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05 February 2009 @ 05:49 pm
5/2

What can I say?

I feel like I'm bursting with epiphanies, yet not really. They're more like little bubbles and come and go, gently,
with the calm tide. Lying in between Here and There, Winter and Spring, crooning little songs of blue skies and
wind-caressed havens.

Everything feels right, true. In this bubble of here-ness, both utterly me and not me. Words come easy, trickling
down like a stream. Sick of the dams bursting, but calmly, as on a breeze, breathing...

I'm neither Here nor There, in this dark space between reality and illusion, finding a little door in myself
that leads to home. From over the rainbow that comes between grey skies (like my pictures), travelling with the
gypsy folk to my little halo-ed bubble of peace.

Right where I should be, on a heart path both on the ground and sky, between worlds.

Making myself happy.

~
Perhaps the path is not between two, but wrapped around. Perhaps we black cats don't walk around the edges of reality,
but saturate each illusion with our permeable presence. We bath things, strip things, cloth things, putting
things in their original form. It's nice to find myself becoming more like Blacky, even if I'm only on the path
towards, having not reached there yet...
 
 
lifeblood: sunrise on the cloud
 
 
26 November 2008 @ 11:23 pm

"I gave my hand"


whirlpool of darkness
domed sky shaken upside down
stars wink their solace

She dreams of death, but death itself is an illusion of peace. Hence, there is only hope. And dreams.

I'm not sure how to go about colouring this (watercolours? tea stains to make the paper 'warmer'? I'm afraid the paper will buckle. solutions?), so it will be in pending for now >_> . Real life calls, and I will need to finish up something ugly before I get back to her.

*disappears*
 
Update: I've decided to leave it black and white :D
For your own entertainment purposes, try to spot Anubis! And decipher the symbology :P. Most of them have roots in certain cultures and mythology.

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26 November 2008 @ 05:07 am

Impatiently finished in a night. Ahh, I am tired.
The colour sucks, but do I care? Nooooo.

(disappears)
 
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05 October 2008 @ 11:46 pm


I'm probably going to give this one away. I tried to do something simple and different because I thought it would be fun. It turned out looking a little too much like me. (stabs people-erm, picture and runs away)

Erm, if anyone wants it, tell me -_-.
Update: It is on the way via sky to you, Ida XD

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11 August 2008 @ 12:07 pm
From now on, I'll be keeping a dream log at http://bleedingworlds.livejournal.com

For all those times I don't get rudely awakened by loud voices screaming -_-. Yes.
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08 August 2008 @ 09:09 pm

I'm going to be taking a haitus because I need it. I'll still be drawing, just don't expect anything anytime soon.
Partly trying to find my bearings again, and find out what I'm going to be doing next (need space and time). Oh, and I will be travelling to San Francisco. That, too.

So, bye-bye for now.
 
 
 
02 August 2008 @ 02:32 am
I'm suffering from the effects of sensory overload?
My senses, as a result, are sort of cluttered and refuse to retain anything. Have also been sleeping an abnormal much. I wonder if it is because I'm (still) sick (coupled with all that travelling to deserted unforgiving places, crowds, steep leaps and descends etc).

Will probably mean another haitus from art/the challenge/this blog -_-. We'll see.

edit: Yes, I am officially sick. I see now my muse/little voice 'drugged' me so I wouldn't crawl out of bed to do Art -_-. Currently recuperating.
 
 
01 August 2008 @ 12:39 pm
When torn between the (beauty of) darkness and the light, how do you choose?

A compromise is impossible: it will kill both.
 
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01 August 2008 @ 12:28 pm

For Julia.


my sweet rainbow child,
piercing the heavens with your smiles
falling with the rain.

Rain is a release of emotion, yet it is blissful? There is an agony, yet an ecstasy... When rain falls, it dies, yet is dispersed into the world, possibly conquering it with the world's emotion, eventually becoming its rhythmic heartbeat?

In retrospect, I like this.
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29 July 2008 @ 03:55 am

A sort of 'light-hearted' piece. Done in transition.
Will be coloured.

Yes. It'll probably be my cousin's present for being a lovely person.
(I'm probably not going to do something like this for a very long time. There!)
 
 
 
29 July 2008 @ 01:33 am
whirlpool of darkness
domed sky shaken upside down
stars wink their solace

wasted words drip down
from the fractures of my heart
staining my blank hands

swathed in between sheets
I remember your embrace
promising blue skies

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I was working on a Very Happy transitional piece to soothen my soul before embarking on a 'deeper'
(spiritually demanding, for myself. not necessarily larger or more meaningful) piece but realised I am not in the mood for Happy Pieces.

I want bleeding hearts and weeping rainbows, not butterfly-souled smiling happy people.

*dies*

I'm starting to think I'm fated to do eternally dark/light, silent/loud pieces. I cannot do a piece that
is entirely one or the other.

How tragic.

Perhaps its been the recent excitement and sickness, but I feel like a deflated balloon.
 
