Umm so I do lots of art... except when Im depressed then I don't do anything, I just waste away hehehe. Theres some AFI influence in many of my things So here I'll post every worthy piece of art I do from now on (if thats ok)!
Done this yestoday. Its about the really early morning when the sun's about to rise and there are demons and stuff (you can see the morning star hehehe). The pumpkin is turned away. The planty statuey thing is coming to get him lolz So yeah. I wake up to this every day...
After I done this I realized how its a lot like Story At Three! It wasn't supposed to be! But yeah, that song should help you understand what I was trying to express in this
hey i'm gonna post two sad attempts of art which i created. it's basically a logo.
so i feel that i managed to portray my basic idea for it. so if anybody has the time and would want to convert it into a formidable piece of art it would be awesome. as you can see from the pictures it is very basic and so it can still be that way just look cooler than my attempt. i have some more sketches which i'll post soon.
the reason i want it, is because then i can use it on the computer and web.
i decided to create a myspace page dedicated to the birth and creation of my band. which at the moment only consists of me anyway, i thought it would be kinda cool to document the growth of a band from the inception, to the learning of instruments, recruitment of other members etc. yes, this process will take light years at best
so, if you want to, add me as a friend. any comments, advice, questions, conversations etc is more than welcome and i would reply to everything. i think this can be really fun.
Well couldn't/can't/never can sleep, so I played the guitar for a little bit. Girlfriend was asleep so I couldn't hear too well while I was recording. Which is also why its very mellow. I recorded a rhythm section first, with a little chorus effect then layered some "solo"(I guess) guitar then moved on my friend's bass that was sitting in my basement I used Adobe Audition to put it all together I didn't use a metronome or anything like that, plus I've only been playing for like 4 months, so bare with me.
I don't think it came out too bad.
let me know what you think, please be honest. I am all about constructive criticism.
There, sits the bulging bus driver covered in a thin, white flaccid garbage bag with amusingly small incisions –two are above both of her cheek shelves, and one resides below her mountainous nose. Adenoidal squeaks find their way out of the bottom hole, ordering some of the juvenile teenagers in the front to “stop with your dirty mouths.” When the obese elastic woman isn’t peering at the road, she is surveying the bus though the rearview mirror slightly above and in front of her. Several times, her glances catch mine, and like we anxious people do, we look away after one millisecond’s time and back at what we were previously doing. I ponder if she was really looking at me.
There is a note pad of paper in front of me situated between my knees and the back of the fake-leather seat. On a crisp sheet, three words are scored:
Salamander Ice pick I
Below the previously listed, nearly haphazard, list of words, I write an entire sentence containing all of these. “I slowly peeled off the crushed velvet wrapper from the squirming salamander and ate its intestines.” This, an exercise I practice after school, on the bus, frightens or confounds some closed-minded folks, but it's entertaining and soothingly trancelike to me. Every permanent sentence I scribe into the notes, I know someone had done before.
Someone had, no doubt, affixed individual pieces of chewing gum in between every sheet of paper in every single fiction book in every single library in every single city in the state of Oregon, which forced every single Oregonian fiction enthusiast to be terrified to check out another piece of literature ever again. It wasn’t incredulous to believe that a mother, arrested in mental development, devised an insincere yet complex plan for her 5 year-old son to climb the shelves of a home-improvement depot so he’d come crashing down, paralyzing him for the rest of his life –so the needy mother would attain the reimbursement from the depot, and their promise that they would put a notification up as soon as possible: “NO CHILDREN SHOULD CLIMB THE SHELVES ALONE.” Ha.
Such conceptions are only thoughts that infest my cranium during the long and redundant school days. Not to start creating fallacies, I relish education, but it is less than often that the prearranged instructor is someone worth listening to.
I gaze motionlessly at the paper in front of me, caught without my consent in a sea of prepubescent shouts, waiting alone on the cold quasi-leather bus seat. Ambiguous figures turn to opaquely shaded shadows, passerby quietly looming from the corner of my vision down the darkening aisle. Tentacles are closing in around my view like the black plane at the FIN of old cartoons, the circle of sight isolating closer and closer into nothingness. Another shadow from the periphery right of my area, my seat, fogs over as it rests.
