Edgar
3 members found
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Andrew Edgar
Australia
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Andrew Edgar
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Edgar Barany
61 creative works found
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Ink on paper illustration from a book I have written and illustrated. This character is largely inspired by Edgar Allan Poe and an array of depressive songwriters I have encountered.
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Following the discussion under this fine tee from the Industries of Lucan; here is my Edgar Allan Poe tee. It is based around his short story The Tell Tale Heart , read it. Now. / Thanks go to the pubic domain resources of Wikipedia for the heart and for the lung capillaries. / . / Black ink edition
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Following the discussion under this fine tee from the Industries of Lucan; here is my Edgar Allan Poe tee. It is based around his short story The Tell Tale Heart , read it. Now. / Thanks go to the pubic domain resources of Wikipedia for the heart and for the lung capillaries. Click for white ink version: /
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Inspired by Edgar Allen Poe’s masterful and thought provoking poem The Raven _Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, / Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, / While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, / As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. / `’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - / Only this, and nothing more.’ Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, / And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. / Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow / From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore - / For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - / Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain / Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; / So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating / `’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - / Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - / This it is, and nothing more,’ Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, / `Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; / But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, / And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, / That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; - / Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, / Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before / But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, / And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’ / This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’ / Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, / Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. / `Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; / Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - / Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - / ‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’ Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, / In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. / Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; / But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - / Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - / Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, / By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, / `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven. / Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - / Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’ / Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, / Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore; / For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being / Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - / Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, / With such name as `Nevermore.’ But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, / That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. / Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered - / Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - / On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’ / Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’ Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, / `Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, / Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster / Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - / Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore / Of “Never-nevermore.”’ But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, / Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; / Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking / Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - / What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore / Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’ This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing / To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; / This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining / On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, / But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, / She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer / Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. / `Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee / Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! / Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’ / Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! - / Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, / Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - / On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore - / Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’ / Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! / By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore - / Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, / It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - / Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’ / Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting - / `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! / Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! / Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door! / Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’ / Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting / On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; / And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, / And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; / And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor / Shall be lifted – nevermore!_
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We play roller hockey together. Edward posed for me after our game. This image is part of two that were chosen for the beautiful Photo Workshop book edited by Lynne Eodice (Photo that Inspire).
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Drawn in pencil, then i bought some artistic pens with brown ink, to see if i hand do sepia. Well, not really, i’ll keep practising, hee hee
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11×15” (Winsor & Newton Cotman and Loew-Cornell Metallics on Strathmore CP 300 series paper) ink and watercolor Poe is one of my favorite macabre authors. I was weary of seeing portraits of him done so plainly based on the daguerreotype, and wanted to romanticize him a bit with a more youthful, contemplative and surreal portrait. I included The Black Cat and The Raven as they were the inspiration for this piece. Part of my Revolutionaries series.
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Edgar the gargoyle, brother to Charlotte (Bronte), Faulkner (william), and Ralph (waldo Emerson). Ralph mysteriously disappeared in late 2005. They were all wedding gifts from my (now deceased) Aunt.
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Latest addition to “Freekz, Geekz & Wedgeez” dunno which one he is yet …lol maybe all 3
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I think this one’s pretty self explanatory.
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whos that rappin’ at my chamba door, all up in my grill like “nevermore”.
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ANNABEL LEE / by Edgar Allan Poe. / 1849 It was many and many a year ago, / In a kingdom by the sea, / That a maiden there lived whom you may know / By the name of ANNABEL LEE; / And this maiden she lived with no other thought / Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, / In this kingdom by the sea; / But we loved with a love that was more than love- / I and my Annabel Lee; / With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven / Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, / In this kingdom by the sea, / A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling / My beautiful Annabel Lee; / So that her highborn kinsman came / And bore her away from me, / To shut her up in a sepulchre / In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, / Went envying her and me- / Yes!–that was the reason (as all men know, / In this kingdom by the sea) / That the wind came out of the cloud by night, / Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love / Of those who were older than we- / Of many far wiser than we- / And neither the angels in heaven above, / Nor the demons down under the sea, / Can ever dissever my soul from the soul / Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams / Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; / And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes / Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; / And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side / Of my darling–my darling–my life and my bride, / In the sepulchre there by the sea, / In her tomb by the sounding sea. THE END More Photography: /
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And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floorShall be lifted – nevermore!
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This is an abstraction of one of my photographs.
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Technique: Hand-drawn, Ink and Chalk. Created: October 2006 Description: Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe and The Masque of the Red Death.
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Port Edgar Marina. Port Edgar is located on the River Forth at South Queensferry, Lothian, Scotland. Three bracketed JPGs converted to HDR in Photomatix. BEST VIEWED LARGER Related shots can be found at: / South Queensferry and Lowland Scotland or you can look at all my HDR shots.
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Port Edgar Marina with the Forth Road Bridge in the background. Port Edgar is located almost under the Forth Road Bridge on the River Forth at South Queensferry, Lothian, Scotland. Three bracketed JPGs converted to HDR in Photomatix. BEST VIEWED LARGER Related shots can be found at: / South Queensferry / Lowland Scotland and / Bridges or you can look at all my HDR shots.
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...”but the Raven sitting lonely / on the placed bust spoke only / that one word, as if his soul in that one word / he did outpour, / nothing further then he utterd-- / not a feather then he fluttered- / till I scarcely more than muttered, / “other friends have flown before- / on the morrow he will leave me / as my hopes have flown before,” Then the bird said, / “Nevermore” edgar alllen poe
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Bird of ill omen is perched on a cheerful yelllow “ominous”. Edgar Allen Poe’s raven said “Nevermore”, which I suppose is a lesson to us all to only ask questions which we would prefer to be answered in the negative. The raven/crow family are second only to the parrot family in intelligence in the bird kingdom, and have been witnessed to have the ability to reason and use tools. “The Mind of the Raven” is the story of one man’s devotion to their study.
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From the “Never More Series”, with a classic but gothic feel. / The raven persists as a symbol or motif in literature, art & mythology. / From the crow family the raven is a symbol of death & foreboding. My quest is to explore those archetypal images & symbols that seem to persist in people’s art & that are beautiful in their design. Much like my earlier T shirt design of a dragonfly, this is an image I am drawn to & originates from a 19th century wood engraving. I use it to collage with other imagery & type! Hope it resonates with you! For those who love traditional & gothic flair. Visit my gallery “Motley Nation” to see all my T-Shirts, Cards & framed & unframed poster designs at: / / http://zehda.redbubble.com/works
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austin, tx, 2008
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Edgar’s head can recite gloomy poetry with a bit of uncanny mechanical engineering…...
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