(Caption me!)

At San Marco Cafe in Trieste. I added the tap and the child by whim.

Sorry for the long pause! I had several conferences to prepare for. At least now I’m on vacation.

Cookies for Rudolph / ๋ฃจ๋Œํ”„์—๊ฒŒ ์ฟ ํ‚ค๋ฅผ


Santa sharing cookies with Rudolph. #cookiesforrudolph

๋ฃจ๋Œํ”„์™€ ์ฟ ํ‚ค๋ฅผ ๋‚˜๋ˆ  ๋จน๋Š” ์‚ฐํƒ€. #๋ฃจ๋Œํ”„์—๊ฒŒ์ฟ ํ‚ค๋ฅผ

(Reposting from last year;
see also how the first sketch told a very different story.)

(์ง€๋‚œํ•ด ๊ทธ๋ฆผ์ž…๋‹ˆ๋‹ค. ์ฒซ ์Šค์ผ€์น˜์˜ ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐ๋Š” ์–ผ๋งˆ๋‚˜ ๋‹ฌ๋ž๋Š”์ง€๋„ ๋ณด์‹œ๊ธธ.)

Pencil & digital, 2017

Remix 2 – A place that was not my home / ๋‚ด ์ง‘์ด ์•„๋‹ˆ์—ˆ๋˜ ๊ณณ (๋ฆฌ๋ฏน์Šค)

Here’s another simple remix, made using union app. Which one do you like better?


์œ ๋‹ˆ์˜จ ์•ฑ์œผ๋กœ ๋งŒ๋“  ๋˜๋‹ค๋ฅธ ๋ฆฌ๋ฏน์Šค์ด๋‹ค. ์–ด๋–ค ๋ฒ„์ „์ด ์ข‹์œผ์‹ ์ง€.

A place that was not my home / ๋‚ด ์ง‘์ด ์•„๋‹ˆ์—ˆ๋˜ ๊ณณ

2018 YK

Me and my spirit / ๋‚˜์™€ ๋‚ด ์˜ํ˜ผ

Encouraged afterย our first collaboration, my daughter and I worked on another story. Again she wrote the story, and I illustrated it:

One fall evening couldnโ€™t be more peculiar. The sky was grey with weird bits of bobs that looked like hard bits of rock.

My spirit tugged my sleeve. I sensed she was scared. Since I was scared, too, I broke into a run. But as I did, something most extraordinary happened. My body slowly rose off the ground. It was so silent you could even hear a feather drop off a birdโ€™s wing. A second later, I was in a different world.

The sky wasnโ€™t grey any more. It was the most creamy type of yellow you could ever see. As I describe this, the smell was unbreathable. Even though the smell was disgusting, I decided to find something or someone to entertain me. As I lifted my head up, I was shocked to see a funky looking eye staring at me. It was big and floating. Something about it made me scared. At least I had my spirit inside me to keep me going. I finally made up my mind to ask:

โ€œWhatโ€™s your name, and what are you doing here?โ€

After a short silence, it said:

โ€œWhy should I tell you?โ€

The voice reminded me of a robot that was almost rusted.

โ€œI donโ€™t see why not. Iโ€™ll start first. My name is Roberta Smith Jenkins. But of course youโ€™ll say your own name.

โ€œI donโ€™t know what Iโ€™m doing here with my spirit. You see Iโ€™m new to this country. Canโ€™t you show me around?โ€

All this talking was making my throat dry.

โ€œMy nam i 1BZA47. Im hee fo a inaorโ€

I guessed he said โ€œI am here for an invader.โ€ But who would it be?

My legs had pins and needles in them, so I decided to stand up. Just then, I heard a siren and to my surprise, I was stuck in a red blob!

– Written by EK, illustrated by YK

์ฒซ๋ฒˆ์งธ ํ˜‘๋™์ž‘ํ’ˆ ๋’ค์— ํž˜์„ ์–ป์–ด, ๋”ธ์ด ์“ฐ๊ณ  ๋‚ด๊ฐ€ ๊ทธ๋ฆผ์„ ๊ทธ๋ฆฐ ๋˜๋‹ค๋ฅธ ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐ์ด๋‹ค:

์–ด๋Š ๊ฐ€์„ ์ €๋…์€ ๋”ํ•  ๋‚˜์œ„ ์—†์ด ์ด์ƒํ–ˆ๋‹ค. ํ•˜๋Š˜์€ ๋Œ์กฐ๊ฐ์„ ํฉ์–ด๋†“์€ ๋“ฏ ์žฟ๋น›์ด์—ˆ๋‹ค.

