the frantic business of mice

the frantic business of mice

Seasons change. I started writing a poem. It's for an animated short about squirrels burying nuts. I've decided to try animation. At the moment, this seems like a very organic and obvious combination of my intake and my output.. That is, my favorite artistic medium to take in is film, but my favorite to output are painting and drawing. Put them together, and you find animation. For now, I'm very excited for the possibilities, and you know, why didn't I think of it sooner? We'll see how I feel after actually doing some - if the enthusiasm waxes or wanes after hours sketching nearly the same image over and over and over again. Right now it sounds sort of theraputic, medatative...

I thought it might be nice to juxtapose a ridiculous video of squirrels thrusting their heads into holes in the ground with a sort of stuffy poem about winter. This is the beginning (the video is about a minute long, so I'll have to make the text long enough to fill that time):

Mornings fair dew is turn to ice
Cool summer gusts to a vicious gale
In the fields frantic business of mice
As squirrel secures each last detail

Leaves of brown crunch underfoot
And this is no surprise

Noble stands once full come bare
Skeletons brace against the chill
Foxs gay smile turns to desperate stare
As Earths slow turn lays all life still

Summers folly makes winters fool
And this is no surprise

Spitting rain turns to silent snow
Lays a cloak of brilliant white
Air turns sharp against suns mute glow
Wolves hunt fruitless in the bluing night

Powder rests quiet underfoot
And this is no surprise