The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World

I don’t have much time for personal work these days, but I recently dreamt this image while sleeping after rediscovering “The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World,” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. It’s my favorite story ever, I figured I needed to paint it.  I’ve decided to illustrate the whole story as a personal project, whenever I get the chance. This is the first of many pages to come. sigh.
“They did not need to look at one another to realize that they were no longer all present, that they would never be. But they also knew that everything would be different from then on, that their houses would have wider doors, higher ceilings, and stronger floors so that Esteban’s memory could go everywhere without bumping into beams and so that no one in the future would dare whisper the big boob finally died, too bad, the handsome fool has finally died, because they were going to paint their house fronts gay colors to make Esteban’s memory eternal and they were going to break their backs digging for springs among the stones and planting flowers on the cliffs so that in future years at dawn the passengers on great liners would awaken, suffocated by the smell of gardens on the high seas, and the captain would have to come down from the bridge in his dress uniform, with his astrolabe, his pole star, and his row of war medals and, pointing to the promontory of roses on the horizon, he would say in fourteen languages, look there, where the wind is so peaceful now that it’s gone to sleep beneath the beds, over there, where the sun’s so bright that the sunflowers don’t know which way to turn, yes, over there, that’s Esteban’s village.” -The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World, Gabriel Garica Marquez

1 comment:

Slimbolala said...

Have never read it, though your beautiful illustration and quote make me want to.