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deathsmallcaps · 3 years ago

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The 30th was Peter Pan!

@boopboopboopbadoop

If you’d like to see the rest of my drawings and notes along with the text, please

Chapter 3: Come Away, Come Away!

For a moment after Mr. and Mrs. Dhillon* left the house the night-lights by the beds of the three children continued to burn clearly. They were awfully nice little night-lights, and one cannot help wishing that they could have kept awake to see Peter; but Wendy’s light blinked and gave such a yawn that the other two yawned also, and before they could close their mouths all the three went out.

*In the original text, it’s Darling. But since my version of Wendy and her family are Sikh, I consulted a Sikh person and was suggested the name Dhillon.

There was another light in the room now, a thousand times brighter than the night-lights, and in the time we have taken to say this, it had been in all the drawers in the nursery, looking for Peter’s shadow, rummaged the wardrobe and turned every pocket inside out. It was not really a light; it made this light by flashing about so quickly, but when it came to rest for a second you saw it was a fairy, no longer than your hand, but still growing. It was a girl called Tinker Bell exquisitely gowned in a skeleton leaf, cut low and square, through which her figure could be seen to the best advantage. She was slightly inclined to embonpoint.

A moment after the fairy’s entrance the window was blown open by the breathing of the little stars, and Peter dropped in. He had carried Tinker Bell part of the way, and his hand was still messy with the fairy dust.

“Tinker Bell,” he called softly, after making sure that the children were asleep, "Tink, where are you?" She was in a jug for the moment, and liking it extremely; she had never been in a jug before.

“Oh, do come out of that jug, and tell me, do you know where they put my shadow?"

The loveliest tinkle as of golden bells answered him. It is the fairy language. You ordinary children can never hear it, but if you were to hear it you would know that you had heard it once before.

Tink said that the shadow was in the big box. She meant the chest of drawers, and Peter jumped at the drawers, scattering their contents to the floor with both hands, as kings toss ha’pence to the crowd. In a moment he had recovered his shadow, and in his delight he forgot that he had shut Tinker Bell up in the drawer.

If he thought at all, but I don’t believe he ever thought, it was that he and his shadow, when brought near each other, would join like drops of water, and when they did not he was appalled. He tried to stick it on with soap from the bathroom, but that also failed. A shudder passed through Peter, and he sat on the floor and cried.

His sobs woke Wendy, and she sat up in bed. She was not alarmed to see a stranger crying on the nursery floor; she was only pleasantly interested.

“Boy,” she said courteously, "why are you crying?"

Peter could be exceeding polite also, having learned the grand manner at fairy ceremonies, and he rose and bowed to her beautifully. She was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the bed.

“What’s your name?" he asked.

“Wendy Kaur* Moira Dhillon,” she replied with some satisfaction. "What is your name?"

*A majority Sikh women have Kaur as their last name, or sometimes their middle name. It means princess, and all Sikh women are encouraged to have it, as a proud marker of their religion. For men, they get Singh, which means Lion.

“Peter Pan. "

She was already sure that he must be Peter, but it did seem a comparatively short name.

“Is that all?"

“Yes,” he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that it was a shortish name.

“I’m so sorry,” said Wendy Moira Angela.

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter gulped.

She asked where he lived.

“Second to the right,” said Peter, "and then straight on till morning. "

“What a funny address!"

Peter had a sinking. For the first time he felt that perhaps it was a funny address.

“No, it isn’t,” he said.

“I mean,” Wendy said nicely, remembering that she was hostess, "is that what they put on the letters?"

He wished she had not mentioned letters.

“Don’t get any letters,” he said contemptuously.

“But your mother gets letters?"

“Don’t have a mother,” he said. Not only had he no mother, but he had not the slightest desire to have one. He thought them very over-rated persons. Wendy, however, felt at once that she was in the presence of a tragedy.

“O Peter, no wonder you were crying,” she said, and got out of bed and ran to him.

“I wasn’t crying about mothers,” he said rather indignantly. "I was crying because I can’t get my shadow to stick on. Besides, I wasn’t crying. "

“It has come off?"

