Roxanna's Gallerie Mystique

Queen of the Night

2012-01-05T18:07:00.000-08:00

An Orientalist Obsession in Sequins

starring Theda Bara as "the Vamp"

LILIMOTH

Roxanna Bikadoroff 2009
28 " w x 30 " h sequins and beads on fabric

A fool there was and he made his prayer
(Even as you or I)
To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair
(We called her the woman who did not care)
But the fool, he called her his Lady Fair
(Even as you or I)

- from Kipling's 'The Vampire' (1897), which later became the
script for Wm. Fox's film, 'A Fool There Was' (1915) . It starred
yet unknown Theda Bara as the 'vamp,' launching her career
as Hollywood's premier Lilith. To create an orientalist mystery
around her, the studio claimed her name was an anagram for
'Arab Death.'

Stoker-inspired painting by Philip Burne-Jones which Kipling wrote his poem about, Theda in 'A Fool There Was' and Babylon's original 'Queen of the Night' (the 'Burney Relief,' British Museum).

MEDUSUN

Roxanna Bikadoroff
2009
29 " w x 40" h
sequins and beads
on fabric

But, list, Ianthe! when the air so soft Fail'd,
as my pennon'd spirit leapt aloft,
Perhaps my brain grew dizzy-but
the world I left so late was into chaos hurl'd-
Sprang from her station, on the winds apart.
And roll'd, a flame, the fiery Heaven athwart.
Methought, my sweet one, then I ceased to soar
And fell-not swiftly as I rose before,
But with a downward, tremulous motion thro'
Light, brazen rays, this golden star unto!
Nor long the measure of my falling hours,
For nearest of all stars was thine to ours-
Dread star! that came, amid a night of mirth,
A red Daedalion on the timid Earth.

- from E.A. Poe’s 'Al-Aaraaf'. The poem was inspired by Tycho
Brahe’s discovery (Nov. 11, 1572) of a supernova in the constellation
of Cassiopeia. Al-Aaraaf, taken from the Q’uran, refers to a place
between heaven and hell, where souls wait for judgment.
In Greek mythology, Cassiopeia and her husband, Cepheus ruled the
Kingdom of Ethiopia. Cassiopeia had insulted the Nerieds (water
beings) by bragging that she and her daughter, Andromeda, were
more beautiful than they. Seeking vengeance, the Nerieds got Poseidon
to send a flood and sea monster to devastate the kingdom, so Cepheus
was forced to sacrifice Andromeda, naked but for her jewels, to the
sea monster. Luckily, Perseus, who happ’d to be flying by with Medusa’s
freshly severed head in his bag, swooped down to save her - and the
kingdom. Ages later, Perseus would reincarnate as George, the
dragon-slaying, Patron Saint of Greece, Ethiopia and England.

L to R : W. Heath Robinson’s illustration for ‘Al-Aaraaf’, Theda horror still and
serpentine dreads (Namibia).

Why have you hated me in your counsels?
For I shall be silent among those who are silent,
and I shall appear and speak.
Why then have you hated me, you Greeks?
Because I am a barbarian among [the] barbarians?
For I am the wisdom [of the] Greeks and
the knowledge of [the] barbarians.
I am the judgment of [the] Greeks and the barbarians.

- from The Thunder : Perfect Mind (Nag Hammadi Texts)

dread ; fearfulness, but also (archaic) the emotion aroused by something awe inspiring (awful) or astonishing, fear of God (Rasta).
astonish ; to stun, to render senseless as by a blow, to strike with sudden fear or wonder (from latin ‘attonare - to strike with lightening/’tonare’ - to thunder).

One more to come in this series... stay tuned !

FABRIC ICONS

2011-08-31T01:50:00.000-07:00

Women have always created personal altars in whatever

small space they have, using whatever materials they have

around - a shawl, candles, photos, shells, dolls, feathers...

Through traditional women's work of sewing and beading,

I connect with my female ancestors through time.

Byzantine Isis

Fatima

Innocence

Sri Durga

Red Durga

Don Fedorovskaya

All images © Roxanna Bikadoroff 2010, 2011, 2012

HARPIES - A Series of Miniatures

2011-04-29T03:03:00.000-07:00

Known in Greek mythology as harbingers of death and destruction

who ate babies at every opportunity, Harpies are really just the

occidental version of Dakinis (feminine wisdom), who's wrath serves

to dispel illusion. Their name is derived from the bare-breasted,

Minoan priestesses who played harps - instruments of poetry and

purity that raise the heart's vibration.

