My commissioned portrait is now done. I had to scrape the dredges of my soul, but the thrill overwhelmed the sight of the devil’s claws clutching that long-sold piece of divine flesh. I’m tempted to say I don’t give a monkey’s what the client thinks, because I love it, but the reality is my seemingly eternal giddiness is balanced precariously on the genuine reaction of this. It should be okay though, I’ve failed so many, many, many times before, and I still dogmatically believe myself to be, well, something not unlike god.
5 comments:
Some seriously cool imagery in this post.
While I never really care if people like/love my artwork, it does bother me if they outright hate it.
Good luck, sir.
I appreciate the colors and the hanging... movement.
Isn't that the feeling those obsessed with creation seek... that god feeling. So fleeting but what a high, nothing compares to the creative after-glow.
i can create for myself but i find it very difficult to do so on command and am rarely happy with the result.
and you are a god. ;)
Strangely, I feel calm, even "spent", after 'creating'. I aways compared it to sex. It starts with an impulse, it grows into a kind of frenzy, then releases into ... I don't know, something outside myself.
yes . . . perfect.
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