So after quite a few years, ive decided to move my blogging over to Tumblr. Its been fun, but as i created the template for this blog a seriously long time ago now- the latest updates are causing me no end of problems when im creating my posts (particularly image posts- im having to stay in html view and strip out extra code thats not needed for my original template).
Anyway, if youve got a tumblr account or want to follow along as i slowly start adding content and updates etc (probably as sporadically as i tend to do on Blogger) heres the new url:
tombagshaw.tumblr.com (yeah- its that simple) Im still maintaining my inspiration tumblr so make sure you check out the amazing work im collecting on carboncradle.tumblr.com
Hope to see you on the other side...
-
Wednesday, 29 August 2012
Thursday, 16 August 2012
Hallowed Age print release...
The Kingdom Animalia show was a huge success and resulted in an amazing $25,000 being raised for the Big Life Foundation which will help to pay for (among other things) a years salary and training for a squad of 8 anti-poaching scouts, together with equipment for patrold like radios, uniforms, binoculars, GPS and cameras!
Im more than happy to say that my Hallowed Age piece sold, ive had a lot of interest in this piece and decided that it would be good to do a small run of limited edition prints and again, try and give something to the Big Life Foundation. So here we go, the print is 16x19" including a border for framing, comes numbered, titled and signed. It also has a mini Certificate of Authenticity which is also numbered, signed and embossed. The run is limited to only 25 and will be £60 plus shipping. 50% of the profit from each sale goes to Big Life so with any luck- if the run sells through- i will be able to hand over £500 to the foundation!
It will be going on preorder from my store on 22nd August so keep your eyes on mostlywanted.com/shop and please, reblog, give this a shout on twitter, Instagram, tumblr, facebook or whatever social network you frequent!
-
Im more than happy to say that my Hallowed Age piece sold, ive had a lot of interest in this piece and decided that it would be good to do a small run of limited edition prints and again, try and give something to the Big Life Foundation. So here we go, the print is 16x19" including a border for framing, comes numbered, titled and signed. It also has a mini Certificate of Authenticity which is also numbered, signed and embossed. The run is limited to only 25 and will be £60 plus shipping. 50% of the profit from each sale goes to Big Life so with any luck- if the run sells through- i will be able to hand over £500 to the foundation!
It will be going on preorder from my store on 22nd August so keep your eyes on mostlywanted.com/shop and please, reblog, give this a shout on twitter, Instagram, tumblr, facebook or whatever social network you frequent!
-
Thursday, 12 July 2012
Memento Mori...
Edit: Memento Mori is now sold out!
Following on from Chrysalis, the second in this series is 'Memento Mori'. As with the first, this is a limited edition of 3 with one AP. It is mounted on board, varnished, framed and is 11x14" (15x18" including frame). Each is editioned and marked with title, number, date and signature on the reverse. These also come with a Certificate of Authenticity.
Im putting these out for £300 (GBP) plus shipping. As shipping costs need to be calculated, if you would like one, please drop me an email with details of where you would like it delivered- i can then send out a Paypal money request to secure your piece.
As with Chrysalis, this is a first come first served deal so if you would like one please get in touch by emailing me at: tom (at ) mostlywanted.com
-
Following on from Chrysalis, the second in this series is 'Memento Mori'. As with the first, this is a limited edition of 3 with one AP. It is mounted on board, varnished, framed and is 11x14" (15x18" including frame). Each is editioned and marked with title, number, date and signature on the reverse. These also come with a Certificate of Authenticity.
Im putting these out for £300 (GBP) plus shipping. As shipping costs need to be calculated, if you would like one, please drop me an email with details of where you would like it delivered- i can then send out a Paypal money request to secure your piece.
-
Thursday, 28 June 2012
A short story...
If you know my work you probably know that i prefer to let the viewer come up with their own interpretation of a piece, usually i dont get to hear what those stories are to other people but i got a great email from a fan this morning that i really wanted to share.
Aaron Flake contacted me with a nice email to say that he had been inspired enough by my Reliquary piece to write a short story during a creative writing class he took in his senior year. Here is the wonderful story.
The Photograph by Aaron Flake
“Now Olivia, you must sit still,” Antoinette du Pont whispered into her little girl’s tiny earhole. “We talked about this.”
Olivia, adopted daughter of Antoniette, shifted and warbled in a chair adjacent to her mother’s, defiantly waving her arms in the air. Antoinette kept a single, unwavering hand over Olivia’s lap. The pinkish, wriggling tentacles that circled Olivia’s mouth curled on ends, flailing near Antoinette’s cheeks. The photographer entered the darkened living room; the only sources of light were the cracks of dull sunshine that crept in through the old shutters. With his lenses and his stands, the man eyed the two strangely, squinting his eyes before he was interrupted.
Thomas Cromsley huffed down the photographer’s neck, taking him by surprise when he placed a firm hand on his left shoulder. Cromsley glared warningly through thin spectacles at the photographer; Antoinette momentarily looked away from the squirming Olivia to see the bearded Thomas in his long gray dress jacket. She scoffed to herself.
“It is rude to stare at a lady and her child, my good sir,” said Cromsley.
The photographer nodded wildly, his dark, uncombed, silver-dusted hair bobbing up and down. Cromsley patted the man’s shoulder, and instantly the man shuffled away to set up his equipment for the session. The many wrinkles in his white, buttoned shirt quivered. His hands fumbled with the camera and the stands. Cromsley walked over to Antoinette and her oddity of a daughter; he courteously smiled at the two: Antoinette did not return the favor--not even a glance--and Olivia continued to warble and coo, ignoring him entirely. Her tentacles now writhing over her little skeletal digits.
Olivia’s head--a transparent globe, similar to a watery sphere--leaned against her mother. Clear droplets slid down every side of her head, but never did a drop strike the musty, pea-green carpet. Inside her head hovered small specters, a congregation of green globs stuck with dotted eyes and frozen smiles. A handful of the specters wandered from Olivia’s dome: carefree, trilling and chirping, floating around Olivia. They floated around the potted Carolina Lilies that bordered Antoinette’s chair, her pale face, and her bare chest inked with intricate markings.
“Fascinating,” said Cromsley at a low volume.
