The Spider Mother’s web has become corrupt, under control of The Dark Few. They manipulate her into weaving the false story. She will end herself to save her children leaving us in darkness till she rises again.
“I still hear you saying, All of life is chance,
And is sweetest, is sweetest when at a glance
But I live, I live a hundred lifetimes in a day.
But I die a little In every breath that I take.”
… Amen Omen
It will be reviled that a great murderer was under the employment of a Lords Of Elborton. The people will cry out for retribution. An inquisition will discover the birth place of this assassin on the Isle of Beasts. Attempts to capture him will fail, until his weakness is discovered in the vaults of gold. He will fall, never to kill again. He will be banished from the world along with his employers.
The living army will be replace by golems controlled by the Dark Few. Humanity will be taken out of war and so will compassion and morality. Under a full pink moon the Dark Few will enter the old city. The Great Time Keeper will guard the gate. He will be silenced. Then rebuilt in the image of the Eye. No one will be unseen and all will be judged by the values of a corrupt minority.
As the twin headed god of the White City fight over the same feed, the faceless army will lay siege at the back gate. This will delay the celebration of fire but the treasure returned to the subjects of greed and power will rekindle the purpose of freedom.
Behold, 8 ravens carry a pound of Gold. The center of the earth will form a pit. Out will rise Asfajar. His scream shakes the earth. His breath is hot ash. His vision burns all before him. He will bury his dead in a gray snow of 5 seasons.
A Doodle Crazy Critters, personifications of thoughts that lie within The Dark Forest.
I believe everyone has a dark forest. What does yours look like?
In truth they never really go away. They just sleep within us and wait for weakness to awake them.
I can choose a planet’s size, the colors and the placement, but there is still an element of surprise to its appearance, some randomness to its creation. Stars fall where they may, I pick a color to make the space dust but the shapes depend upon how the paint happens to fall from the can. The texture of the landscape is always a surprise, a result of crumpled up magazines.
The whole process turns my thoughts to a subject that’s touchy for me, “Intelligent Design.” Let me just say right now I am not one of the faithful. I question the concept of a “creator.” That may come as surprise to some of you, a creator of art questioning creation. I can only go by what I see. What I have around me to work with.
Now, I am going to get little philosophical, a result of doing these space paintings. Let us say a divine creator is an artist. He or she is not a Leonardo da Vinci type artist who is very technical, drawing highly detailed anatomy to better understand what lies before him. The creator is an artist creating with what he or she has available. He or she is without a previous knowledge of the results. The creator can choose the shapes, the colors, the placements, but certain natural forces influence its appearance. Outside forces can affect his or her creation. Mistakes can occur, the creator can either fix them, leave them as unknowns or destroy the whole project. I can not imagine a creator who knows how everything was, is and will be. Sure eventually after making billions of stars and planets you may see similarities and have a good idea of how the stars will fall if you flick your paint covered finger in certain direction, but the possibilities of making an exact reproduction is mathematically small, due to the outside forces.
Now, think how your creations can change by adding little copies of yourself that have the ability to do something you can’t. They can change as fast as the outside forces alter your works in progress! Imagine the random possibilities that can be explored and be amazed by. You left a planet red in color only to come back and find it a brilliant blue. Oh, it is so wonderful you must try it somewhere else! You do, only to come back and find it on the verge of destruction, but what beautiful colors the planet gives off as it burns. The little copies there are screaming, for they do not know that as soon as nature takes its course they will be thrown out into the universe, only to start new somewhere else, for they are part of the forces of change. They can not be created or destroyed, only changed. A pleasant gift they have, that you the creator does not. You are unchangeable and can only alter what is around you. That is your pleasure, your purpose, it is why you create, the reason you are an artist. You need change. Who wants to be surrounded by nothing, bored for eternity.