A thunderous clash upon my right shoulder, crashing my cheek to the waterlogged window, electrifies my nerves and I stare malevolently in the direction of the intruder. For the remainder of the next minute, the girl beside me is a stranger, until my mind finally resurrects itself and I come to my senses. Jenna is a friendly acquaintance, whether or not she is a phantom stalker of my movements during the school hours (and now on the bus?), I am unsure.
“Trey, this is your stop,” she urgently yet warmly warns me.
The front portion of bus kids’ heads resemble shades of a window, each blade leaning its face near my direction, and the back following suit. Wide-eyed, I make my way down the narrow walkway, pushing aside the backpacks in my way, while the censorious holes in the skulls of the pseudo-sophisticated young adults pulverize me.
“Sorry,” I sheepishly yelp multiple times, I wonder if anyone can even hear my apologies.
Appealing to my eyes was the overcast frosting of clouds evenly coating the harsh light blue canvas of winter. Rays from the Sun only smudg a small circle, like a flashlight beaming through a quilt. I despise ultra-sunny days that require my eyelids take an obstructive action against the march of light too bright. If only it was warmer for me to enjoy the calmingly grey firmament.
Because I took off from the bus late, I am forced to walk a couple blocks more to my house, which resides in a provincial white neighborhood filled with more old inhabitants; I wouldn’t be surprised if my bus driver lives circa there, maybe I would be somewhat, though, as I assume bus drivers don’t accumulate much income. As I make my way through the gangway of concrete, I notice a salmon Chicago Bungalo house I had always overlooked until now.
The middle of winter is here, flaunting its extreme conditions like it does almost every year, and whoever lives in this modest early 20th century house still has their Easter decorations adorned, throughout the garden patch in front of the porch and hanging below its ceiling near the edge. Colorful signs of defected bunnies with tumorous heads and emaciated, yet round, bodies perch from the bad soil. The stunted rodents are embellished with ugly clouds of dead weeds, protected wickedly and collectively by the overhead porch ceiling, which hangs its own garden of dissonant chimes and maliciously shriveled leaves swathed near the metal-ivy-decorated-barrier with paint chipping away.
Strolling slower down the sidewalk parallel to the seemingly abandoned house, I expect that my movement of less velocity might signal whoever lives inside –or whoever does’t– to open the screen door and sing their joie de vivre. Nothing.
There is nothing about the house, not even the ironically colorful decorations and overplayed dead flora strewn across it, that could ever make it warm or inviting. Abandonment is abandonment, no matter how much (unintentional?) make-up is applied. One day I had read that make-up never taken off actually ages the client’s skin faster than without it. If no one remains in this house, I would rather see boarded-up windows and nightmarishly derelict darkness crammed within the inside of the house’s cracks. Nostalgic death and remains only conjure up sadness. I prefer apathy to sadness –as do most people.
I hasten my steps at a much quicker pace, realizing again how arctic the air is. My fingertips are growing more and more afflicted the longer I keep them out in the painful, paradoxically scorching, and dirty air. That is, until my fingers are completely numb. For that reason, I keep them naked and fixed in default position, any motion to try to protect my hands would sting my nerves more than the unfeeling… nothingness. Like the sidewalk below me, my fingers are going to be scaled in thin cracks, which will be more apparent in the next week or so, but I’m not apprehensive over long-term conditions, it’s the temporary tranquility that matters most.
Who care’s about tomorrow?
Sing my feet, I keep a wittingly rapid rhythm in my steps so the now can be ended as soon as inhumanly possible, like the tempo of a deformed rabbit’s hop. The composition is of the time signature 21/4, so there aren't as many measures to count.
Me and a friend very recently got together and decided to start preparing to play live electronic music. We were thinking of making an album/ep (probably 6 to 8 songs).
We looked into some companies that burn the cds, print labels, cd booklets, trays, etc. We realized that to print a smaller amount of them it's quite expensive. Have anyone tried to do something similar, or can you recommend a good place to get it printed? Canada would be ideal, but I guess if the price is right, coming from the US is fine.
Right now we found a local place that quotes us the following. Each package includes the jewel case, cd booklet and tray in 4/4 colour, burning the disc and printing a custom label on it. I doubt we will print over 100 of them: $7.47 per disc buying 26-99 discs $6.24 per disc buying 100-199 discs
Are these fair prices?
