It’s not the bleeding dark that’s resting in your eyes, it’s the way you say I’ll never break away these ties. Your hook, and the cadence that you took.
Look. Now I begin cry as your hand runs up my thigh.
You lean in to bare and clothes begin to tear. So I stare; at the cracks between the paper, those scratches on the wall. Your fever brings out the worst in people; not me. I’m the quiet little pet that won’t let a person see; your real eyes. And fear is his name, a crow that watches us. All I see is us. Through the window. Through my crow’s eyes. The window starts to haze, as you go and have your way.
Only the red mist obscures.
This disembodied madness is how I broke away your ties. And so what?! I’m still here in your chair, with all of me to use but my mind is in a place you could never abuse.
Red lights abound,
A flickering side-show hiding our frowns,
Dressed up all pretty;
just want to be found.
Empty glasses accenting nothing,
but young blood craving something;
Things seems good,
He wants to chat,
thinks I’m immoral.
I tell him to fuck off.
Mood seems dampened,
But I bite back the tears.
Because after all;
it was just a compliment, nothing weird.
At least that’s what my best friend seemed to think.
Hours later the bars all closed.
My spirits had lifted; I suppose.
Said my farewells and let her drive,
because she was always more poised than I…
…thought I could be.
Can’t question that, because it’s easier just to trust she’s got your back. And if she has my back I’m sure she has her own…you can’t defend another if you’re all exposed. Can you?
And if I can’t honestly say I have my own, then who’s got her back? Because I clearly don’t…since I’m the bitch who let her drive away; all fucked up on oxy cut with glaze.
Too late now,
I say to myself;
Walking down the street,
On my way to the house.
Few minutes later,
phone makes a ding,
weights all seem lifted,
when she says she’s home safe.
And that makes one. I thought to myself, eyeing that same shadow across the way. It belongs to the creep that I’d kept at bay. But now it’s all dark, and I’m not feeling sure…that I could do it again. Alone. Here.
He probably lives on campus, probably not a bad guy. Just a little pushy when hyped up on rye. The rhyming is lazy when I’m all worked up. Thing’s don’t quite flow and we all know what they serve at bars. I could try and rhyme alcohol for you but I don’t think it would matter, in communicating this learned fucking reflex that causes me to cower…when I see a man. When I don’t know what he’s doing over there.
Across the way.
I’m sure it’s nothing, and that little flash every thirty seconds is probably his phone.
Still; my hand is on that whistle…the best gag gift I ever got.
And I’m sending this message because I just want you to know, that I don’t feel quite right being alone…right now. And maybe the drugs just cloud up my mind, maybe his shadow is nothing but kind, but maybe I don’t feel like he’s reassured me of that the way he touched me without asking.
So, I’ll send you a text in a minute or two,
When I walk through that door we’ll know I was a fool,
for shivering and quivering in these fucking high heels,
hoping to God he isn’t the kind of tool,
who likes my false advertisement; my eyes still belong to you.
So don’t fucking worry,
I’ll be home in a few.
Digital concept painting:
Copr Blu-art 2018
The artwork and poetry portrayed here is the exclusive property of Blu-art and cannot be reproduced in any fashion without explicit and authentic written permission from me that is reproducible and recorded by me.
You know that buzz silence has? You know how that chorus of nothing seems to multiply when you’ve come up woefully inadequate, again?
It wasn’t so bad when it was just the Professor scratching the chalk-board, now it’s the whole class, out of their seats…handing in their papers before waddling up right next to her to paw at that fucking blackboard. Scratching out, “Are you done yet? We are, why aren’t you?!” All the while I’m sitting here, just trying to recall these mechanisms so I don’t fail.
Another big project!
The form is meant to mimic the inkblot of a butterfly, which follows the time-related elements of the novel.
I worked on this alongside another recent piece, Winter, and I think the style is very similar. You can find that one here: https://arctic-ink.deviantart.com/art/Water-Mage-Full-Size-741323220
My Portfolio: https://arctic-ink.myportfolio.com/
My Deviant Art: https://arctic-ink.deviantart.com/
My Design by Humans shop: https://www.designbyhumans.com/shop/ArcticInk/
“You haven’t been sick till you’ve had raptor virus.” he told me, grinning all self satisfied like he did when he was proud of something.
I let that hang, not wanting to seem too interested. But raptor virus? What the fuck could that be? Giving in, I met his eye and asked, “Okay, what’s raptor virus?”
