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| "And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all." |
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| "And the wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws." |
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| Cottage Gate, 2011 encaustic painting by Giselle Gautreau |
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| Darwin's Finch, 2012 encaustic painting on panel by Giselle Gautreau |
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| The Way to San Jose, 2012 encaustic painting by Giselle Gautreau |
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| Songbird Bramble, 2012 encaustic & handmade paper on panel by Giselle Gautreau |
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| Oh, horrible vultureism of earth! from which not the mightiest whale is free. Herman Melville - Moby-Dick illustration: The Last Whale by Terry Fan |
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| In the serene weather of the tropics it is exceedingly pleasant—the mast-head; nay, to a dreamy meditative man it is delightful. There you stand, a hundred feet above the silent decks, striding along the deep, as if the masts were gigantic stilts, while beneath you and between your legs, as it were, swim the hugest monsters of the sea, even as ships once sailed between the boots of the famous Colossus at old Rhodes. Herman Melville - Moby-Dick illustration: Far from Nantucket by Terry Fan |
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| Can you catch the expression of the Sperm Whale's there? It is the same he died with, only some of the longer wrinkles in the forehead seem now faded away. I think his broad brow to be full of a prairie-like placidity, born of a speculative indifference as to death. But mark the other head's expression. See that amazing lower lip, pressed by accident against the vessel's side, as firmly to embrace the jaw. Does not this whole head seem to speak of an enormous practical resolution in facing death? This Right Whale I take to have been a Stoic; the Sperm Whale, a Platonian, who might have taken up Spinoza in his latter years.
Herman Melville - Moby-Dick
illustration: Revenge of the Whale by Terry Fan
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| There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship indolently rolls; the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor. For the most part, in this tropic whaling life, a sublime uneventfulness invests you; you hear no news; read no gazettes; extras with startling accounts of commonplaces never delude you into unnecessary excitements; you hear of no domestic afflictions; bankrupt securities; fall of stocks; are never troubled with the thought of what you shall have for dinner - for all your meals for three years and more are snugly stowed in casks, and your bill of fare is immutable. Herman Melville - Moby-Dick illustration: Night Journey by Terry Fan |
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Consider the subtleness of the sea; how its most dreaded creatures glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure. Consider also the devilish brilliance and beauty of many of its most remorseless tribes, as the dainty embellished shape of many species of sharks. Consider, once more, the universal cannibalism of the sea; all whose creatures prey upon each other, carrying on eternal war since the world began. Herman Melville - Moby-Dick |
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| illustrations by Terry Fan |
