Sin
6 members found (show all)
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Sinéad Costello
United Kingdom
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The Tales of S...
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Sin P
Greece
1045 creative works found
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Hailing from Cheng Du, Capital City of Hell, Pride has been alive in the universe since the birth of the first human race. Pride also enjoys a thick Habana cigar. Medium: Indian ink and gray wash.
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Hailing from Cheng Du, Capital City of Hell, Pride has been alive in the universe since the birth of the first human race. Pride also enjoys a thick Habana cigar. Medium: Indian ink and gray wash and Photoshop CS2.
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P/S Retouched by Ange in collaboration with Ingrid Sjodahl. Digital photograph shot by Greg Parsons in collaboration with Ingrid Sjodahl, 2007. Models: Liz, Greg Parsons. Retouched face, hair & recreated arched eyebrows for further definition – left eye was opened up to match right eye. Ingrid added b/w desaturated tone, painted lips, corset bodice lace & sheet in red tone. Original shot below.
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Greed is excessive or uncontrolled desire for or pursuit of money, wealth, food, or other possessions, especially when this denies the same goods to others. It is generally considered a vice, and is one of the seven deadly sins
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One can find Hell amongst the living of everyday life, / no need to fear the afterlife. / Retribution transcends even in the one’s without faith. Acrylic paint on canvas. / ‘07’
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If you would like to purchase any of my art in a larger format, please contact me. Other works by Earthairfire:
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Wash away my sins…and help me forget, for it hurts too much without you… My first attempt at photomanipulation using stock. The background is all mine though. Gotta love Michigan summer storms! Well Ok fine! Michigan summer storm clouds, since the lightening is painted :) My entry in the LLD5 competition. Credits / Model / Foilage Brushes For more products featuring this image visit Karri’s Store This piece was featured in The Graphic Room-Graphic and Digital Art group and A Photographer’s Craft. THANK YOU!!
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My entry for Seven Deadly Sins challenge / Other Yanmos t-shirts / / www.yanmostees.com
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Bitumen and Oils on canvas 90×60cm / I gave this to my girlfriend. Sinn is her name. She is an angel. I wrote on it a distortion of a biblical quote, scratched into the paint the sharp chewed end of a paintbrush - / “Take this as a seal upon thy heart, / as a seal upon thy arm / for love is strong as death.” This is the new part about why, that I wrote today: Somehow… / In the last few weeks… / A New medication. And in the bizarre atypicalities of my neurochemistry, I have begun to rise from this hell. As I have from others. As I will fall and fight free to make and make and love and love… as I will forever fall and fight, till I fight no more. / For the first time in 12 long months – In slow moments of a year composed of weeping with terror at each excruciating sliver of time… this year that has etched and aged its crawling minutes on my face ageless always until this; past its due. / New meds. / And. They are working. I will heal. / I have a different kind… a new understanding of hope; / This, unlike its sisters in their cruel pollution of horror and knowledge… / Hope and terror are diametrically antipodean twins. They die without each other. Antithetic. And symbiotic. And now, well… My hope is as clear as the carbon lattice perfection of a diamond edge. that was the NICE PART that is NEW / VERY VERY VERY NEW this is the REST. It is less nice and was written barely two weeks ago. I completely understand if none read this much. I can paint again! I am offering free hugs and ironic weird comments from an odd angle for EVERYONE too! CHRONIC PAIN AND PAUL… Chronic Pain and me. Why I ain’t been painting all that much (actually I have, just badly. No. Really.) I don’t know if the pain will end. In truth it terrifies me. I am not one easily frightened. / It has already cost me a year. Even when everything else, all the madness for so many years, were not enough to start aging my face. This has. It is too strong, too much. Without painkillers, there is nothing else. No thought. It clouds my mind so completely that I had blamed myself for its very existence and more than that, for the core of its aetiology. / It is not my fault. / There is a scene in the film ‘Good will hunting,’ where the genius Robin Williams and the younger genius Matt Damon are in Mr William’s office. He says “It’s not your fault.” / Over and over. Will Hunting looks annoyed, then enraged, disbelieving. Eventually he collapses into tears and into the wise and knowing arms of Robin William’s character. His psychologist, believe it or not. Matt Damon and Robin Williams nailed that scene, and also in the same manner drove a steel spike into the heart of self-blame. / Will Hunting knew in his mind that there could be no blame laid at his feet for being beaten as a child. But he could never, even with all his own genius, convince his heart that this was true. / I blamed my SELF. I deluded myself that I deserved the brutal extremity of this pain. So, much like Mr Damon’s character, I lied to myself and subsequently suffered, and fucked up my life. Humbly. In this matter, I admit it. I am a fucking hypocrite. I understand self-loathing, spent so much of my life wasted in its claws and I find it difficult to take in others. I have