Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Space Research: Jigsaw project
I didn't know it was okay to pour sand out on the floor at Bowe (hence the container in the pics), but apparently it is, so when the professional photographer comes I shall set it up that way. But for now...
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Communication Arts Project Class
(November 4th - December 4th, 2008)
Concept of jelly:
Everything that can go wrong will go wrong:
Notice the better thing despite the numbers (editorial):
"Pen listens anxiously" (line art):
50 sketches from live people (best ones):
Artist utility belt:
Concept of jelly:
Everything that can go wrong will go wrong:
Notice the better thing despite the numbers (editorial):
"Pen listens anxiously" (line art):
50 sketches from live people (best ones):
Artist utility belt:
Kinetic Imaging: Animation Project Class
(January 13th - February 17th, 2009)
Transformation Animation:
Transformation Animation:
Individual Project
Book as a whole:
Individual illustrations:
Poem:
Angel feathers soft and bright
Turned dark and cold by the night
A deep sigh, the lonely sound of breathing
Bouncing off the walls as he lays, chest heaving
The touch of lips turned to ice
Cool against the metal of malice
The night is quiet and frightening
But his eyes say all, like lightening
Listen to the tales of toil and hearts breaking
This angel is fallen, his wings long taken
Black as obsidian, frustrated and angry
They’ve flown through sadness and woe aplenty
Beaten, dirty, torn and tattered
For centuries his words have not mattered
Humans are no longer to be protected, only slain
This savior turned demon follows with pain
Heaven is no more, humans are devils
God is replaced by hierarchy and levels
How can we save them if we are no better?
This angel is dying, his soul dark and fettered
The angel is bound by our selfish greed
Chained and impaled by want, not need
Seeking the blood of mortals to feed
Heaven is no more, because of our lies
Man no longer cares if the angel dies
Casting itself carelessly into its own demise
Listen, listen, to the tales of old
When life was not only about power and gold
Locked within the angel’s dark eyes
Orbs created by truth, tainted by lies
Only to be spoken when
His heart starts beating again
Individual illustrations:
Poem:
Angel feathers soft and bright
Turned dark and cold by the night
A deep sigh, the lonely sound of breathing
Bouncing off the walls as he lays, chest heaving
The touch of lips turned to ice
Cool against the metal of malice
The night is quiet and frightening
But his eyes say all, like lightening
Listen to the tales of toil and hearts breaking
This angel is fallen, his wings long taken
Black as obsidian, frustrated and angry
They’ve flown through sadness and woe aplenty
Beaten, dirty, torn and tattered
For centuries his words have not mattered
Humans are no longer to be protected, only slain
This savior turned demon follows with pain
Heaven is no more, humans are devils
God is replaced by hierarchy and levels
How can we save them if we are no better?
This angel is dying, his soul dark and fettered
The angel is bound by our selfish greed
Chained and impaled by want, not need
Seeking the blood of mortals to feed
Heaven is no more, because of our lies
Man no longer cares if the angel dies
Casting itself carelessly into its own demise
Listen, listen, to the tales of old
When life was not only about power and gold
Locked within the angel’s dark eyes
Orbs created by truth, tainted by lies
Only to be spoken when
His heart starts beating again
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