Gemini – Mixed Media Painting

Another piece of my long standing zodiac project. This one means a lot to me. One of my best friends fell thirty feet in a climbing accident and hit his head on a rock. It took the doctors three days to determine he was brain dead. They took him off support last Saturday. He was a Gemini and my friend Kendra and I created a unique version of the image for his birthday, which was a week before the accident. He never got to see it finished, but I think he would’ve liked it. He was always supportive of my art. He was probably my only fan when I first started. He was just a good friend, always there for me, even when I wasn’t there for me, and even when I wasn’t there for him.

Gemini 93×104 inches

T-shirtcutcolorfull

copr blu-art, Kochre, and arctic-ink 2018

Some minor issues, but we’ll fix them.

V – I miss you

Time lost up front.

You fell and it’s to late too fix the hole in your head.

So I’ll be there when they say it’s time, because I wasn’t there when I should’ve been. Time paid back in half…at best. Still, I’ll be there when they set you free, of that prison gravity put you in.

And at least your valves will work for someone who didn’t fall, but if I’m being honest I don’t care. Because their brain isn’t yours. There’s a romantic something to be found in the fact your heart will be pumping for someone else, but I liked your brain better than your heart. It was a good heart. You ran eight miles a day and left me in the dust whenever I tried to tag along.

I could blame the pseudo-asthma but the truth is you had a better heart. Figuratively and literally; a better heart. Which brings me back to the construct of you; your brain. Your dead brain. You survived the surgery and suddenly Kendra was right to have driven straight to Madison. You pushed through. But, it’s just as well, I’ll get to see you but I owe her an apology. The surgeon said you had three hours and I had eight hours of pavement to cover. So I cried instead.

Then we thought you were alive again. Until they couldn’t wake you up. So I cried again and at least Kendra was back to cry with me. I know I need to be there for her more than I have been too.

Still.

Fuck you for not using ropes. And fuck me for thinking it was cool every time you scaled a building or cliff face without them. Fuck me for not loving you back when you needed it and fuck me for taking so long to realize you were still my best friend. Fuck me for assuming you wanted nothing to do with me over that lie.

At least we figured it out near the end. Figured out we still needed each other.

And I know you want to leave now. I know you don’t want to be trapped in a coma. I know you don’t want to be buried so we’ll scatter you where you said.

Thank you for everything. Thank you for convincing me to keep arting, thank you for playing Borderlands 2 with me everyday after school for over a year because you knew I was lonely, and thank you for being there that summer during my surgery. Thank you for helping me cook for French class and convincing everyone I did it alone while I was in the other room. Thank you for thinking I was worth keeping around, and for believing in fate and love when I couldn’t seem to comprehend either. Thank you for taking the time to help me learn. I love you V.

And I’ll be there when they pull the plug and cut out your valves.

Coming Down – Cover Art

Another big project!

3250×4998 pixels

stonework2

 

Cover Version:

9996×6500 pixels

Coprstonework cover.png

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

Cheers!

-Blu

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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/

2

Time is Tricky

Would you change something, anything, in your past given a chance? Could you deal with the consequences of that one decision? Could anyone?

_________

Black ink and B2 pencil base with black, white, and grey charcoal (textured over a copper board). Highlights done in white ink (bleached not synthetic).

Winter6

Finding Happy: Chapter 2-A Long Way Back

Chronologically, this is the fifth chapter, but three of those are marked as introduction. It’s less confusing in the manuscript, but in this post-style format it’s worth mentioning.

Casey wakes up after the catastrophic events of the night before, and her memory is gone. This, for now, is probably a blessing, as the truth is much worse than she suspects.

You can start at the beginning here, if you so choose: https://bluebeard-art.com/2017/09/13/third-degree-part-1/

________________

II

A Long Way Back

November 1st 2018

 

Everything hurts so damn much. It’s cold. Where…Where am I? What happened last night? Casey rolled right, blinking rapidly to un-blur her dry vision. A sea of violent greens and mountainous browns focused into a sharp anxiety, as Casey registered where she was, and more importantly; where she was not. How did I get to the dump? God that smell. Groaning, she attempted to push her knees under her slight frame, and failed. My stomach…It feels like I got shot, like there’s a hole in my abdomen. She rolled onto her back and examined herself. Where are my fucking clothes! She wore nothing but athletic shorts and her white bra, the strapless one she liked. Sighing in frustration she leaned her head back, looking to the overcast sky. Wait…It’s cloudy but the sun is up. Fuck! Mom is going to flay me alive!

Scrambling, Casey searched for her phone. Why is it not in my pockets, what the fuck! She looked around frantically, desperately searching for her hand-held salvation. There! About five feet to her right lay her phone, damp in the dew-lidden grass. Still sore, she opted to crawl instead of try to stand again. Grunting in effort, she reached the phone and held it to her face. Why is it cracked? What’s going on! I just got this for my birthday last month too. The phone unlocked with a satisfying ‘click’, recognizing her face. At least it still works.

