Dark painting
1694 creative works found
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Moon Light gothic modern landscape fine art modern poster print of a watercolor painting
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Third one in my Collector series
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one of my earlier works :) / PRINT AVAILABLE
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My interest in dreams and things of the night produced many dark images… this apparition is drawn with paint and ink on paper… the hastily rendered texture adds to the ghostliness of the face. This painting looks extremely creepy in a dimly lit room.
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This piece is based on how much we base our decisions off of love. Not condemning it, but rather it intrigues me what those will do in the name of love. Many people have died for love, have fought for love, and have sacrificed for love. It’s a powerful feeling that enslaves us, causing us to react in ways we may not deem normal in a clear state of mind, but like they say, Love is intoxicating. 2nd traditional piece I’ve ever attempted with acrylics. It was (key word, was, because it was sold lol)a 18×24 inch stretched canvas with acrylics and india ink. I miss this piece dearly, but at least I have a wonderful jpeg of it’s remains.
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Acrylic pant on canvas board / 18”X18” I thank All the Powers that Be for my ability to Create. When Life gets tough the Essence of Me is still Focused on Holding the Vision. This goes out to all those having a tough time at the moment.
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/ __________________ Traditional painting, 18×24 cm / Acrylics on canvas. / Creation Date: 30.03.2007 Robert Smith / —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—— / THE CURE official site — / / — © All images copyright ROUBLE RUST / Spyridoula Bleta / All the images in this gallery are copyrighted, are NOT part of public domain & may not be reproduced, copied, edited, transmitted, uploaded, downloaded, or published in any way without my permission. Any violation of this copyright law will result in a lawsuit.
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/ __________________ Traditional painting, 18×24 cm / Acrylics on canvas board. / Creation Date: 16.11.2008 I created this highly influenced by Stéphane Blanquet’s style in his book titled “Bouquet Bonheur” , the colour tone and other elements as the bridge, the moon, the castle and some of the tress are exact copies of the image in the book. The cat and the hanging tree are my own additions to the image. © All images copyright ROUBLE RUST / Spyridoula Bleta / All the images in this gallery are copyrighted, are NOT part of public domain & may not be reproduced, copied, edited, transmitted, uploaded, downloaded, or published in any way without my permission. Any violation of this copyright law will result in a lawsuit.
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/ “The Two” is part of the Flower Collection...Watercolour on Sennelier Paper… You are the town and we are the clock. / We are the guardians of the gate in the rock / The Two / On your left and on your right / In the day and in the night, / We are watching you. We’re afraid in that case you’ll have a fall. / We’ve been watching you over the garden wall / For hours. / The sky is darkening like a stain / Something is going to fall like rain / And it won’t be flowers. This might happen any day / So be careful what you say / Or do. / Be clean, be tidy, oil the lock, / Trim the garden, wind the clock, / Remember the Two. W.H. Auden
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/ Check it out on a person! Awesome, huh? / / You can also choose another styled shirt. Just click on the image.
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/ __________________ Fictional / A suprise for all of you who think that I’ve forgotten “the spider” series hehe / This is from the third painting I made for a little series dedicated to all the nightmares I have with my worst fear: the spider / ROUBLE Also available as art print / © All images copyright ROUBLE RUST / Spyridoula Bleta / All the images in this gallery are copyrighted, are NOT part of public domain & may not be reproduced, copied, edited, transmitted, uploaded, downloaded, or published in any way without my permission. Any violation of this copyright law will result in a lawsuit.
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The street was crowded with shouts and chanting. Posters with slogans I didn’t understand moved along Main Street like thicken blood in veins too clogged with soot to notice. Faces turned to the distance and then waved aside the shoulders of police to stare into me or beyond me or through me or into cameras or maybe knowing that my two eyes saw everything as an abstract painting and they didn’t want to be abstract. The proud wrinkles shouted to be seen and be remembered for the hardship that had etched its way into flesh. No, you can not turn away, you can not cover me with cosmetics, you can not still the motion of music and feet shuffling along sidewalks that once were dirt. My dirt. Their dirt. Our dirt. The land that formed everything and out of which we grew. Before cement towers blocked the view to the sea. Before garbage covered the ashes. / The ashes. The ashes. Burning limbs from a sun that sets only once some days and twice when it feels the mood. Burning wind that torches leaves and dries the dreams of soldiers of the theater. Ashes that were baked onto the hillsides before they held mosaics of naked colors and hungry lights. Ashes that were blown from nature’s own breath and will still blow again and always even as merchants try to sell hot dogs to musicians and music sells to thin, clogged ears and ears are covered from the sound that the hands have created so that nobody realizes what is really happening. Nobody hears the clapping. / Blinded. Blinded by the brain’s efforts to see more and hear more and be more and sell more and buy more until there is no more and more has no meaning because it is less. Less. Less. / Yes the street was crowded. Yet I saw only one face. And that was enough.
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/ __________________ Fictional traditional painting (18×24 cm, acrylics, gouache & watercolours on canvas), digitally altered. / Creation Date: 14.06.2009 —- / / -— The oroginal painting: / Her eyes…so innocent / Her eyes so innocent… on hallowed ground. / Leave her eyes still seeing worlds that never were. / © All images copyright ROUBLE RUST / Spyridoula Bleta / All the images in this gallery are copyrighted, are NOT part of public domain & may not be reproduced, copied, edited, transmitted, uploaded, downloaded, or published in any way without my permission. Any violation of this copyright law will result in a lawsuit.
