Mystical Realms Newsletter for March, 2012
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Jef
Mar 13, 2012, 9:46:20 AM3/13/12
to Mystical_Realms
Greetings!
And welcome to my newsletter for March, 2012! Please feel free to
forward this to anyone you think would be interested in keeping up
with me! To receive these newsletters regularly, please drop me an
email or subscribe online from my website (http://www.JefMurray.com )
or at: http://groups.google.com/group/Mystical_Realms . Notices of
events and items of interest are at the bottom of this email.
Pitchers ===============
I have posted three new painting images on my website. These include
“Home Again”, “Healing Waters”, and “The Tryst”. All three of these
are in three different places within the Tolkien gallery (The Hobbit,
The First Age, and The Lord of the Rings, respectively). However, you
can see all three of these by going to http://www.JefMurray.com and
clicking on the “Newest Works” icon (the dragon!) at the top of the
page.
As always, these and all of the images in my online galleries are
available as signed and numbered limited-edition Giclee prints. See my
webpage for details.
And, do let me know how these new works strike you!
Ponderings ==============
Sam poked his head into the attic. The air was acrid and stifling.
Through the gloom, he could barely discern dusky shadows beneath the
eaves. A moth fluttered, shifting the afternoon light and stirring the
dust.
Sam pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the hatchway. Cool air
flowed from the floors beneath him. He looked down and saw the bag of
Mardi Gras beads on the top of the stepladder. His uncle had sent him
to pack them away until next year.
“I’m getting too creaky in the joints to get up there if I don’t have
to,” uncle had told him. “Besides, you’re nearly thirteen; an
auspicious age! And, it’s the perfect time for you to begin your
career as an adventurer!” His uncle had winked at him.
This was the season of Lent. Ordinarily, the garret would still be
chilled in early March, even so late in the afternoon. But spring had
come early, it seemed. Sam reached for the beads and got to his feet,
breathing the thick air with difficulty. His eyes slowly attuned to
the twilight.
That's when he saw the chest: oblong, dark, and featureless. It
brooded in the farthest recesses of the eaves, beneath heavy wooden
beams stained with age. Unlike the rafters, floor, and ceiling, it was
free of the ubiquitous dust. Sam scratched the back of his head, and
then sneezed violently. Motes swirled crazily in the light from
below.
He walked across the attic floor, whirlwinds spinning in his wake. The
chest was smooth featureless, but oddly cold to the touch. Sam felt
for a latch but could find none. He tugged at its lid, but it wouldn't
budge. He dropped the beads to the floor and thought for a moment.
It suddenly occurred to him that the chest was just the size for a
grown man to lie in. The thought made him uneasy.
"Better leave well enough alone," he said, and his voice sounded
strange and hollow in the thick air. “Never know what might be living
in an old trunk like that.” He stooped to pick up the beads, pressing
down on the lid of the chest.
Something clicked.
Sam started back, and then froze. The sound had come from the chest;
he was sure of that. But now all was silent.
"Alright, you come on out of there!" he said in a loud voice. He half
expected his best friend, Jimmy, to fling open the lid and sit up,
grinning at him. But nothing happened.
"Would be just like him," Sam muttered, “Trying to scare me to
death...."
He returned to the chest and felt around its edge. Still no latch. But
this time, when he tugged at the lid, it moved.
Sam took a deep breath. He clenched his eyes shut, still more than
half expecting Jimmy to pop out and give a blood-curdling scream. But,
he put his fingers under the lid’s edge and opened the trunk.
Silence.
Sam cracked his eyelids and looked down. There was no dead body to be
seen. But other than that, he couldn't tell what, precisely, the chest
did harbour. He put out his hands, and felt rough cloth, then
something else...a metal rod, it seemed...then something else
entirely. He grasped this new thing and removed it. It felt like a
notebook. He took it to the attic hatchway and sat down in the light.
The book was leather bound with faded designs on the cover. It had a
metal clasp that held it shut, but wasn't locked. Sam opened it. It
was a journal of some sort, written in a thin hand. He flipped forward
and found, along with the writing, many hand-drawn sketches of odd
things: one was of a ring, one of a raven. Another showed an ancient
stone tower, and yet another was of a ship sailing stormy seas.