“Yes. "

Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor, looking so draggled, and she was frightfully sorry for Peter. "How awful!" she said, but she could not help smiling when she saw that he had been trying to stick it on with soap. How exactly like a boy!

Fortunately she knew at once what to do. "It must be sewn on,” she said, just a little patronisingly.

“What’s sewn?" he asked.

“You’re dreadfully ignorant. "

“No, I’m not. "

But she was exulting in his ignorance. "I shall sew it on for you, my little man,” she said, though he was tall as herself, and she got out her housewife bag and sewed the shadow onto Peter’s foot.

“I daresay it will hurt a little,” she warned him.

“Oh, I shan’t cry,” said Peter, who was already of the opinion that he had never cried in his life. And he clenched his teeth and did not cry, and soon his shadow was behaving properly, though still a little creased.

“Perhaps I should have ironed it,” Wendy said thoughtfully, but Peter, boylike, was indifferent to appearances, and he was now jumping about in the wildest glee. Alas, he had already forgotten that he owed his bliss to Wendy. He thought he had attached the shadow himself. "How clever I am!" he crowed rapturously, "oh, the cleverness of me!"

It is humiliating to have to confess that this conceit of Peter was one of his most fascinating qualities. To put it with brutal frankness, there never was a cockier boy.

But for the moment Wendy was shocked. "You conceit,” she exclaimed, with frightful sarcasm; "of course I did nothing!"

“You did a little,” Peter said carelessly, and continued to dance.

“A little!" she replied with hauteur; "if I am no use I can at least withdraw,” and she sprang in the most dignified way into bed and covered her face with the blankets.

To induce her to look up he pretended to be going away, and when this failed he sat on the end of the bed and tapped her gently with his foot. "Wendy,” he said, "don’t withdraw. I can’t help crowing, Wendy, when I’m pleased with myself. " Still she would not look up, though she was listening eagerly. "Wendy,” he continued, in a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, "Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys. "

Now Wendy was every inch a woman, though there were not very many inches, and she peeped out of the bed-clothes.

“Do you really think so, Peter?"

“Yes, I do. "

“I think it’s perfectly sweet of you,” she declared, "and I’ll get up again,” and she sat with him on the side of the bed. She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter did not know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly.

“Surely you know what a kiss is?" she asked, aghast.

“I shall know when you give it to me,” he replied stiffly, and not to hurt his feeling she gave him a thimble.

“Now,” said he, "shall I give you a kiss?" and she replied with a slight primness, "If you please. " She made herself rather cheap by inclining her face toward him, but he merely dropped an acorn button into her hand, so she slowly returned her face to where it had been before, and said nicely that she would wear his kiss on the chain around her neck. It was lucky that she did put it on that chain, for it was afterwards to save her life.

When people in our set are introduced, it is customary for them to ask each other’s age, and so Wendy, who always liked to do the correct thing, asked Peter how old he was. It was not really a happy question to ask him; it was like an examination paper that asks grammar, when what you want to be asked is Kings of England.

“I don’t know,” he replied uneasily, "but I am quite young. " He really knew nothing about it, he had merely suspicions, but he said at a venture, "Wendy, I ran away the day I was born. "

Wendy was quite surprised, but interested; and she indicated in the charming drawing-room manner, by a touch on her nightgown, that he could sit nearer her.

“It was because I heard father and mother,” he explained in a low voice, "talking about what I was to be when I became a man. " He was extraordinarily agitated now. "I don’t want ever to be a man,” he said with passion. "I want always to be a little boy and to have fun. So I ran away to Kensington Gardens and lived a long long time among the fairies. "

She gave him a look of the most intense admiration, and he thought it was because he had run away, but it was really because he knew fairies. Wendy had lived such a home life that to know fairies struck her as quite delightful. She poured out questions about them, to his surprise, for they were rather a nuisance to him, getting in his way and so on, and indeed he sometimes had to give them a hiding. Still, he liked them on the whole, and he told her about the beginning of fairies.

