Continuing my waxing rhapsodic about artists that I really, really enjoy, I give to you–Camilla d’Errico (and on Facebook)!
The first time I saw Camilla d’Errico’s work was in an issue of Hi Fructose (and on Facebook <–Can y’all tell that I’m all about pimping other people across the interwebs?), which, if you haven’t been reading Hi Fructose, you should be. New Contemporary, Pop Art. What isn’t there to luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurve? I totally need to actually just suck it up and get a subscription so I don’t miss anything.
What I love about d’Errico is her use of creatures juxtaposed with anime girls. There’s something incredibly rich about this juxtaposition. Like the creatures are an extension of the anime girls’ personalities; like they’re part of the stories that the girls write for themselves.
Such as No Ordinary Love.
Due to the presence of both the black and white crows, there’s this connection to the story of the crow in Greek mythology and how Apollo initially changed crows from white to black for telling untruths and then, after discovering that the crow had been telling the truth all along, made crows sacred and in charge of foretelling important deaths. <–Please note that actually just turning the crow back to white wasn’t an option.
There is a love story in here somewhere, and while love stories of any sort kinda make me want to hork, there’s something epic to this one. She is the child of Water and Sky, the product of a broken home; she’s not supposed to exist, acknowledged by none.
Then, there are also d’Errico’s nostalgia illustrations.
Seriously, who didn’t have a glow worm as kid? It’s like the quintessential 80s kid toy. I fondly remember mine–received for Christmas when I was about 8 years old. For a kid who was always afraid of what was in the dark (not afraid of the dark; it’s a very important distinction), a glow worm was more that a great present; it was comforting.
And warm. I remember that it was warm to sleep with. All that glowing makes for warm sleeping.
The little girl’s dress also makes it look like she escaped from whomever was supposed to be watching her after church on a Sunday afternoon. <–No, I have never in my life ruined my church clothes (when I still had to go to church) by playing outside in them. Not me.
And what kinda anime/manga illustration artist would d’Errico be if she didn’t reference He-Man on occasion?
It’s such a beautiful interpretation of the Sorceress from He-Man. All wonderful blue-orange complementary color cord but with that delicate sadness that permeated the Sorceress due to her inability to keep her daughter, Teela, because of her Grey Skull duties and the loss of the Adam’s sister Adora.
Okay, I’m a bit of a dork that I remember this from when I was a kid.
But, it’s really nice to see other artists that are connected to their cultural moments like Camilla d’Errico and Aya Kato (there are other, but these are the ones that I’ve done blog-y bits on so far) and easily, and comfortably, reference popular culture.