 
 
27 July 2008 @ 12:40 am

All Life's a Waking Dream
This is the lovely Benedicta, my former model.

Mediums: Technical Pens, Watercolour, a tincture of acrylic, white ink (lesson: do not put white ink below watercolours). yes.
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25 July 2008 @ 03:46 am
 
In progress....

This one will have colour. I'm not sure how to do it, though. Hmm. What think you?
Would a diluted ink solution be interesting?

I haven't been very industrious today. Mostly because of the raging, and what not.. I think I enjoy putting up progress shots, so I can sip milk, crawl under blankets, and ignore her constantly whispering voice.
I'll finish her as soon as possible.

*disappears*
 
 
 
23 July 2008 @ 06:11 pm

"Every night, I die my peaceful death,
Amidst balmy darkness, where doorways open
And adventures bellow, and I dream peachy dreams
Of the forgotten sun’s vengeful shadow."

I'm not sure if it's done-done. Are rainbows black and white for one? A few last minute
changes later, and perhaps I will post it again, or perhaps I will not.

I may also put process drawings on my lj at catewigs   , later

(I'm awfully allergic to something, and am in a particularly bad mood. I think it's
the drinking spoiled green tea, or perhaps all that new paint.)
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21 July 2008 @ 12:48 am
I never post in progress shots, usually. But here's a glimpse on the recent one (the direction isn't clear in this one. It is not nice groping in the darkness. Any comments, interpretations are very, very welcome):



On another note, my father will be buying me paint, copic markers, and the like
on Tuesday! (a very belated present) Any advice on what brands/colours/things I should choose?
Advice will be very, very appreciated. I'm so excited about getting to do things in colour soon!
 
 
 
18 July 2008 @ 12:37 am
For about 2 weeks.

I'll be working on singular, longer pieces.

Normally, this means increased activity.
Or it may not be.

See you.
 
 
 
08 July 2008 @ 02:36 am

 
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lifeblood: monochrome
 
 
 
08 July 2008 @ 02:30 am

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08 July 2008 @ 02:23 am
Through crevices and valleys...

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08 July 2008 @ 01:19 am
For the wake of a fallen star.

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lifeblood: Dew- Illario Graziano
 
 

I'm in Colorado now. Will post things when I return. For now, an old and new-but-not-that-new piece.

-
Unfinished poem: 

The end is near. I can taste its horizon.
I can taste of sky, dressed in cherry red
melted and stretched over days
fresh and newborn, with eyes still stitched
by dream sand, eyelids matted by the sea's moisture.

-
I found this a couple of days ago when I was writing a story for my little brother about the Boy who Lived on the Sun but Moved to Earth Because it got too Hot. From earlier this year? (I'm forgetting Time). It's a piece of scrap-writing written with no considerations to the boundaries of the English Language, so excuse any errors >.>

 There is a land, beneath the shadow of dreary reality. There is a land, above the sun of lit desires. There is a land, there is land, there is a land, they repeat again and again until exhausted, and the world still fails to end.
 
 There is a shard of darkness. He is displaced from his homeland. Away and alone, he reaps his sorrow under his rock which functions to him as shells do to snails. He is a miserable creature, it is said in those rare moments he is seen (others dismiss him as a mere phenomenon of the heart. Those idiots). Every night, he drags his rock inch by inch across the expanse of earth that covers all the world and finally falls haltingly at the horizon, where it fails to rise and hence, has to settle with mere mediocrity.
 
 He yearns for a new world, in which destruction has purged the land from the disease of pointless optimism, joy, and that trivial, overused word they like to chant to each other in blades of rainbow-coloured light, ‘happiness’. A land of smiles, where the sun never sets.
 
 The shard of darkness has issues with the sun. He salutes its shadow, the moon. Some would say he is in love with it. Now, the sun is in love with the moon already- that narcissistic creep- and thus, there is some discrepancy to the possibility of such an affair. Nevertheless, he has already fallen in love with the moon’s silvery complexion that, he says, anyway, never fails to wink at him inconspicuously while the world sleeps. She is such a charming creature, that moon.
 
 In order to understand the complexities and ambiguities of the Shard of darkness’ miserable existence, we have to digress to the beginning. This is not as easy as it seems. His homeland, for one, is largely figurative. It is a metaphor, but this really does not mean it does not exist. It is a metaphor not for the darkness within, but for the darkness without. In the Land of Broken Hearts, darkness propagates like the microscopic inhabitants of air. It floats, flies with such liberty at having conquered the hearts of so many.

-
Bits:

Land of broken hearts,
City of hooded men
 
Lies beyond darkness, in the melancholy of the caged heart
Shard of darkness’ hometown;
Is an organism in itself; survives under the bars of jail cells, in the spaces the sun forgets to shine (that overused cliché: the dark side of the moon), like the cave of a weeping heart etc.

Hooded men with top hats and Victorian coats. Pull off the coat, and they dissipate into the darkness of their eternal night.
-


It was originally a marrying of worlds with

blackmorello. Perhaps I shall continue it. What think you?

 

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