“You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. "

Tedious talk this, but being a stay-at-home she liked it.

“And so,” he went on good-naturedly, "there ought to be one fairy for every boy and girl. "

“Ought to be? Isn’t there?"

“No. You see children know such a lot now, they soon don’t believe in fairies, and every time a child says,"I don’t believe in fairies,"there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. "

Really, he thought they had now talked enough about fairies, and it struck him that Tinker Bell was keeping very quiet. "I can’t think where she has gone to,” he said, rising, and he called Tink by name. Wendy’s heart went flutter with a sudden thrill.

“Peter,” she cried, clutching him, "you don’t mean to tell me that there is a fairy in this room!"

“She was here just now,” he said a little impatiently. "You don’t hear her, do you?" and they both listened.

“The only sound I hear,” said Wendy, "is like a tinkle of bells. "

“Well, that’s Tink, that’s the fairy language. I think I hear her too. "

The sound came from the chest of drawers, and Peter made a merry face. No one could ever look quite so merry as Peter, and the loveliest of gurgles was his laugh. He had his first laugh still.

“Wendy,” he whispered gleefully, "I do believe I shut her up in the drawer!"

He let poor Tink out of the drawer, and she flew about the nursery screaming with fury. "You shouldn’t say such things,” Peter retorted. "Of course I’m very sorry, but how could I know you were in the drawer?"

Wendy was not listening to him. "O Peter,” she cried, "if she would only stand still and let me see her!"

“They hardly ever stand still,” he said, but for one moment Wendy saw the romantic figure come to rest on the cuckoo clock. "O the lovely!" she cried, though Tink’s face was still distorted with passion.

“Tink,” said Peter amiably, "this lady says she wishes you were her fairy. "

Tinker Bell answered insolently.

“What does she say, Peter?"

He had to translate. "She is not very polite. She says you are a great ugly girl, and that she is my fairy. "

He tried to argue with Tink. "You know you can’t be my fairy, Tink, because I am a gentleman and you are a lady. "

To this Tink replied in these words, "You silly ass,” and disappeared into the bathroom. "She is quite a common fairy,” Peter explained apologetically, "she is called Tinker Bell because she mends the pots and kettles. "

They were together in the armchair by this time, and Wendy plied him with more questions.

“If you don’t live in Kensington Gardens now—”

“Sometimes I do still. "

“But where do you live mostly now?"

“With the lost boys. "

“Who are they?"

“They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expenses. I’m captain. "

“What fun it must be!"

“Yes,” said cunning Peter, "but we are rather lonely. You see we have no female companionship. "

“Are none of the others girls?"

“Oh, no; girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their prams. "

This flattered Wendy immensely. "I think,” she said, "it is perfectly lovely the way you talk about girls; John there just despises us.

For reply Peter rose and kicked John out of bed, blankets and all; one kick. This seemed to Wendy rather forward for a first meeting, and she told him with spirit that he was not captain in her house. However, John continued to sleep so placidly on the floor that she allowed him to remain there. "And I know you meant to be kind,” she said, relenting, "so you may give me a kiss. "

For the moment she had forgotten his ignorance about kisses. "I thought you would want it back,” he said a little bitterly, and offered to return her the thimble.

“Oh dear,” said the nice Wendy, "I don’t mean a kiss, I mean a thimble. "

“What’s that?"

“It’s like this. " She kissed him.

“Funny!" said Peter gravely. "Now shall I give you a thimble?"

“If you wish to,” said Wendy, keeping her head erect this time. Peter thimbled her, and almost immediately she screeched. "What is it, Wendy?"

“It was exactly as if someone were pulling my hair. "

“That must have been Tink. I never knew her so naughty before. "

And indeed Tink was darting about again, using offensive language.

“She says she will do that to you, Wendy, every time I give you a thimble. "

“But why?"

“Why, Tink?"

Again Tink replied, "You silly ass. " Peter could not understand why, but Wendy understood, and she was just slightly disappointed when he admitted that he came to the nursery window not to see her but to listen to stories.

