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Picture book "Le Horla", Editions Milan, France. It is an 1887 short horror story written in the style of a journal by French writer Guy de Maupassant.
Picture book "Le Horla", Editions Milan, France. It is an 1887 short horror story written in the style of a journal by French writer Guy de Maupassant.
“We was inspired by surrealism and metaphysical painting art”
Acryic and digital media with hand-made brush strokes
Awards:
2011 3x3 Proshow Illustration Annual No. 8, USA
2011 American Illustration 30 selected USA
2010 Society of Illustrators NYC, Illustrators 53 Annual Exhibition & book, USA
2011 American Illustration 30 selected USA
2010 Society of Illustrators NYC, Illustrators 53 Annual Exhibition & book, USA
“Le Horla” is an 1887 famous short horror story written by French writer Guy de Maupassant
in the first person in the form of a diary. The narrator, a solitary bourgeois man, reported his
troubled thoughts and feelings of anguish. All around him, he senses the presence without
form and consistency of a being that he calls the “Horla”. A strange invisible creature, a
threatening presence that he has come to make him his slave. He feels so prisoner, lost and
possessed to the point that he is ready to kill either the Horla, or himself.
in the first person in the form of a diary. The narrator, a solitary bourgeois man, reported his
troubled thoughts and feelings of anguish. All around him, he senses the presence without
form and consistency of a being that he calls the “Horla”. A strange invisible creature, a
threatening presence that he has come to make him his slave. He feels so prisoner, lost and
possessed to the point that he is ready to kill either the Horla, or himself.
This artwork is titled "prisoner"
"August 14. I am lost! Somebody possesses my soul and governs it! Somebody orders all my acts, all my movements, all my thoughts. I am no longer master of myself, nothing except an enslaved and terrified spectator of the things which I do. I wish to go out; I cannot. He does not wish to; and so I remain, trembling and distracted in the armchair in which he keeps me sitting. I merely wish to get up and to rouse myself, so as to think that I am still master of myself: I cannot! I am riveted to my chair, and my chair adheres to the floor in such a manner that no force of mine can move us."