Dreading what lay in wait, Casey tapped the ‘Messages+’ application. Okay. Thirty-seven texts from Mom, eight texts from Matt, two from Ally, and a message from an unknown number. That could have been worse, I guess. She tapped the frame that read ‘Mom <3’ and her heart fell into her stomach. Shit, she’s worried sick. I really fucked up. Why did I go to that stupid party? Quickly, she tapped the ’info’ button in the top right of the phone before pressing ‘Call this number’. Frightened from guilt and confusion, she brought the cracked phone to her ear and listened.

 

Ring…

Ring…

 

“Casey! Where are you sweetie?!” her mother half-shouted. She froze in anxiety, like a deer staring at her oncoming demise. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, sweetie. Please! Just say something so I know your alive!” Why isn’t she mad? I’ve never heard her like this…

Casey opened her mouth and tried to apologize, but all that came out was a mortified, “Uh…”

“What’s wrong, Casey?!” asked her mom, shouting again.

“I’m okay, I think. I just…I woke up out here and it hurts…and…” answered Casey, pausing as everything caught up with her. “I don’t know how I got here, mom. I think something bad happened but I can’t remember anythi–“ Casey choked on the last word as anxious tears overwhelmed her. Everything’s spinning out of control.

Panicked, her mom cut in, “Please sweetie, don’t cry, it’s going to be just fine, you’ll see. Please tell me where you are so I can come get you. Do you know where you are?”

Struggling to speak over the viscous dread rapidly metastasizing, Casey choked, “I’m out b…by the old dump. The one a mile out from Apple-Creek farms, that w…wealthy neighborhood.”

Voice cracking, her mom replied, “Okay. I’m coming, stay where you are, sweetie, it’ll be okay.”

____________________________

Thanks for reading!

More coming soon.

Daily Blog 9/15/17

Had to take another day off because of school, work, and volunteering. This chapter kicks off Act 2 as we find out what happened to the drunk driver. It’s a very symbolic chapter, in that we see Simon outside of his happy-go-lucky state. He’s descending.

Enjoy!

 

XIV

February 22nd, 2017-Simon

 

The funeral had been a quiet affair. Simon’s extended family had come to Adams funeral, leaving for their respective states a day or two later. They were all so, terribly sorry they couldn’t make the trip again, not for Hadley. The excuses had all been the same, I can’t take off work, I can’t afford another plane, can’t you have it closer to us? Each call, each message, had reinforced the icy fire, a brutal tyrant reigning over Simon’s esophageal cavity. The ice festered outside the tyrant’s region, pulling its tentacles into every part of his being, erasing any emotion that previously resided. The fire, well the fire never left his throat. It burned, slowly consuming his soul, his thoughts, his mind.

Simon stood, alone, over Hadley’s open casket. He wanted to cry, he couldn’t, not anymore. She’d left him, sparking an ever-growing void inside of him, a void, that was winning. Softly, Simon asked, “Is this what you felt when Adam died, Hadley? Is this why you did it?” Moving closer, Simon took her right hand in his, turning it over, examining the scar. “You know, they really did try to clean you up, but you didn’t want that, did you? You needed to do something, anything, in retaliation for what had happened to Adam. You needed to send a message, I’m sorry I never listened, never understood. But I do now. You see, I need to do something too.” Leaning down, Simon brushed her cold cheek, softly kissing her ice-dead-lips before standing back up. “I’ll make him pay, for Adam, for you. I’ll make things right, no matter what.”

Simon closed Hadley’s casket. For a moment, he stood there, letting the fire deepen its roots. Simon turned towards the small mausoleums entrance, and walked. This…hate. I’ll use it to make things right. Simon nodded to the short coroner, signaling Hadley’s decent into the cruel and murky earth. As Simon walked toward his black McLaren, he flipped open his family phone. There was a new voice-mail from his brother, Tom. The verdict of the Bud Clifton trial was set to be reached this morning. Chest tightening, Simon pressed play, and listened.

Tom’s sullen voice played over the phones small speaker “Simon, not great news. They hit Clifton with the DUI and revoked his license, but the jury bought the defenses argument. Their claiming that Adam must have been in his car seat incorrectly, the way it flew forward.” The fire raged, pulsating like a malignant tumor that’s found its way into the lymph, fraying Simon’s nerves. “They used Gia’s survival against us. He’s not going to prison, Simon. They’re going to let him off. I don’t understand it. I’m sorry.” The fire, metastasized, consuming Simon, utterly. Immolating, Simon roared, throwing the phone into his car. World turned red, he punched the passenger side window of his McLaren, shattering it. His hand bled, but the ice numbed the pain. It was nothing, not compared to the blaze.

A voice whispered, we need to take matters into our own hands, the court is useless.

Another voice chimed in, let’s hurt him, bad, like he hurt Hadley. Let’s kill him, like he killed Adam!

A chorus of voices, now, we need to isolate him, torture him, hurt him like he hurt us, we will teach him that actions have consequences, choices have meaning, teach him what pain is.

Feeling empowered, Simon walked around the front of his car, opened the door and got in. Flatly, Simon whispered, “Bud Clifton, I find you guilty of murdering my son, and driving the one person I loved more than life to suicide.” Simon turned the ignition, and sped out of the parking lot, tires screeching as drifted right onto the county highway. “May whatever god you put your faith in have mercy on you, because I won’t.” The voices egged him on, feeding the vindictive, sullied, blaze.