STAR GIRL is an illustrated response to selected short stories from Italo Calvino's "Cosmicomics". In these works, Calvino explores natural phenomena and scientific fact and tells stories of the origins of the universe. Selected works include The Distance to the Moon, At Daybreak, Blood, Sea, Without Colors, and The Form of Space.
These paintings currently on display and for sale at Foxy Coffee Co on 37th Ave and SE Belmont in Portland, OR. from October 5th - January 5th.
The Form of Space
"All I had to do was understand space was made in this way and I realized there were certain soft cavities hollowed in it as welcoming as hammocks where I could lie joined with Ursula H’x, the two of us swaying together, biting each other in turn along all our persons. The properites of space, in fact, were such that one parallel went one way, and another in another way: I for example was plunging within tortuous cavern while Ursula H’x was being sucked along a passage communicating with that same cavern so that we found ourselves rolling together on a lawn of algae in a kind of subsoatial island, writhing, she and I, in every pose, upright and capsized, until all of a sudden our straight lines resumed their distance, the same as always, and each continued on its own as if nothing ever happened."
The Distance of the Moon
"My return was sweet, my home refound, but my thoughts were filled only with grief at having lost her, and my eyes gazed at the Moon, for ever beyond my reach, as I sought her. And I saw her. She was there where I had left her, lying on a beach directly over our heads, and she said nothing. She was the colour of the Moon; she held the harp at her side and moved one hand now and then in slow arpeggios. I could distinguish the shape of her bosom, her arms, her thighs, just as I remember them now, just as now, when the Moon has become flat, remote circle, I still look for her as soon as the first sliver appears in the sky, and the more it waxes, the more clearly I imagine her, her or something of her, but only her, in a hundred, a thousand different vistas, she who makes the Moon the Moon and, whenever she is full, sets the dogs to howling all night long, and me with them."
"Then all of a sudden, those pea green lawns where the first scarlet poppies were flowering, those canary yellow fields which striped the tawny hills sloping down to a sea full of azure glints, all seemed so trival to me, so banal, so false, so much in contrast with Ayl’s person, with Ayl’s world, with Ayl’s idea of beauty, that I realized her place could never be out here. And I realized, with grief and fear, that I had remained out here, that I would never again be able to escape those gilded and silvered gleams, those little clouds that turned from pale blue to pink, those green leaves that yellowed every autumn, and that Ayl’s perfect world was lost forever, so lost I couldn’t even imagine it any more, and nothing was left that could remind me of it, even remotely, nothing except perhaps that cold wall of grey stone."
"The underwater depths were red like the colour we see now only inside our eyelids, and the Sun’s ray penetrated to brighten them in flashes or else in sprays. We undulated with no sense of direction, drawn by an obscure current so light that it seemed downright impalpable and yet strong enough to drag us up in very high waves and down in their troughs. Zylphia would plunge headlong beneath me in a violet, almost black whirlpool then soar over me rising towards the more scarlet stripes that ran beneath the luminous vault. We felt all this through the layers of our former surface dilated to maintain the most extended possible contact with that nourishing sea, because at every up and down of the waves there was stuff that passed from outside of us to our inside, all sustenance of every sort, even iron, healthful stuff, in short, and in fact I’ve never been so well as I was then."
"My sister G’d(w)^n fared the best, thanks to her introverted nature: she was a shy girl and she loved the dark. For herself, G’d(w)^n always chose to stay in places that were that were a bit removed, at the edge of the nebula, and she would contemplate the blackness, and toy with the little grains of dust, and - waking or sleeping - she abandoned herself to dreams. They weren’t dreams like ours (in the midst of the darkness, we dreamed of more darkness, because nothing else came to our minds); no, she dreamed - from what we could understand of her ravings - of a darkness a hundred times deeper and more various and velvety."