When you paint, Do you dream? Do you create? is this your reality? What you see?
I love your art, They look like refrigerators. I love most Mannerism art, but yours is the best. I appreciate your creativity.
And who is this? Is this your beliefs? I’ll never know, but I love the energy.
I literally have no content for y’all but I want to post so I’ll find something.
Soft complexity, you knew how you should treat people, under two gods—one going extinct and the other flourishing. You have a heart that’s like a puzzle piece—NO! Not a puzzle piece, a sandbox. Or a river connected to an ocean that cannot handle what comes in and out. Porous mind, weak internal, strong external. Permeating consciousness.
Your childhood god is the same as your adulthood. Your birth culture was your reality, You’re learning, taking away, taking in. No longer bound to a culture.
Soft complexity, take care of yourself. Cry it off and move on.
Do you know where you are? Nobody can read your thoughts, Understand your messages.
You can talk as fancy or as uncouth as you want. You are incomprehensible.
It causes you to wonder your place, where you should truly be. What you should truly be, Who you should truly be.
Forge your own. You have a multitude of realities, one life. Let yourself sink into the ocean. That may be your comfort, your hospice, your refuge. It’ll light your way. (;
Author’s Note: This isn’t about suicide. At all.😭 Just to clear it up.
Was _____ furious at us? of our fear Of being alive, here, at this moment?
The waters, murky and unclean like our Morals we pride ourselves and claim of ____
O _____, I hope the tears of yours aren’t Frustration—the deluge you make, I hope, Cleanses the world internally and out And isn’t against us or for anyone.
I haven’t drawn anything. Sorry.
The comfort of nothing, The comfort of all. The comfort is limiting, The comfort is comforting, Therefore it must stay, And none will think of the affects. One day we will get comfort, What all may think, But that comfort is hurting, It is comfortable.
I’m so angry at everyone all the time and I feel so angry it’s exhausting. Angry.
Opposites don’t attract, At least not classic ones. Some things aren’t opposites, just different.
Nothing changes and when it does, something gets worse, making it hard to notice that there’s change. I’m here to fester like mold while people pretend to be happy on this rock. My brain is empty, but full, I’m angry and hungry. There’s no escape from seething and marinating from misery and when I say my thoughts to let out internal toxicity, my thoughts cause yelling and anger. I am angry a lot. I believe I’m helping.
But I frustrate those around me and they see me as a whiny brat instead of anything worth helping with unhelpful generic advice I’ve done. I know I don’t have traits people usually like and want to be around, I’m not here to be a side character. I don’t want to apologize for my world view or feel bad that I want to talk and contribute and help. People can treat you as a true burden and an outsider for the most generic of beliefs.
I hate feeling guilt or ashamed. I hate being ignored. The only way I would be better if I was attractive, loud or fun, and had stuff to offer to mainstream groups of people, but I don’t so
but is it possible to go back to the old things, not the good things, the bad?
and reimagine them as the good they once were, the happiness it gave, the sadness it sheltered.
the bad art that was made… can I clear my mind to remember what it once was? it is reasonable to think it is bad because I was told to do better and it moved my heart, causing it to writhe…my eyes glew up with the idea this person wants to help me, they know the bad, they can help me.
But did they? I can’t seem to draw a picture without hearing critiques, never bad, just mindfulness, but never enjoying the task anymore and wanting this perfection.
A teacher cannot teach me perfection, itdoesn’t exist. Yet, it does. It exists as much as race, religion, government, gender, sex, control. It has to exist…but I don’t like it. My liking doesn’t matter, there are important things.
I don’t exist as an individual, I never have. everything but.
I am a product, A statistic, A follower, A mistake, an Idiot.
Never something as my own.
My opinions only ruin people’s days, but rarely change them. I have no influence. I could disappear, and the only thing that would be sad is that I’m dead or hurt, but it doesn’t matter. cry about the issue and not the person.
And when someone becomes my product, my statistic, my follower, another mistake, and another idiot under me…
It’s very irritating sitting around and hearing people talk about traditional art like it’s some god send and digital and other forms of art are soulless and trash. Stop. I understand that’s it’s in good faith and you’re stating your connection and you are entitled to your opinion, but sometimes the things you do have repercussions. *Art* has been historically used as many different things, but in the society I’m in and most of Western society, it has been used as a status tool. Frequently, we don’t understand how a lot of art is private and many traditional art is highly expensive and hard to access. It has always been this way, museums weren’t created to show art until the 20th century… Mostly because art in western society isn’t for everyone.
There are art movements that catered towards people but those mostly were brainwash from the church (Renaissance art mostly is control art and highly religious until the 16th century in certain areas) or controlling devices for propaganda. Sure, you got newspaper articles or little advertisements, but you weren’t going to see fine art. Fine art is differentiated from commercial and decorative art by its psychological worth or how it represents all of society (which is stupid to me, but might be cool with you) or just an idea. It is usually very expensive due to the commissioner or the amount of effort put into it.