spent endless hours with broken men and women trying to show them how wrong they are in the passion of their hatred for themselves. I have burned a year of my existence doing precisely that, in agony. I dated a kind woman, and she had some powerful painkillers that she had left from back surgery. I was at this point able to admit to myself that 1/ I was in FUCKING PAIN MOST OF THE TIME. and b/ it was not my fault at all. It allowed me the time to see without doubt that the pain I was and am experiencing has nothing to do with anything that I have done. In the mean time the pain has worsened. In the last few weeks this has increased by multiples. / What I believe is happening is not truly a belief, but only a – suspicion? A guess, mildly educated. / The madness has been contained. The damage to my thalamus has, to anthropomorphise a neutral biological process, found another outlet for its grief and rage. Instead of changing my moods and causing me hallucinations… it is causing me illusory pain. It IS an illusion only in the sense that my skin is not in reality alight and burning. But don’t you see, you must see, please look hard enough… it is much worse this way is worse this means more because I CAN’T I can NEVER put the fucking FIRE OUT! / The worst of this situation is that the pain is more disabling than the madness was. It will not kill me, though sometimes I wish for this and would see it as a tender caress of mercy. It won’t, and the madness would have. So I am alive. / But I cannot work. If I am in physical pain I cannot… it is impossible for me to paint. For the last year I have forced myself to whilst I have been in pain. I have produced more slowly than ever for manifold reasons, the chief of which being that I can’t see. Somehow I produce ugly lines and uglier colours. I have spent almost all of this time painting over the beauty that I had created whilst without pain… In those few hours that I cradle to my heart and hold so sweet (one form of True bliss is the cessation of pain.) In a state of some kind of grace I can barely imagine right now. / Therefore. Yes. Draw the conclusion like pus from a wound. But draw it I must: that I cannot even draw. / The dreams that I had that were not dreams at all but logical conclusions… of fame and fame and fame and fame. They have proven to be, for now, false indeed. It is breaking me. Breaking me. / For right now, once again, I am an invalid. I have… little. For all that I have fought. It is… hard to hold on. I have a good woman who looks after me. This means more than I can describe. I have her, and that is a wondrous thing. A miracle that I should meet someone unselfish after allowing into my life so many who have taken from me and taken and taken. / I do not know how to effect change. I have little time to plan wherein my thoughts are not torn from me by brutal physiological assault; by agony. I am giving up my space here in the city and moving to share with my father once more. / The pain, unedited by the dilution of prescription medication, is colossal. It is taking my life from me. It steals my breath from me. I wake and – it is there. Stunning, so fucking violent and I can’t breathe, I cannot. I have fled from hope in rational terror as from a betrayer, traitor, monster. / Sometimes, many times. Yes. There is no breath to scream. The last weeks… / Somehow… / In the last few weeks… / A New medication. And somehow in the bizarre atypicalities of my neurochemistry, I have begun to rise from this hell. As I have from others. As I will fall and fight free to make and make and love and love… as I will forever fall and fight, till I fight no more. / For the first time in 12 long months – In slow moments of a year composed of weeping with terror at each excruciating sliver of time… this year that has etched and aged its crawling minutes on my face ageless always until this; past its due. / New meds. / And. They are working. I will heal. / I have a different kind… a new understanding of hope; / This, unlike its sisters in their cruel pollution of horror and knowledge… / Hope and terror are diametrically antipodean twins. They die without each other. Antithetic. And symbiotic. And now, well… My hope is as clear as the carbon lattice perfection of a diamond edge.
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See No Evil Stock: Model: EViL-KiTTie-stock / Texture: amptone-stock, deadcalm-stock and nighty-stock The rest was brushwork
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an earhart chappel photo. ORIGINAL SIN. / “THE APPLE” / / TEMPT / APPLE / RED / AND DELICIOUS. /
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an earhart chappel photo. / earhart photographed. / chappel on costume design,hair,makeup and props. / model for pride is kb. PRIDE / CARRIES / A VERY HEAVY WEIGHT.. / AND IT IS ONE OF THE SEVEN DEADLY! / DOES SHE SEE HER SELF ABOVE ALL OTHERS?
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mixed media on wash&draw paper A3 .. inspired by conversation with DAMcD and some Roy Skogvold’s works / .. visual contemplation on the nature of ‘sin’ as being an integral part of our human make up … symbolism of gold /silver colour to accentuate the preciousness ( preciousness of the perceived value we often attach to our sinful preoccupations as well as preciousness intended for our bodies) ... bright colors for a loving design … blots and drips to symbolize the tainting of the otherwise perfect relationship between the Creator and the Creature …... / ... there is a traditional categorization of sins … these days perhaps rather outdated by realization that sin as such does not really hold some exact categories …. nevertheless I am upholding – very loosely – these categories for the sake of series of images on this theme …. armed with my sons ‘atlas of human anatomy’ .... looking more closely and lovingly onto “the clay” we are all made up of …..
