Rejection
60 creative works found
-
Also available in light colours… /
-
The answer is YES… / they were terrible!!! / We had to do this shot about 6 times before we got one I liked. The taste was in my mouth for about 3 hours! / My wife gets credit for the makeup and actually taking the picture. / I setup all the lights and camera for her and told her to just hold down the shutter as soon as the pennies started to come out. / Are you tired of the self portraits yet? Sorry…there’s more lol
-
discarded red teddy on porch
-
This is exactly what it looks like – a sketch-doodle I made while listening to Pain’s Shut Your Mouth over and over again*, on the 11th of April, 2007. / ... / I’m not going to pretend that it’s art or design, but something about it really appeals to me; it’s like his heart has been SHOT out of his chest and he’s reeling from the impact. / ... / (Or I could be reading too much into it because I’m playing loud industrial music very late at night, and I’ve just had a weird tea that calls itself “Rooibos and Vanilla” but tastes like delirium.) / ... / * The Swedish industrial metal band, Pain, that is, not the American one. Shut Your Mouth is one of my favourite songs, and has a catchy riff that will stay in your head for YEARS. You can visit them on MySpace if you wish, but be warned, their lyrics contain some profanity. / ... / Dear buyers: If purchasing this image as a card (which is an interesting choice and I’m not sure what festive occasion it would be appropriate for), I highly recommend the WHITE backing colour, otherwise it will look like his legs have disappeared. / ... / Image quality: / The preview image to the left has been JPEG compressed by RedBubble for security purposes. The original image is high quality and has true, consistent colours. / ... / / ...
-
I was once a tiny baby, / a cuddly furry bundle of joy. / They took me from my mother / and gave me to a little boy. I cried a lot for my mother / and missed my whole family. / But the boy was so glad to / take the time to hold and hug me. I finally grew to love them / the people who were my new family. / Though I often dreamed of mama / and wondered if she thought of me. Time passed and I grew up / and the boy stopped playing with me. / Oh, I think he still loved me, / but now he was a teen. I now lived in a doghouse in the back / because no one had time for me. / Where once I curled up at the foot of his bed / now his skateboard replaced me. I’d find a dish of food by my door / but the boy I now saw rarely. / And I could watch from within my fence / they had put up to separate them from me. They built a pool and I would watch them play / and I’d bark to tell them to play with me. / That only seemed to make it worse / because my barking made them angry. Then the boat arrived and I was left alone / every weekend when they all went boating. / I slept a lot and dreamed of mama / and wondered if she ever thought of me. One day they came with a stranger / who put a chain on me. / They turned their backs and did not watch / as the big man dragged me away. So here I am behind these bars / not knowing what will become of me. / I don’t know what I did to be put in jail / but I keep hoping someone will come and help me. ________ I have seen it happen far too often, people see a cute little puppy or kitten, baby iguana or other little cutie-pie that catches their eye and their fancy for the moment. Without considering the future needs and responsibilities of caring for these adorable little beings, the person “purchases” the “merchandise” and then proceeds to step two of the “owning” process. The little toy is fun for awhile until life and stuff gets in the way, then the little one grows up and requires more room, food, care, medical treatment and attention, so as with any other “toy” it now becomes a discard. The person then proceeds to ask friends if they will take it off their hands. When that fails they take it out and dump it or call the pound and unload it. They think no more about it because it was only just another thing to them. They never considered it has feelings and loves and hurts and often dies of loneliness once having been abandoned by the only person they ever loved. Once the reject is in the pound, it only has a certain amount of time to be adopted before it has to be “disposed” of to make room for more rejects. Then there are the ones the owners keep and selectively proceed to abuse in so many unimaginable ways that a normal mind cannot even fathom. Sometimes these poor things are “rescued” and taken to the “humane” society where they have a short time to be adopted. It breaks my heart. There are some people who truly do provide rescue and real adoption and long-term rehabilition for these poor babies and these are real heros. I recommend visiting these other RB’rs who care about animals and they donate their sales to the cause: Lucinda Migkats ecgardner Whisperingruth Images Do Not Belong To The Public Domain. / All images and writings are the copyright of the artist – © amari, amarica. All Rights Reserved. / Copying, altering, displaying, distributing and/or selling any image without prior written consent from the artist is strictly prohibited and subject to any and all legal remedies.
-
Digital mixed media / Copyright © LiorG 2007
-
I found a photo in a catalogue of my wife’s and the lady looked so forlorn I had to paint her.