“It--” “She,” Antoinette corrected.
“She.” “I apologize, Madame du Pont.”
Antoinette turned to Cromsley, her expression plain and her gray eyes drilling into his brown pools. Antoinette’s voice remained quiet. She occasionally peeked over to the photographer who continued clattering with his instruments; his head darted the other way whenever their eyes met. “You know why you are here, Sir Cromsley. Do not forget. Even though my daughter is a part of your watchful care, do not think you are obligated to observe her like she is some monstrous experiment. She is a blessing.”
“Understood,” replied Cromsley.
“My duty as a mother outweighs my duty as a reliquary-keeper. She is seen as a dangerous relic to most, but she is gentle--fragile,” Antoinette stroked the back of Olivia’s head caringly, slowly; she straightened Olivia’s dress and fixed her collar. “Olivia’s life is ultimately in my hands, and I am willing to give my life for hers at any moment; you are here to do the same, whether your employers see it that way or not. Do you understand, Mr. Cromsley?”
“Understood.”
“And regarding the photograph, do you remember our conversation over the phone?” “Ma’am. My right arm will cross my chest with the slip in hand, I smile for the camera, and cause the photographer to perceive me as your departed husband.”
“Departed,” Antoinette let out a sense of brief disgust. “Is that what they told you?”
A voice cleared its throat--the photographer. Antoinette and Cromsley’s eyes honed onto his direction, Olivia reached out to some of the gliding specters with clutching hands; Antoinette brought Olivia closer, placing the girl on her lap. “I am r-ready, miss,” he mumbled.
“We are not,” Antoinette snapped.
“My good sir,” Cromsley strode smoothly to the man. He gently slapped him on the shoulder, playfully. “My wife may be angry with me; it is dreadful when she is like this. But know that her frustration is not expressed towards you.”
“Oh, good,” the photographer let loose a shiver.
“And oh yes,” Cromsley’s hand dipped into his pant pocket, and brought out two articles: an outlandish slip of paper that resembled a tarot card of peculiar origin, and a beaded crucifix, the cross woven from silver. “You do not mind if I include my father’s wallet and crucifix in the photograph, do you?” Confusion flashed across the photographer’s face; he shook his head. “Oh no sir, that is certainly alright.”
“Thank you,” Cromsley smiled warmly. The man simply nodded. Cromsley arrived back at Antoinette’s side; he lowered himself to the height of her ear. And with a whisper that bore a slickness similar to a serpent’s squirm, he asked, “Should his memory be extinguished the moment this is over, Madame du Pont?”
She looked up at him, her head movement almost mechanical. “Wipe him clean.”
“Understood.”
Cromsley stood to Antoinette’s left and faced forward, his dark, parted hair sheened due to the nearby light; his right hand held the illusion-inducing slip, the left gripped the wooden beads of the crucifix. His right arm crossed his chest, and his left was relaxed by his side; the card was facing the camera. Antoinette’s fair skin illuminated, the intricate markings on her chest more exposed; her neatly-rounded hair accented her eyes. Her long, ruffled black dress, contrasted against Olivia’s collared dress of pearl hue. Olivia was still in Antoinette’s lap. The small specters outside her dome continued to circulate around the three, continuously chirping; the photographer did not notice them, only focusing his sight into the camera.
“Smile, everyone,” said the photographer. None of them did, but Olivia’s tentacles seemed more lively after he spoke.
A flash and a click ensued simultaneously.
The moment it occurred--the moment the flash died--Cromsley rushed from Antoinette’s side with the slip and forced it onto the bare flesh of the man’s forehead; the man’s eyes shut closed, tightly, as if racked in pain. Antoinette stood quickly, Olivia in her arms. She made her way to the entrance of the gloomy room; the specters followed behind Olivia, whose arms stretched farther to catch them. But oddly enough, Antoinette paused when reaching the photographer.
“You must pack your things and leave this town when your senses clear,” her instructions precise. “You must.” After Cromsley released the slip from the man’s forehead, he went for the door.
“Cromsley,” Antoinette called. He halted. “The photograph!”
He picked up the photograph off the floor; it was fading into view, revealing the three. Cromsley’s slip was shown as a worn-down, brown leather wallet. Antoinette’s markings were gone. The green specters were nowhere in sight. Olivia was not Olivia, but a little girl the same complexion as her mother. Her hair was long and black, the tentacles were nonexistent, her eyes were as green as the specters; her dress never changed.
But the illusion withered away when the photograph developed. Everything went back to the strange definition of normal: the tattoo, the tentacles, the slip. He handed it to Antoinette when the two reached the door of the old house her father once owned; the photographer was just coming to when they exited.
The three felt a heated breeze from the neighboring sea brush against their faces; the saltiness of the air rolled off their tongues. The thunder clouds that hung over the port town of Mer Chaude dimmed the docks and attracted the eyes of fishermen rocking in their sailboats. There was a booming rumble when the line of rusted lampposts sparked to life; the flames whipped within their glass chambers. Shadows leapt and twirled across the cobblestone paths and merged with the blackened creases of houses and shops. Muffled conversations filtered out of a nearby house; high-pitched chortling and rapid Spanish flowed from its cracked windows.
Antoinette set Olivia between herself and Cromsley, grasping her daughter’s tiny hand;
Olivia waved away the specters bouncing off of Antoinette’s dress. Cromsley chuckled.
“She truly is extraordinary,” he said.
“She is,” Antoinette faintly smiled at Olivia. “Her mother probably adored her.”
Cromsley paused; he rearranged his thoughts. “What happened to--”
“Her mother? I assumed you knew.”
“The company told me, but I rather hear the truth from your lips.”
Antoinette shot the same gray-eyed stare at Cromsley, finding it difficult to view his words as fiction or fact; Cromsley kept a cool, unfaltering composure. Noticing a minute after that her stare was in vain, Antoinette noticed a wooden bench not too far from where they stood; it was settled, engraved with scratches and etchings, feet away from the line of lampposts. “Over there,” she sighed.