“You see, I don’t know any stories. None of the lost boys knows any stories. "

“How perfectly awful,” Wendy said.

“Do you know,” Peter asked "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories. O Wendy, your mother was telling you such a lovely story. "

“Which story was it?"

“About the prince who couldn’t find the lady who wore the glass slipper. "

“Peter,” said Wendy excitedly, "that was Cinderella, and he found her, and they lived happily ever after. "

Peter was so glad that he rose from the floor, where they had been sitting, and hurried to the window.

“Where are you going?" she cried with misgiving. "To tell the other boys. "

“Don’t go Peter,” she entreated, "I know such lots of stories. "

Those were her precise words, so there can be no denying that it was she who first tempted him.

He came back, and there was a greedy look in his eyes now which ought to have alarmed her, but did not.

“Oh, the stories I could tell to the boys!" she cried, and then Peter gripped her and began to draw her toward the window.

“Let me go!" she ordered him.

“Wendy, do come with me and tell the other boys. "

Of course she was very pleased to be asked, but she said, "Oh dear, I can’t. Think of mummy! Besides, I can’t fly. "

“I’ll teach you. "

“Oh, how lovely to fly. "

“I’ll teach you how to jump on the wind’s back, and then away we go. "

“Oo!" she exclaimed rapturously.

“Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you might be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars. "

“Oo!"

“And, Wendy, there are mermaids. "

“Mermaids! With tails?"

“Such long tails. "

“Oh,” cried Wendy, "to see a mermaid!"

He had become frightfully cunning. "Wendy,” he said, "how we should all respect you. "

She was wriggling her body in distress. It was quite as if she were trying to remain on the nursery floor.

But he had no pity for her.

“Wendy,” he said, the sly one, "you could tuck us in at night. "

“Oo!"

“None of us has ever been tucked in at night. "

“Oo,” and her arms went out to him.

“And you could darn our clothes, and make pockets for us. None of us has any pockets.

How could she resist. "Of course it’s awfully fascinating!" she cried. "Peter, would you teach John and Michael to fly too?"

“If you like,” he said indifferently, and she ran to John and Michael and shook them. "Wake up,” she cried, "Peter Pan has come and he is to teach us to fly. "

John rubbed his eyes. "Then I shall get up,” he said. Of course he was on the floor already. "Hallo,” he said, "I am up!"

Michael was up by this time also, looking as sharp as a knife with six blades and a saw, but Peter suddenly signed silence. Their faces assumed the awful craftiness of children listening for sounds from the grown-up world. All was as still as salt. Then everything was right. No, stop! Everything was wrong. Nana, who had been barking distressfully all the evening, was quiet now. It was her silence they had heard.

“Out with the light! Hide! Quick!" cried John, taking command for the only time throughout the whole adventure. And thus when Liza entered, holding Nana, the nursery seemed quite its old self, very dark, and you would have sworn you heard its three wicked inmates breathing angelically as they slept. They were really doing it artfully from behind the window curtains.

Liza was in a bad temper, for she was mixing the Christmas puddings in the kitchen, and had been drawn from them, with a raisin still on her cheek, by Nana’s absurd suspicions. She thought the best way of getting a little quiet was to take Nana to the nursery for a moment, but in custody of course.

“There, you suspicious brute,” she said, not sorry that Nana was in disgrace. "They are perfectly safe, aren’t they? Every one of the little angels sound asleep in bed. Listen to their gentle breathing. "

Here Michael, encouraged by his success, breathed so loudly that they were nearly detected. Nana knew that kind of breathing, and she tried to drag herself out of Liza’s clutches.

But Liza was dense. "No more of it, Nana,” she said sternly, pulling her out of the room. "I warn you if you bark again I shall go straight for master and missus and bring them home from the party, and then, oh, won’t master whip you, just. "

She tied the unhappy dog up again, but do you think Nana ceased to bark? Bring master and missus home from the party! Why, that was just what she wanted. Do you think she cared whether she was whipped so long as her charges were safe? Unfortunately Liza returned to her puddings, and Nana, seeing that no help would come from her, strained and strained at the chain until at last she broke it. In another moment she had burst into the dining-room of 27 and flung up her paws to heaven, her most expressive way of making a communication. Mr. and Mrs. Dhillon knew at once that something terrible was happening in their nursery, and without a good-bye to their hostess they rushed into the street.

