Poseidon_s servant
pen and colored ink pencils on paper
This picture started from a seashell. I found a giant seashell on my boat one day and tossed it back into the water, thinking about clutter. The next morning, there it was again, laying on the deck. It must have been dragged out there by some disappointed seagull. Or, perhaps, it had been the hand of fate itself.
I kept it this time, and utilized it as an ashtray. It chills there, on my brown formica table, patterned with black and gray like the table’s dirt-concealing surface. But, sometimes, when I slip between reality and dreams, the seashell transforms into an interdimensional portal which carries me to a world of mythical creatures and stained-glass oceans, where Poseidon’s servant is punishing a hubristic captain.
This picture started from a seashell. I found a giant seashell on my boat one day and tossed it back into the water, thinking about clutter. The next morning, there it was again, laying on the deck. It must have been dragged out there by some disappointed seagull. Or, perhaps, it had been the hand of fate itself.
I kept it this time, and utilized it as an ashtray. It chills there, on my brown formica table, patterned with black and gray like the table’s dirt-concealing surface. But, sometimes, when I slip between reality and dreams, the seashell transforms into an interdimensional portal which carries me to a world of mythical creatures and stained-glass oceans, where Poseidon’s servant is punishing a hubristic captain.