in '34, Rupert had already written two volumes of poetry, On scholarship funds he did post-graduate work at Oxford, the University of Paris, and the University of Prague, all the while producing in an ever increasing flow the verse that was to characterize him as …

The Second Gull, Mary Margrette Schortemeier, Lucy Kaufman

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

The Legend Of Laughing Jack, Jack Kilgore

Manuscripts

Long before the starched, clean stiffness was gone from their striped denim work aprons, the greenest boys at Herr Grosskopf's wholesale house were familiar with the Legend of Laughing Jack. They heard it from the wrinkled and gnomelike Isenhorst; they heard it from the wrinkled and deaf Shmidt; they heard it from Schneider, Fischer, and Schultz; but the most terrifying accounts were those given by Sam, the colored janitor. Only Jones of the shipping department never talked of it, but then Jones was different.

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