Sam suddenly thought of Indiana Jones. Visions of ancient Egyptian
tombs and mummies wafted through his head. His uncle had taken him to
an exhibit at the Carlos museum once when a field book of a famous
archeologist had been on display. He had looked longingly at the
archeologist's sketches from the mysterious Valley of the Kings.
”Sam, did you get lost up there?” It was his uncle.
“No, sir!” He closed the journal and tucked it under his shirt. It was
a strange thing to do, since Sam was not secretive, nor dishonest.
But, for some reason, he felt he just had to read what was in the
journal, and he feared his uncle might forbid it.
o o o
Sam wasn’t able to look at the book again until he was back in his
parents’ home that evening. He closed his bedroom door securely,
pushing a chair up against it so that he would be warned if anyone
tried to enter unannounced.
He sat down to read. The handwriting was difficult to decipher at
first; and often there were words he didn’t know, like “descry” and
“saturnine” and “seraphic” and “glistering”. But he soon lost himself
in the tales and poems and sketches. There were tales of monks and of
maidens, of ravens and ringwraiths. Each one was different, yet all of
them seemed connected somehow. Images floated through his brain as he
read, and he never noticed that midnight had soon come and gone and
that morning was fast approaching….
Sam awoke to the sound of a wood thrush singing in the front yard. His
head had fallen onto his arms. For a moment, he didn’t know where he
was; images of forests and ancient stone havens lingered in the eaves
of his mind. Then he recalled the journal, and he sat up, shaking
sleep from his eyes. He looked at his desk, but the journal was
nowhere to be seen.
He started up in a panic, searching wildly around at his room.
Bedclothes were tossed, bookshelves scanned, and dresser drawers
rifled, but to no avail. The journal had disappeared.
After ten minutes, he stopped. “Now I’m in for it,” he muttered.
“Uncle’s gonna kill me….”
o o o
Sam knocked at the door. His uncle opened it and led him into the
kitchen. They sat down at the breakfast table.
“Now, what’s so important that you just had to come right over?”
Sam looked down and shuffled his feet. “Uncle, you remember when I was
putting away the Mardi Gras beads for you, up in the attic?”
“Sure.”
“Well, what I didn’t tell you was that, while I was there, I saw that
big chest in the corner.”
“Yes?”
“And, well, I opened it up because I was wondering what might be
inside. And there was this book, see? Kind of like a journal? And I
looked through it and it was full of stuff about magic rings and
sailing ships…”
“Go on.”
“Well, I really wanted to read it, but I was afraid you wouldn’t let
me. So, I took it home without telling you….”
His uncle looked at him with a bemused smile on his face. “And, let me
guess. You got it home, started to read it, and the next morning it
was gone.”
Sam looked up at him, dumbfounded. “How’d you know that?! Did my dad
tell on me?”
“No, Sam. I doubt if you told him about the journal, did you?”
“Well, no sir, I didn’t. But I’m the only one that knew I had it…”
“Well, that’s only partly true, isn't it?” said his uncle, leaning
back in his chair. He sighed. “See, you knew you had it, but the
journal knew it, too.”
“Huh?”
“You didn't pick up just any book, Sam. Fact is, I’ll show you how
strange a book it is. Come on; let’s go upstairs.”
The two went to the second floor, set up the stepladder, and climbed
into the attic together. The garret was just as before: stiflingly
hot, but silent and mote-filled. His uncle led Sam to the chest.
“Now, you’re sure you had the book with you at your house?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well then, take a look here.” The old man lifted the lid, reached
inside, and handed Sam something. Sam returned to the hatchway so that
he could see better. It was the journal.
“But, I don’t understand, uncle. How could it have gotten back here
all by itself?”
“Years ago, Sam, that journal, the chest, and everything else in it
were put in my keeping by a very unusual person. His name was Azarius.
He and I were close friends, and one day he came to me and said
‘Charles, you and I have known each other since the day I arrived on
these shores. But I have a journey to take, and I may not return for
some time, if at all. I need you to look after some things of mine,
if you're willing.’”
