#surrealart — Public Fediverse posts

"Pink Vision" di Alessandra Carloni.

Oil and oil pastel on canvas.

#AlessandraCarloni #PinkVision #contemporaryart #contemporarypainting #ItalianArt #ItalianArtist #RomanArtist #painting #oilpainting #oilpastel #oiloncanvas #figurativeart #figurativepainting #surrealart #surrealism #visionaryart #urbanart #urbanlandscape #Rome #Roma #Ostiense #Gazometro #GazometroRoma #industriallandscape #artwork #artecontemporanea #pittura #arteitaliana #art #arte

Psalm 39

God breathed in.
I was born.

God breathes out.
I will die.

Thus is the scope of my life.

August 16, 2015

Psalm 39

God breathed in.
I was born.

God breathes out.
I will die.

Thus is the scope of my life.

August 16, 2015

Psalm 39

God breathed in.
I was born.

God breathes out.
I will die.

Thus is the scope of my life.

August 16, 2015

Psalm 39

God breathed in.
I was born.

God breathes out.
I will die.

Thus is the scope of my life.

August 16, 2015

The Places in My Dreams

The world within, the world of my dreams, is similar to the one I walk through every day. But it is different.

The streets bend strangely. The rooms open where they should not. The people and places are often indifferent to me, and sometimes, they are even antagonistic.

They are not merely people and places. They are representations of emotions I have not yet worked through from the previous day. Sixteen waking hours are not enough to fully grasp all that I have experienced, endured, feared, desired, regretted, or misunderstood.

And so, in the night, these things come alive.

They take on faces. They become houses, roads, crowds, locked doors, ruined landscapes, familiar rooms made unfamiliar. They guide me through the shadow lands—not always kindly, but truthfully. They show me what I could not see while awake.

My dreams are not escapes from the day.

They are the day returning in another form, asking to be understood.

Some nights I find myself back in places I have never been, and yet they feel older than memory. A school that was never my school. A church with hallways that keep multiplying. A childhood home rearranged by grief. A city I know by instinct, though no map has ever held it.

In these places, I am often trying to get somewhere.

I am late. I am lost. I am looking for someone. I am trying to explain myself to people who will not listen. I am searching for a room, a door, a vehicle, a path, a way home. Sometimes I am carrying something fragile. Sometimes I have forgotten what I was supposed to carry. Sometimes I am responsible for a task I do not understand, surrounded by people who seem to know the rules but refuse to tell me.

This is the cruelty of the dream world: everyone else seems initiated.

They move through the strange landscape as if it is ordinary. They know which hallway leads out, which road is safe, which bus to board, which door not to open. I am the stranger in a world that somehow belongs to me. I am the dreamer, and yet I am not in control.

Perhaps this is why the places feel antagonistic. They do not hate me. They are simply unwilling to flatter me. They will not pretend I am finished with what I have not faced. They will not comfort me with easy explanations. They turn my emotions into architecture and ask me to walk through them.

Fear becomes a narrow bridge.

Regret becomes a house with too many locked rooms.

Anger becomes a storm on the edge of town.

Shame becomes a crowd that sees me before I am ready to be seen.

Grief becomes a road that always returns to the same place.

And longing—longing becomes a light in a window I can never quite reach.

I wake from these dreams with the feeling that I have traveled farther than my body could have gone. I have crossed cities, fields, stairways, basements, sanctuaries, ruins, and train stations. I have spoken with the dead and avoided the living. I have been judged by strangers and ignored by friends. I have wandered through the unfinished weather of my own soul.

Then morning comes, and the ordinary world returns.

The walls are where I left them. The floor is solid. The dog needs to go out. The coffee waits. The phone glows with its small demands. The day begins again, pretending to be separate from the night.

But I know better.

The dream has left its residue. A feeling follows me, sometimes faint, sometimes heavy. A hallway from the dream lingers inside the hallway of the house. A face from the night appears behind the face of someone I know. A mood clings to the morning like fog.

The shadow lands do not vanish when I wake.

They retreat.

They wait beneath the visible world, beneath errands and conversations, beneath sermons and chores, beneath the version of myself that knows how to answer when someone asks, “How are you?”

I say, “I’m fine.”

But somewhere beneath that answer, an entire city is still burning, or flooding, or rebuilding itself in the dark.

I've been gradually replacing my Jehovah's Witness library. I use the books for research, as I'm writing religious horror based on JW beliefs. I lent my books to a prof over twenty years ago and he never returned them.

Here are some of my favourite illustrations from "Revelation Its Grand Climax at Hand!"

#ExJW #Surrealism #angels #Revelation #SurrealArt #ReligiousArt

Been a while but I'm back!

Here's a super early preview of something I'm currently working on in Blender. Lots more to do (doesn't even have the subject yet) but I'm already pretty happy with where it's going.

As always, this is not AI, but my own creative output 🙏

#art #artist #3d #3dart #blender #blender3dartwork #3dartwork #3dartists #render #cycles #blender3d #b3d #blenderart #blendercycles #surreal #surrealart #abstract #abstractart #landscapeart #scifiart #fantasy #fantasyart

100125

#wip #draw #drawing #art #PencilArt #FictionalCharacters #ArtisticNarrative #characterdesign #CreativeDrawing #A4Art #IllustrationOfTheDay #SurrealArt #VisualStorytelling #Sketch #pencil

... |▲| ...
#house #surrealart #surrealhorror #painting #eerie #creepy #lovecraftian #aiia #aiartcommunity #horrorart #digitalpainting #midjourney

... the somnambulist ...
#somnambulist #drcaligari #silentfilms #germancinema #surrealart #sleepwalker #aiphotography #darkart #caligari

... the somnambulist ...
#somnambulist #drcaligari #silentfilms #germancinema #surrealart #sleepwalker #aiphotography #darkart #caligari

... madness ...
#somnambulist #drcaligari #silentfilms #germancinema #surrealart #sleepwalker #aiphotography #darkart #caligari

... the somnambulist ...
#somnambulist #drcaligari #silentfilms #germancinema #surrealart #sleepwalker #aiphotography #darkart #caligari

... the somnambulist ...
#somnambulist #drcaligari #silentfilms #germancinema #surrealart #sleepwalker #aiphotography #darkart #caligari

Youth in Red Cap. Handmade collage made from paper and watercolor, depicting a young man deep in thought.

Link to Collage: https://ernesto-beckford.pixels.com/featured/youth-in-red-cap-ernesto-beckford.html

#SurrealArt #ArtistOnMastodon #Tintoretto

I had an art book called Surreal Friends that covered surrealist artists Leonora Carrington, Remedios Varo, and Kati Horner I felt I had to sell a couple of years ago to make ends meet, along with Alice Neel and Cy Twombly art books. Now I find out Surreal Friends can be bought for between $500 and $2400, but the things we must do to get by...We are discussing #LeonoraCarrington in our #AWoundedFawn discussion in #HorrorMovieClub #ModernArt #SurrealArt https://brokenwriterblog.wordpress.com/2021/02/09/early-post-modern-part-2-alice-neel/

I had an art book called Surreal Friends that covered surrealist artists Leonora Carrington, Remedios Varo, and Kati Horner I felt I had to sell a couple of years ago to make ends meet, along with Alice Neel and Cy Twombly art books. Now I find out Surreal Friends can be bought for between $500 and $2400, but the things we must do to get by...We are discussing #LeonoraCarrington in our #AWoundedFawn discussion in #HorrorMovieClub #ModernArt #SurrealArt https://brokenwriterblog.wordpress.com/2021/02/09/early-post-modern-part-2-alice-neel/