๋‚ด ์˜ํ˜ผ์ด ์†Œ๋งค๋ฅผ ๋Œ์—ˆ๋‹ค. ์˜ํ˜ผ์ด ๊ฒ๋จน์€ ๊ฒƒ์„ ์•Œ์•˜๋‹ค. ๋‚˜๋„ ๋ฌด์„œ์› ๊ธฐ ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์— ๋‹ฌ๋ฆฌ๊ธฐ ์‹œ์ž‘ํ–ˆ๋‹ค. ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌ๋Š” ๋™์•ˆ, ์ด์ƒํ•œ ์ผ์ด ์ผ์–ด๋‚ฌ๋‹ค. ๋ชธ์ด ๋•…์—์„œ ์ ์  ๋– ์˜ค๋ฅด๊ธฐ ์‹œ์ž‘ํ•œ ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค. ๋„ˆ๋ฌด ์กฐ์šฉํ•ด์„œ, ์ƒˆ ๋‚ ๊ฐœ์—์„œ ๊นƒํ„ธ์ด ๋–จ์–ด์ง€๋Š” ๊ฒƒ๋„ ๋“ค๋ ธ์„ ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค. ๊ธˆ์„ธ, ๋‚˜๋Š” ๋‹ค๋ฅธ ์„ธ์ƒ์— ์™€ ์žˆ์—ˆ๋‹ค.

ํ•˜๋Š˜์€ ๋”์ด์ƒ ์žฟ๋น›์ด ์•„๋‹ˆ์—ˆ๋‹ค. ๊ฐ€์žฅ ํฌ๋ฆผ์ƒ‰๊ฐ™์€ ๋…ธ๋ž‘์ด๋ผ๊ณ  ํ•ด์•ผ ํ•  ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค. ๋ƒ„์ƒˆ๊ฐ€ ๋งก์„ ์ˆ˜ ์—†์ด ์ง€๋…ํ–ˆ๋‹ค. ๋ƒ„์ƒˆ๋Š” ๊ณ ์•ฝํ–ˆ์ง€๋งŒ, ๊ฐ™์ด ๋†€ ์‚ฌ๋žŒ์ด๋‚˜ ๋ฌผ๊ฑด์„ ์ฐพ๊ธฐ๋กœ ํ–ˆ๋‹ค. ๊ณ ๊ฐœ๋ฅผ ๋“ค์ž, ํฌํ•œํ•˜๊ฒŒ ์ƒ๊ธด ๋ˆˆ์ด ๋‚˜๋ฅผ ์ณ๋‹ค๋ณด๊ณ  ์žˆ์–ด ๊นœ์ง ๋†€๋ž๋‹ค. ํฌ๊ณ  ๋– ๋‹ค๋‹ˆ๋Š” ๋ˆˆ์ด์—ˆ๋‹ค. ์–ด์ฉ์ง€ ๋ฌด์„œ์› ๋‹ค. ๊ทธ๋ž˜๋„ ๋‚ด ์†์— ์˜ํ˜ผ์ด ์žˆ์–ด ์šฉ๊ธฐ๋ฅผ ๋‚ผ ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ์—ˆ๋‹ค. ํฐ ๋ง˜์„ ๋จน๊ณ  ๋ฌผ์—ˆ๋‹ค:

“์ด๋ฆ„์ด ๋ญ๋‹ˆ? ๋ญ ํ•˜๊ณ  ์žˆ๋‹ˆ?”

์ž ์‹œ ํ›„, ๋ˆˆ์ด ๋Œ€๋‹ตํ–ˆ๋‹ค:

“๋‚ด๊ฐ€ ์™œ ๋Œ€๋‹ตํ•ด์•ผ ํ•˜์ง€?”

๋…น์Šจ ๋กœ๋ด‡ ๊ฐ™์€ ๋ชฉ์†Œ๋ฆฌ์˜€๋‹ค.

“๋Œ€๋‹ต ์•ˆ ํ•  ์ด์œ ๋Š” ์—†๋Š” ๊ฒƒ ๊ฐ™์•„. ๋‚˜๋ถ€ํ„ฐ ์‹œ์ž‘ํ• ๊ฒŒ. ๋‚˜๋Š” ๋กœ๋ฒ„ํƒ€ ์Šค๋ฏธ์Šค ์  ํ‚จ์Šค์•ผ. ๋ฌผ๋ก  ๋„ˆ๋„ ๋„ค ์ด๋ฆ„์„ ๋งํ•ด์ฃผ๊ฒ ์ง€. ๋‚œ ์—ฌ๊ธฐ์„œ ๋‚ด ์˜ํ˜ผ๊ณผ ํ•จ๊ป˜ ๋ญ˜ ํ•˜๊ณ  ์žˆ๋Š”์ง€ ๋ชจ๋ฅด๊ฒ ์–ด. ์ด ๋‚˜๋ผ์— ์ฒ˜์Œ์ธ๋ฐ ์•ˆ๋‚ด๋ฅผ ๋ถ€ํƒํ•ด๋„ ๋ ๊นŒ?”