“Well, I said sure, since we were old friends. But, he was an odd
fellow; I don't know the right word to use to describe him, but he
could do amazing things, and sometimes he seemed to know everything
that was going on inside of folks’ heads, if you take my meaning. But
I asked him whether there was anything I should know about the chest,
so as to keep it and those around me safe.”
"‘Not a thing,’ he told me. ‘In fact, the chest will look after
itself. It will open for you, but not for anyone else unless they can
be trusted with its secrets.’”
"‘But what if something happens to me before you come back?’ I’d asked
him.”
"‘Then the chest will pick someone new to take care of it,’ was his
answer.”
His uncle looked pointedly at him. "So now, it seems, the chest has
decided that you can be trusted."
Sam scratched his head. "But, uncle, what about the fact that I didn't
tell you about the journal? That was wrong, wasn't it?"
"Certainly it was wrong! And I don’t ever want to hear of you doing
anything like that again, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But, if the journal let you to take it with you, then there was a
reason.”
His uncle paused for a moment. “By the way…what did you think of the
stories?"
Sam looked at his uncle, and it seemed to him at that moment that he
wasn't looking at an old man anymore, but rather at another boy of his
own age: eager, excited by thoughts of adventure.
"They were swell!" he said. "But, did those things really happen? Were
the stories true?"
His uncle smiled. "Of course they were true! But, they're only the tip
of the iceberg. Ah, the tales I could tell you of Azarias...." He
shook his head and sighed.
They stood for a moment in silence. Then Sam asked "Uncle, are there
any other things in the chest that are...well…interesting?"
His uncle smiled. "Oh my, yes, Sam, many things! Many things
indeed...."
Prospects ===================
• I am delighted to announce that I will be appearing as a guest
speaker and presenter at the Bram Stoker Centenary Conference at the
University of Hull and in Whitby, England, April 12-14. Whitby, as
many of you may know, features prominently in Stoker’s classic horror
novel, Dracula. The conference theme is "Bram Stoker and Gothic
Transformations". I was invited as a guest of the university to
present on my illustration work for Gothic novels, particularly "The
Magic Ring" by Fouque, as well as on two new republished Gothic works
including one by Bram Stoker himself. More information can be found
at: http://www2.hull.ac.uk/fass/english/events/conferences/bram_stoker.aspx
• I wanted to thank the many folk who participated in the sale of
my Tolkien-themed works in the UK during the weeks leading up to Mardi
Gras! We received overwhelming support, and some 14 canvases and 21
framed sketches were sold over the course of the four weeks. This was
very gratifying, and I’m so happy to have been able to offer these
works to my European patrons one last time before bringing them all
back to the States!
• The Middle-earth Network ( http://middleearthnetwork.com )
continues to be the “Go To” place for news about Middle-earth-related
and Narnia-related events and for discussions on its social network,
http://mymiddle-earth.com/ . Plus, the site has just been revamped
with improved functionality and the opportunity to create your own
Blog webpage, absolutely free! Along with podcasts with folks of
interest to Middle-earth and Narnia fans, there are contests, articles
of interest, pointers to intriguing websites, etc. If you’re not a
member yet, you’re missing out on a great community of artists,
musicians, and general lovers of Tolkien and Lewis!
• The Return of the Ring 2012 (see http://www.returnofthering.org/)
will be a huge Tolkien-themed conference and gathering at Loughborough
University on 16-20th August, 2012. I am an invited guest at the event
and am looking forward not only to sharing my paintings and sketches,
but also to participating in panels and presentations. You can book
reservations now online.
• Tolkien biographer Joseph Pearce and I collaborated on an EWTN
TV special on J.R.R. Tolkien that is now available on DVD. The
production includes dozens of my illustrations of Tolkien’s The Lord
of the Rings, and it focuses on the Catholicity of Tolkien’s magnum
opus. You can order the a DVD of the show at:
http://www.ewtnreligiouscatalogue.com/TOLKIEN+S+LORD+OF+THE+RINGS+A+CATHOLIC+WORLD+VIEW/shop.axd/ProductDetails?x=0&y=0&keywords=Pearce+Tolkien&edp_no=22609
And welcome to my newsletter for March, 2012! Please feel free to
forward this to anyone you think would be interested in keeping up
with me! To receive these newsletters regularly, please drop me an
email or subscribe online from my website (http://www.JefMurray.com )
or at: http://groups.google.com/group/Mystical_Realms . Notices of
events and items of interest are at the bottom of this email.
