Dragon and girl
felt tip pen, watercolor on paper
"A Dragon and a Girl”
This is my story for this drawing, but you can make your own:
She lives in an over-grown, over ripe, rotten post industrial world. Where "progress" is a thing of the past. And all the future to look forward to is being alive to witness the End. All there is to hope for is that it will all burn in a murtitude of colorful flames.But, all there is to expect is a cold, painfully long, mildewed end, full of warms and mold, same as it ever was.
She works a million shitty jobs serving pigs who are too dumb to realized they are eating their own shit. She used to think of herself as an "artist". Now, she tries not to think. Just another sad, neurotic product: too crazy to live, too hungry to die.
She draws things because, otherwise, she cant breath. Because, otherwise, what's the point?
When she closes her eyes, she deams of dragons. As she falls asleep, numb, they fly above the smog and the poisoned seas. They open their mouths and they breath,
Fire
To burn it all.
They breath new life. Their roars thunder like the day of last judgement, from those pamphlets that crazy guy at the bus stop gives to strangers. He sais that its bad, but she wishes she could believe it was real. Still, she dreams of it. She feels warmth. Like the skull from that crazy old Russian fairytale-- everything is illuminated.
"A Dragon and a Girl”
This is my story for this drawing, but you can make your own:
She lives in an over-grown, over ripe, rotten post industrial world. Where "progress" is a thing of the past. And all the future to look forward to is being alive to witness the End. All there is to hope for is that it will all burn in a murtitude of colorful flames.But, all there is to expect is a cold, painfully long, mildewed end, full of warms and mold, same as it ever was.
She works a million shitty jobs serving pigs who are too dumb to realized they are eating their own shit. She used to think of herself as an "artist". Now, she tries not to think. Just another sad, neurotic product: too crazy to live, too hungry to die.
She draws things because, otherwise, she cant breath. Because, otherwise, what's the point?
When she closes her eyes, she deams of dragons. As she falls asleep, numb, they fly above the smog and the poisoned seas. They open their mouths and they breath,
Fire
To burn it all.
They breath new life. Their roars thunder like the day of last judgement, from those pamphlets that crazy guy at the bus stop gives to strangers. He sais that its bad, but she wishes she could believe it was real. Still, she dreams of it. She feels warmth. Like the skull from that crazy old Russian fairytale-- everything is illuminated.