-
Rejected
-
Another Thanks and a Webcomic Rejection
by Steven NovakIt’s been a little while since I posted something, which no doubt left all of you wandering the streets dazed and confused, eyes red with…
It’s been a little while since I posted something, which no doubt left all of you wandering the streets dazed and confused, eyes red with tears while you scream loudly to the heavens proclaiming your loss of faith in mankind as a whole. No? What’s that? You say none of that happened? You didn’t even really notice? Well…now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings. THANKS FOR NOTHING FEELING McHURTY!! Anyway, first off a big thanks to TERILEE for her purchase of a card featuring my OCEAN OUTSIDE MY WINDOW art. Hope you like it. In “outside of the redbubble world news” I recently had a submission to zudacomics.com rejected. I might continue the story simply because it would bug the crap out of me to leave it hanging. (I’m a bit weird that way.) If you’re bored and want to give it a look just clicky clicky on the image below. Also I promise to never type the word clicky again. Steve~
-
REJECTION LETTERS ALL CAME ON THE SAME DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
by BillyLeeI had a full day at school doing my printmaking, I had huge success with the girl in the Forest print..then came home and got the mail a…
I had a full day at school doing my printmaking, I had huge success with the girl in the Forest print..then came home and got the mail and found 3 rejection letters all on the same day! I mean, The Australian Print Council – REJECTION! The Mornington National Gallery Works on Paper – REJECTION! and another dumb printmaking award not worth mentioning because well I don’t care anymore! I am too sensitive for all this competitivenss stuff….I mean, how come they come on the same day, is God trying to tell me something. My prints today were superb and I did reduction prints that are gorgeous…and yet, alas, bummed out and tired. Why do I want it so badly…I want it because, .....gosh will have to think about it. rambling and tired. Thanks for listening, off to read all THREE of my letters again for more gruelling self punishing…b
-
Astride
by Kristy LeeClimbing into the polished saddle. / Astride the stallion of victory / riding along in triumph. Marching ahead into my future.
Another older poem revisited.
-
you cant let go
by susan daviesrejection you just couldn’t stand
thought of when people move on in life and relationships
-
Just entered "Rejection" into the song competition
by Evangeline ThanThe Musical/Art Competition ends on the 7th of July and I only just found out about it. Eee…
The Musical/Art Competition ends on the 7th of July and I only just found out about it. Eeee! Luckily I already have something in my portfolio that fits the bill: Click here or on the picture above to read the story behind this illustration. Good luck everyone!
-
Abandoned
by amaricaOnce loved and adopted by a family, this little guy begins to slowly be edged out of their lives and finally totally rejected and abandoned.
Abandoned animals end up in the pound or run loose to be hunted and injured in a world they have no control over. They are “owned” or they are considered wild. There is no place in “civilization” for animals to be free unless they make their way to the wilderness and manage to hide from people and other predators. There are some people who truly do provide rescue and real adoption and long-term rehabilition for these poor babies and these are real heros. I recommend visiting these other RB’rs who care about animals and they donate their sales to the cause: Lucinda / Migkats / ecgardner / Whisperingruth This poem inspired the artwork “Help Me.” If you wish to view this art please click here
-
"Mr. Frog's Belch" Design Rejected by Zazzle...
by Crockpot...then given an award for Today’s Best. / ...
...then given an award for Today’s Best. / / How friggin funny is THAT?! / / We submitted the design for a stamp, thinking it would be a funny thing to see on mail. Pure and simple unadulterated fun, right? Apparently not so! / / Here’s an excerpt of the rejection notice we received: / / The following Zazzle Custom Stamp could not be approved: / Product Title: Mr. Frog’s Belch / Product Type: Stamp / Product ID: 172719026690854964 / Contributor: crockpot / Result: Not Approved / Policy Violations: / Includes material that Zazzle believes would hurt its reputation. / May be considered violent, profane, deceptive, abusive, menacing, harmful, or threatening. / / My guess is that Zazzle thought the design might offend people. (Whatever.) But to give the standard, impersonal rejection that they did is a bit much. It’s an f’ing cartoon of a frog, for crying out loud!! / / “Includes material that Zazzle believes would hurt its reputation.” / Are you kidding me??? / They need NO help with hurting their rep. They already do a damn fine job of that on their own. Poorly printed products, printing products where the design is upside-down or inverted, sending out the WRONG products to customers, HORRIBLE customer service when it comes to resolving issues and “24-hour shipping” that takes 2 weeks (for a magnet!) are just a few of the things in Zazzle’s hallmark of reputation. / / And they’re worried about Mr. Frog burping. / / Mike and I have been laughing our asses off. This is just so hilarious and all too typical of Zazzle. / / OMG… I laugh so hard every time I read that. / / At any rate, I just HAD to share this with you all. I know that a lot of you fellow Zazzlers (and ex-Zazzlers) will get a huge kick out of this. >:) / / / / / /
-
Oh No, you got rejected from the Digital Interface Group! Don't despair!
