Tragedy
413 creative works found
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One of my most powerful works according to friends and family. Take from it what you will. Medium: Indian ink and Gray wash, Pantone markers and Photoshop CS2.
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Illustration based on the tragedy, Pyramus and Thisbe. Medium: Indian ink + Pantone markers.
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Study with Adobe Photoshop Elements 3.0 / Just learning how to use the full potential of Photoshop software. / Thanks for viewing.
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Also available as a tee:
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Tomorrow will be the tenth anniversary of my sobriety. / 10 years ago; I drew this. Almost to the DAY. I was drunk drunk DRUNK; I looked older than I do now. My eyes were yellow in the corners, my skin sickening in turn and colouring. Liver damage… jaundice HURTS… I had lost my license for three years; totalled my 1976 Honda civic. This also entailed the end of my job delivering pizzas. / I spent four hours a day on public transport, refusing to give up; to fail or bail on even one unit in my degree. Sweating glazed nauseous. / Yeh. / I was so lonely I would go and stand near other students. To be near someone. Anyone. / I was trying to be healthy, any way I could. I was a lot more heavily muscled from weights in those days. I dunno why they thought that was funny. They made fun of me a lot. I smiled sick. Took it. I don’t think I replied in those years before I quit. I don’t know. But I don’t think so. I can’t remember… and i can’t imagine it now. / I Stuttered. I stood still. Stayed. / After I sobered up I couldn’t believe that I didn’t feel sick all the time. I would get a shock every morning… I am NOT in physical PAIN? / And there were more gifts. After two months my face had completely changed shape. The subcutaneous fluid retention – the swollen cheek and uncertain jaw – the bicycle tire of tummy that had plagued my thousands of workouts. They were gone. I aged backwards, fast. / And I craved. / After three months, sudden colour surged fiercely bright to my startled, clear eyes. So BRIGHT! The wild saturated breaking point of surreal. Verdant and intense, so intense. / I swear at that moment. I could hear a low buzzing and hissing from the colour; in sibilant, sympathetic resonance… synesthesia? Nah. Shock. I stared. I stared. When I came back, sober, for the final year of my degree… I remember the nastiest of the girls who had ridiculed me stalked up to me with her coterie already giggling in anticipation. They were ak carefully so carefully dressed and rehearsed; each one. / ‘Oh look it’s – ’ she began, her full pretty lips curling as she pointed to my crotch. Her voice gaining volume as she warmed to one of her favourite impotence jokes. / ‘WOAH!’ I said, jumping out of my seat and knocking it over. / ‘WOAH! Crystal! You look SO MUCH like Ricky Lake! Woah… Christ. I am so sorry… So sorry.’ I patted her arm and turned away, biting a knuckle. She really did look like Ricky Lake. And I really had not noticed until that point. / She said nothing, her mouth open. She looked like a still of Ricky in Indy punk parody. / The coterie cackled… ‘Oh gawd Crystal someone else noticed!’ a goth sweating in her blacks and face paint hiccupped after her bray of laughter. / ‘You c*t.’ Crystal hissed to me. / Three months later I found myself in bed with her. Had I learned nothing? I craved. I fantasised… the perfect drink, the mania returning. Sweet succulent forgiveness. An absolution of numbness. A raw promise in a few drops. / The welcome of the sharp ethanol BITE. (“A hundred thousand welcomes! I could weep and I could laugh! I am light and heavy. Welcome!” – Shakespeare. I don’t think he meant a DRINK somehow.) I crave. I still crave. Sometimes. That warmth. / The guilt teased slowly outwards warmed and fooled… etiolated. / And, for that doomed moment, bearable. / At times, I ache for it. Nights that are hard and long. Sporadic; brutal want. / Still. / Yes.
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One of the 62 Images of 279 taken that I liked from my latest studio shoot with Stephanie. To me, it has a sense of tragedy; though you don’t have to agree.
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A depiction of Boudicca rallying her troops to battle against the Roman Empire, in a desperate attempt to halt their empire building and globalisation. A brave, but failed, effort. It cost her dearly. Boudicca lends herself to a variety of supporters. To some, her actions represents a counter to the globalisation of the western world. Yet perversely Margret Thatcher visualised herself as Bouddica when she was dismantling the infrastructure of the UK, and softening it up for globalisation, which accelerated under Blair. Eventually, the Roman Empire was held in check by the Caledonians in the highlands of Alba (Scotland). Perversely, it is now a Scot, Gordon Brown, who is desperate to uphold the Globalisation Empire. How things change!
