Small Oil Study Of David Bowie In His Thin White Duke Era.

Captains James Clark Ross and Francis R.M. Crozier posing for a portrait after their return from Antarctica.

(Featuring: JCR's extra fur from that other portrait and FRMC's other best friend, a dip circle)

The original idea was to leave it black and white to give it a daguerrotype feeling, but I am quite tempted to try and colorize it.

THE FOOL ON THE HILL .     recorded: September 25-27 / October 20, 1967       filmed: October 31, 1967, in Nice

PAUL: I used to know Marijke [member of “The Fool”, the Dutch design collective and band], she was a quite striking-looking girl. She used to read my fortune in Tarot cards, which was something I wasn’t too keen on because I didn’t want to draw the death card one day. I still don’t like that kind of stuff because I know my mind will dwell on it. I always steered a bit clear of all that shit, but in fact it always used to come out as the Fool. And I used to say, ‘Oh, dear!’ and she used to say, ‘No no no. The Fool’s a very good card. On the surface it looks stupid, the Fool, but in fact it’s one of the best cards, because it’s the innocent, it’s the child, it’s that reading of fool.’ So I began to like the word ‘fool’, because I began to see through the surface meaning. I wrote ‘The Fool on the Hill’ out of that experience of seeing Tarot cards. (…) I think I was writing about someone like Maharishi. His detractors called him a fool. Because of his giggle he wasn’t taken too seriously. It was this idea of a fool on the hill, a guru in a cave, I was attracted to. I remember once hearing about a hermit who missed the Second World War because he’d been in a cave in Italy, and that always appealed to me. I was sitting at the piano in at my father’s house in Liverpool hitting a D 6th chord and I made up ‘Fool on the Hill’. There were some good words in it, ‘perfectly still’, I liked that, and the idea that everyone thinks he’s stupid appealed to me, because they still do. Saviours or gurus are generally spat upon, so I thought for my generation I’d suggest that they weren’t as stupid as they looked. [myfn]

//

PAUL: It was during that time, A-levels time, I remember thinking, in many ways I wish I was a lorry driver, a Catholic lorry driver. Very very simple life, a firm faith and a place to go in my lorry, in my nice lorry. I realised I was more complex than that and I slightly envied that life. I envied the innocence. [myfn]

The empty shells of fallen Dreamers, those caught by the servants of the King in Yellow, tormented and used for horrible experiments still wander the lost city, always seeking for what they lost.

The Dreamer finds herself in Lost Carcosa, and is saved by a cat of Ulthar.

@amyma-ymamy

Ereinion Gil-Galad, son of Fingon, Idril and Earendil in the Havens of Sirion. First meeting.

Fly or die (the Last Greenseer)

I was reading A Song of Ice and Fire (again) and I felt like painting Bran's "fly or die" dream. The problem is that my brain is broken and I ended up thinking about the Three Eyed Crow and how he probably may have learned greensight the same way from his predecessor... so here is Brynden Rivers being taught the fine art the greenseer by almost being impaled on oniric spikes.

(In my headcanon this happened while he was recovering from the Redgrass Field)

So I've been binge watching twin peaks and I can't believe I waited so long. It has everything. Beautiful imagery, creepy and unsettling vibes, owls that are not what they seem, my crush Audrey Horne (a goddess who deserves better), A LOT of fan theories and lore, the whole Blue Rose thing ... I am in love.

Also Phillip Jeffries the Teapot from Mars.

Here's a sketch of Diane, inspired by a scene in this fic.

Piper at the Gates of dawn my beloved.

Along the shore the cloud waves break,

The twin suns sink behind the lake,

The shadows lengthen

In Carcosa.

Strange is the night where black stars rise,

And strange moons circle through the skies,

But stranger still is

Lost Carcosa.

Songs that the Hyades shall sing,

Where flap the tatters of the King,

Must die unheard in

Dim Carcosa.

Song of my soul, my voice is dead,

Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed

Shall dry and die in

Lost Carcosa.

—"Cassilda's Song" in The King in Yellow Act 1, Scene 2

It may be that I saw the Yellow Sign, but... this is the first of a series of paintings for a project I am working on with @amyma-ymamy. Hope you like it, it is the first city I paint.

As usual, I know nothing.

Random creepy dude sketch (with partial timelapse!)

Pretty stylized but I love it. It has some Saruman vibes. The Two Towers audiobook I'm listening to is probably to blame.

Is it me or the content for adults policy in tumblr now is weird? Like a drawing of a guy in a bathrobe is suddenly "adult content'. Like have you ever been at the beach?