Once more, Olivia was put between Cromsley and Antoinette; she hummed more quietly, her tentacles’ movements slowed, and she rested her head in Antoinette’s lap. The photograph- -a memento to the fourth anniversary of Antoinette and Olivia’s meeting--was laid on Olivia’s dress. Antoinette looked down at her daughter, gently rubbing her back. Without lifting her eyes to Cromsley, she finally said, “Olivia’s mother was murdered by my husband.”
Cromsley remained silent; a quick thought of pity washed over him when he glimpsed at the slumbering Olivia. It was another lie he received from the company.
“Times were darker three years ago, Mr. Cromsley. There was no corpse within my father’s casket during his funeral, the du Pont family was scattered across this world, and my husband turned into the very thing he hunted. I do not wish to go into specifics, but while he killed Olivia’s biological mother without a moment’s pause, I stole Olivia; I took her away when he attempted to take her life. I nearly lost mine when I was protecting her from that monster. For a long time, he pursued us after the onslaught; many times, he came close; many times, we barely scratched by. He was a determined man, my husband.”
“I assumed that your husband still lives, Madame,” Cromsley felt he needed to interrupt.
Antoinette glanced at him, then swiftly away; her sight was drawn to the open sea. The occupied fishermen and the boats were no longer there, their existence no longer showed in the waters. The currents tossed gently, silently. The crackling flames of the lampposts died, their wispy remnants swam within the glass. Spanish did not leave the house next door, and the shrieks of laughter diminished with the waves. Mer Chaude became hushed. She continued.
“One night,” her eyes left the sea and drifted to the sky, past the clouds, past moons, past
constellations. “A night like this--he appeared.” Antoinette’s throat grew airy, her utterings quiet
as the smoky chambers of the bony lampposts. “It was the first night I encountered him after her
death, the first night I did not have to flee. But...”
Antoinette cleared her throat, she excused herself.
“It is quite fine, Madame,” Cromsley assured. “Please continue.”
“But what met me was not the man I cherished, not the man that used to call me lovely. He was foul; a devil of hunger,” her voice low, but lucid. Olivia sat up suddenly; the green ghosts within her head frowned with dread. And while Cromsley noticed when their smiling ceased, Antoinette did not process the change in her daughter. “It was as if the ten years of union were obliterated by the intervention of a malicious demon.”
Another thunderous rumble beat the town of Mer Chaude. More violently, much deeper. The town slithered deeper into the dark, the cobblestone paths barely visible to the naked eye. Cromsley fidgeted on the bench--an uncomfortable mixture of impatience and anxiety. Troubled by the clashing sensations, he ultimately asked, “What am I protecting you from?”
Olivia’s arms wrapped around Antoinette’s neck--the quickest action from Olivia Antoinette had seen for the longest time. Her head was tucked into Antoinette’s right shoulder; the daughter trembled and shaken peeps of the little ghosts were uncontainable. Antoinette embraced Olivia with the firmest hug, feeling that she herself began to shudder.
Out of the dark, a single lamppost revived a flame; but the flame cracked and snapped inside. The glass chinked, quaked and burst into fragments. The blaze morphed and molded its form, twisted and rose, extending its reach towards the thunder clouds. The common orange glow of the fiery pillar altered to a sickly mesh of green and blue, the color of tainted billows engulfing shores. Its light expanded to the other lampposts--to the right, to the left--infecting them with its heat. Along with the stretching light, the infected flame devoured the glass chambers; the pillar widened, shot into the clouds.
Olivia’s whimpers were drowned out by the continuous roar, Antoinette stared at the sickly blaze as she held her daughter near--unable to show the fear she felt, the same fear she had known whenever she ran. Cromsley’s hands slipped into the interior of his jacket; his anxiety melted with the unearthly flames. Forming what looked similar to a stair, fire poured from the root of the post, onto the cobblestone.
The fire continued to burn brilliantly, its light bounding from house to house, far into the sea. Loud whispers spoken in alien languages rode the roaring pillar. And while Olivia refused to look, and Antoinette did the opposite, the air mutated, growing boggy and dank.
A form departed from the fire; a figure of human form.
“A beast of power,” Antoinette said. A tear descended down her cheek.
The figure was consumed by the fire’s light; it burned with the pillar when trekking down the fiery steps. The figure stopped the second its feet met the cobblestone; the head turned slowly, it stared at Antoinette.
Cromsley assumed its mouth opened when the same fire spouted into the atmosphere in front of it, and was carried by the wind.
Sluggishly, heavily, as if weighed down, the figure came closer and closer, closer to Antoinette and Cromsley; Olivia was shaking uncontrollably. The figure stopped in front of Antoinette, still staring at the woman. It exhaled a long hiss of fire when its mouth drew open to speak.
“Hello, lovely.”
-Fin
Thanks Aaron!!
Aaron Flake contacted me with a nice email to say that he had been inspired enough by my Reliquary piece to write a short story during a creative writing class he took in his senior year. Here is the wonderful story.
The Photograph by Aaron Flake
“Now Olivia, you must sit still,” Antoinette du Pont whispered into her little girl’s tiny earhole. “We talked about this.”
Olivia, adopted daughter of Antoniette, shifted and warbled in a chair adjacent to her mother’s, defiantly waving her arms in the air. Antoinette kept a single, unwavering hand over Olivia’s lap. The pinkish, wriggling tentacles that circled Olivia’s mouth curled on ends, flailing near Antoinette’s cheeks. The photographer entered the darkened living room; the only sources of light were the cracks of dull sunshine that crept in through the old shutters. With his lenses and his stands, the man eyed the two strangely, squinting his eyes before he was interrupted.
Thomas Cromsley huffed down the photographer’s neck, taking him by surprise when he placed a firm hand on his left shoulder. Cromsley glared warningly through thin spectacles at the photographer; Antoinette momentarily looked away from the squirming Olivia to see the bearded Thomas in his long gray dress jacket. She scoffed to herself.
“It is rude to stare at a lady and her child, my good sir,” said Cromsley.
The photographer nodded wildly, his dark, uncombed, silver-dusted hair bobbing up and down. Cromsley patted the man’s shoulder, and instantly the man shuffled away to set up his equipment for the session. The many wrinkles in his white, buttoned shirt quivered. His hands fumbled with the camera and the stands. Cromsley walked over to Antoinette and her oddity of a daughter; he courteously smiled at the two: Antoinette did not return the favor--not even a glance--and Olivia continued to warble and coo, ignoring him entirely. Her tentacles now writhing over her little skeletal digits.
