In Memoriam

by Sam Haney, based on A Dirge for Prester John by Catherynne M. Valente.

11" x17" digital art print with papercraft and Swarovski crystal embellishments.

This piece will be auctioned off to benefit the Interstitial Arts Foundation at iafauctions.com

Tags: interfictions2auction, interstitialartsfoundation, interfictions
Uploaded: October 18, 2009
View this photo on Flickr

0 comments

No comments for this photo. Add a comment >

View this photo on Flickr

    IAFAuctions.com is part of the fundraising arm of the Interstitial Arts Foundation, a not–for–profit organization dedicated to the study, support, and promotion of interstitial art.

    IAF Photostream
    The Black Dog Forever The Long and the Short of Long-Term Memory Book Berry Moon Skirt Black Feather by Elizabeth Genco And Then She Flew by Deborah J. Brannon Lily, Surrounded By Rats by Helen Pilinovsky All Valentines are One Valentine In Memoriam Remembrances
    View more photos >
    A Taste of Interfictions 2
    • “This is a story about a man who ties a woman to his bed. No, it's not what you think, he says. Please understand. But how can he explain? All those nights his wife turns into other things. Would anyone believe him?

      He should have known the first time he saw her, he thinks: her waves of dark hair spilling down her back, her torn jeans, her look of fuck you too, her scent of wet leaves, sweat, and dirt. It made him horny. What else can he say?”
      From: The Marriage by Nin Andrews
    • “Every day for three decades, the abandoned house strains against its galling anchors, hoping to pull free. It has waited thirty years for its pipes and pilings to finally decay so it can leave for Florida to find the Macek family. Nobody in its Milford neighborhood will likely miss the house or even notice its absence; it has hidden for decades behind overgrown bushes, weeds, and legends. When they talk about the house at all, the neighbors whisper about the child killer who lived there long ago with his family: a wife and five children who never knew their father kept his rotting playmate in the crawlspace until the police came. The house, however, knows the truth and wants to confess it, even if it has to crawl eight hundred miles.”
      From: Remembrance is Something Like a House by Will Ludwigsen
    • “In the month of Ind, when the flowers of the Jindal trees were in blossom and just beginning to scatter their petals on the ground like crimson rain, a messenger came to the court of the Child-Empress. He announced that a Hero had awakened in the valley of Jar.

      The messenger was young and obviously nervous, at court for the first time, but when the Child-Empress said, "A Hero? What is his name?" he replied with a steady voice. "Highest blossom of the Jindal tree, his name is not yet known. He has not spoken it, for he has as yet seen no one to whom he could speak."”
      From: Child-Empress of Mars by Theodora Goss
    • “The first time the Black Dog showed up I was five. We were living in Miriwinni and it lurked behind the low, chain link fence that marked out our backyard, hunkered down in the long grass filling the space between the fence line and the train tracks. No-one else could see it, not even my parents. It was good at hiding when other people looked.”
      From: Black Dog: A Biography by Peter M. Ball

    Click here for another excerpt

Powered by the Flickr Photo Album plugin for WordPress.