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Thanks for stopping by! ☺ P.S. If you´re interested in buying any of my images as prints, i suggest you / check out my other account: Mystic Pic Thanks for stopping by! Andreas Stridsberg © / http://www.mystic-pic.com/
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/ __________________ Fictional traditional painting, 30×30 cm / Acrylics, gouache, coloured charcoal pencils & watercolours on canvas. / Creation Date: 23.07.2009 I own this inspiration to Vestque who had this amazing idea for a challenge: “Create an artwork that shows a Lolita/Doll pairing… Therefore both Doll and Lolita should be wearing the same outfit.” My entry for the ♥♦ Lolies and Dollies ♦ ♥ challenge x — / / — Also available as a T-shirt / © All images copyright ROUBLE RUST / Spyridoula Bleta / All the images in this gallery are copyrighted, are NOT part of public domain & may not be reproduced, copied, edited, transmitted, uploaded, downloaded, or published in any way without my permission. Any violation of this copyright law will result in a lawsuit.
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If you like this painting, the original is still available in my Etsy Store
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/ __________________ Fictional traditional painting, 18×24 cm / Acrylics, gouache & watercolours on canvas. / Creation Date: 02.08.2009 Inspired by the poem “The Thing at the Top of the Stairs” by Sharon Baker which is part of the poem collection Now We Are Sick: An Anthology of Nasty Verse — / / — © All images copyright ROUBLE RUST / Spyridoula Bleta / All the images in this gallery are copyrighted, are NOT part of public domain & may not be reproduced, copied, edited, transmitted, uploaded, downloaded, or published in any way without my permission. Any violation of this copyright law will result in a lawsuit.
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paint, ink, pencil on card paper / 8.5×11”
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CS3 Original oil refinery pic from cgtextures.com And….oh yeah, this was FUN! :OP
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/ __________________ Fictional digital painting made with Photoshop. / Creation Date: 24.10.2009 I used the same scrap face with the Dear little doll series — / / — © All images copyright ROUBLE RUST / Spyridoula Bleta / All the images in this gallery are copyrighted, are NOT part of public domain & may not be reproduced, copied, edited, transmitted, uploaded, downloaded, or published in any way without my permission. Any violation of this copyright law will result in a lawsuit.
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“Lost” continues the story of four friends who set out for a Christmas weekend in the country…in the first chapter, seen HERE the friends’ day starts out joyfully, but soon deteriorates along with the weather, and they quickly become lost... Watercolour on Saunders Not Paper A moment or two of stunned silence, as it slowly dawned on us that we had no idea where we were…it was the days before Mapquest and GPS and cell phones…we-were-lost…the day was getting rapidly darker as the last of the pallid sun sank behind the hills…Dahlia started to whimper and Mark, never at his best in a crisis told her to shut up, at which she burst into tears…there was no help for it…we would have to get out and walk until we found shelter somewhere…at this suggestion Dahlia’s whimpers turned into yells…she had no boots, only thin shoes suitable for city streets…hearing this Mark completely lost his temper….Dahlia always drove him mad…one wonders why he repeatedly sought her out…after calming them both down I said I felt sure (not really), that the area looked somewhat familiar and there would be a farm or something nearby…after some argument, and taking as much as we could carry, we set off, Dahlia wearing a pair of Tom’s boots which were too large for her, all the while sobbing that we should stay with the car… / The road stretched ahead, bleak and desolate, here and there patches of gleaming ice set to trap the unwary traveller, hill upon hill rising behind…a rocky terrain that did not bode well for anyone trying to negotiate it…not a creature stirred and no bird sang…the wind blew stinging ice pellets at our faces, and in no time our gloves and feet were soaked…but there were ancient dry stone walls edging the road..a sign that somewhere nearby would be shelter…..we turned a corner…”.LOOK” I cried..Janis Z..Fiction..A Weekend in the Country..Ch.2 Lost.. / A Weekend in the Country
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“The Grove” continues the story of four friends who set out for a Christmas weekend in the country…in the first chapter, seen HERE the friends’ day starts out joyfully, but soon deteriorates along with the weather, and they quickly become lost…in the second chapter seen HERE they decide to walk to their destination, but without any idea how to get there... Watercolour on Saunders Not Paper Look” I cried, but my cry fell on deaf ears…Dahlia, who had still been sobbing that we should stay with the car, terrified that she would fall, stumbled and actually fell, and before we knew it slid rapidly into one of the ditches that hidden by snow, lined the roadway…how to get her out without their falling on the treacherous ice, elicited a heated argument between Tom and Mark, Dahlia screaming and thrashing about all the while…finally by Tom yelling that “the more she moved the deeper she sank”, Dahlia got the message and the two men by lying prone on the icy lane, managed to drag her out dripping wet, but… without the boots…it was quickly apparent we would never get them back…no one could possibly reach down to try and find them…we dried her off as best we could, wrapped her in one of the blankets we had luckily brought with us and the two men elected to carry her in turn on their backs…that meant our progress was slower than ever…worse yet, the only torch we had was now flickering badly…to save the battery I turned it off, hoping that we would be guided by the light of the waning moon…... / Suddenly I remembered what I had seen…I turned back excitedly…”Look there”...I pointed to a spot ahead of us…I had seen what looked like a small sheltered grove, but what had really astonished me was the light…blazing brilliant light pouring down through the trees as if from the skies…”Look where? asked Tom…”There” I replied…then stopped silent…my hand dropped to my side…the light had gone…there was nothing there….only impenetrable darkness stared back at us... / Lost / A Weekend in the Country
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