Olivia’s head--a transparent globe, similar to a watery sphere--leaned against her mother. Clear droplets slid down every side of her head, but never did a drop strike the musty, pea-green carpet. Inside her head hovered small specters, a congregation of green globs stuck with dotted eyes and frozen smiles. A handful of the specters wandered from Olivia’s dome: carefree, trilling and chirping, floating around Olivia. They floated around the potted Carolina Lilies that bordered Antoinette’s chair, her pale face, and her bare chest inked with intricate markings.
“Fascinating,” said Cromsley at a low volume.
“It--” “She,” Antoinette corrected.
“She.” “I apologize, Madame du Pont.”
Antoinette turned to Cromsley, her expression plain and her gray eyes drilling into his brown pools. Antoinette’s voice remained quiet. She occasionally peeked over to the photographer who continued clattering with his instruments; his head darted the other way whenever their eyes met. “You know why you are here, Sir Cromsley. Do not forget. Even though my daughter is a part of your watchful care, do not think you are obligated to observe her like she is some monstrous experiment. She is a blessing.”
“Understood,” replied Cromsley.
“My duty as a mother outweighs my duty as a reliquary-keeper. She is seen as a dangerous relic to most, but she is gentle--fragile,” Antoinette stroked the back of Olivia’s head caringly, slowly; she straightened Olivia’s dress and fixed her collar. “Olivia’s life is ultimately in my hands, and I am willing to give my life for hers at any moment; you are here to do the same, whether your employers see it that way or not. Do you understand, Mr. Cromsley?”
“Understood.”
“And regarding the photograph, do you remember our conversation over the phone?” “Ma’am. My right arm will cross my chest with the slip in hand, I smile for the camera, and cause the photographer to perceive me as your departed husband.”
“Departed,” Antoinette let out a sense of brief disgust. “Is that what they told you?”
A voice cleared its throat--the photographer. Antoinette and Cromsley’s eyes honed onto his direction, Olivia reached out to some of the gliding specters with clutching hands; Antoinette brought Olivia closer, placing the girl on her lap. “I am r-ready, miss,” he mumbled.
“We are not,” Antoinette snapped.
“My good sir,” Cromsley strode smoothly to the man. He gently slapped him on the shoulder, playfully. “My wife may be angry with me; it is dreadful when she is like this. But know that her frustration is not expressed towards you.”
“Oh, good,” the photographer let loose a shiver.
“And oh yes,” Cromsley’s hand dipped into his pant pocket, and brought out two articles: an outlandish slip of paper that resembled a tarot card of peculiar origin, and a beaded crucifix, the cross woven from silver. “You do not mind if I include my father’s wallet and crucifix in the photograph, do you?” Confusion flashed across the photographer’s face; he shook his head. “Oh no sir, that is certainly alright.”
“Thank you,” Cromsley smiled warmly. The man simply nodded. Cromsley arrived back at Antoinette’s side; he lowered himself to the height of her ear. And with a whisper that bore a slickness similar to a serpent’s squirm, he asked, “Should his memory be extinguished the moment this is over, Madame du Pont?”
She looked up at him, her head movement almost mechanical. “Wipe him clean.”
“Understood.”
Cromsley stood to Antoinette’s left and faced forward, his dark, parted hair sheened due to the nearby light; his right hand held the illusion-inducing slip, the left gripped the wooden beads of the crucifix. His right arm crossed his chest, and his left was relaxed by his side; the card was facing the camera. Antoinette’s fair skin illuminated, the intricate markings on her chest more exposed; her neatly-rounded hair accented her eyes. Her long, ruffled black dress, contrasted against Olivia’s collared dress of pearl hue. Olivia was still in Antoinette’s lap. The small specters outside her dome continued to circulate around the three, continuously chirping; the photographer did not notice them, only focusing his sight into the camera.
“Smile, everyone,” said the photographer. None of them did, but Olivia’s tentacles seemed more lively after he spoke.
A flash and a click ensued simultaneously.
The moment it occurred--the moment the flash died--Cromsley rushed from Antoinette’s side with the slip and forced it onto the bare flesh of the man’s forehead; the man’s eyes shut closed, tightly, as if racked in pain. Antoinette stood quickly, Olivia in her arms. She made her way to the entrance of the gloomy room; the specters followed behind Olivia, whose arms stretched farther to catch them. But oddly enough, Antoinette paused when reaching the photographer.
“You must pack your things and leave this town when your senses clear,” her instructions precise. “You must.” After Cromsley released the slip from the man’s forehead, he went for the door.
“Cromsley,” Antoinette called. He halted. “The photograph!”
He picked up the photograph off the floor; it was fading into view, revealing the three. Cromsley’s slip was shown as a worn-down, brown leather wallet. Antoinette’s markings were gone. The green specters were nowhere in sight. Olivia was not Olivia, but a little girl the same complexion as her mother. Her hair was long and black, the tentacles were nonexistent, her eyes were as green as the specters; her dress never changed.
But the illusion withered away when the photograph developed. Everything went back to the strange definition of normal: the tattoo, the tentacles, the slip. He handed it to Antoinette when the two reached the door of the old house her father once owned; the photographer was just coming to when they exited.
The three felt a heated breeze from the neighboring sea brush against their faces; the saltiness of the air rolled off their tongues. The thunder clouds that hung over the port town of Mer Chaude dimmed the docks and attracted the eyes of fishermen rocking in their sailboats. There was a booming rumble when the line of rusted lampposts sparked to life; the flames whipped within their glass chambers. Shadows leapt and twirled across the cobblestone paths and merged with the blackened creases of houses and shops. Muffled conversations filtered out of a nearby house; high-pitched chortling and rapid Spanish flowed from its cracked windows.
Antoinette set Olivia between herself and Cromsley, grasping her daughter’s tiny hand;
Olivia waved away the specters bouncing off of Antoinette’s dress. Cromsley chuckled.
“She truly is extraordinary,” he said.
“She is,” Antoinette faintly smiled at Olivia. “Her mother probably adored her.”