by lightsmithOk, so you submitted a piece of work to the Digital Interface group but it got rejected. 1. Do not despair. / 2. Do not feel hurt. / 3…
Ok, so you submitted a piece of work to the Digital Interface group but it got rejected. 1. Do not despair. / 2. Do not feel hurt. / 3. Read the Guidelines and the chances are you’ll see the reason for the rejection. Especially note: In this group we do not reject because we don’t like your art. / We do not reject because you are not using a particular piece of software. The most common reason for rejection is that there is no creation information specified in the description, or it just says “sharpened in photoshop” etc. Read the guidelines or check out the descriptions of artwork in this group that has NOT been rejected. Sometimes we will reject is images are too similar, or if you submit too many at once. If in doubt, please feel free to email the Group Leaders and we will do our best to help.
-
one of lifes greatest lessons is to learn to love oneself sounds easy ??? looks easy ?? thats the art
-
To all my Bubble Friends....
by CarismaTo all of you that encouraged me and suffered with me during my little Saga of my last 3 journals…....THANK YOU! For being there, fo…
To all of you that encouraged me and suffered with me during my little Saga of my last 3 journals…....THANK YOU! For being there, for taking the time to egg me on, for trying to make me feel better when I thought I had been rejected…for being happy for and with me when all was resolved with success… For all of this and more…. / THANK YOU I have said many times here, that the Bubble has changed my life; now more than ever I know it did; for accepting me as part of this great group of REAL ARTISTS, real artists not only of the visual arts but also of the heart! Thank you all my generous friends…....my real success has been to have met you all.
-
WARNING : WARPED SENSE OF HUMOUR !!! Another drawing from the distant past.. I’m sure we have all had bad news by letter at some stage or other. So if you need to end a relationship.. or any other nasty piece of work and you haven’t got the bottle to do it face to face.. here’s the perfect “greetings” card for you ! Please contact Dave Edwards for accompanying music. Another influence for this work was the “explosion/disaster” movies of the 1970’s..there were an number of films around at that time that involved blowing things up. The most notable being Zabriski Point) and Closely Observed Trains /
-
As you’ll see from my profile, I perceive myself as an outsider “at life’s feast”, as James Joyce might have put it. This self-portrait was the aftermath of being thrown out of an alcohlic partner’s flat at three in the morning: the next day I shoved my face wretchedly on a flatbed scanner, and this is what emerged. PROMENADE Mr Duffy…lived at a little distance from his own body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glances. He had an odd autobiographical habit which led him to compose in his own mind from time to time a short sentence about himself containing a subject in the third person and a predicate in the past tense. He never gave alms to beggars. - James Joyce November is my friend. / I welcome the blighting of the day, / The spite of liquefying rain, / The facts that things aren’t stars, but smears / Of distant lamps. / Let the dim branches of trees smother me – / I am one with their pulped leaves / Feeling myself to be an outsider at life’s feast / And preferring, perhaps, to contemplate / The dead eye of a costermonger’s mackerel / Or the vegetation that swallows memorial urns; / Indifferent, I am, to the sodden peat that sucks you down / Beneath a slabby sky, engulfing half-living lungs, / Drowning sentience in a blind clasp / - But maybe I’d note the texture of it, the odour of it / As I went under. I’d play the voyeur, as was my custom, / Because it seemed the safest bet. I could have been Mistah Kurtz / Wrestling the imponderable greyness of it all; / Except I had no grand, colonial army. / Suburbia had granted nothing, save everyone’s / Favourite social disease: a buzz of platitudes. / If I am Lord, it is of less than flies. / But you can call me a featherweight Mephistopheles: / Denied (at least) your cadaverous mass of noxious flesh: / A phantom of parchment sentiments, measured and profane. A collector of wayward minutiae, is what I am: / Repelled by nothing save my own face. / And yet, the pathology of this detritus everywhere / Continues to engage me. / Determined (as I am) to judge nothing / Merely to scrutinise and, perhaps, to quantify. / My chloroformed leisure is infinite - / As always it is, for those of us resolved / Not to do anything silly. I know it is important not to be dismayed / And rather, to adopt a proper scientific stance / With only a curious lump in my throat / To proclaim one’s human fallibility. / Vexed by the dissecting room / (Its rancorous brilliance of blades and lamps) / I preferred my research in the field. / A troglodyte, you’d say I was: / A misanthrope, perplexed by