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The level of compassion that humans are capable of has never ceased to amase me. This picture has stayed with me for years, after first seeing it in a simple e-mail forward. RedBubble’s competition “Comapssion” was the perfect excuse to draw it. materials: compressed charcoal, kneadable erasure, cannon paper. / time: approx. 8 hours total
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Ink drawing on paper. Another rejected character from a book I wrote called Everyday Tragedies. Original size: 12×15cm
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Tonight is Halloween night. Juliet is waiting… Explore your imagination with fiction…
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Westfield, NJ – Aug 2008
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Garwood, NJ – Sept 2008 – Using a painting with light method, but in photoshop
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I was feeling rather mushy when I drew this one…
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Title: The University of Texas Tower / Camera: Nikon D80 / Capture Date: 12/0/2007 / Dimensions: 2572×3842 / Exposure: 1/45 sec f/16 / Focal Length: 50mm / ISO: 100 / Filter: None / Flash: None / Tripod: None / Uploaded Date: 01/09/2009 / Comments: The 307-foot tall UT Austin Tower, designed by Paul Cret of Philadelphia, was completed in 1937. Through the years, the Tower has served as the University’s most distinguishing landmark and as a symbol of academic excellence and personal opportunity. Hook ‘em Horns! © 2007 Charles Dobbs Photography. All photographs and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Charles Dobbs. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.
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They say you can’t believe / Everything you read in the paper / I wish that were true today So many loved / So many lost / So many could not get away And if tears were rain / And prayers a blanket / So many could have been saved / Wish I could ease the pain / Turn back time and the wind / But God has taken what He gave The wind blew one way / Saved my friend / Then blew the other / Took another home I can’t stop thinking / In what ifs / But I want to / I’m happy you are here still And if tears were rain / And prayers a blanket / So many could have been saved / Wish I could ease the pain / Turn back time and the wind / But God has taken what He gave I’m sure they were strong to the last / They lived too fast / For the sun / I’m sure they loved the hardest / They’d ever done / I know they won I’m sure this rain is tears / From heaven / To wash away the pain (C) words and music Caleb White 2009 Caleb is a good friend ex drum student and a very talented singer/ songwriter drummer. He will post the music to go with this on his facebook page soon. Photo taken at Wilsons Promontory after the 2005 bush fires just as life started to return. If only hearts were as resilient as nature. The recent spate of Victorian bush fires has also included the Prom burning The Cathedral above Sealers Cove an adjoining mountain only a few kilometers from here. The ‘saved friend’ is a good mutual mate… 100% of profits will go to the Salvos bushfire Appeal (I’ve put my margin up more than usual as it’s kind of pointless donating unless there’s a bit of money in it).
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The sun could be found behind a blanket of smoke this morning due to the recent devastating bush fires across our state of Victoria, Australia. Many people perished and thousands of homes were destroyed in the fires. I dedicate this to them and hope the new day brings new hope. Thanks for looking.
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Mixed Media / 11×11.5 Strathmore paper A Tragic Valentine’s Day Illustration on acid free 80lb Strathmore smooth drawing paper created with a small selection of Graphite, Markers, watercolor, and oils. This is a Martha Williams Original Illustration hand signed and carefully crafted. Perfect for those that love dark and morbid artwork. *Framed on Request- Just send me a message/email with details if you would like this work framed and matted. ~Martha Williams / http://www.marthawilliamsart.com
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This painting is the piece of the series of Memory ; / The Past And Forever / Love Is All / Another Time, Another Word / Always And Forever / Sisters / Sunset In Paradise / Oil on canvas 90cmX 120cm. / This for you Terezkem , my lovely daughter , she died when she was nearly 15 …… Thank you my friends your comments and support mean a lot to me. I had this pain bottled up in me so so long… but I knew and hoped with time passing things will change and turn out good… I was right, things started to unfold last week and I could just see and feel it. Working with this wonderful model just inspired me and brought all those feelings up from my heart, bones and my most inner part. I loved every minutes of it and it gave me a wonderful peace of mind. A big thank you for ANAISNAIS who let to share her beautiful poem here: / ””OH MY… / Oh my pretty lady / what depths do you bide? / Seductive’s your body, / your head held with pride / Your bountiful form / shows your bosoms desire / and naked you hide still / your depths so on fire / As eyes do move loser / with interest to seek, / through misty white clouds / two arms they do peek. / Yet they’re not of your own / for yours fall at your side, / and these wrapped around you / near the nest you do hide. / Your face shows eyes longing / a deeply set love, / and mouth blushed, unmoving, / rose cheeks just above. / On your mossy green bed, / through this picture I see, / you are settled in love / with someone that’s not me. / Yet things are not right, / I can see by the flowers / for their heads are a drooping, / like they’ve cried tears for hours. / Oh my pretty lady, / your body’s your own / You can still say no. / Life it can change / and minds petals still grow.’‘ / All Origional art work can be purchased through the artist. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-——- Copyright notice: / All rights reserved. All images contained on these pages are © copyright protected by Mariska and any use of these images in any form without written permission will be considered an infringement of these copyrights.
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This collage was inspired by the tragic tale of Shakespeare’s Ophelia… Gertrude’s soliloquy (from Act 4 Scene 7): ”...There is a willow grows aslant a brook, / That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; / There with fantastic garlands did she come / Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples / That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, / But our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them: / There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds / Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; / When down her weedy trophies and herself / Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; / And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up: / Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes; / As one incapable of her own distress, / Or like a creature native and indued / Unto that element: but long it could not be / Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, / Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay / To muddy death…”
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2009 / pens and pencils This one’s for my cousin, Mickey, who lost his life when drafted to fight a senseless war in Vietnam. Just before he left us and went overseas, he taught me how to throw a curve ball. He was a great ball player, a good man, and I loved him.
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