Cromsley paused; he rearranged his thoughts. “What happened to--”
“Her mother? I assumed you knew.”
“The company told me, but I rather hear the truth from your lips.”
Antoinette shot the same gray-eyed stare at Cromsley, finding it difficult to view his words as fiction or fact; Cromsley kept a cool, unfaltering composure. Noticing a minute after that her stare was in vain, Antoinette noticed a wooden bench not too far from where they stood; it was settled, engraved with scratches and etchings, feet away from the line of lampposts. “Over there,” she sighed.
Once more, Olivia was put between Cromsley and Antoinette; she hummed more quietly, her tentacles’ movements slowed, and she rested her head in Antoinette’s lap. The photograph- -a memento to the fourth anniversary of Antoinette and Olivia’s meeting--was laid on Olivia’s dress. Antoinette looked down at her daughter, gently rubbing her back. Without lifting her eyes to Cromsley, she finally said, “Olivia’s mother was murdered by my husband.”
Cromsley remained silent; a quick thought of pity washed over him when he glimpsed at the slumbering Olivia. It was another lie he received from the company.
“Times were darker three years ago, Mr. Cromsley. There was no corpse within my father’s casket during his funeral, the du Pont family was scattered across this world, and my husband turned into the very thing he hunted. I do not wish to go into specifics, but while he killed Olivia’s biological mother without a moment’s pause, I stole Olivia; I took her away when he attempted to take her life. I nearly lost mine when I was protecting her from that monster. For a long time, he pursued us after the onslaught; many times, he came close; many times, we barely scratched by. He was a determined man, my husband.”
“I assumed that your husband still lives, Madame,” Cromsley felt he needed to interrupt.
Antoinette glanced at him, then swiftly away; her sight was drawn to the open sea. The occupied fishermen and the boats were no longer there, their existence no longer showed in the waters. The currents tossed gently, silently. The crackling flames of the lampposts died, their wispy remnants swam within the glass. Spanish did not leave the house next door, and the shrieks of laughter diminished with the waves. Mer Chaude became hushed. She continued.
“One night,” her eyes left the sea and drifted to the sky, past the clouds, past moons, past
constellations. “A night like this--he appeared.” Antoinette’s throat grew airy, her utterings quiet
as the smoky chambers of the bony lampposts. “It was the first night I encountered him after her
death, the first night I did not have to flee. But...”
Antoinette cleared her throat, she excused herself.
“It is quite fine, Madame,” Cromsley assured. “Please continue.”
“But what met me was not the man I cherished, not the man that used to call me lovely. He was foul; a devil of hunger,” her voice low, but lucid. Olivia sat up suddenly; the green ghosts within her head frowned with dread. And while Cromsley noticed when their smiling ceased, Antoinette did not process the change in her daughter. “It was as if the ten years of union were obliterated by the intervention of a malicious demon.”
Another thunderous rumble beat the town of Mer Chaude. More violently, much deeper. The town slithered deeper into the dark, the cobblestone paths barely visible to the naked eye. Cromsley fidgeted on the bench--an uncomfortable mixture of impatience and anxiety. Troubled by the clashing sensations, he ultimately asked, “What am I protecting you from?”
Olivia’s arms wrapped around Antoinette’s neck--the quickest action from Olivia Antoinette had seen for the longest time. Her head was tucked into Antoinette’s right shoulder; the daughter trembled and shaken peeps of the little ghosts were uncontainable. Antoinette embraced Olivia with the firmest hug, feeling that she herself began to shudder.
Out of the dark, a single lamppost revived a flame; but the flame cracked and snapped inside. The glass chinked, quaked and burst into fragments. The blaze morphed and molded its form, twisted and rose, extending its reach towards the thunder clouds. The common orange glow of the fiery pillar altered to a sickly mesh of green and blue, the color of tainted billows engulfing shores. Its light expanded to the other lampposts--to the right, to the left--infecting them with its heat. Along with the stretching light, the infected flame devoured the glass chambers; the pillar widened, shot into the clouds.
Olivia’s whimpers were drowned out by the continuous roar, Antoinette stared at the sickly blaze as she held her daughter near--unable to show the fear she felt, the same fear she had known whenever she ran. Cromsley’s hands slipped into the interior of his jacket; his anxiety melted with the unearthly flames. Forming what looked similar to a stair, fire poured from the root of the post, onto the cobblestone.
The fire continued to burn brilliantly, its light bounding from house to house, far into the sea. Loud whispers spoken in alien languages rode the roaring pillar. And while Olivia refused to look, and Antoinette did the opposite, the air mutated, growing boggy and dank.
A form departed from the fire; a figure of human form.
“A beast of power,” Antoinette said. A tear descended down her cheek.
The figure was consumed by the fire’s light; it burned with the pillar when trekking down the fiery steps. The figure stopped the second its feet met the cobblestone; the head turned slowly, it stared at Antoinette.
Cromsley assumed its mouth opened when the same fire spouted into the atmosphere in front of it, and was carried by the wind.
Sluggishly, heavily, as if weighed down, the figure came closer and closer, closer to Antoinette and Cromsley; Olivia was shaking uncontrollably. The figure stopped in front of Antoinette, still staring at the woman. It exhaled a long hiss of fire when its mouth drew open to speak.
“Hello, lovely.”
-Fin
Thanks Aaron!!
Monday, 25 June 2012
Updates...
For a while now ive been neglecting my main portfolio website and shop, mainly because ive been concentrating on getting new work done! But over the last week ive been rebuilding the shop and adding some new content. Previously, there has been no real way for me to advertise gallery works that are still available or put up other one off works or special edition pieces.
To solve this ive taken the existing shop and given it a little tweaking. Theres a new Originals section which will have previews and links of pieces that are available from galleries / shows (and when i get a chance- maybe some traditional pieces may appear- you never know!) and also special editions (like the previously released Chrysalis piece) where there is a very small number available- unless stated, the works in this section are all framed.
There will also be the Limited Edition and Open Edition sections as before. Im adding a bunch of new pieces to the Limited Edition section with the option to preorder some pieces yet to be released. The Open Edition section will remain pretty much exclusive to my more graphic illustration works. Ive tried to make the information page a little more comprehensive and covered most frequently asked questions.
