Random note #05: Robots and human anatomy by pika, journal
Random note #05: Robots and human anatomy
Ever wondered why designing robots is so difficult? Have you had that nagging feeling that something is off? Have you questioned why canon designs look so much better than yours and you can't quite put your finger on it why it is so? Especially when it comes to Transformers Prime style?
I might have one answer for you, explained with these pictures, I hope:
This is just TFP style, should we move to for example IDW bots? Sure, why not!
Okay, I'll stop with the image spam now.
One would argue that human anatomy as a base for a robot is a good start, yes, very much so. After a start the human body underneath becomes less convenient in means
Her long, white hair is strung in curls
On ragged skin that doesn’t exist
Her cold, black fingertips unfurl,
And clamp her hands around my wrists
She’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen
A woman I yearn to love and hold
The greatest queen I yearn to keep
Who takes me to the waters cold
I gave my love a silver mirror,
Her reflection seemed to quake
And deep inside the crystal tears
My corpse was dumped into the lake
How copyright infringement can ruin your life by rydi1689, journal
How copyright infringement can ruin your life
Being a growing artist is easy! – Said no one, ever.
Everyone who’s ever been interested in art has seen it happen. The dreadful moment when an unsuspecting person redraws or reposts someone else’s art without credit or permission.
Once word spreads of what this person has done, all hell breaks loose. Everyone flocks to their account, pitchforks up in the air, ready to flame them for stealing someone’s art.
Some politely ask them to remove the work. Some tell them to credit the artist. And some tell them… to burn in a fire.
It’s a terrible experience for everyone involved. This usually causes that perso
Wasted Blood Dripping by ArsenicalLady, literature
Literature
Wasted Blood Dripping
I looked for you, you know
In the silence
The screams of the dead kept me awake at night
Now every time I look through the windowMy brother’s ghost stands
Right where you left him
I’m cold, you know
On All Hallows Eve
I looked for myself
Watching the people who had life put together
Just for you
I looked up at the empty, empty moon
And felt your red hot fingers dragging across my skin
I told myself it wouldn't work by ArsenicalLady, literature
Literature
I told myself it wouldn't work
Something told me to follow that boy
Something in my heart stirred and said he's crying. He's crying like you used to.
And I imagined myself running up to him, asking what was wrong; I still see it
Even though I stayed.
There was a dead body in the back seat, and it was staring at Mike.
"It's not staring at you," Sandie told him. "Actually, I'm not sure that it can see."
"It?"
"Well, it's not a he or a she. I didn't exactly check, but it was kind of hard not to notice "
"I don't think I needed to know that."
And still it stared.
Mike kept a firm hold on Sandie's hand until they got on the Loop and she needed both hands to drive. She looked grim and determined in the green glow of the dashboard lights. It talked to her, she said, talked to her in dreams the way angels were said to do sometimes. Whatever was riding in that weird, hairless body
Discussion - Emotion in Artwork by ChaosFissure, journal
Discussion - Emotion in Artwork
There's many times I've said "wow, I can feel something looking at this artwork!" As an abstract artist, I often rely on a sense of energy, atmosphere, and motion to provide a scene that is possible to feel, even if it's not entirely possible to understand what it's representing.
Out of sheer curiosity, what type of artwork do you all personally find most engaging and captivating when looking at it? By all means, feel free to share some stuff too! Do you look for some type of atmosphere and mood in artwork? Emotion in faces and characters? The energy in the colors and contrast? A sense of action and being in the middle of something epic
It is so quiet
In the middle of the night
When a child’s plight
Is swept aside
As senseless fits
By another stubborn brat
And no one can hear
Such obvious tears
And how she screams
How it simply isn’t fair
So young, so old
So spoiled and bold
But what she wants
Is what no one thinks to give
A gentle hand at night
To tell her it will be alright.