Greece
T-shirt version of Skull Khoi 2. Blood in the Water. Inked in Illustrator, coloured in photoshop. Enjoy!!
Blood for oil. It’s a world wide suicide. Other versions :
i think this may be one of the best pieces I’ve done. :) this can be bought as a print on deviant art: / 3rdaccount deviantart
Blood for oil. It’s a world wide suicide. Other versions :
Me, my wig and my chair and too many restless thoughts
Become the ninja you were meant to be!
Have a virus? Use the pill… Pocket Clouds to clean. Shh… Your system is infected!
I haven’t got the faintest clue what I mean by this, so here it is up to your little Grey ones…. Click here or on the image to see a big view of the thing
While travelling in Romania I met a mysterious woman whose wild azure eyes burned right through my skull. She told me of a crazy party at a secret club that was on that night. / It happened once a year and was only known to a select few. I asked where it was so she drew a map on my hand and told me to meet her there at 12am. / I turned up a bit early and the club was shut, quiet as a graveyard on a winters night. / So I went back to my hotel and read a book.
I hate most people…
The Patient Creation Date: 6.2.08 Model: / fragilemuse-stock Textures: Mine / bashcorpo / photomars-stock / parablev Ash Sivils © 2007-2009 No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or / build upon this work in any shape way or form unless you / gain a waiver from me, not a representative. You may not / import, export, print, redistribute or claim as your personal / work. You may not sell this art or assign right to others, all / images are copyrighted please respect those rights.
Stitched Smile Creation Date: 10.19.07 The Redbubble member who nominated my work is Rocketchook and this is what the had to say about this image: “The message is so powerful in this picture , let alone the skills and creativity involved in actually producing it . Stunning , jaw dropping art.” Nominated into the group Pay It Forward. Model: EViL-KiTTie-stock.deviantart.com Every day men and women are having cosmetic / surgery to appear as if they were on the red carpet / in Hollywood. They want to feel and look “perfect”, / there is no such thing, the word shouldn’t even / exist! To be “perfect” is a flaw in it’s self. Further / information and statistics can be read here: 2007 Surgical Highlights I didn’t want to take the smaller / version of Stitched Smile down / after it had so many views, favs / and comments. This one will be / here to enable prints.
FEATURED! JULY 08 Mash of public domain images. The steal heart is from the album cover of Terminal Romance
TO MINE AND EVERYONE’S SURPRISE, THIS IS THE BEST SELLER !!!! / I THANK THE UNIVERSE AND THE MOON FOR THE INSPIRATION. Image created in Photoshop from an image in the Public Domain, obtained at Wikkipedia Commons.
Adobe Illustrator and Wacom Winning design in the Redbubble London Calling t-shirt challenge. Cruel Britannia II – Big Ben Cruel Britannia III – the Duelist
disconnected connection limited edition of 25,numbered and signed / Hahnemuehle Bamboo rag art paper 60×80cms @ / $390.- including postage / please contact me directly / jess.tremp@gmail.com other limited edition prints here
Another design inspired by the series Dexter. Can’t help myself – I really love this show! :)
All My Series: /
The Scream is basically a piece about violence against women, a subject that really sensitizes me not only for being a woman, but also for being human and for dreaming and working for a better world based on respect and equality. I didn’t want a piece that was oppressing or showed only the pain of the violence or abuse. I wanted something dynamic, that could have a “voice”, that could help people to reflect about how to change things. The symbolism of the piece is quite simple and direct. There’s a dual figure in the center. She might be the same woman in two different attitudes, if you like. The red-haired one is scared and in pain. She holds her bleeding heart and wears a mask to keep herself hidden from judgment or other losses. She might be the one who was raped in a party after drinking too much, the one who was abused for a family member but preferred to hide in order to do not cause disturbances in the family, the one who was beaten for her husband but kept silent for fear of losing her children. She might be one of the Congo women. She might be me, or you. The black-haired woman doesn’t wear a mask. She is screaming – although sometimes I think that she is in fact singing. What she releases from within herself is a bird, red as life. Is the desire for freedom from a world conquered by force, not love. She screams her right to be treated as a human being instead of a second-class citizen, as a partner instead of a subordinate. Her right to express her own ideas and have their own attitudes without being demonized for them. There are also masks at the bottom, a pile of masks without faces behind them. They once belonged to women who decided to scream instead of keep silent and anonymous. That decided to stop pretending that that’s how the world is and there’s nothing that can be done to change it. But there’s so much one can do just by having a voice… And use it to demand respect for being human is urgent.
Some artwork for the upcoming Drop To Zero cd coming this summer http://www.myspace.com/droptozero Can you feel them calling? Like a heart that’s built on loss, / Their prison keeps them hostage, / Star e out the car window and watch the mills that pass me by, / The pillars standing tall are lined with ghosts that speak from their dark eyes, / Can we call them wrong? Can we see through canine orbits? / Can we dance the devil’s dance and walk two steps in their shoes? / Desperate killers will hunt, / Fight now, try to keep up, / This town, souls that tried to hide from rain in paper towers, / Sunk down, treading in mud, / This town, lost are raising generations of the losing, / This west of Eden Yahweh had in mind, a city paved in blood of angels, / Can you hear them scatter? Like a roach caught in the light, / They burrow in the shadows, / I look to children’s eyes; they breed an emptiness in stare, / They grow to feed like dogs that eat the blood, breeding anger from despair, / Fallen down, hope that is gone, / Somehow, try to move on, / This town, valley where the damned are who find resolution, / The city burned down but the ghosts survived, smoldering rage on the inside
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