My pen sensitivity has gone on my pen tablet. I think I need to get a new one. In the meantime though, it has been interesting experimenting with the different types of art I can create without the sensitivity, such as these flat characters.
Pastel pencil study of the intertwined hands of the Ambrogio Borghi sculpture, Chioma di Berenice. Faber Castell pastel pencils, Black and White Generals charcoal pencils on 9” x 12” Strathmore Toned Grey sketchbook paper.
World gone to hell
Sons duaghters leaving their families homes, dying of a new and namles plague. Where are the gods? And what has become of my hero? I am king, but no more subjects are under my command.
A kingdom falls. A new age dawns, the illest omens herald its bitter arrival .
God preserve us.
We have forasken god, they do not forasake us.
This is why we must be stricken with sickness. . . .. … …
Weep for me.
Weep for all our brothers and sisters.
And now every uncreative poet and halfwit bard seeks to make drama of our troubles.
We are their muse, their grand epic to tell the children.
Fear the virus, dont look away, disturb the dead, praise us for our lies to you. They lead the masses to slay each out of fear.
Cry.
Yes, cry
Cry for your fallen.
They will not be returning for you soon.
But you are still alive, and for that you shall become stronger.
Onward
We cannot always bury the dead. Today , time is against us. We move foward, we carry the sorrow, but the ultimate goal is to defeat sorrow. Whatever form this darkess takes, we face it. Unafraid. And unrelenting.
Forge on into the night. Not gently and quiet shall be our passing.
For, if i am to end, and you likewise, we plant our flag atop the highest hill.
We scream our battle cry and let none forget our actions
.
The very mountains will shake, and echo our last breath.
This is my promise.
If i shall die, i die as i am now
A man. I have decided.
So, i die
…..
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