Consider myself lucky, having plucked off the shelves Wildwood, a thick book authored by Colin Meloy with illustrations by Carson Ellis. (A husband-and-wife creative tandem really, of which the former is the front man of my favorite band, The Decemberists).
Yes, it is a children’s book—though a strange one especially knowing that the author writes songs about murder and vast catastrophes—but the impulsive purchase is not for me but for my nephew. A little token for the yuletide season.
As for the lucky part mentioned earlier? Well, after flipping through the pages of the book, I realized it had the kind of atmosphere that I had been trying to meld with my hands, trying to emulate in a new project.
The urge to create something, with the aid of this book, is strangely in my system lately, electric and pulsing, so it seems logical to hop into this budding genesis. This feeling comes rarely. And I believe one brilliant announcement that has popped in my email’s inbox last Monday has something to do with this. I couldn’t share it right now.
What this all means is that my nephew has to wait a little bit longer for his Christmas gift.