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Holy cow it's finally posted I've been sitting on this since November and now I can finally dump this to the site and be FREEEEEEE! Look forward to the other Anthology posts, folks. May the readings be sweet.
To make is a greater joy than having made.
Because to love your art is to love yourself.
Art by the kind and talented daviiid.
What is life if not the contrast between what has been and what will become?
The dichotomies between the white and gold sections are palpable and are refreshing in their differences throughout the piece. I love the questions and answers you pose in this piece, especially because you are posing them in this environment. Posting as a part of an event, on a public site, with a rating system. It's a poignant reminder on what we hold dear as artists and what we make for. The curator is off-putting and the prose is as sticky as sap. I love it!
Also, that art by dave is gobsmackingly cool
I love smacking gobs
<3
Dave made some epic hands, especially for the curator-moth.
-Styg
What is life if not the contrast between what has been and what will become?
Topping this is gonna be nigh-impossible, my friend. Truly, this is your best work yet.
Ah, I am pleased! To let you in on my long-term plan: One can climb the silks and perform on the flying trapeze, but two beautiful performances (one on each) cannot be directly compared. They are both circus performances, and both in the air, but two different genres. And knowing both is more brilliant than only knowing one. Thus, one may advance by stepping sideways.
Mwah. See you with luminescent tide.
-Styg
What is life if not the contrast between what has been and what will become?
This is, as Din said, your greatest work yet. Though I don't doubt you can top it, your works get exponentially better with each iteration published. Wonderful that's being recognized here, with this apart of the big fancy anthology and all. Well deserved and well done. I can't really put how proud of this I am, even though its not my work.
Your style here is unmistakable, and enviable that you've found a voice that feels like its uniquely yours (at least it does to the audience). Well done, well done. You know all that, and probably everything I'm gonna say. But man I need to gush about this for a minute or five.
wishing I could stand before my painting, not beside, to protect it from the radiant heat.
I feel this. Making something and then not wanting it to be seen (be in the light), for fear that the light will ruin it or deem it unfit. Perhaps that is because I predetermine said art to be unfit myself all too often.
where they were looking, how they were feeling, whether they were joking or mocking or emitting those tired sighs of the bored and obligated.
Okay I'm starting to realize this as all-too-familiar…
The votes piled up.
For me, I see this work through the lens of a sort of Imposter Syndrome. Perhaps that's not really what it's aimed at, but this line really hammers something. It never tells us what the 'votes' are, or what they mean.
“You don’t have a work,” he intoned. “Why not?”
I love the blankness of the curator. How he can be perceived in any way, but the ambiguousness is not annoying or petty. It is real and palpable, like there is something objective there, but you have to find it. Or you have to realize it, and what he represents.
I couldn’t make another painting. It just wasn't coming to me. Nothing mattered anymore.
Yup.
…Nothing. The canvas held nothing at all. But also something. Something meant for others, which I could never see.
This is probably the most powerful line of the piece, and one that I don't think I fully understand yet. But there is an energy behind it, like it is a revelation or a holy epiphany.
And then the white text at the end, nothing short of prophetic.
It sounds a little cringe to say that this speaks to me. It feels deeply personal, but perhaps not. I can't really express right now my full feelings in an articulate manner. Well done, well done. This has been a ramble. Thank you for this work.
Fires rage just below the surface of the ice.
This is a delight to read. I am so glad that this work is moving — I have seen it for far too long as the sum of its parts, nothing beyond, but now that it is alive and thrashing I find my nets of "it should be" and "but what if" in tatters. Splendid — and I am thrilled that the curator is as impactful as I had hoped. This white text is my favourite of all white texts, with Bass Pro Shops Pyramid coming in close second. Mwah, and thank you for the joy. See you in the next work.
-Styg
What is life if not the contrast between what has been and what will become?
This is good. This is really, really good. This dreamy style, this jumping between worlds, it reminds me of Julio Cortazar's 'The Night Face Up', or that nature ying-yang like energy that Hesse's 'Demian' has. This sort of dichotomy between a tough reality and this idyllic world that is kinder, but also more constricting, because you've made it more constricting, because you've allowed yourself to be imprisoned by the statue, allow it to chisel you down, crack you into pieces, into shards, and when you wake up you realize this and you can finally see that the curator, that the audience, they're all shadows in a cave, and maybe you can face the fire again, with a proper smile now.
It's odd, it's… It's not scary, but it's saddening certainly, because I see myself in the piece, and if I see myself in one of your pieces, that's usually not a good sign, being honest lol
All in all, a beautiful metaphor that is both beautifully crafted and really evocative. Loved it. +1~
The horror here is extremely subtle but masterfully executed. You can feel the dripping of sanity, the slow wash of time creeping in on the perspective character. The oppressiveness of what their life has become and tge loss of love for their caft.
I hope to never felt this way in my life. And that's why this issue good horror.
-Avalon
I watch the yonder hills
See foodwrenches toil in dust
Let their cacophonous calls
Rend our bodies to rust