Pitchers ===============
I have posted three new painting images on my website. These include
“Home Again”, “Healing Waters”, and “The Tryst”. All three of these
are in three different places within the Tolkien gallery (The Hobbit,
The First Age, and The Lord of the Rings, respectively). However, you
can see all three of these by going to http://www.JefMurray.com and
clicking on the “Newest Works” icon (the dragon!) at the top of the
page.
As always, these and all of the images in my online galleries are
available as signed and numbered limited-edition Giclee prints. See my
webpage for details.
And, do let me know how these new works strike you!
Ponderings ==============
Sam poked his head into the attic. The air was acrid and stifling.
Through the gloom, he could barely discern dusky shadows beneath the
eaves. A moth fluttered, shifting the afternoon light and stirring the
dust.
Sam pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the hatchway. Cool air
flowed from the floors beneath him. He looked down and saw the bag of
Mardi Gras beads on the top of the stepladder. His uncle had sent him
to pack them away until next year.
“I’m getting too creaky in the joints to get up there if I don’t have
to,” uncle had told him. “Besides, you’re nearly thirteen; an
auspicious age! And, it’s the perfect time for you to begin your
career as an adventurer!” His uncle had winked at him.
This was the season of Lent. Ordinarily, the garret would still be
chilled in early March, even so late in the afternoon. But spring had
come early, it seemed. Sam reached for the beads and got to his feet,
breathing the thick air with difficulty. His eyes slowly attuned to
the twilight.
That's when he saw the chest: oblong, dark, and featureless. It
brooded in the farthest recesses of the eaves, beneath heavy wooden
beams stained with age. Unlike the rafters, floor, and ceiling, it was
free of the ubiquitous dust. Sam scratched the back of his head, and
then sneezed violently. Motes swirled crazily in the light from
below.
He walked across the attic floor, whirlwinds spinning in his wake. The
chest was smooth featureless, but oddly cold to the touch. Sam felt
for a latch but could find none. He tugged at its lid, but it wouldn't
budge. He dropped the beads to the floor and thought for a moment.
It suddenly occurred to him that the chest was just the size for a
grown man to lie in. The thought made him uneasy.
"Better leave well enough alone," he said, and his voice sounded
strange and hollow in the thick air. “Never know what might be living
in an old trunk like that.” He stooped to pick up the beads, pressing
down on the lid of the chest.
Something clicked.
Sam started back, and then froze. The sound had come from the chest;
he was sure of that. But now all was silent.
"Alright, you come on out of there!" he said in a loud voice. He half
expected his best friend, Jimmy, to fling open the lid and sit up,
grinning at him. But nothing happened.
"Would be just like him," Sam muttered, “Trying to scare me to
death...."
He returned to the chest and felt around its edge. Still no latch. But
this time, when he tugged at the lid, it moved.
Sam took a deep breath. He clenched his eyes shut, still more than
half expecting Jimmy to pop out and give a blood-curdling scream. But,
he put his fingers under the lid’s edge and opened the trunk.
Silence.
Sam cracked his eyelids and looked down. There was no dead body to be
seen. But other than that, he couldn't tell what, precisely, the chest
did harbour. He put out his hands, and felt rough cloth, then
something else...a metal rod, it seemed...then something else
entirely. He grasped this new thing and removed it. It felt like a
notebook. He took it to the attic hatchway and sat down in the light.
The book was leather bound with faded designs on the cover. It had a
metal clasp that held it shut, but wasn't locked. Sam opened it. It
was a journal of some sort, written in a thin hand. He flipped forward
and found, along with the writing, many hand-drawn sketches of odd
things: one was of a ring, one of a raven. Another showed an ancient
stone tower, and yet another was of a ship sailing stormy seas.
