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Interview with CriwisArt

Short Snippet from an interview with criwisart(https://www.instagram.com/criwisart/) We just talked about art, the creative process, how we find inspiration and the like. Hope you enjoy!

Q: How did you get started making art?

A: I started drawing when I was very young. For me, it always felt like a skill that had been with me for as long as I can remember. I inherited it from my father, who inherited it from his grandfather.

My brother is also naturally talented at drawing, so when we were kids, art became an important part of our lives. We made our own toys, created collections of characters on paper, cut them out, and invented our own stories and worlds. We were both very shy children, and drawing gave us a place where we could escape and express ourselves.

The whole interview is right here! https://substack.com/home/post/p-203040350

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Galatea

Come to life my love, goddess of the world above

Divinity formed by human hands, capture in stone what we cannot understand

Prime and perfect in her glorious form, in mortal worlds her soul reborn

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The Lord of Freedom

Freedom bleeds and liberty screams

A god whose offerings are most obscene

For it feasts on human fear and dreams

For he knows that this is what we need

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Icelos

A dark fairytale is the world I see,

A place unfit for those born of women to be,

Cold realm of dreams, where icy creatures scream

And dark goddesses dwell beneath crystalline sheen

Where ichor flows like water tasting of blood divine

Where demon gods walk freely and mortals are left behind

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Wither

Plants that wither have a strange beauty,

Beautiful things that die have life,

A wilted rose has a power of its own,

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Soothe The Beast

They walked in, the countenance of a killer clear with every movement. Golden blade glistening with blood and the what was left of its latest victims. Red marks adorned their face, a fierce look lived in their eyes, and their mouth bore the mannerisms of a predator on the hunt. They came in ready to kill, sword raised to do the deed, when something caught their eye and the burning sun within it stilled. Perhaps it was their audacity, the gall to paint amongst the fire and blood, to find inspiration in the carnage around them, but the warrior did not strike them down. Instead she stood there watching, observing each stroke with the focus of a monk, gaze alternating between the forms and the colors he was using to paint them.

“ St-op, riiight ther–re.” the huntress said in broken Gengali.

So the moment had come. He stopped mid-stroke but was not struck down. Instead the Uzjhassi warrior walked to the still open door and gently put her palm on it, the red stains on her palm leaving a handprint on the door. She then gingerly closed it, making sure not to slam it, and returning to her prior position.

“ Ke-e-ep go-ing!”

He obeyed without question. The work called to him like a jealous god, demanding the entirety of his attention, to be the sole bearer of his focus. His fingers danced across the canvas, creating reality, giving birth to new existence, forcing form to that which wished to remain static. Time vanished, concern with the battle outside vanished, even that vicious presence watching him like a tiger vanished. The only thing that lived now was the canvas. With a wave of his hand he was done.

The Uzjhassi women moved closer, her eyes observing every part of his work. She was more thorough than any critic he had ever seen, not missing a single detail, taking in every color. When she seemed satisfied she turned to him and placed a very strong, almost unwomanly strong hand on his shoulder.

“ Come with me now!

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Snippet

No matter how many times James had seen them, faced them in battle, their presence never ceased to amaze. There was no beast on Earth comparable to a dragon. None were in their realm. James steadied himself, lifting his rifle to make it eye-level with the beast. Their scales were like steel, bullets didn’t even leave a dent. The eyes and the tips of their wings were the only weak spots. Despite himself he shivered, and a trickle of piss flowed down his leg hot and nasty. His body was betraying him. The dragon looked him up and down, flicking its tongue in and out of the air, tasting it as snakes did. Then in perfect English it said.

“ Die Valkha scum!.”

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The Present Thief

We rob the future to preserve the present

When tomorrow comes there shall be no blessing