The Three Dakinis of Practical Wisdom

Hakkni Panki

Oriental Beauties

Speckled Columbine

Night Queen

Quarrelling Concubines

Madonna Harpy

Lady Jane's Harpy

Obeah Harpy

Patty and Selma Immortalized

Please ask permission first if you want to repost.

Paintings and Mixed Media

2011-04-01T17:30:00.000-07:00

MINIATURES

Valkyrie 2011

Dame Dracul and Her Dreadful Fascinator 2011

Danse Macabre 2010

These art works may not be reproduced without my
written consent. If you are interested in buying one,
please contact me at rox@roxannamundi.ca

Art is also for sale at my Etsy store:www.etsy.com/shop/snazzy888

Visit me on FACEBOOK, lots more to see there !
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144351&id=739695603&l=bf20b8e32e

LARGER WORKS

Sea Spirit 2010

Moist 2010

Ectoplasmic Eve 2011

The Big Rebertha 2009

New Moon's Daughter 2011

Saint Misha "Strong Like Bull" 2009

Pacific Puttanesque 2009

THE TSAREVNA FROG

2009-11-10T21:48:00.000-08:00

A Traditional Russian Fairy Tale
retold and illustrated by Roxanna Bikadoroff
© Roxanna Bikadoroff 2009

PART ONE

A long long long time ago (I’m not sure how long exactly), there lived a Tsar and his three grown sons. (A Tsar is a Russian Emperor, for those who didn’t know). The Tsar was feeling time’s hand on his shoulder, and he longed to have grandchildren to bounce on his knee before he passed away. So he ordered three fine, copper bows and three fine, silver arrows made, and when the stars were auspicious, he summoned his sons before him. ‘My dear boys,’ he said, ’The time has come that I must choose one of you as my successor. So, first things first, I want you to find suitable wives.’ He handed each son a copper bow and silver arrow, ‘Wherever your arrow may fall, there you will find your destined partner,’ and he gave them his blessing.

All three sons were excellent marksmen, and though they couldn’t yet see their target, they were up for the challenge. The eldest son’s arrow landed at the door of a boyar’s house (a boyar is a Russian nobleman), so he was given the daughter’s hand (a fine match, since the eldest was rather a snob). The second son’s arrow landed at the gate of a wealthy merchant’s house, who happily gave his daughter’s hand (since the second son thought only of money and how to make more of it, this too was a match made in heaven). Now it was the youngest son, Tsarevitch Ivan’s turn. His arrow flew farthest, all the way into the woods, where he had to wade though a marsh to recover it. To his shock, it was being held in the mouth of a frog. ‘Please give me back my arrow, frog, so I can shoot it again.’ ‘But Tsarevitch Ivan,’ said the frog,’it is the Tsar’s will that you marry the one your silver arrow leads you to. Croaaak ! Now you must take me for your wife !’ ‘Oh come, let’s be realistic !’ said Ivan. But his brothers had caught up and were already rolling on the grass, laughing at the situation, so he saw there was no getting around it. ‘Oh well,’ he said, ‘at least she can talk.’ Gently, he picked up the little frog and took her back with them to the palace.

Three weddings were arranged; the eldest son to the boyar’s daughter, the second to the merchant’s daughter, and unhappy Tsarevitch Ivan to a frog. You can just imagine how his brothers and their wives teased him in the days that followed. But he paid them no mind and always treated his wife exactly as he would a real princess. The Tsar was now eager to chose an heir to his throne, so once again, he called forth his sons, ‘Now that you are married, let’s see which of your wives is the best seamstress. I’d like each sew me a fine shirt by tomorrow.’ The two elder sons hurried off to tell their wives, but poor Ivan dragged his feet, seeing little point in even mentioning it to his frog wife.

‘Sew ? he wants ME to sew ?’ exclaimed the boyar’s daughter, when the eldest son told her the news, ‘But I’ve always had servants to do my sewing for me ! Even as a child, my parents forbade me to play with a thimble !’ ‘Sew him a shirt ?’ said the merchant’s daughter, ‘when my father could easily buy him the finest shirt in the land ? Preposterous !’ But since they both imagined themselves as future Tsarina (Empress) they relented and set to work. When Ivan arrived home, his wife was hopping about on the floor, happy as could be. ‘Why so glum, my husband ? ’ ‘Oh, my father insists that each of our wives sew him a fine shirt by tomorrow. He wants to know which of you is the best seamstress.’ ‘Never mind, Tsarevitch Ivan. Put away your worries and trust your little frog. You’ll see things more clearly after a good night’s sleep. Croaaaak !’ So he went to bed. When everyone was asleep, the frog went out into the garden, threw off her skin and turned into the maiden named Vassilisa, who’s wisdom and beauty was beyond words. She clapped her hands three times, summoning her fairy attendants, ‘My faithful ones ! Come gather and listen to me. Sew me a shirt as fine as the one my father wore by dawn tomorrow !’