the Trick and the Dead / (At what was meant to be alive, and what was somehow not) / Emerging from shadow when I sensed a safe audience / And otherwise, seared by the cold in my skin / Like a confrontation, like murdered friendships. / An embryonic curl was my defensive stance. / Yet, with my mind in free-fall, / I’ll stand outside you, sense – November being / A senseless month. What’s that? How could it come about, my little life / Of studious calligraphy, extemporised on muddied earth? / Don’t ask, don’t ask. / I’d be two or three years old (they say) when the die was cast. / The other boys could make imaginary friends. I’d keep / An executioner. He never forgot a face, least of all mine. / His tutelage was frightful. One learnt how to gouge / One’s own liver – without the added expense of eagles – / And thank him for the privilege. One learnt restraint. / Others would have cried, ‘Somebody hear me, help me / Or let me die. Find me guilty, or let me go.’ / But of course, to earn a trial would mitigate one’s / Punishment. You don’t ask a mechanism to weep. / You don’t squeeze tears from a wafer. / I learnt frugality, to be content / With solitary confinement. Don’t ask if I seek death. Suicide is for rodents / And Norwegians. I want oblivion as my respite from / The poison stain of consciousness. My needs are simple: / To sail on air, like a swan at midnight: without thought, / Off to reclaim lifelessness, my simple option; / Better, at least, than what I must deserve: / Better than scalding gossip or / The intrigue of presumed denunciation, / The scouring of my back for unremembered crimes. * * / / How little wonder, England is my spiritual home. / The way of Little England, that was meant to be / For squandered misfits much like me: / Malcontents, whose rank grudges / Might allow a kind of wayward acumen: / Renegades, who nursed some ingrown canker like a pearl; / If only the pain of being alive; / The pain we felt – so, by a sinner’s inference, / The pain we must have caused to others. / You’d give us absolution, as when / I’d hear grass scrape my skin (somewhere across the globe) / And disappointment gave me my good armour. / England, we learnt, was meant to be / For butterflies upon a wheel, / Rustics and cranks, provincial visionaries, / The types you didn’t mess with. / (The ones nobody would hold, / Close to herself as she dozed, / Wanting you to keep her warm.) / …We’d all be in with a chance. Swept up to / Chariots of fire, we’d find again our voice, our aim. Ein feuchter Windzug…“A wet gust of wind / Ripples the grey waters; in a sad rhythm the sailor / Rows my boat…” Like a lion, grey in winter, / Wary of the twilight of its life / So an English seaside town / Crouches before a November fog. How could I know for myself? / I have not seen his great mane fall. / I have not seen the Promenade’s bright neon bite, / And suffocate on a damp extinction of air. / But this is the landscape of my mind. / This is the landscape of disappointment: / A scab out of time, kept moist by a northern sea. / A hope vanquished by silence, / Containing nothing waiting for the spring. Instead, a further summer’s dead. Knocked / On the head, for England and for me, / Another harvest of oblivion. / No pristine form anticipates its ruin here; / We know it crumbled long ago: / No ruralist’s Elysium came to grief. No / Pestilence flourished, whether of the soul or from without; / No worm in the night, it was, that sickened Blake’s rose: / It was instead, a necessary poison in the sap that filled / A budding form – and frankly, filled it best. / Always self-interest, that propelled each writhing shoot / In Marvell’s garden; and above, his milder sun / ‘That through its fragrant zodiac must run…’ / There too the industrious bee: / Each tiny set of scurrying feet, each claw, each selfish gene / Impelled, Darwinian in necessity, / Shooting out to feed an inner gulf. I loved our mythic Albion, Albion in autumn. I loved / Its captious intolerance and its compassion – the fact / It let me be, even me, whatever the cost, / Even though it knew what I was, even though / It was wearier, world-wearier, than I was – / This nation’s melancholic apparition, noble Albion; / Like our unicorn, like Moore and Russell’s apples. / Our mascot, and one more consoling falsehood. / Truth is: you die, or else you look out for yourselves. / Solicitude’s a luxury for comfortable times / And easeful minds. / / Look at this town, defeated and boarded up. / There is no appetite in autumn: / No clarity of hate (and that attracts me), / No trade to tout for, no words to appease: / No sunshine, to inspire a certain shame. / November is the indifferent month, mired in remote / Seclusion, a month of hopeless peace, and / Circles within stasis; of routine beyond / Resignation. It is (like England, like my own / Remembrances) a home to all, and haven for none. In my mouth, a shard of nickel. From my mouth, / The whisper of falling needles. Stephen Jackson 2004-2005
-
Rejected by ART OF EROTIC VISIONS