๋งํ•˜๋Š๋ผ ๋ชฉ์ด ๊ฑด์กฐํ•ด์ง€๊ณ  ์žˆ์—ˆ๋‹ค.

“๋‚ด ์ด๋ฅด์€ 1BZA47 ์•ผ. ๋‚˜๋Š ์น˜์ž…์ž ๋•Œ๋ฌด์— ์™€์–ด”

์•„๋งˆ “๋‚˜๋Š” ์นจ์ž…์ž ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์— ์™”์–ด”๋ผ๊ณ  ํ•œ ๊ฒƒ ๊ฐ™์•˜๋‹ค. ํ•˜์ง€๋งŒ ์นจ์ž…์ž๊ฐ€ ๋ˆ„๊ตฌ์ผ๊นŒ?

๋‹ค๋ฆฌ๊ฐ€ ์‘ค์…”์„œ ์ผ์–ด๋‚˜๊ธฐ๋กœ ํ–ˆ๋‹ค. ๊ทธ๋•Œ, ์‚ฌ์ด๋ Œ์ด ์šธ๋ฆฌ๊ณ , ๋ˆˆ ๊นœ์งํ•  ์‚ฌ์ด์— ๋‚˜๋Š” ๋ถ‰์€ ๋ฐฉ์šธ ์•ˆ์— ๊ฐ‡ํ˜€ ๋ฒ„๋ ธ๋‹ค!

Soon / ๊ณง

YK 2018.

My horrible birthday / ๋น„์ฐธํ•œ ์ƒ์ผ

My daughter wants to write multi-volume stories, which turned out to be a daunting task, for anyone including an eight-year-old. So I suggested she start with a short one that fits within a page or two. She was not entirely happy with the restriction, but we made a deal that I would illustrate her story every time she finishes one. So here’s the first one (fiction, that is):

Me and my dad went out to buy some ice-cream becauseโ€ฆ it was my birthday! Dad didnโ€™t look that happy to buy me an ice-cream. I guess thatโ€™s because he thinks itโ€™s unhealthy.

I got a triple scoop of chocolate ice-cream on my mega sprinkle cone. After I said โ€œThank youโ€, we headed home.

But then, something terrible happened. I tripped over a rock, and went flying with my ice-cream onto another street. Luckily, I wasnโ€™t hurt badly, but my poor ice-cream became a sticky brown puddle with a lump. Dad was smiling when he came over to me. It seemed like he was so happy I dropped the ice-cream. I cried even more, I cried until we got home.

– Written by EK / Illustrated by YK

๋”ธ์ด ์—ฌ๋Ÿฌ ๊ถŒ์งœ๋ฆฌ ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐ๋ฅผ ์“ฐ๊ณ  ์‹ถ์–ดํ•˜๋Š”๋ฐ, ๊ณง 8์‚ด ์–ด๋ฆฐ์ด๋ฅผ ํฌํ•จํ•ด ๋ˆ„๊ตฌ์—๊ฒŒ๋‚˜ ์–ด๋ ค์šด ์ผ์ธ ๊ฒƒ์œผ๋กœ ๋“œ๋Ÿฌ๋‚ฌ๋‹ค. ๊ทธ๋ž˜์„œ ํ•œ๋‘ ํŽ˜์ด์ง€ ์•ˆ์— ๋๋‚˜๋Š” ์งง์€ ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐ๋กœ ์‹œ์ž‘ํ•ด ๋ณด๋ผ๊ณ  ํ–ˆ๋‹ค. ๋”ธ์€ ๊ธธ์ด ์ œํ•œ์„ ์ข‹์•„ํ•˜์ง€๋Š” ์•Š์•˜์ง€๋งŒ, ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐ๋ฅผ ํ•˜๋‚˜ ๋งˆ์น  ๋•Œ๋งˆ๋‹ค ๋‚ด๊ฐ€ ๊ทธ๋ฆผ์„ ๊ทธ๋ ค ์ฃผ๊ธฐ๋กœ ํ•˜์ž ์Šน๋‚™ํ–ˆ๋‹ค. ๊ทธ ์ฒซ๋ฒˆ์งธ ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐ์ด๋‹ค (ํ”ฝ์…˜์ด๋‹ค):

๋‚˜์™€ ์•„๋น ๊ฐ€ ์•„์ด์Šคํฌ๋ฆผ์„ ์‚ฌ๋Ÿฌ๊ฐ”๋‹ค. ์™œ๋ƒํ•˜๋ฉด… ๋‚ด ์ƒ์ผ์ด์—ˆ๊ธฐ ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์ด๋‹ค! ์•„๋น ๋Š” ์•„์ด์Šคํฌ๋ฆผ ์‚ฌ ์ฃผ๋Š” ๊ฒŒ ๊ทธ๋ฆฌ ์ข‹์ง€ ์•Š์€๊ฐ€ ๋ณด์•˜๋‹ค. ๊ฑด๊ฐ•์— ๋‚˜์˜๋‹ค๊ณ  ์ƒ๊ฐํ•ด์„œ์ผ ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค.

