Posts tagged "tentacles"
  1. Notes: 61 / 3 months ago  from elizagauger
    elizagauger:

Cowboy200918 x 24”acrylic on canvas
collection of Phil Nelson

    elizagauger:

    Cowboy
    2009
    18 x 24”
    acrylic on canvas

    collection of Phil Nelson

     
  2. Notes: 1874 / 5 months ago  from writingcyan (originally from hommegurl)

    (Source: hommegurl)

     
  3. Notes: 27 / 5 months ago 
     
  4. Notes: 29 / 5 months ago  from fuckyeahtentaspy
    fuckyeahtentaspy:

Vintage illustration, probably turn of the century.  Unknown source; possibly from Sherlock Holmes?

    fuckyeahtentaspy:

    Vintage illustration, probably turn of the century.  Unknown source; possibly from Sherlock Holmes?

     
  5. Notes: 24 / 5 months ago 

    in the continued spirit of Transparency in Art, here’s a snapshot of my current progress on Sixteen. 

    I’m continuing to refine the painting, just adding lil specular highlights and so on.  trying to make the skin look damp or even wet.  finishing detailing the tentacles.  the colored version is a mockup i just did in Photoshop, trying to figure out if i want to add some cyan or leave it monochrome, and how it’ll look with the ink splatter on the tentacle.  and the third picture is my “reference board” for tentacles, shoulder, water droplets (which i haven’t added yet), and a beautiful little oil painting of a girl’s face that i thought would help me out a bit.

    hopefully it’ll all be done by tomorrow night.  i wish i had time to frame it, but the dimensions are screwy (14.5 x 16.5”) so I think i’ll have to hang it bare.

    previous progress shots:

    1

    2

  6. Notes: 18 / 5 months ago 
    progress shot of the painting for the Material Possession art show on the 17th.  Probably calling this one Sixteen, the next in a sequence starting from Fourteen, which was an illustration for Conclave Journal (Fourteen is pretty old; forgive the fucked anatomy and linework please):


They know where his room is; they can follow the chemicals in thetrails on the carpet, their black tongues digging through the shag tofind him.  Six told me once that they can taste, in the air, (“Inempty space,” he said) the particular ways about you.  The way yourbones are strung together, and how they slide among all your meat.Those things.
“Fourteen is a dancer,” said Six.  “The clients can…” and here hestuck his cigarette in his teeth, freeing both hands to grope for theword, “taste the way he moves.  The air he displaces when he walksthrough a room—they can feel that, even after he’s gone.”  Six was aheavy smoker.  They loved the chemicals in his lungs. I could hear himcough, when they took him to his room.  The keeper kept Six fed oncigarettes, brought through just for this purpose.  Each of us, we’rea little different.  Thirty-one flavors, says Six.
I like how Fourteen wears his mask tilted down a little, so the fringeswings loose.  I like his sticky skin, the musk of it, the furrowsdragged in the mucus shellac at the end of his shift.  Sometimes hejust goes to bed without washing, and fuzz from his blankets getshoneyed up in the slickness, and I like that too.

and then Fifteen (also oldish, anatomy is screwy here too)…


Fifteen never had a story, but he’s from the same universe as Fourteen—the Brothel Between Worlds, where the horrors from beyond the stars drop in for whatever services a creche of press-ganged human slaves can provide. 
Interdimensional monsters despise the tender, mobile human face, of course, which is why Fourteen and Sixteen have tentacled masks.  Fifteen’s mask was set aside for the purposes of portraiture, but it is likely similar. 
Exposure to the various, unwholesome essences tracked in or exuded by planet-devourers does cause mutation over time, and there is the occasional child born into the house.  Fourteen is apparently whole and human, but Fifteen seems gracious about his “arm”.  It’s difficult to tell whether Sixteen’s teeth were filed down, changed organically over time, or if she was born this way.  She may have gotten her cephalopodean pupils from her father.  Or her mother.
And really, does it matter?

    progress shot of the painting for the Material Possession art show on the 17th.  Probably calling this one Sixteen, the next in a sequence starting from Fourteen, which was an illustration for Conclave Journal (Fourteen is pretty old; forgive the fucked anatomy and linework please):

    They know where his room is; they can follow the chemicals in the
    trails on the carpet, their black tongues digging through the shag to
    find him. Six told me once that they can taste, in the air, (“In
    empty space,” he said) the particular ways about you. The way your
    bones are strung together, and how they slide among all your meat.
    Those things.

    “Fourteen is a dancer,” said Six. “The clients can…” and here he
    stuck his cigarette in his teeth, freeing both hands to grope for the
    word, “taste the way he moves. The air he displaces when he walks
    through a room—they can feel that, even after he’s gone.” Six was a
    heavy smoker. They loved the chemicals in his lungs. I could hear him
    cough, when they took him to his room. The keeper kept Six fed on
    cigarettes, brought through just for this purpose. Each of us, we’re
    a little different. Thirty-one flavors, says Six.

    I like how Fourteen wears his mask tilted down a little, so the fringe
    swings loose. I like his sticky skin, the musk of it, the furrows
    dragged in the mucus shellac at the end of his shift. Sometimes he
    just goes to bed without washing, and fuzz from his blankets gets
    honeyed up in the slickness, and I like that too.

    and then Fifteen (also oldish, anatomy is screwy here too)…

    Fifteen never had a story, but he’s from the same universe as Fourteen—the Brothel Between Worlds, where the horrors from beyond the stars drop in for whatever services a creche of press-ganged human slaves can provide. 

    Interdimensional monsters despise the tender, mobile human face, of course, which is why Fourteen and Sixteen have tentacled masks.  Fifteen’s mask was set aside for the purposes of portraiture, but it is likely similar. 

    Exposure to the various, unwholesome essences tracked in or exuded by planet-devourers does cause mutation over time, and there is the occasional child born into the house.  Fourteen is apparently whole and human, but Fifteen seems gracious about his “arm”.  It’s difficult to tell whether Sixteen’s teeth were filed down, changed organically over time, or if she was born this way.  She may have gotten her cephalopodean pupils from her father.  Or her mother.

    And really, does it matter?

     
  7. Notes: 28 / 5 months ago 
    Poorly-sharpied envelope decoration for the buyer of the Last Demon Prince.

    Poorly-sharpied envelope decoration for the buyer of the Last Demon Prince.

     
  8. Notes: 29 / 8 months ago 
    Here’s a better snap of the PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS that I did for today.

    Here’s a better snap of the PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS that I did for today.

     
avatar_128
 
 
Prime cuts, previously frozen.
 
 

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