Ive also added new works to the main Mostlywanted portfolio site and re-organized the categories a little. The Info page now has links to my new Facebook fan page, Twitter, Carbon Cradle and as you cant actually link your Instagram account- Instagrid. Anyway, the new shop (and updates to the main site) will be up and running on the 1st of July 2012.
Heres a look at the new version, you may notice that the preview images are framed with a border- this is the same on both the Limited and Open edition sections and the Originals section has the items 'Framed' with a wood moulding. (the wood 'frame' may not be the actual moulding used but if youre interested in buying and want to know the exact frame used- just drop me a mail.)
To solve this ive taken the existing shop and given it a little tweaking. Theres a new Originals section which will have previews and links of pieces that are available from galleries / shows (and when i get a chance- maybe some traditional pieces may appear- you never know!) and also special editions (like the previously released Chrysalis piece) where there is a very small number available- unless stated, the works in this section are all framed.
There will also be the Limited Edition and Open Edition sections as before. Im adding a bunch of new pieces to the Limited Edition section with the option to preorder some pieces yet to be released. The Open Edition section will remain pretty much exclusive to my more graphic illustration works. Ive tried to make the information page a little more comprehensive and covered most frequently asked questions.
Ive also added new works to the main Mostlywanted portfolio site and re-organized the categories a little. The Info page now has links to my new Facebook fan page, Twitter, Carbon Cradle and as you cant actually link your Instagram account- Instagrid. Anyway, the new shop (and updates to the main site) will be up and running on the 1st of July 2012.
Heres a look at the new version, you may notice that the preview images are framed with a border- this is the same on both the Limited and Open edition sections and the Originals section has the items 'Framed' with a wood moulding. (the wood 'frame' may not be the actual moulding used but if youre interested in buying and want to know the exact frame used- just drop me a mail.)
Monday, 18 June 2012
Hallowed Age...
'Hallowed Age' is my piece for the upcoming Kingdom Animalia show that i posted about previously. Its a pretty dark piece, both in terms of the subject matter it addresses and of course- more obviously the palette! The work is 20x24" (exluding the frame) and as usual for my show pieces- printed on heavy weight cotton rag stock, mounted on board, varnished and framed.
The show in on for one night only, 7-10pm on the 29th June at Land Rover Jaguar of Anaheim Hills in CA, if youre in the area- please go along and show your support for the show and Big Life Foundation, check out the previous post for the showcard and list of artists involved, together with some more show info!
The show in on for one night only, 7-10pm on the 29th June at Land Rover Jaguar of Anaheim Hills in CA, if youre in the area- please go along and show your support for the show and Big Life Foundation, check out the previous post for the showcard and list of artists involved, together with some more show info!
Thursday, 14 June 2012
Kingdom Animalia...
Joey Remmers and Kirsten Anderson of Roq La Rue Gallery are curating an amazing line up of artists for a one off show called Kingdom Animalia which supports the Big Life foundation. Im more than a little honoured to be asked to be a part of this show!
Photographer Nick Brandt founded the Big Life foundation in 2010 in urgent response to the recent dramatic escalation in poaching across much of Africa. Find out more about the organisation here.
The show will be exhibited at Land Rover Jaguar of Anaheim Hills in CA with an exclusive and festive opening reception taking place on June 29th, 2012 from 7-10pm. ALL proceeds from the show will be donated to the Big Life Foundation as well as a portion of the proceeds of any Land Rover vehicles sold from the Anaheim Hills location the evening of the event.
The show lineup includes:
Amy Crehore, Amy Sol, Ana Bagayan, Brad Woodfin, Brian Viveros, Camille Rose Garcia, Christian Van Minnen, Chrystal Chan, Craig LaRotonda, Dan May, Dan Quintana, Dave Cooper, Heidi Tailleferr, Henry Lewis, Glenn Barr, Greg Simkins, James Jean, Jessica Joslin, Joe Ledbetter, Joey Remmers, Kim Thompson, KMNDZ, Kris Kuksi, Krista Huot, Lindsey Carr, Lola, Madeline von Foerster, Marco Mazzoni, Mark Dean Veca, Mark Garro, Mark Ryden, Marion Peck, Martin Wittfooth, Melissa Forman, Mia Araujo, Michael Page, Nathan Ota, Nathan Spoor, Naoto Hattori, Nick Baxter, Nick Brandt, Nicola Verlato, Paolo Guido, Sam Wolfe Connelly, Seamus Conley, Scott Musgrove, Shag, Shaunna Peterson, Suzanne Falk, Ti Kunkit, Tom Bagshaw, Travis Louie, Ver Mar and Yumiko Kayakawa.
Heres the showcard for the event, if youre in the area its one to mark on the calendar! I will post up my contribution in a few days!
Photographer Nick Brandt founded the Big Life foundation in 2010 in urgent response to the recent dramatic escalation in poaching across much of Africa. Find out more about the organisation here.
The show will be exhibited at Land Rover Jaguar of Anaheim Hills in CA with an exclusive and festive opening reception taking place on June 29th, 2012 from 7-10pm. ALL proceeds from the show will be donated to the Big Life Foundation as well as a portion of the proceeds of any Land Rover vehicles sold from the Anaheim Hills location the evening of the event.
The show lineup includes:
Amy Crehore, Amy Sol, Ana Bagayan, Brad Woodfin, Brian Viveros, Camille Rose Garcia, Christian Van Minnen, Chrystal Chan, Craig LaRotonda, Dan May, Dan Quintana, Dave Cooper, Heidi Tailleferr, Henry Lewis, Glenn Barr, Greg Simkins, James Jean, Jessica Joslin, Joe Ledbetter, Joey Remmers, Kim Thompson, KMNDZ, Kris Kuksi, Krista Huot, Lindsey Carr, Lola, Madeline von Foerster, Marco Mazzoni, Mark Dean Veca, Mark Garro, Mark Ryden, Marion Peck, Martin Wittfooth, Melissa Forman, Mia Araujo, Michael Page, Nathan Ota, Nathan Spoor, Naoto Hattori, Nick Baxter, Nick Brandt, Nicola Verlato, Paolo Guido, Sam Wolfe Connelly, Seamus Conley, Scott Musgrove, Shag, Shaunna Peterson, Suzanne Falk, Ti Kunkit, Tom Bagshaw, Travis Louie, Ver Mar and Yumiko Kayakawa.