๋‚˜๋Š” ์Šคํ”„๋งํด ์ฝ˜์— ์ดˆ์ฝ” ์•„์ด์Šคํฌ๋ฆผ์„ ์„ธ ๋ฉ์ด๋‚˜ ๋ฐ›์•˜๋‹ค. “๊ฐ์‚ฌํ•ฉ๋‹ˆ๋‹ค!”ํ•˜๊ณ  ๋งํ•œ ๋’ค ์ง‘์œผ๋กœ ํ–ฅํ–ˆ๋‹ค.

๊ทธ๋Ÿฐ๋ฐ ๊ทธ ๋•Œ, ๋„ˆ๋ฌดํ•œ ์ผ์ด ์ผ์–ด๋‚ฌ๋‹ค. ๋‚ด๊ฐ€ ๋Œ์— ๊ฑธ๋ ค ๋„˜์–ด์ ธ์„œ, ์•„์ด์Šคํฌ๋ฆผ๊ณผ ํ•จ๊ป˜ ๊ฑฐ๋ฆฌ ์œ„๋กœ ๋‚ ์•„๊ฐ„ ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค. ๋‹คํ–‰ํžˆ ํฌ๊ฒŒ ๋‹ค์น˜์ง€๋Š” ์•Š์•˜์ง€๋งŒ, ๋‚ด ๋ถˆ์Œํ•œ ์•„์ด์Šคํฌ๋ฆผ์€ ๋ด‰์šฐ๋ฆฌ๊ฐ€ ์žˆ๋Š” ๋ˆ์ ํ•œ ๊ฐˆ์ƒ‰ ์›…๋ฉ์ด๊ฐ€ ๋˜์–ด๋ฒ„๋ ธ๋‹ค. ์•„๋น ๋Š” ๋‚ด๊ฒŒ ์™”์„ ๋•Œ ์›ƒ์Œ์ง“๊ณ  ์žˆ์—ˆ๋‹ค. ๋‚ด๊ฐ€ ์•„์ด์Šคํฌ๋ฆผ์„ ๋–จ์–ด๋œจ๋ ค์„œ ๋„ˆ๋ฌด ํ–‰๋ณตํ•œ ๊ฒƒ ๊ฐ™์•˜๋‹ค. ๋‚˜๋Š” ๋” ์šธ์—ˆ๋‹ค. ์ง‘์— ๊ฐˆ ๋•Œ๊นŒ์ง€ ์šธ์—ˆ๋‹ค.

– ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐ EK / ๋ฒˆ์—ญ, ๊ทธ๋ฆผ YK

Space for Remembrance / ๊ธฐ์–ต์„ ๋ถ€๋ฅด๋Š” ๊ณต๊ฐ„

The lamp shade made a tilt, smearing the light against the arch and creating a space below, inviting a story. So it began.

The wings are based on a Halloween craft, appeared onย a previous post. It is drawn as a part of another piece, which I am working on.

์ „๋“ฑ๊ฐ“์ด ๊ณ ๊ฐœ๋ฅผ ๊ฐธ์›ƒํ•˜๋ฉฐ ๋น›์„ ์•„์น˜์— ๋“œ๋ฆฌ์› ๋‹ค. ๊ทธ ์•„๋ž˜๋กœ ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐ๋ฅผ ๋ถˆ๋Ÿฌ๋‚ด๋“ฏ์ด.

๋‚ ๊ฐœ๋Š” ์ด์ „ ๊ผญ์ง€์— ๋“ฑ์žฅํ•œ ๋ฐ” ์žˆ๋Š”, ํ• ๋กœ์œˆ ๋•Œ ๋งŒ๋“  ๊ฒƒ์„ ๋ฐ”ํƒ•์œผ๋กœ ํ–ˆ๋‹ค. ์ž‘์—…์ค‘์ธ ๋‹ค๋ฅธ ๊ทธ๋ฆผ์˜ ์ผ๋ถ€๋กœ ๊ทธ๋ ธ๋‹ค.

Photo & drawing by YK, 2018.