in a grotesque way.

the peacock skirt, 1893.

there’s something about victorian culture that has alway fascinated me–especially its counter-culture with its aesthetes and decadents. and aubrey beardsley is undoubtedly one of my favorite decadents (after oscar wilde, of course). ornate beauty, overt eroticism, over the top whimsy–what’s not to love?

the black cape, 1893.

a few weeks ago, while discovering the wonders of downtown la, my sister and i stumbled across the last bookstore–a fabulous little gem. perusing the shelves, i found a pristine used copy of ‘aubrey beardsley:selected drawings’–a massive hardcover book with 120 prints of victorian genius. and obviously, it came home with me. so over the past two weeks, i’ve been devouring each page with complete fascination. and these are some of faves.

a platonic lament, 1893.
ali baba, 1897.

all humanity inspires me. every passer-by is my unconscious sitter; and as strange as it may seem, i really draw folk as i see them. surely it is not my fault that they fall into certain lines and angles.

the climax, 1893.
cover design for poor folk, 1893.
of a neophyte, and how the black art was revealed unto him by the fiend asomuel, 1893.
lysistrata defending the acropolis, 1896.

i just had to put this in–it’s completely ridiculous. and it’s only one of a series…

I see everything in a grotesque way. When I go to the theatre, for example, things shape themselves before my eyes just as a I draw them — the people on the stage, the footlights, the queer faces and garb of the audience in the boxes and stalls. They all seem weird and strange to me. Things have always impressed me in this way.


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