Heres the showcard for the event, if youre in the area its one to mark on the calendar! I will post up my contribution in a few days!
Monday, 28 May 2012
All the Devils Print...
I have my 'All the Devils' piece being released as a limited edition print by the nice chaps over at 1xRun. This is a edition run of 30, 14 x 20" Archival Pigment Print on 330gsm Fine Art Paper and comes with Certificate of Authenticity. The page also has a bit of back story and a mini interview on it if youre interested in that sort of thing..
Visit the All the Devils page on 1xRun
Visit the All the Devils page on 1xRun
Monday, 7 May 2012
Chrysalis now available...
Edit: Thanks for the enquiries but im happy to say that Chrysalis is now sold out! Keep an eye out for the new pieces which will be coming out asap!
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Ok, as i had hinted at in the previous post- im now working on producing a new series of portraits that are inspired by 'Gypsy girl' tattoo art. Im a big fan of tattoo work and wanted to do something that would attempt to combine that with my love of portraiture.
Another thing i wanted to do was to make the majority of these pieces more accessible. Rather than produce them as large one off pieces that would only be within reach of collectors, im going to do some as a limited edition run of 10 or so and others will be like this- an edition of 3 (some may be of 5?) that are printed, mounted varnished and framed and accompanied by a certificate of authenticity. The finish is much like my larger pieces, but as these will only be around 11x14" or so and in an edition, the cost will be far lower!
Hopefully this will put the editioned prints and these smaller framed pieces in a better price range for a wider audience. So there you go, thats what im up to, let me know what you think ;)
Chrysalis is an edition of 3 (with 1 artist proof), mounted on board, varnished and framed ready to hang. Each is editioned and marked, hand signed and titled on the reverse with a Certificate of Authenticity. The image size is 11x14" and 15x18" framed. Each piece is £300 (excluding shipping)
The first of these sold in an exhibition by Fine Grime at the Walcot Chapel on the 4th, so there are only 2 left! As shipping costs need to be calculated, if you would like one, please drop me an email with details of where you would like it delivered- i can then send out a Paypal money request to secure your payment. This is a 'first come, first served' deal- so when theyre gone- thats it!
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Drop me a mail: tom at mostlywanted.com
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Ok, as i had hinted at in the previous post- im now working on producing a new series of portraits that are inspired by 'Gypsy girl' tattoo art. Im a big fan of tattoo work and wanted to do something that would attempt to combine that with my love of portraiture.
Another thing i wanted to do was to make the majority of these pieces more accessible. Rather than produce them as large one off pieces that would only be within reach of collectors, im going to do some as a limited edition run of 10 or so and others will be like this- an edition of 3 (some may be of 5?) that are printed, mounted varnished and framed and accompanied by a certificate of authenticity. The finish is much like my larger pieces, but as these will only be around 11x14" or so and in an edition, the cost will be far lower!
Hopefully this will put the editioned prints and these smaller framed pieces in a better price range for a wider audience. So there you go, thats what im up to, let me know what you think ;)
Chrysalis is an edition of 3 (with 1 artist proof), mounted on board, varnished and framed ready to hang. Each is editioned and marked, hand signed and titled on the reverse with a Certificate of Authenticity. The image size is 11x14" and 15x18" framed. Each piece is £300 (excluding shipping)
The first of these sold in an exhibition by Fine Grime at the Walcot Chapel on the 4th, so there are only 2 left! As shipping costs need to be calculated, if you would like one, please drop me an email with details of where you would like it delivered- i can then send out a Paypal money request to secure your payment. This is a 'first come, first served' deal- so when theyre gone- thats it!
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Thursday, 19 April 2012
Chrysalis...
Heres a new piece ive just finished, Chrysalis is the first in a series im planning on producing. I cant really say much about the project yet as im still sorting the details- but this piece does give you a good taste of what is to come!
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
Cuckoo...
As its now only a few weeks away, heres my piece for the upcoming Suggestivism NYC show at Bold Hype Gallery in NYC. I posted some of the details for this show previously (Read it here if you havent already) but have been waiting to show the work till a little closer to show opening!
The show opens on 10th May, if youre in NYC or visiting around then- make sure you pop in to Bold Hype and check out what promises to be an amazing show!
So here she is, 'Cuckoo' is 20x24" (excluding the kick ass frame) and is probably one of my personal favorites that ive done recently. If youre interested in purchasing her- please get in touch with the gallery.
As well as the usual final image and detail shots, i also remembered to get some (rather bad) shots of the piece framed up!
The show opens on 10th May, if youre in NYC or visiting around then- make sure you pop in to Bold Hype and check out what promises to be an amazing show!
So here she is, 'Cuckoo' is 20x24" (excluding the kick ass frame) and is probably one of my personal favorites that ive done recently. If youre interested in purchasing her- please get in touch with the gallery.
As well as the usual final image and detail shots, i also remembered to get some (rather bad) shots of the piece framed up!
Thursday, 5 April 2012
Memories Project...
Awhile back i was asked to contribute to a charity art project that would go to help rasie money and awareness for the Maggies Cancer Caring centres. The Memories project was put together by Rishi Sodha, Stuart Boyd, Antony Kitson and freelance journalist and copywriter Garrick Webster.
Memories looks at the thoughts and experiences of individuals who have survived cancer, as well as those of people who have lost loved ones. There are ten stories inside, each looking at one person’s recollection of a particular day in the struggle against cancer. For each of these ‘memories’ a dozen leading artists, illustrators and designers have created their own visual response. Two further stories were ‘open brief’ and invited creatives worldwide to make their own images to accompany the text. The best submissions went into the book.
2 years later, the book was launched in Dec of 2011 and is available to buy direct from the Memories website. Below is a little look at my contribution to Patrick Woodcocks poem about the loss of his mother in 2006. Its a great book, with illustrations from a wide variety of artists and goes to help a worthwhile cause, order a copy while there are still some left!
