Fire flight

Regular fire exit signs are so... mundane. I've spent much of the last week drawing running naked women and finally arrived at this design this morning. 

The fleeing woman and the arrow are separate so that I can change the direction of the arrow. The whole thing needs to be tidied up a bit but I like it. She is every bit as "readable" as the ubiquitous stick figure, but brings a bit of joy to a grizzly situation. Everybody expects a bit of nakeness in an artistic environment, don't they? This also illustrates why life models always sit on their dressing gown. 

Either or both parts fit nicely on a card, so you can send it to your loved ones to say, "Flee now!"

Anna Bloom: You wear your hat on your feet...

 Either it's the madness of love. Or maybe she really is a circus performer. Either way she has caught his attention and turned his world upside-down.

Anna Bloom: Red dress

 "O your red dress, sawn with white pleats."

 I've spent a lot of time struggling with these pleats. I've tried out several drawings over the years. Sawn pleats. Pleats don't really make zig-zags, like saw teeth. So what kind of concession do I make to poetry or to the construction of dresses? Definite artist problem. This one came to me in a scribble last night. And I developed the drawing this morning. I also added feets. Because they rhyme with pleats. And I thought I'd double down on the artist problem thing.

As these prints have appeared it has become more plain that they are going to be black/white with blocks of colour. There is so much colour in the poem. I shall have to wait until I have made the red block to see how much sawn-ness is in this one. But I'm happy that it's a dress that somebody could make if they wanted.

Anna Bloom: This belongs elsewhere.

 This is another of the "editorial" comments Schwitters makes in the poem. "This belongs elsewhere. (by the way)", immediately follows the first line. Its as if the poet immediately regrets coming straight out with his love right at the start. So out comes the blue pencil...

Anna Bloom: Beloved of my 27 senses

 "O you, beloved of my twenty-seven senses, I love you!" This is the opening line of the poem, so it's our first sight of the unsuspecting Anna. Over the years I've had lots of thoughts about how to approach this one. Fairly early on, I thought he'd see her when she's out and about shopping. At the market, maybe. The last few days this developed into her eating an apple, so the poor deluded fool can think of her as tempting him.

You only have the poet's word for it, but there is something unconvenional about Anna Bloom. It seems she is gossiped about at the least. Eating in public can do that. Believe me.

Anna Bloom: This belongs in the ashcan

 Another print for Anna Bloom. The poem contains three of these little refrains, "This belongs...(by the way)" where the poet wishes to carry out brutal edits at the very least, or even dispose of the poem altogether. This one I decided to go with a dustbin with a touch of Top Cat about it. For after all, the whole poem is quite comical in its doomed quest.

Who are you, undocumented damsel? (Anna Bloom)

 This is the second of the Anna Bloom illustrations. I had done a simple outline drawing way back when I had the original idea. I've just taken that and made it more blocky. I always liked the simplicity of this one, and the slightly threatening vibe, implying the slightly stalkerish feeling I get from the poem.