And that's how their tango begins -- he holds up his hand inviting her to join...
A snippet of my upcoming animation.... Stay tuned.
Sunday, September 24, 2023
Thursday, September 21, 2023
Guided by nothing but an instinct to survive, farther and farther away from home
There he sits, pressed in between bundles and things that keep rattling around him, on top of a horse-driven wagon. Looking up at his parents he can sense something big, something fearful and unspoken casting a shadow over them; and they bend their heads together over him and his sister. He can see an endless line in front, an endless line in back—horses and wagons, wagons and horses as far as the eye can see—all advancing towards the same gray, unclear horizon, all escaping towards the same destination: Unknown.
The sun rises in front of the wagons, and sets behind them. Towns appear and disappear. Rivers pass by, then forests, brick houses, motels. In Minsk they stop. He finds the three-story hotel quite fascinating at first, especially the curved rail of the staircase, which is meant, no doubt, for sliding down and yelling at the top of your voice. Of course, landing down on your butt, he finds out, is an entirely different matter—and so is the harsh, unforgiving look cast down at him by the hotelkeeper.
They settle down for the night. In the rented room, his mommy blesses the Sabbath candles. Her hands are tightly clasped, her eyes closed. And early the next morning they mount the wagon again, and the journey goes on in the dim light, guided by nothing but an instinct to survive, farther and farther away from home. Squinting at the rising sun, Zeev finds it more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. His mind is going numb listening to the wheels as they spin and turn, spin and turn, beating incessantly against the mud.
The sun rises in front of the wagons, and sets behind them. Towns appear and disappear. Rivers pass by, then forests, brick houses, motels. In Minsk they stop. He finds the three-story hotel quite fascinating at first, especially the curved rail of the staircase, which is meant, no doubt, for sliding down and yelling at the top of your voice. Of course, landing down on your butt, he finds out, is an entirely different matter—and so is the harsh, unforgiving look cast down at him by the hotelkeeper.
They settle down for the night. In the rented room, his mommy blesses the Sabbath candles. Her hands are tightly clasped, her eyes closed. And early the next morning they mount the wagon again, and the journey goes on in the dim light, guided by nothing but an instinct to survive, farther and farther away from home. Squinting at the rising sun, Zeev finds it more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. His mind is going numb listening to the wheels as they spin and turn, spin and turn, beating incessantly against the mud.
Friday, September 8, 2023
I love your bald spot, your dwindling hair
So this is a snippet for my animation, Tango, which is based on a series of my clay sculptures, featuring a middle-aged man who dances with a different girl in each of the sculptures. Here, she whispers to him, in her most sexy, throaty intonation, "I love your bald spot, your dwindling hair..."
Her voice will be narrated for the animation by Sarah Mallery, also known as S.R. Mallery. in different phases of her life she's been a singer, a composer, a calligrapher, a quilt artist, and an ESL/Reading teacher. Nowadays she's a USA Today Bestselling Author and a longtime friend of mine. I'm thrilled to incorporate her voice in this animation. Stay tuned...