Memories looks at the thoughts and experiences of individuals who have survived cancer, as well as those of people who have lost loved ones. There are ten stories inside, each looking at one person’s recollection of a particular day in the struggle against cancer. For each of these ‘memories’ a dozen leading artists, illustrators and designers have created their own visual response. Two further stories were ‘open brief’ and invited creatives worldwide to make their own images to accompany the text. The best submissions went into the book.
2 years later, the book was launched in Dec of 2011 and is available to buy direct from the Memories website. Below is a little look at my contribution to Patrick Woodcocks poem about the loss of his mother in 2006. Its a great book, with illustrations from a wide variety of artists and goes to help a worthwhile cause, order a copy while there are still some left!
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
The Tallest Tales...
A little later than i anticipated- as promised, heres a look at the last of the 3 new pieces that went over to LA for the mini show at Corey Helford Gallery. 'The Tallest Tales' 20x28". Some detail shots below.
Friday, 2 March 2012
Euryales Lament...
As i mentioned in an earlier post, heres another of the new pieces for the show at CHG on the 10th March, HiFructose magazine did a nice preview the other day and used a couple of the new pieces for the article (which you can view here)- as theres actually only 3 new works going in this show, that means theres only one that hasnt been shown yet! (leaving that till next week- unless it gets leaked sooner!)
Anyway, here you go, Euryales Lament. In Greek mythology Euryale was one of the 3 gorgon sisters, unfortunately for Medusa- Euryale and the other sister Stheno were both immortal (although im pretty sure that even if youre immortal- having your head cut off would mean your demise, Highlander wouldve been a very different film!). Heres the full image and some detail shots as usual.
Anyway, here you go, Euryales Lament. In Greek mythology Euryale was one of the 3 gorgon sisters, unfortunately for Medusa- Euryale and the other sister Stheno were both immortal (although im pretty sure that even if youre immortal- having your head cut off would mean your demise, Highlander wouldve been a very different film!). Heres the full image and some detail shots as usual.
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
Suggestivism NYC...
On May 10th, Bold Hype Gallery in NYC will be hosting Suggestivism NYC, curated by Nathan Spoor, the show follows on from the last Suggestivism show at GCAC last year.
Im really stoked to be a part of this- i was blown away by the work in the first show, this one promises to be even greater with work from some truly amazing artists:
Chris Mars, Skinner, Chet Zar, Dan May, Nathan Ota, Jeff McMillan, Rod Luff, Sas Christian, Colin Christian, Joe Vaux, Bob Schneider, Mia, Naoto Hattori, Bob Dob, Tom Bagshaw, Jason Maloney, David Molesky, Darren LeGallo, Michael Page, Kevin Peterson, Thomas Doyle, Sandow Birk, Heidi Taillefer, Yevgeniya Mikhailik, Brendan Monroe, Annie Owens, Eric Althin, Jason Limon, Joey Remmers, Chandler Wood, Martin Wittfooth, Eric Richardson, Francesco LoCastro, Nathan Spoor, Kathie Olivas, Brandt Peters, Scott Scheidly, NC Winters, Christian Van Minnen, Winnie Truong, Julian Callos, Heiko Müller, and Marco Mazzoni.
Heres the show flyer and i will do a post with my piece when its a little closer to the show start!
Im really stoked to be a part of this- i was blown away by the work in the first show, this one promises to be even greater with work from some truly amazing artists:
Chris Mars, Skinner, Chet Zar, Dan May, Nathan Ota, Jeff McMillan, Rod Luff, Sas Christian, Colin Christian, Joe Vaux, Bob Schneider, Mia, Naoto Hattori, Bob Dob, Tom Bagshaw, Jason Maloney, David Molesky, Darren LeGallo, Michael Page, Kevin Peterson, Thomas Doyle, Sandow Birk, Heidi Taillefer, Yevgeniya Mikhailik, Brendan Monroe, Annie Owens, Eric Althin, Jason Limon, Joey Remmers, Chandler Wood, Martin Wittfooth, Eric Richardson, Francesco LoCastro, Nathan Spoor, Kathie Olivas, Brandt Peters, Scott Scheidly, NC Winters, Christian Van Minnen, Winnie Truong, Julian Callos, Heiko Müller, and Marco Mazzoni.
Heres the show flyer and i will do a post with my piece when its a little closer to the show start!
Monday, 27 February 2012
New work...
A month to the day and im getting around to a quick post to show a little of what ive been up to! On the 10th March at Corey Helford Gallery in LA, i will be showing a few new works- together with a couple of older pieces- in the upstairs loft while the amazingly talented Amy Sol has her solo show 'Numina' in the main exhibition space below.
Heres a look at 'A moment of Clarity' which has already leaked online, i will post up a look at the other new pieces closer to the show start. If youre interested, the older pieces that will also be on display are- Lucille and Evil Intent, along with my Exodus piece and 2 small Yokai prints!
Heres a look at 'A moment of Clarity' which has already leaked online, i will post up a look at the other new pieces closer to the show start. If youre interested, the older pieces that will also be on display are- Lucille and Evil Intent, along with my Exodus piece and 2 small Yokai prints!
Friday, 27 January 2012
Prisma Artist Collective...
If you havent seen it yet, the PRISMA Artist Collective (which im a part of) now has a great new website! The collective features an international line-up of 25 amazing artists, some of whom you may or may not know of already, make sure you check out the site for information about the artists, latest news on shows, interviews and works in progress!
Follow PRISMA on:
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Twitter / twitter.com/PRRRISMA
Facebook / www.facebook.com/prismacollective
Tumblr / prismacollective.tumblr.com
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Follow PRISMA on:
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Twitter / twitter.com/PRRRISMA
Facebook / www.facebook.com/prismacollective
Tumblr / prismacollective.tumblr.com
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Catching up...
Cant quite believe its almost been a month since my last post! Ive been pretty bad at keeping up with stuff online for awhile- moving house and settling in took more of my time than i anticipated and its meant ive fallen behind on my work for a mini show with Corey Helford in March! As a little taster, heres a couple of wip IG shots of what to expect in March, when things get a little closer to the show i will be able to post up the full pieces!
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