But it was now ten minutes since three scoundrels had been breathing behind the curtains, and Peter Pan can do a great deal in ten minutes.

We now return to the nursery.

“It’s all right,” John announced, emerging from his hiding-place. "I say, Peter, can you really fly?"

Instead of troubling to answer him Peter flew around the room, taking the mantelpiece on the way.dgb

“How topping!" said John and Michael.

“How sweet!" cried Wendy.

“Yes, I’m sweet, oh, I am sweet!" said Peter, forgetting his manners again.

It looked delightfully easy, and they tried it first from the floor and then from the beds, but they always went down instead of up.

“I say, how do you do it?" asked John, rubbing his knee. He was quite a practical boy.

“You just think lovely wonderful thoughts,” Peter explained, "and they lift you up in the air.

He showed them again.

“You’re so nippy at it,” John said, "couldn’t you do it very slowly once?"

Peter did it both slowly and quickly. "I’ve got it now, Wendy!" cried John, but soon he found he had not. Not one of them could fly an inch, though even Michael was in words of two syllables, and Peter did not know A from Z.

Of course Peter had been trifling with them, for no one can fly unless the fairy dust has been blown on him. Fortunately, as we have mentioned, one of his hands was messy with it, and he blew some on each of them, with the most superb results.

“Now just wiggle your shoulders this way,” he said, "and let go. "

They were all on their beds, and gallant Michael let go first. He did not quite mean to let go, but he did it, and immediately he was borne across the room.

“I flewed!" he screamed while still in mid-air.

John let go and met Wendy near the bathroom.

“Oh, lovely!"

“Oh, ripping!"

“Look at me!"

They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling, and there is almost nothing so delicious as that. Peter gave Wendy a hand at first, but had to desist, Tink was so indignant.

Up and down they went, and round and round. Heavenly was Wendy’s word.

“I say,” cried John, "why shouldn’t we all go out?"

Of course it was to this that Peter had been luring them.

Michael was ready: he wanted to see how long it took him to do a billion miles. But Wendy hesitated.

“Mermaids!" said Peter again.

“Oo!"

“And there are pirates. "

“Pirates,” cried John, seizing his Sunday hat, "let us go at once. "

It was just at this moment that Mr. and Mrs. Dhillon hurried with Nana out of 27. They ran into the middle of the street to look up at the nursery window; and, yes, it was still shut, but the room was ablaze with light, and most heart-gripping sight of all, they could see in shadow on the curtain three little figures in night attire circling round and round, not on the floor but in the air.

Not three figures, four!

In a tremble they opened the street door. Mr. Dhillon would have rushed upstairs, but Mrs. Dhillon signed him to go softly. She even tried to make her heart go softly.

Will they reach the nursery in time? If so, how delightful for them, and we shall all breathe a sigh of relief, but there will be no story. On the other hand, if they are not in time, I solemnly promise that it will all come right in the end.

They would have reached the nursery in time had it not been that the little stars were watching them. Once again the stars blew the window open, and that smallest star of all called out:

“Cave, Peter!"

Then Peter knew that there was not a moment to lose. "Come,” he cried imperiously, and soared out at once into the night, followed by John and Michael and Wendy.

Mr. and Mrs. Dhillon and Nana rushed into the nursery too late. The birds were flown.

Art notes

Peter Pan has always held a special place in my heart. I of course started out on the 1953 Peter Pan on VHS, and that always made me want to fly. I thought Wendy was so pretty! But what really made my heart soar was Peter Pan 2: Return to Neverland, which was about Wendy’s daughter Jane, WWII and the importance of being both kind and young when you can. I wanted to be Jane when I was four. During the end credits, I would run around my house, arms out like wings, trying to achieve liftoff while ‘Do you Believe in Magic’ played. The movie wasn’t really based on any sequel material - J.M. Barrie died before WWII started and at the end of his novelisation of his play, Peter Pan and Wendy, he merely mentioned Wendy having a daughter named Jane and a granddaughter named Margaret who visited with Peter Pan the same way she had.

