This lovely oil painting is my first of its kind. I was literally "worried" while I was painting it, so it actually has some form of correlation with the actual photo.
I love the contrast, the sadness, and all the emotion that is conveyed in so little amount of colors.
I even created a backstory for my sad, disgruntled character that exists in my mind.
There was a man who was a Broadway actor. He worried about how his performance would come off to the other actors and audience. He would cry before shows and his wife would criticize him for doing so. He was indeed a sad man.
So the man was traveling home one night, sad, sad, and sadder he was. That performance that night was poorly recieved and critics put him down ever so. He cried and cried as he drove in the night. Rain pouring down. He couldn't see with his tear-filled eyes and his windshield wipers just weren't working up to speed...and...
he hit someone.
He was crying harder now. He knew not why this would trouble him so much in a few seconds, but yet...the man was worried. He stepped out into the cool, wet air and he saw who it was.
It was his wife.
She was out in the night going to look for a certain person... his suspicions of his wife being in an affair were true. She was on her way back home when the man hit her.
The man...fled the scene.
In his car, stained with her blood, he ran off the side of a cliff.
He died that night as well.
Except, he was revived by some force of nature that brought him back as a purplish-pale zombie-like creature. The blood tear symbolizes the tears that will forever stain his face over his wife's death and his own.
All because he worried.
So yeah. That's my story. Please enjoy and comment accordingly.
I love the contrast, the sadness, and all the emotion that is conveyed in so little amount of colors.
I even created a backstory for my sad, disgruntled character that exists in my mind.
There was a man who was a Broadway actor. He worried about how his performance would come off to the other actors and audience. He would cry before shows and his wife would criticize him for doing so. He was indeed a sad man.
So the man was traveling home one night, sad, sad, and sadder he was. That performance that night was poorly recieved and critics put him down ever so. He cried and cried as he drove in the night. Rain pouring down. He couldn't see with his tear-filled eyes and his windshield wipers just weren't working up to speed...and...
he hit someone.
He was crying harder now. He knew not why this would trouble him so much in a few seconds, but yet...the man was worried. He stepped out into the cool, wet air and he saw who it was.
It was his wife.
She was out in the night going to look for a certain person... his suspicions of his wife being in an affair were true. She was on her way back home when the man hit her.
The man...fled the scene.
In his car, stained with her blood, he ran off the side of a cliff.
He died that night as well.
Except, he was revived by some force of nature that brought him back as a purplish-pale zombie-like creature. The blood tear symbolizes the tears that will forever stain his face over his wife's death and his own.
All because he worried.
So yeah. That's my story. Please enjoy and comment accordingly.
2 comments:
MORBID!!!
...but thats ok, i like it. :)
the painting itself is simply beautiful, i don't think anyone else in our class puts themselves into their work as much as you do quiton, you create yourself when you paint or draw...that is something that i wish I say about myself.
This is stunning.
I love it.
I wish more people would comment. Comments encourage me to want to blog...no comments equal no motivation to do so.
Guess I need to write two or less sentences to get comments. No one likes to read anymore.
I guess it "fails" when people involve themselves in their art. People just want to see pretty pictures. Sorry mine are not so.
I try.
Oh well...
Post a Comment