The bottlemen live in your neighborhood. Their faces set always to the east. They want nothing more than to remain buried in the sands of time. The poison of their thoughts perfume the world with a scent of apathy. The fragile world, awaiting a casket of wisdom, lost to men and animals alike, wonders if the powers will succumb to this vileness.
The ancient earth stirs, making a tumult of fiery ejaculations, crushing the stony foundations of destiny. The bottlemen fear the stony unknown and the rocky face of the future. They would hide, but they will not be moved for fear grips their shiny surfaces. They will only melt under the heat of change.
i have learned a long time ago that thinking is never done, like editing. sometimes you have to stop thinking about one thing to think about another, but you can revisit the thinking. That’s how things should work. But the more people get into solidifying their thoughts, the more those thoughts end up being stupid. The thinking can’t stop, it has to go on, or the thinking become stale like day old bread. That is one of the main problems with everyone, they just stop thinking.
Here is the first picture that I worked on and thought about. The colors are simplistic, and I called the piece the colors of Joy. Frankly, I just ran out of time. This day was a day of celebration, as my health was improving. Bright colors and contrasting forms show the feeling.
When I got back to the linear form, the colors, and their elementary faces, I thought, I can do more. I spent another bit of time thinking about it, and then another day sat down and replayed the colors, shapes and lines, but not so zesty were more choice, as my mood had shifted to a more introspective angle. I have been contemplating changes and obstacles. Stark differences in both attitude and focus, which came out clearly in the piece, called Fish bones. What do you think?