By the way, did you know that Wendy was actually invented by J.M. Barrie, after a little girl called him her ‘fwiendy-wendy’?

But since then, I have been enamored with the story. I have watched several different movies about it, Finding Neverland, the Disney fairies movies, Hook (with Robin Williams), Pan (2015), Peter Pan (2003), Once Upon a Time TV series, and The Boy Who Could Fly (it’s loosely inspired by Peter Pan but I still count it). I have also read the novelisation, Peter Pan in Scarlet (the officially sanctioned sequel to the book, written after Return to Neverland was made, with a very different story), the Peter Pan and the Starcatchers series*, and Capt. Hook: The Adventures of a Notorious Youth (which I didn’t know until an hour ago was actually connected to the Hook movie! Crazy!). And I was also Peter Pan for Halloween once, when I had short hair. There’s also this fun webcomic I’m reading called The Wendybird, which focuses more on Wendy and her sisters (the brothers were reimagined.)

* I had the privilege to see the play based on the first book performed at the (as of yet) last Inrernarional Thespian Festival in 2019. It was a lot of fun and the actors, set designers, all of them, did a superb job.

All that is to say, I was looking forward to making this story. Some parts of it haven’t aged well, such as its portrayal of Indigenous people (which was an issue in the 1953 movie as well), and the gender roles. But I didn’t change MOST of it, and picked a decent introductory chapter, so you’ll know most of what’s going on. The only thing I changed was the names and the ethnic group to which Wendy and her family belonged.

In the original story, Wendy is white. But in this one, she’s Sikh! Sikhi is a religion largely based in India and the Punjabi diaspora. They believe in one god, and in being champions for those who need help. When a young Sikh person is ready to commit to the religion, they do their *Amrit Sanskar, and gain important holy items such as the kirpan (a small sword) and the kara (an iron bracelet) to show devotion and willingness to help the community. Wendy is almost the age many young Sikh people do the rite, but my version, she’s not quite ready to be that mature quite yet. Hence, running away to Neverland!

*Also sometimes spelled as Amrit Sanchaar

People often forget that there were People of Color and different religions in England well before the 21rst century, so I thought this would be a neat reminder! At the time the play was written, India had been a colony of Great Britain for hundreds of years, and so there was a sizeable Indian population of many religions (but usually Hindu and Sikh) within the cities.

I’m not a big fan of changing the original text when it comes to adapting actual books, but I felt this was alright. I consulted with a Sikh person (@bhujangan on tumblr), and she helped me pick a similar sounding Punjabi last name and helped me with some of my questions about clothing and such. Many Sikh men have the last name Singh (lion) and women the last name Kaur (princess) as suggested by the Guru Granth Sahib (the holy book), but not all of them do. Sometimes they use those names as middle names, like Wendy does here. Her name was originally Wendy Moira Angela Darling, by the way.

In the Sikh religion, hair is precious and mustn't be dirtied or cut, or seen outside. Having your hair out while inside and with people you trust is fine. So many boys put theirs up in a bun, and then up in a turban when they complete the Amrit Sanskaar. Girls and women traditionally put their hair in a dupatta, but in the wake of 9/11 and the indiscriminate attacks on anyone who looked vaguely Middle Eastern, many women have started putting their hair up in turbans to stand in solidarity with the men. It would’ve been fun to draw that, but as this story was written and set in 1904, Sikh ladies didn’t wear turbans.

However, when Wendy is getting convinced by Peter to come with him, she’s already wearing her dupatta. So maybe she was already kind of planning to go with him, lol ;). Everyone in the Dhillon family is also wearing shalwar kameez, which is basically a set of clothes that looks like pajamas, but depending on the material and design, can be day clothes or night clothes. Wendy and her bros are wearing pajamas-esque versions, but her Mom is wearing a more detailed version meant for going out to parties, etc.

