An icing, pressed down by the thick warmth of my retro heater, swirls on the floor. Like a vague sense of dark prophesy to a common man, it makes me pull my feet up off the floor and cross them in my chair. My hair is pulled back and feels tight, i fear a headache. Thoughts of the bald entertain me. That is the purpose of this blog, after all. A daily shave, a skimming, however mean, of the thoughts that set in before they disintegrate back to wherever they come from.
So, today my razors an old one. It's got a thin black handle of painted wood, where the blade is content to sit for some time without rusting. I'm going to pull out some ideas from my recent past and discus one of my visual thoughts:
Older Than You
The original image that came to me was one of a wizened man. Dull skin clung to him, as if it had shrunken before the rest of him. Thin hair drifted in a summer afternoon breeze. He was sitting at a park table, surrounded by oblivious kids, all playing wildly. A single sign of fall rested meekly on the table, a cracked leaf. He was looking at me intently, as if trying to tell me something. The title came to me, older than you.The image was a strong one. Perhaps the most striking thing was the contrast of motion. The whirling kids, the sly breeze, the sunlight, and his hair all drifted in a complex pattern around his frozen face and intense eyes.
As time passed and the image developed in my Mental Cellar (dubbed Redcap Twist, and run by the muse, Lynic) the leaf blew away, the children where called in by their mothers, and a thick mist settled over the park. The image stilled and the sun was pulled down low, shedding a grapefruit orange into the mist. The man pulled out a cigarette, lit up and revealed a grim tongue. Far longer then it ought to be. The story was over and i knew what i needed to draw. I completed this drawing sometime in late November 09.
This was a man from the future, and evil hung about him. But he wasn't evil himself. He wasn't sent, he hadn't come, i doubt he was even really there. That would explain the children's utter lack of recognition. But what interest to children have in the future? Perhaps the wise would be warned. At any rate, the viewer is the only one to see the man, and that binds them. The man is a ravaged rock star, transported to a virgin world in which he is not allowed. But when have rules stopped a rock star? In a moment of paradox his nature and that of the park sideswiped each other and i doubt the shadow of that encounter will ever leave that park table. Get what you will out of it. To see it larger, click on it.
Thank you for reading,
(My pan name will appear here once i have decided on an appropriate one)
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