Sam suddenly thought of Indiana Jones. Visions of ancient Egyptian
tombs and mummies wafted through his head. His uncle had taken him to
an exhibit at the Carlos museum once when a field book of a famous
archeologist had been on display. He had looked longingly at the
archeologist's sketches from the mysterious Valley of the Kings.
”Sam, did you get lost up there?” It was his uncle.
“No, sir!” He closed the journal and tucked it under his shirt. It was
a strange thing to do, since Sam was not secretive, nor dishonest.
But, for some reason, he felt he just had to read what was in the
journal, and he feared his uncle might forbid it.
o o o
Sam wasn’t able to look at the book again until he was back in his
parents’ home that evening. He closed his bedroom door securely,
pushing a chair up against it so that he would be warned if anyone
tried to enter unannounced.
He sat down to read. The handwriting was difficult to decipher at
first; and often there were words he didn’t know, like “descry” and
“saturnine” and “seraphic” and “glistering”. But he soon lost himself
in the tales and poems and sketches. There were tales of monks and of
maidens, of ravens and ringwraiths. Each one was different, yet all of
them seemed connected somehow. Images floated through his brain as he
read, and he never noticed that midnight had soon come and gone and
that morning was fast approaching….
Sam awoke to the sound of a wood thrush singing in the front yard. His
head had fallen onto his arms. For a moment, he didn’t know where he
was; images of forests and ancient stone havens lingered in the eaves
of his mind. Then he recalled the journal, and he sat up, shaking
sleep from his eyes. He looked at his desk, but the journal was
nowhere to be seen.
He started up in a panic, searching wildly around at his room.
Bedclothes were tossed, bookshelves scanned, and dresser drawers
rifled, but to no avail. The journal had disappeared.
After ten minutes, he stopped. “Now I’m in for it,” he muttered.
“Uncle’s gonna kill me….”
o o o
Sam knocked at the door. His uncle opened it and led him into the
kitchen. They sat down at the breakfast table.
“Now, what’s so important that you just had to come right over?”
Sam looked down and shuffled his feet. “Uncle, you remember when I was
putting away the Mardi Gras beads for you, up in the attic?”
“Sure.”
“Well, what I didn’t tell you was that, while I was there, I saw that
big chest in the corner.”
“Yes?”
“And, well, I opened it up because I was wondering what might be
inside. And there was this book, see? Kind of like a journal? And I
looked through it and it was full of stuff about magic rings and
sailing ships…”
“Go on.”
“Well, I really wanted to read it, but I was afraid you wouldn’t let
me. So, I took it home without telling you….”
His uncle looked at him with a bemused smile on his face. “And, let me
guess. You got it home, started to read it, and the next morning it
was gone.”
Sam looked up at him, dumbfounded. “How’d you know that?! Did my dad
tell on me?”
“No, Sam. I doubt if you told him about the journal, did you?”
“Well, no sir, I didn’t. But I’m the only one that knew I had it…”
“Well, that’s only partly true, isn't it?” said his uncle, leaning
back in his chair. He sighed. “See, you knew you had it, but the
journal knew it, too.”
“Huh?”
“You didn't pick up just any book, Sam. Fact is, I’ll show you how
strange a book it is. Come on; let’s go upstairs.”
The two went to the second floor, set up the stepladder, and climbed
into the attic together. The garret was just as before: stiflingly
hot, but silent and mote-filled. His uncle led Sam to the chest.
“Now, you’re sure you had the book with you at your house?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well then, take a look here.” The old man lifted the lid, reached
inside, and handed Sam something. Sam returned to the hatchway so that
he could see better. It was the journal.
“But, I don’t understand, uncle. How could it have gotten back here
all by itself?”
“Years ago, Sam, that journal, the chest, and everything else in it
were put in my keeping by a very unusual person. His name was Azarius.
He and I were close friends, and one day he came to me and said
‘Charles, you and I have known each other since the day I arrived on
these shores. But I have a journey to take, and I may not return for
some time, if at all. I need you to look after some things of mine,
if you're willing.’”