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mixed media ( metallic acrylic paint, acrylic printing ink, inks) on wash&draw paper A3 .. inspired by conversation with DAMcD and some Roy Skogvold’s works / .. visual contemplation on the nature of ‘sin’ as being an integral part of our human make up … symbolism of gold colour to accentuate the preciousness ( preciousness of the perceived value we often attach to our sinful preoccupations as well as preciousness intended for our bodies) ... bright colors for a loving design … blots and drips to symbolize the tainting of the otherwise perfect relationship between the Creator and the Creature …... / ... there is a traditional categorization of sins … these days perhaps rather outdated by realization that sin as such does not really hold some exact categories …. nevertheless I am upholding – very loosely – these categories for the sake of series of images on this theme …. armed with my sons ‘atlas of human anatomy’ .... looking more closely and lovingly onto “the clay” we are all made up of …..
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mixed media (metallic acrylic paint, printing ink and inks) on wash&draw paper A3 / .. inspired by conversation with DAMcD and some Roy Skogvold’s works / .. visual contemplation on the nature of ‘sin’ as being an integral part of our human make up … symbolism of bronze/gold/silver colour to accentuate the preciousness ( preciousness of the perceived value we often attach to our sinful preoccupations as well as preciousness intended for our bodies) ... bright colors for a loving design … blots and drips to symbolize the tainting of the otherwise perfect relationship between the Creator and the Creature …... / ... there is a traditional categorization of sins … these days perhaps rather outdated by realization that sin as such does not really hold some exact categories …. nevertheless I am upholding – very loosely – these categories for the sake of series of images on this theme …. armed with my sons ‘atlas of human anatomy’ .... looking more closely and lovingly onto “the clay” we are all made up of …..
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Taken as a 10 shot merge (from me runnig the stairs) at a trainstation (Mjolby – Sweden) waiting for a transfer. Xmas holidays 2008 Canon EOS 400D / Sigma 17-70 / F2.8-4.5 / ISO 100 / f/11 / multiple exp’s / 17mm CS4 for vignetting & levels More works can be found over at DeviantART / and / rdblanche.com
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She is regal, she is royal, she is every woman, she is you, she is me…she is strong in body mind and soul, she is timeless,...she is wise, she is free, this woman, “The Queen”... The Fourth in the series, her face is half turned to the viewer, looking away, conscious of her dignity, regal in her bearing, as if carved from the rarest wood... I have named you queen. / There are taller ones than you, taller. / There are purer ones than you, purer. / There are lovelier than you, lovelier. But you are the queen. When you go through the streets / no one recognizes you. / No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks / at the carpet of red gold / that you tread as you pass, / the nonexistent carpet. And when you appear / all the rivers sound / in my body, bells / shake the sky, / and a hymn fills the world. Only you and I, / only you and I, my love, / listen to it. Pablo Neruda Acrylic and Watercolour on Fabriano Artistico / The Masquerade / The Cameo
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/ In my goal to portray women in all guises and emotions, here is the latetst addition to the collection..”The Temptation”....we all know what the feeling…temptation comes in many disguises…is she the temptress, or has she been tempted?make of her what you will… / When I was halfway through painting it, I remembered a picture I had seen in a magazine advertising lipstick….the model had her fingers on the open lips…. I thought they would be a perfect addititon to the painting, but I needed to see them again, just to be sure…. I frantically dug through my recycling bin (luckily we are having a garbage strike and everthing is still here) and found the picture…..the fingers were just what I needed…it was apparent that the picture had been buried in my subconscious, just waiting to emerge in this painting….I made the modifications to the image and here it is Acrylic and watercolour on Fabriano Paper.. FEATURED IN.. .. / CREATIVE CARDS / THE OUTSIDERS / THE DIVINE FEMININE / TOP TEN CHALLENGE WIN IN PAINTED LADIES THE Demon, in my chamber high, / This morning came to visit me, / And, thinking he would find some fault, / He whispered: “I would know of thee Among the many lovely things / That make the magic of her face, / Among the beauties, black and rose, / That make her body’s charm and grace, Which is most fair?” Thou didst reply / To the Abhorred, O soul of mine: / “No single beauty is the best / When she is all one flower divine. When all things charm me I ignore / Which one alone brings most delight; / She shines before me like the dawn, / And she consoles me like the night. The harmony is far too great, / That governs all her body fair, / For impotence to analyse / And say which note is sweetest there. O mystic metamorphosis! / My senses into one sense flow— / Her voice makes perfume when she speaks, / Her breath is music faint and low!” ..Baudelaire / The Quiet / The Plea / Le Maquillage / The Queen / The Masquerade / The Cameo
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Abstract Macro Photography – Cityscape Peeling Paint on an old warehouse door / Kirkstall / Leeds
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