When Ivan awoke the next morning, the little frog was hopping about, catching flies and the shirt lay wrapped in linen, on the table. Astonished, Ivan begged her to tell him how she did it, but she just smiled and waved him off, so he ran excitedly to show his father. His brothers were already presenting their wives’ work when he arrived. The Tsar examined the first shirt, made by the boyar’s daughter (who had been up all night and who’s fingers were blistered from working), ‘I wouldn’t even let my stable boy work in this !’ He threw it down in disgust and inspected the shirt made by the second son’s wife, ‘Hmm, not bad, I could probably wear it to the bath.’ Ivan then unfolded his shirt. It was spun of the finest, oriental silk, embroidered with gold and silver thread in intricate patterns. The Tsar took one look at it and declared, ‘Now, THAT is a shirt fit for royalty !’ Nevertheless, the Tsar wasn’t quite convinced, so he decided to give the wives another task. ‘Congratulations, Ivan. However, now I wish to find out which of your wives is the best cook. Have each of them bake me a perfect loaf of bread by tomorrow.’

Once again the two older brothers hurried home to inform their wives, while Ivan shuffled along, kicking stones. He thought he’d fairly won, after all. When he got home, the frog was hopping about gaily, not care in the world. ‘Ah, Tsarevitch Ivan, whatever is the matter?’ ‘Oh, now my father wants to see who is the best cook and you are each to bake him a fine loaf of bread by tomorrow.’ ‘Be of good cheer, Tsarevitch, and go to bed. Things always look better in the morning after a good night’s sleep. Croaaak !’ While her husband slept, the frog, who was really Vassilisa, threw off her skin and clapped three times, ‘My faithful attendants, gather round and bake me a loaf as white and soft as the one I ate at my father’s house !’

When Ivan awoke, the bread was waiting on the table, and what a loaf of bread ! It was soft and white with a perfect, golden brown crust, modeled and decorated exactly like the Tsar’s own palace ! Delighted (and feeling confident) Ivan carefully wrapped the loaf in linen and took it straight to his father. He arrived just as the two eldest sons were presenting their loaves; the first one was burned to a cinder and had to be thrown out, the second was quite ordinary and was sent to the servants quarters, but when the Tsar saw Ivan’s loaf, he was overjoyed, ‘Ah ! Now, THIS...this is not so much a loaf as a work of art ! We will serve it at the banquet I’m throwing in your honor tomorrow night !’ Ivan began to fret, ‘How on earth can I present my wife before all those guests at the banquet ? I’ll be made a laughing stock and my father will be humiliated, he’ll never make me his successor ! Woe is me !’

When he went back to his house, the little frog was hopping about happily on the floor as usual. ‘Dear Tsarevitch Ivan, my husband, what is it this time ? You look sadder than ever !’ Ivan explained the predicament to her as delicately as he could. ‘Oh is that all ?’ said the frog, ‘Well, don’t worry, just show up at the banquet yourself tomorrow. I will come later. When the rain begins to fall, you will know I am washing. When lightening strikes, I will be putting on my dress, and when you hear a clap of thunder, just tell everyone, “Oh, that must be my little frog arriving in her little box.” Now goodnight. Croaaak !’ Well, she hadn’t let him down yet, so Ivan decided to trust the frog and went to bed.