Now that is all explained, on to the art part!

I did the title picture last, which is my usual course of action at this point. I just really wanted to give the book an old timey feel - my copy of Peter Pan and Wendy has a picture of a lovely green statue of Peter on the front, and it really gives off such an antique vibe. So I decided to make the ‘P’ a sort of drop cap. I initially wanted to make it look more like a Celtic knot, but then I realized I didn’t want to spend that much time doing it. And then I remembered that a lot of illustrations from that time used lines as shading or emphasis, and that drop caps often had little creatures inside the square around the letter. And so, Tinkerbell and emphasis lines were added!

For the rest of the story, Tink looks like a little explosion of light. But here, you can truly see her! Partly inspired by her first appearance in the Peter and the Starcatchers series, and a hummingbird, Tink has bird wings, tailfeathers and some swirly, puffy hair. Last minute, I decided to make her a trans lady fairy, which is a fun concept! Maybe she likes hanging out with Peter so much because he respects her pronouns, lol. Peter is a big stinker but I doubt he’d be mean to her. As such, I also put her in a crop top and a skirt, in honor of an old friend of mine.

The picture where Peter is sneaking into the window? I drew that first, and it tested my patience! Perspective is worth it, but it sure is difficult. This is also the smallest I drew Peter - somehow he keeps growing as the pictures go on! Ugh lol. He has freckles, somewhat curly hair and wears a suit made of leaves. I based it mostly on the 2003 Peter Pan outfit - that movie has such enrapturing design I just had to pay homage to it. He also has his pan pipe, sword strap and fairy dust visible. However, I made sure he kept his cap and feather - it’s so iconic. I made sure Nana the dog was a St. Bernard in this version as well - I love big, fluffy dogs.

The third picture, with Wendy sewing on Peter’s shadow? That was so difficult! Concerning the pose, I was largely inspired by Paula Rego’s ‘Wendy Sewing on Peter’s Shadow’ (1935) picture (see below. I wish I had that kind of patience and mastery of shadow! No pun intended this time. I really admire this print.

I went kind of crazy with the bed designs - I think I was tired and being silly. But for some reason I kept on thinking about (a really fun old) Disney movie called ‘Bedknobs and Broomsticks’, so Peter ended up floating around and unscrewing a bedknob from one of the beds. Hence my slight obsession with their design, lol. I also based Wendy’s face on a former classmate I really admired.

My advice to you - drawing flying subjects interacting with earthbound subjects is awkward! I think I did a decent job with Peter kicking John out of bed, but it’s not my favorite. His expression definitely looks crazy though. Also, those sheets were crazy, lol.

I already kind of talked about this fifth picture, but Peter ended up looking absolutely huge compared to Wendy in the image where he’s trying to get her to leave. But I’m proud of the work I put into drawing the room’s set up. Just like in the Disney movie, they’re in the attic room, and that means *wonky walls. And I think Wendy’s Dupatta looks alright.

* I forgot to represent the wonky walls on the outside of the house. Le sigh :(

The sixth picture was the most fun to draw. The poor teddy bear looks a little terrified, but Michael is having unrestrained fun! And I think he’s the only one of the Dhillons who managed to have a very youthful face, lol - I draw too many teens and young adults.

The last picture was meant to be upsetting - I was in a bad mood due to midterms coming up. But Since my face and the image I’m drawing often mirror each other, I guess it worked out! But I felt bad for Mrs. Dhillon, literally just barely missing catching her kids. The Dad has her gripped on the back because she was tipping over :O.

This was a long Art explanation, but I’m proud of this one and I hope you enjoyed my Peter Pan!

#win a commission #wac #commissions open #art commissions #peter pan #peter pan and wendy #tinkerbell #trans tinkerbell #transfem tinkerbell #jm barrie #j.m. barrie #British Sikh #English Sikh #Sikh kids #I don’t want to tag this straight #Sikh people #I dressed up as Peter Pan one Halloween #I had a good time

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