Artist

September 2, 1888

The breaking of bone is a sound I adore. However, I do not fancy the grinding of them.

Nevertheless

I ground up the ribs and mixed them with a base white paint. Beautiful. A dull white, that you would see on old wallpaper. Yes, this will do nicely for flesh and whites of eyes. But what other colours do I need...the spectrum I suppose. But that means I need more people. More humans to craft into my elements for my masterpiece.

Yes, YES! I will paint a piece so beautiful, it will make the heart cry and the eyes hunger for more. Women, women are the ones I must use. Delicate, beautiful. Pure pieces. Laiden or unlaiden, their bones and organs shall be my instruments.

I read the newspaper this morning over a cup of Earl Grey. It would seem that there's some deranged murderer on the loose in Whitechapel.

Jack the Ripper is what they call him.

While I must say I am concerned about my own safety, but I must continue my work. The best I can do is lock my doors and board my windows in this empty mausoleum of a home. If he does come for me, then so be it. I've made my peace with God long ago...

I just hope I can finish my painting by then.