The next evening Ivan did as the frog told him and went alone to the banquet. The elder brothers arrived with their wives, all dressed in finery and dripping with jewels, their faces powdered and painted like immaculate dolls. They laughed at Ivan, ‘What, didn’t you bring your lovely wife along, Tsarevitch Ivan ? Is she hiding under a lily pad somewhere in the garden ?’ ‘My, you must have searched every swamp in the land to find such a beauty !’ The Tsar, his sons, their wives and all the guests were then seated at oak tables, spread with embroidered, white, linen tablecloths. Sure enough, just as the servants began pouring wine into crystal goblets and carrying in the feast on silver platters, it started to rain. There was a flash of lightening, followed by an enormous clap of thunder, so loud it shook the whole palace and made the guests jump from their seats in alarm. ‘Oh, that must be my little froggy, riding here in her wretched little box,’ said Ivan. At that moment a golden carriage drawn by six white horses rode up to the front door and the wise and beautiful Vassilisa stepped out. She was wearing an azure gown of silk gauze twinkling with stars and a chaplet that shone like the Moon and Sun put together. So radiant was she, that the guests could only stare with their mouths hanging open. Ivan took her hand and led her to her seat at the banquet table, between the Tsar and himself.

Needless to say, there was no more teasing from the other wives, who were suddenly feeling rather humbled and ashamed. The guests began to eat and drink and soon everyone was relaxed and making merry. The Tsar was so entranced by Vassilisa’s intelligent conversation, he didn’t notice her putting a little wine from her glass and some bones from her plate into her sleeves. The other two wives were watching her every move, however, and, not to be outdone, filled their own sleeves with wine and bones. After the wonderful meal, it was time for dancing. Vassilisa and Ivan joined hands, gazing into each other’s eyes, their feet hardly touching the floor. Then Vassilisa waved her left sleeve and a little garden with a pillar in it sprang up from the floor. A black tom cat hopped up on the pillar and began to entertain the guests with songs and stories. With a wave of her right sleeve, a crystal clear lake with white swans appeared in the garden. The Tsar and his guests were astonished. The elder brother’s wives were of course terribly envious. ‘Let us do just as she does,’ they whispered, so they too waved their sleeves, splattering everyone with a shower of wine and bones, one of which hit the Tsar in the eye ! He was absolutely furious. ‘How dare you wretches insult me and my guests ! Get out of my sight !’ he roared.

Meanwhile, Ivan slipped away from the party and ran home. He found Vassilisa’s frog skin lying on the floor and threw it into the fire. ‘There, now she will always remain a beautiful maiden !’ But when Vassilisa returned and saw that her frog skin was missing, she burst into tears, ’Oh no, Tsarevitch Ivan, what have you done ? If you’d only waited three more days, I’d have been your real wife forever ! Instead, I must now bid you farewell ! Look for me in the Thirtieth Kingdom...’ and she turned into a cuckoo and flew out the window. Well, if you can imagine your brightest day turning to darkest night in a matter of seconds, that was how Ivan felt. He was beside himself with grief. Before the cock had crowed, he bowed to the north, south, east and west and left his father’s tsarstvo (kingdom), vowing to seek Vassilisa to the ends of the earth or die trying.

PART TWO

Ivan walked and walked, nobody knows for how long or how far, until his boots were worn and his clothes ragged. Then one sunny day he met an old man on the road. ‘Good day, my son. Where are you headed ?’ So Ivan told him the whole story of how he’d lost his beautiful wife and how badly he longed to find her again. ‘Ah, Tsarevitch Ivan, that was indeed foolish of you to burn the frog skin. Vassilisa was born more clever and wise than her own father, you see, so out of envy, he condemned her to live as a frog for three years. But what’s done is done. It’s a good thing you bumped into me, though, or you’d have searched forever.’ Then, taking a little red ball out of his pocket he said, ’Here, Tsarevitch. Follow this ball without fear, wherever it may roll.’

Ivan thanked the old man and began following the ball. It rolled this way and that way and into an open field, where there stood a huge, burly, Russian bear. Ivan took out his bow and was about to shoot at it, when the bear spoke to him in a human voice, ‘Don’t kill me, Tsarevitch Ivan. Perhaps I will be of service to you someday !’ So Ivan took pity on the bear and went on his way. As he paused to drink from a stream, a gray hare came running by. Ivan thought he’d shoot it and have something to eat, but the hare turned and blinked his little brown eyes at him, saying, ‘Tsarevitch Ivan, I beg you, don’t kill me. Who knows, I may be able to assist you some day.’ So he let the hare go. Next, a white drake flew overhead and Ivan (who was very hungry, having not eaten since who knows when) took aim at it, but the drake called down to him in a human voice, ‘Please do not kill me, good Tsarevitch Ivan, and I may be able to help you someday !’ So Ivan spared the drake, too, and carried on walking behind the ball. By and by, he arrived at the mouth of a wide river, where he found a pike gasping and flopping on the rocks. ‘Aha ! Dinner at last,’ thought Ivan, but just as he was picking it up, the pike said, ‘I beg you, please throw me back in the water, Tsarevitch Ivan. One day soon I will be of better use to you than a meal.’ Ivan felt sorry for the pike then, so he released it into the river.