“Oh” he said, “Pretty much the worst thing ever.”
I sighed and warned, “If you tell me you get it by traveling back to the Jurassic era, I’ll punch you.”
He shook his head a little and said, “Don’t worry, you’d never catch raptor virus during the Jurassic era.”
“So what is it?” I asked again.
“A virus you catch from travelling back to the Cretaceous period and trying to ride a raptor, duh.” He flinched away as I swatted at his shoulder before half shouting, “Hey! What’s that for?!”
I paused and met his eye, thinking a moment in order to communicate my thoughts as unambiguously as possible. A few moments passed before I answered, “If I had more options, we wouldn’t be together.”
He chuckled and muttered, “And that’s why you don’t have more options.”
You never truly understand how much time you’ve wasted until you’ve spent a little time doing the things you love…The things you should have been doing all along.
But no point in regret, because that just eats up the time you have left.
Sorry to anyone who clicked the first link that went out last night, I blundered and misc-clicked last Saturday instead of this morning 😦
Why can you even backdate things anyway? Feel free to enlighten me.
I like to do these kind of reflections before I start working on a different major piece or project. It helps me kind of compartmentalize what worked, what didn’t, and what flat out failed. Furthermore, it’s an important step in working to understand what I’ve made; not always an easy thing to do. I mean that literally, I look at this and probably see something really different than what everybody else does, it’s like looking at yourself in the mirror. Hard to judge.
First the good: I wanted to be realistic with this, and I accomplished that. If you look a little to the side, you can’t really tell it’s a drawing, and I’m really proud of that. My mom actually thought this was a photograph when she saw it (on her phone admittedly). And that just made me feel good. And then bad…in some ways. I had a bit of anxiety that people wouldn’t realize it was a drawing, even though it doesn’t really matter because it turned out scary, and that was what I wanted to do. A lot of this anxiety stems from the time investment, too. I worked over thirty hours on this and that’s around the point I start becoming protective of the art. I love it like I love my books and anything I’ve poured my heart and soul into creating. It was hard and obviously it didn’t turn out perfect, but it also feels like a part of me, and that’s why I even make art in the first place.
The mediocre: It may have turned out a little creepier than I intended. Yep, all over the board here, but hear me out. I think that the holes went a bit too far, made her just a tad to zombie-esque. Zombie wasn’t really the goal and the holes were meant to be complimentary to the cracked smile (Chelsea grin concept). The hair is meant to be dreads done up in a pony-tail but the limited details are confusing. Part of this is because Black hair is very easy to draw, it’s black, it gives you a great place to dump all the shadow balance (which means more HIGHLIGHTS <3).
Too bad it looks like multicolored sticks sticking out of a bush. Luckily it is very much not the focus of the drawing so it’s not a huge deal.
The bad: There isn’t really. The lighting balance between shadows and highlights is exactly how I planned and sketched it out to be, highlight heavy with weighty blocks of shadow to pull you into her eyes, which I spent a good three hours on texturing. The personal goal was to surround the pretty eyes with a bunch of chaos and discord and broken things, but have the viewer not really care because: Those are pretty eyes.
At least that was the goal and thought process. Whether or not it was successful is up to you 🙂
Challenges moving forward: BLONDE HAIR. It’s evil. It is. So incredibly difficult to detail and balance (where do the shadows go?!)
The hair itself has to have shadows, mids and highlights. There’s a reason I don’t draw blonde hair. I want to stop being afraid of it, though, because I have a character that has blonde ends to her hair, and I want to draw her. So I will, and I will probably fail the hair a few times before I get it right.
PS: In the past I’ve gone kind of in depth on technique. I’ve found that most people don’t really care, but if you do, just ask in the comments and I’ll write out the entire process from start to finish and can even provide the layers and psd if you’d like to study how it was put together and layered to create various effects and smooth shading.
I’d love to find something to complain about, but I just got way too much chocolate in the post from my mom.
Things are looking up 😉
Chelsea grins when Chelsea wins,
something thin and something grim.
Chelsea grins through fading skin,
taking lives while moaning hymns.
Taking time to carve away,
the very essence of her prey…
…Up the lips and through the cheek,
a torturous smile that haunts the weak.
No one wins when she grins,
No one wins when she sins.
Note: This poem and artwork are based on the Chelsea grin, or Glasgow smile. Wherein the perpetrator cuts a smile into the victims face with a sharp object or razor.