“Well, I said sure, since we were old friends. But, he was an odd
fellow; I don't know the right word to use to describe him, but he
could do amazing things, and sometimes he seemed to know everything
that was going on inside of folks’ heads, if you take my meaning. But
I asked him whether there was anything I should know about the chest,
so as to keep it and those around me safe.”
"‘Not a thing,’ he told me. ‘In fact, the chest will look after
itself. It will open for you, but not for anyone else unless they can
be trusted with its secrets.’”
"‘But what if something happens to me before you come back?’ I’d asked
him.”
"‘Then the chest will pick someone new to take care of it,’ was his
answer.”
His uncle looked pointedly at him. "So now, it seems, the chest has
decided that you can be trusted."
Sam scratched his head. "But, uncle, what about the fact that I didn't
tell you about the journal? That was wrong, wasn't it?"
"Certainly it was wrong! And I don’t ever want to hear of you doing
anything like that again, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But, if the journal let you to take it with you, then there was a
reason.”
His uncle paused for a moment. “By the way…what did you think of the
stories?"
Sam looked at his uncle, and it seemed to him at that moment that he
wasn't looking at an old man anymore, but rather at another boy of his
own age: eager, excited by thoughts of adventure.
"They were swell!" he said. "But, did those things really happen? Were
the stories true?"
His uncle smiled. "Of course they were true! But, they're only the tip
of the iceberg. Ah, the tales I could tell you of Azarias...." He
shook his head and sighed.
They stood for a moment in silence. Then Sam asked "Uncle, are there
any other things in the chest that are...well…interesting?"
His uncle smiled. "Oh my, yes, Sam, many things! Many things
indeed...."
Prospects ===================
• I am delighted to announce that I will be appearing as a guest
speaker and presenter at the Bram Stoker Centenary Conference at the
University of Hull and in Whitby, England, April 12-14. Whitby, as
many of you may know, features prominently in Stoker’s classic horror
novel, Dracula. The conference theme is "Bram Stoker and Gothic
Transformations". I was invited as a guest of the university to
present on my illustration work for Gothic novels, particularly "The
Magic Ring" by Fouque, as well as on two new republished Gothic works
including one by Bram Stoker himself. More information can be found
at: http://www2.hull.ac.uk/fass/english/events/conferences/bram_stoker.aspx
• I wanted to thank the many folk who participated in the sale of
my Tolkien-themed works in the UK during the weeks leading up to Mardi
Gras! We received overwhelming support, and some 14 canvases and 21
framed sketches were sold over the course of the four weeks. This was
very gratifying, and I’m so happy to have been able to offer these
works to my European patrons one last time before bringing them all
back to the States!
• The Middle-earth Network ( http://middleearthnetwork.com )
continues to be the “Go To” place for news about Middle-earth-related
and Narnia-related events and for discussions on its social network,
http://mymiddle-earth.com/ . Plus, the site has just been revamped
with improved functionality and the opportunity to create your own
Blog webpage, absolutely free! Along with podcasts with folks of
interest to Middle-earth and Narnia fans, there are contests, articles
of interest, pointers to intriguing websites, etc. If you’re not a
member yet, you’re missing out on a great community of artists,
musicians, and general lovers of Tolkien and Lewis!
• The Return of the Ring 2012 (see http://www.returnofthering.org/)
will be a huge Tolkien-themed conference and gathering at Loughborough
University on 16-20th August, 2012. I am an invited guest at the event
and am looking forward not only to sharing my paintings and sketches,
but also to participating in panels and presentations. You can book
reservations now online.
• Tolkien biographer Joseph Pearce and I collaborated on an EWTN
TV special on J.R.R. Tolkien that is now available on DVD. The
production includes dozens of my illustrations of Tolkien’s The Lord
of the Rings, and it focuses on the Catholicity of Tolkien’s magnum
opus. You can order the a DVD of the show at:
http://www.ewtnreligiouscatalogue.com/TOLKIEN+S+LORD+OF+THE+RINGS+A+CATHOLIC+WORLD+VIEW/shop.axd/ProductDetails?x=0&y=0&keywords=Pearce+Tolkien&edp_no=22609
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