by Sandy Viktor NysREJECTED! / Running a group is like playing God, accept them in heaven or condemn them to hell. / There are 3 art forms in our group, plain…
REJECTED! / Running a group is like playing God, accept them in heaven or condemn them to hell. / There are 3 art forms in our group, plain photo (+ Photoshop), painting / drawing and 3D. Photo’s I reject are mainly because (and I look at your portfolio before deciding!) they have the feel of accidental snapshots, mostly out of focus with or have wrong white balance (for the digital users). The common most mistake for analogue users is taking an outdoor film to make pictures inside, resulting in a terrible orange colour. If you want to be included in our group, learn at least the basics of using a camera. You do not need a big expensive camera to make great pics! / Erotic photography has its own rules. An accidental snapshot from your wife coming out of the shower will only be appealing if your name is Trevor Watson and your wife is a well-known fetish model. About paintings and drawings, I will be very strict in these. It is very simple; I can see when you’ve developed your own “touch”. I reject most of these work because they are technically very bad, the level of a 12 year old in Sunday school. I have seen portfolios from some people that make me ashamed. Nice hobby, but do not call yourself an artist. The last issue: 3D. The Poser/Bryce community. You are rejected for using Bryce presets. If you use Bryce for backgrounds, at least learn to work with your parameters in landscape/terrain design—use the lighting to create your own atmosphere, and not a Bryce kitsch and camp atmosphere. / Alternatively, if using Poser, buying realistic skin and hair for a Poser doll and downloading some pre-set poses, is not justification for calling yourself an artist. Working with Poser demands knowledge of human anatomy, as well as an understanding of the inverse kinematics of the doll. I have seen great Poser work on Bubble, but they’ve been rejected because the pose of the doll is not natural; the limbs are bended wrong (because you do not understand the inverse kinematics); or Poser has been used in such a way that all life disappears out of the doll. Another problem is that all Poser works tend to look alike, and every Poser artist can be exchanged for another. The only story these works tell is: “Look, I bought new clothes for my doll….” I advise the Poser users to google and have a look at the pro 3D community. Always look for the best, and try to be better. Poser dolls alone are not enough; you have to tell a story with it. Finally, if you are rejected, have a look at the accepted works and compare it with your work, and write the differences on paper. Learn from this. So, why am I God and not you? / I started (evening/weekend) art school when I was 12; learning all the “old school” techniques from pen paper, paint canvas etc. I finished the Koninklijk Akademie voor Schone Kunsten (Royal Art School) 12 years later. (I also studied art history). Since then I have been designing, illustrating, airbrushing, painting, for several companies. / In the mid nineties my life changed when I saw a Mac with Photoshop and a Wacom pen; I never touched pen, paper and paint again. Since then I have worked as digital illustrator with Photoshop, video, 3D, flash animations, and interactive media. With my experience I work mainly as an Art Director. So actual it is my job to judge over people like you… If you are rejected, and want to know why, I am always willing to give you a personal comment. If you dare to take the heat: just ask. / Sandy Viktor Nys Peace out!
-
My friend Melinda, a gentle-hearted animal lover, asked if there would be some way to put together an image with a prayer for animals written by Albert Schweitzer. Since the prayer asks special help from the Lord for sick and suffering animals, I thought it would be appropriate to include some photos I’ve taken of disabled animals, a goldfinch with its right eye missing, a squirrel with what seems to be a growth on his left eye, and a cardinal with a broken or malformed beak. Since I started focusing on animals, I’ve come across quite a number of them that are sick, suffering, injured, disabled, or crippled. Most of the animal photos we post on websites like RedBubble are of the beautiful, healthy ones, but thanks to Melinda’s request and Albert Schweitzer’s prayer, I think we need to remember the not so perfect ones for whom life is a real struggle.
-
...Jellyfish!!!!
RedBubble is a great place to find art, design, photos and writing from over 50,000 talented people.
You can buy their stuff
On stunning greeting cards, awesome t-shirts or beautiful prints to hang on your walls.
Risk Free Returns
It’s really simple. If you’re not happy with your purchase for any reason, we’ll fix it.
About RedBubble
Since February 2007 we’ve shipped over 72,000 items to more than 70 countries around the world.
Join In
Sign up for your free account, upload your work, join some groups and share your creative genius with the world.