The ball led Ivan along the shore and into a wood, where a little hut built on chicken legs was dancing in circles. Now everyone in Russia knows a hut built on chick legs is where the Baba Yaga (grandmother witch) lives, so Ivan braced himself, ‘Little hut, little hut,’ he called out, ‘stand as you were built, with your back to the woods and your front to me !’ At once the hut stopped turning and stood facing Ivan. Through the doorway he saw the Baba Yaga sitting on top of the stove with her nose pressed up against the ceiling and her feet resting on the window sills. She had wild, grey hair and gnarled, boney hands.
‘What brings you to me young man ?’ she growled, ‘Are you seeking your fortune or running from it ?’ ‘Why, you old mischief,’ said Ivan coyly, ‘Is that any way to treat a guest, asking him questions before he’s had a hot bath and supper ?’ Amused, the Baba Yaga invited him in and gave a him a bath, followed by a huge supper of meat, eggs and bread with a jug of water and a jug of wine, of which Ivan ate and drank the lot.

When he was feeling better he told her all about his fateful marriage to the frog, who became the beautiful maiden Vassilisa, her disappearance, and how all he wanted in the whole wide world was to find her again. ‘Yes, of course, I know all about it,’ said the Baba Yaga, ‘and now she’s living as a prisoner of Kashchei the Deathless, at his marble palace, in the Thirtieth Kingdom. Well, it will be impossible to take her from him, for he guards her day and night and he is very terrible indeed. No one can ever conquer him. His death is at the point of a needle, that needle is inside an egg, the egg is inside a duck, the duck is inside a hare, the hare is inside a stone chest and the stone chest is at the crown of a very tall oak tree. And old Kashchei guards that oak tree more closely than any treasure, just as he guards your Vassilisa, so as you can see, it’s a pretty hopeless situation.’ Nevertheless, she told Ivan where and how to find the oak tree, since there was no convincing him otherwise. He thanked the Baba Yaga and left.

When he got to the oak tree, it was so very tall, he could hardly see the stone chest up on top. Things were looking hopeless, just as the old witch had said, when all of a sudden, the bear Ivan had met in the field came running over and tore the oak tree up by the roots, causing the stone chest to fall to the ground and smash open. A hare leapt out of broken chest and began running away, but instantly Ivan’s hare friend was upon it, ripping it apart, whereby a duck flew out of the dead hare’s body and flew up to the sky followed by he drake Ivan had spared, who sped after it and struck it’s neck. The egg fell out of the drake, but alas, it landed - PLOP - right into the deep blue sea. Poor Ivan, he felt his heart sinking with it. He slumped down on his knees in the sand. ‘Now I will never be able to get my Vassilisa back !’ But a few moments later, up swam the pike Ivan had saved, and it was holding the egg in it’s mouth ! Thanking all the animals, Ivan then cracked open the egg and removed the magic needle. He snapped its point off with a rock and at the same instant, Kashchei the Deathless fell writhing to the floor in his marble palace. ‘And now my little, red ball, lead me as fast as you can to my beautiful Vassilisa !’ said Ivan, triumphantly.

When he finally got to the marble palace, there was not a soul to be found nor a sound to be heard anywhere. He opened the heavy, iron door, which lead to a long, empty room with a silver door at the other end. The silver door opened to another empty room with a golden door at the end. When he opened the golden door, Ivan found his poor Vassilisa, counting flax. She looked so tired and pale, Ivan hardly recognized her, but she embraced him, saying, ‘Oh, my darling husband ! How I have longed for you all this time ! If you had arrived one moment later, you’d have found me dead !’ They kissed and cried for joy. Her magical powers restored, Vassilisa turned herself into a cuckoo again and flew them both home. The Tsar was overjoyed to see the happy couple again, for he had taken sick with remorse and was on his deathbed, waiting until the absolute last minute to bequeath his tsarstvo to one of the other sons. He named Ivan and Vassilisa Tsar and Tsarina and they lived happily and reigned peacefully to a ripe old age.

And now this story is over, I can’t lie anymore.

So far I have only completed two illustrations for this story, as I have not yet found a publisher.
If you are a publisher and are interested, please contact me at rox@roxannamundi.ca