If there weren’t other forms of seeing art other than the physical reality, many people wouldn’t be artists—yet, people have a lot to talk about what is real art, good art, worthy and so on. It’s not helpful. Can you afford a $100 painting or a $25 print? What about a $1000 painting or a $25 print? Do you not respect an artist’s effort because they did something to you that revoked the soul and your idea of connection? Well, some people do and when it comes to plausibility, anything that sounds plausible could be true. If you tell someone the soul is lost a piece because it’s not in a style or medium you want, they could spread that idea all around the place. Nobody should say traditional art is passé as nobody should say digital art is robot garbage because people believe that and affect someone else. Ideas move and move. Ever consider where your ideas come from?
Yes, digital isn’t material, but a lot of things aren’t. Ideas aren’t material. Happiness isn’t material. The concept of the art object is not material.
I can’t remember if it was in a book or somewhere else, but my professor in a class said that a lot of artists hate studying criticism because a theory could invalidate them.
It’s interesting how many people complain about human nature and the cold, insensitiveness of the internet yet when they hear someone is showing emotions they get cynical and insensitive and tell them to stop feeling so sensitive. I’m sensitive. This whole post is a case of sensitivity. I’m mostly a traditional artist. I don’t do realism, I don’t do abstraction. I don’t have art that sells easily and is easily avoided and I don’t make art for galleries. I am an illustrator to an extent. However, it’s annoying that people don’t like other options and actually look down on them. I can understand lacking a connection; I’ve seen people not care about classical music or other things, but I will draw the line with disrespect.
I don’t care about AI. If I put effort into a piece, I would get upset if someone called it trash because I used what I had.
And oh, don’t get me started on the irritating debate on art styles.
Having opinion is fine, but dang. I have to sit in art classes forced to do realism and academia or no representative non objective abstraction because someone lucky had an opinion that to make a standard and add most people licked their balls and acted like what they said was king and everyone else could kick rocks.
Anyway, thank you for listening to my rant, here’s a picture.
Good evening!!! I have some sketches for y’all! I guess it correlates to Spooky Season because all the characters on here aren’t human! I dare say they’re probably closer to humanoid monsters.
Some characters are closer to human, but others aren’t. I tried putting family clusters together but I accidentally split characters up like Adelewe and Adexe. Oops. The clusters of families are Ane, Neheme(I believe), and the Nedeme family. One family to the right are associated with the Ane family, but they aren’t biologically related to them. It’s not all the characters.
The picture above is of a character named Vivian (filler name). It’s a painting of a painting in this story. He’s a part of a AU side plot story where the original post apocalyptic plot happened but there was still leftover art. Vivian is an AI art program made by a female programmer placed into an male android by a male creator (don’t know what it’s called sorry). He is based off a venerated artist (that’s LOOSELY based on renaissance artists from this reality) and was made to mimic his art to teach a way to show process. Originally, he was just an arm looking robot thing, but the government received money and made him into a physical form and praiseable in person. Vivian was created then. He has interpretations and memories of the artist he’s based off of and has some of the programmers and designers features and personality quirks added to him.
One day, he receives some update that gives him a “soul” or a spirit—but it’s of course not a human spirit. That little brush of consciousness makes him unsatisfied with his art and ponders why he does it like that and why he feels controlled and why being alive hurts and feels terrible.
On the other hand, an another artist, Hanzo /ɑ̃.ɮʊ/, is upset because he’s an obscure and irrelevant artist and gets mad at Vivian because he is basically so popular that his art is protected and is even angrier that he’s not a human so he tries to lose his humanity.
He goes with a friend to a dilapidated museum (not noted as a museum) to find bodies that are petrified by the apocalypse that happened some unnoted (my bad) time before the events. It ends up putting him on the top list for artists.
Anyway, he meets Vivian and clashes with him and invalidates his feelings. Vivian doesn’t really know what a human is but he doesn’t see himself as different but Hanzo sees him differently and it hurts his feelings because other people see him that way and kind of really hates being alive.
Since it takes a while to write and draw, mostly draw, I have not gotten up to the point where they become friends. This piece is a painting of Vivian in an environment done by Hanzo. Since this is not a real world and isn’t based on reality, some things just don’t make sense—but it’s actually supposed to be realistic to that environment because they’re just drawings and 2D characters and not based on real people. Doesn’t excuse me for messing up Vivian’s proportions. The only thing that I did on purpose was trying to make the piece look overworked, fussy, and lose life to it. As well, Vivian’s skin is yellow naturally as he’s supposed to look like an oil painting that came to life with the silliest looking blushed face that makes him read as non human. I would normally never draw a landscape like this, but I was more so trying to use only horizontal lines.
Thank you for reading this far. If you have any questions or just wanna hear more, leave a comment.