Boba

Hey George The Showcase #22 Club thread is over 600 pages - c'mon folks we got to catch this one up.

Bob-a-loo Pedigree FTW!!! . . . and the crowd goes mad

no

My wife thinks I'm special talented does that count?

This thread could use a

I wonder if I can get my name mentioned on the slabs my books are in - from the collection of Bob-a-loo

You can't resist can you.

No reason to get snippy, people are just trying to state opinions here. we're all entitled to them aren't we? Anyway, it's all good and like I said earlier (I think I did, maybe someone else did - oh my ) I hope WB pays attention to the fans this time.

Prompt shipping, well packed, cordial communications. Nice to deal with. Thanks Bob

Will our hapless hero wind up in a pile of rubble at the bottom of a 50 foot drop? Or will he save the cat from it's perilous perch, and himself in the process? Stay tuned boys and girls. Same bat-time, same bat-channel.

Oh man, that is sweet! Electric colors on that one there (thumbs u . . . and not an easy book to find in that grade, I bet.

Good stuff that Laphroiac is (thumbs u hard to spell too

Not all of them yet (at work now) but I will . . . I'm a big fan - love books posted by the GA gang. I'll be watching what you post.

Congrads on your first scan here Have long looked forward to seeing all the wonderful books you speak about. Cool

This is amazing, and seven by ten feet no less Love to see more of your stuff. Is it posted here?

I'm not familiar with this one Robert - but I love it! The maiden's profile is beautifully rendered.Do you know what the story illustrated is? Not really. I was literally looking at tons of photos of his works, trying to pick what looked to have scans good enough to post. It'd probably would be easy to find out though.

Bought a ton of sweet Showcases and other books from Sharon and forgot to submit feedback. Just received another, and needless to say, well packed, promptly shipped and as described. Never a hassle dealing with Sky. Bob

A dream to deal with, thanks again Marc for promptly paying, communicating and your patronage. Hope we do business again! Thanks

The Ruppster is swell to deal with, and an all around stand-up guy (thumbs u

And some more Arthur Rackham

Thanks, I will (thumbs u There's so much to choose from, here's some I found on the web: Winslow Homer NC Wyeth

I admit I never actually read Becquer's writings, I was told the story of La Organista by a close friend who related it to me when he saw my sketches for the piece. It seemed to fit the subject and helped me to put a story to the concept.

Thanks for the plug, however undeserved. The paintings by Donato you posted, I've never seen his work. He is an incredible artist. Wow! I'm not sure if you mentioned them earlier in the thread, there's a lot to take in, but NC Wyeth and Winslow Homer seem to deserve mention in this journal. The latter is on display in Portland Maine (also home to C-Link) and worth the trip to behold in person. Jeff Jones also comes to mind when I think of these guys. I should find some images of their work to post, if it hasn't been already.

Lot's of hidden faces in this one. An Illustration based on the character Maese Pérez, la organist from the story by GUSTAVO ADOLFO BÉCQUER "Maese Perez is here! Maese Perez is here!" At this shout, coming from those jammed in by the door, every one looked around. Maese Perez, pale and feeble, was in fact entering the church, brought in a chair which all were quarrelling for the honor of carrying upon their shoulders. The commands of the physicians, the tears of his daughter--nothing had been able to keep him in bed. "No," he had said; "this is the last one, I know it. I know it, and I do not want to die without visiting my organ again, this night above all, this Christmas Eve. Come, I desire it, I order it; come, to the church!" His desire had been gratified. The people carried him in their arms to the organ-loft. The mass began. Twelve struck on the cathedral clock. The introit came, then the Gospel, then the offertory, and the moment arrived when the priest, after consecrating the sacred wafer, took it in his hands and began to elevate it. A cloud of incense filled the church in bluish undulations. The little bells rang out in vibrating peals, and Maese Perez placed his aged fingers upon the organ keys. The multitudinous voices of the metal tubes gave forth a prolonged and majestic chord, which died away little by little, as if a gentle breeze had borne away its last echoes. To this opening burst, which seemed like a voice lifted up to heaven from earth, responded a sweet and distant note, which went on swelling and swelling in volume until it became a torrent of overpowering harmony. It was the voice of the angels, traversing space, and reaching the world. Then distant hymns began to be heard, intoned by the hierarchies of seraphim; a thousand hymns at once, mingling to form a single one, though this one was only an accompaniment to a strange melody which seemed to float above that ocean of mysterious echoes, as a strip of fog above the waves of the sea. One song after another died away. The movement grew simpler. Now only two voices were heard, whose echoes blended. Then but one remained, and alone sustained a note as brilliant as a thread of light. The priest bowed his face, and above his gray head appeared the host. At that moment the note which Maese Perez was holding began to swell and swell, and an explosion of unspeakable joy filled the church. From each of the notes forming that magnificent chord a theme was developed; and some near, others far away, these brilliant, those muffled, one would have said that the waters and the birds, the breezes and the forests, men and angels, earth and heaven, were singing, each in its own language, a hymn in praise of the Saviour's birth. The people listened, amazed and breathless. The officiating priest felt his hands trembling; for it seemed as if he had seen the heavens opened and the host transfigured. The organ kept on, but its voice sank away gradually, like a tone going from echo to echo, and dying as it goes. Suddenly a cry was heard in the organ-loft--a piercing, shrill cry, the cry of a woman. The organ gave a strange, discordant sound, like a sob, and then was silent. The multitude flocked to the stairs leading up to the organ-loft, towards which the anxious gaze of the faithful was turned. "What has happened? What is the matter?" one asked the other, and no one knew what to reply. The confusion increased. The excitement threatened to disturb the good order and decorum fitting within a church. "What was that?" asked the great ladies of the chief judge. He had been one of the first to ascend to the organ-loft. Now, pale and displaying signs of deep grief, he was going to the archbishop, who was anxious, like everybody else, to know the cause of the disturbance. "What's the matter?" "Maese Perez has just expired."