Jan. 2, 2024, 12:40 p.m.

goodbye 2023 / hello 2024

what is formyths doing

this was supposed to be the december recap email but the only thing i worked on was my annual new year's comic so here it is.

art ✎

text: someone once told us that someone once told them that biting through a carrot was like biting off a finger. sometimes, we rest a finger between our teeth and dream of a life as something sharp and cunning— panels show ambiguous models of four-legged animals, finger bones, teeth, a view of clouds through a window. text: gleaming eyes and sparking nerves and coursing veins, emerging from deep beyond surveillance cameras and multilane highways and stock markets. (something so perfect so as not to need to reshape themselves with their teeth.) panels show the darkness beyond the trees, ancient depictions of wolves, a set of sharp teeth, a border of neurons. text: we lay down the traps. we gnaw off our legs. we can't sleep and in the glow of our phones at 1am we type "do animals really bite off their legs in traps". we read through a long list of creatures in a tongue neither of us should have to be named. panels show a fang, a knife, a framed landscape painting, mouths shaped to different sounds. text: the veil grows thin, the storm looms on the horizon. the shape of the beast draws near in the fog. one of our teeth aches in the cold, and we imagine each one falling out like seeds into the dust. panels show a widening view, a cracked eggshell, lightning & heavy mist, an ancient rabbit carving. text: our rooms settle around us like a new coat, elaborate tombs to be unearthed a thousand years later. we feel each joint in our fingers, every loose seam. one day we’ll remember. panels show a figure on a tomb-like bed flanked by carved animal panels, strange vessels, glimpses of a bedroom. text: the course sweeps us along: lay down our body on the altar, prophesy the fall from the cliff, read the cracks in our ribs. the night cools our lungs. centuries whirl overhead and catch us in their gaze. we weigh our choices, we bite our tongue. there’s blood in our teeth when we wake. panels show blood dripping into a strange chalice, patterns of bones and teeth, a globe in a darkened room. text: we long for the dream of the pack. our many many feet wear down our paths through the ruin, and we make ourselves new homes. panels show the legs of a running pack, the shadows of broken columns, stars & roots. text: we are a small desperate creature caught under the vast expanse of the sky. but everything, in the end, will share our fate— panels show movement in the grass, silhouettes of claws & a finger on the trigger, a rotting apple, a toppled statue, fire, a carving of a sleeping creature. text: and the sky unfurls above us— a panel widens out into empty space.

also up on my site if the formatting ends up weird on here. i usually put my year end/new year comics together from bits of writing i've collected in my notes over the year, and they're usually very abstractly about time/ death/ cycles/ change/ renewal which conveniently are both themes i'm interested in and topical for a so-called new year.

usually try to edit these down to the minimal amount of words/ pages but wanted to do something a little longer this year (might try to do a print version of this with additional illustrations). it was interesting trying to plan this out/ fit the words together, though also because these sort of break my rule of no more "personal" comics i can never tell if the writing is wince-inducing or not (i've sort of gotten out of that in the past by the aggressive cutting).

some inspo for this: shang dynasty crouching bear carving (though ultimately bears did not feature here); mythology around fox (+ other animal) spirits taking on human shape; "rest assured, empires will fall" (sufjan stevens, genuflecting ghost); best management practices for trapping furbearers in the united states; the tigress jataka. i only remembered it while deep in work but maybe subconsciously drawing from the vibes of "all the world will be your enemy... and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. but first they must catch you" (richard adams, watership down).

also would like to thank my summer camp counselor coworker for telling me that thing about biting off fingers like carrots that one time years ago.


other stuff ✷

nothing for now! thanks (as always) for sticking around and supporting my work. i appreciate it a lot.

wishing you all the best in the new year,

— a / formyths

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