I didn't know where to put this thread, I apologize if this is not the appropriate area
It's been a while since I've posted a Photoshop piece on here. So it is about time I grace ya'll with one. I did this about a week ago. I've just about fallen in love with it. And Yes. I modeled in my own picture. xD
So yeah, this is my final portfolio for my Figure Drawing class. These were all done with a live model.
These consist of:
8 3-minute gesture drawings 5 10-minute vine charcoal drawings Muscle drawing Portrait in vine charcoal Skeleton inside of contour drawing Oil pastels on black paper Vine charcoal erasure drawing White charcoal on black paper Black and white charcoal on tan paper
i wrote this quite i while back and decided to post it. hope you like it.
happy endings aren't for heroes
i wish i caught the smile as it fell from your face. i hoped you saw the sun as if fell from the sky, the twilight's acceptance of the day passed by. they will always tell stories, but this one they'd remember. this one would haunt them forever.
as our bodies gave one last motionless cry. the trees might remember our names, but maybe they've seen this before and we'll die just the same. our voiceless screams aim for the stars. it signals the end of lives, that once was ours. the leaves fall down in a weightless tumble, it comes spinning and crashing in a lifeless stumble to cover up the faces of those who once did exist.
time will always tell you that it's never too late to say goodbye. in this trying moment, i realise that that is a lie. this tale of two lovers that will turn to dust, who had hearts of gold, but whose eyes were old. i'm tired of sad endings, yet this one isn't so bad. i'll always remember that happy endings aren't for heroes and that makes me glad. i wish i could turn to you in our hopeless despair, but instead we'll have to say goodbye through a lifeless stare.
Cold winds shave the skin Off my seven-year old body A limbless figure pressed against the sharp wall of school Waiting for a bell To ring To bring in the cattle. Frozen sights at nothing in particular.
"Oh how his parents must not care for the boy With no coat on his shoulders,
He mimics the man with no arms; And he has no shoulders And he has no wall to lean on.
How unfortunate for such a little boy With uncaring parents."
Assumptions amiss Pour out the godly crevices Of your golden face.
But I have a fancy for swollen burden So I accede with your breeze. You bestowed onto me The revelation That the only one that cares is you.
And, my god, will you help me through my suddenly unruly life? I want to be ill but I don't want to die
Before I was born, Life made sense Before you were born My rebellion was only our potential energy
Just this morning, Your mother gave me warmth And taught me lessons Through eloquent gesture
I didn't forget my coat at daycare Morning before school My parents don't care My parents don't care
"Tell your mother I'm coming I'm coming to your house on the weekend I don't know what a friend is But you seem like one," I said during recess.
...and you told her
Playdates arranged by the mature Miniature second-graders we are
You were stillborn before today Truly, you must be full of life To begin, to build your abode (a block away from mine) And deliver me in the iron school parking lot All in a day!
I'll wander as an alley cat to your house Timidly, with a trillion scaling goosebumps -On a dazzling day A sun with the colossal toothy grin Of a mouth to swallow us whole On a dazzling day- But I'm so cold And I don't want to be alone
They say we came from the stars They say the sun will swallow us whole
I hope it doesn't take so long, To find your house
So i've been meaning to do this forever, but never found the time to scan them. They were from a crappy camera but i loved this show. On the DF website there is a little tibit and pictures from this show on the tour pictures/diaries section. It was an awesome show. If anyone was there let me know, i've never talked to anyone who was there. It was pre- STS, the only STS song they played was GNG and also Now the World (i need someone to confirm this, i swear on my life but i want to make sure).
I'm looking for the type of drawing pencil that won't wear off fast like charcoal and is used as a set of pencils (with darker and softer ranges). I used these type a few years ago and they always worked best for me. I hate charcoal because I have to sharpen the pencil every other minute. And I hate #2s because when I press hard, it only gets more shiny rather than dark. Please help. Thanks.
I know what I'm looking for exists because I used it for an entire sememester of school. Someone has to know what type of pencil I'm thinking of.
I hope this is the right place, I suppose it is because I am posting an expression of my person.
Anyway, a few years ago, I used to play around with playing Miseria Cantare in a round. That is, getting more than one copy of the same song and letting them play at different intervals (as heared in those classics such as Row Row Row Your Boat, for example).
It didn't work.
Years later we were blessed with the song that is Prelude 21/12, and so I thought I'd give it a go. This one was done with Prelude x2. I have done it previously with 3, 4, and even five, but I couldn't be bothered with putting all those in at the moment.