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@lialivingart
Hey! I’m Lia 👋 I'm an artist and I'm still trying to find my own consistent art style. If we have the same fandom obsesshions or if you want to go through this art quest with me, your are welcome to join to my world 🤗
Always and forever, Lia
I’ve wanted to draw something with this idea for a long time. I always wished Neji had a better fate. Every time I rewatch Naruto, the moments when Hiashi and Neji finally begin to understand each other touch me deeply. I especially love their training scenes together.
My drawings follow my mood
Просто размышления, которые хочется где-то зафиксировать для самой себя. Навеянные очередным пересмотром аниме Наруто Наруто - совершенно феноменальное аниме и манга, не теряющее актуальности ни в 14 лет, ни в 34. Более того, пересматривая его в разные периоды своей жизни каждый раз открываешь для себя что-то новое. По крайней мере у меня так. Случайным образом эта история идет со мной рука об руку всю жизнь, хотя я никогда не придавала ей слишком большого значения.
В 14 лет это забавное аниме про детишек, которые рвутся во взрослую жизнь. И это хорошо резонирует с периодом старшей школы, когда надо выбрать профессию и выпорхнуть из родительского гнезда.
В 17 лет оставляет впечатление вышедшая 440 глава манги Разговор с Четвёртым, в которой 10-тилетний Наруто впервые встречает своего отца и от всей души бьет его кулаком в живот. И невозможно не вспомнить себя саму в 16 лет, когда в соцсетях удалось найти биологического отца и впервые с ним поговорить. Желание ударить его прямо через монитор было велико, жаль, что невозможно. На этом сходство ситуаций заканчивается - Наруто с отцом повезло куда больше.
В 25 лет это случайная ностальгия. Аниме и манга уже завершены - можно полюбопытствовать и узнать, чем закончилась история, забытая на 7 лет. А история неожиданным образом раскрывается буйством красок, оттенков и полутонов, которые в тот момент даже не все получается осознать. Самым ярким моментом становится неиссякаемая энергия неунывающего паренька, который истово верит, что всего в жизни добьется. И эта мотивация так помогает, поскольку в этот самый момент стоишь на пороге новой жизни, в которой твоя битва - это битва за профессию, в которой действительно хочется развиваться.
В 30 лет пережитый опыт уже отдаляет от ассоциирования себя с молодыми ниндзя. И неожиданностью становится то, что находится пугающе много общего с вечно опаздывающим учителем, любителем порнушной литературы. Задумываешься - это персонаж настолько жизненный на самом деле, а не комично-карикатурный, как казалось в детстве? Или же просто собственная жизнь свернула куда-то не туда?
В 34 уже интереснее разбирать персонажей старшего поколения. На молодняк смотришь со снисходительной улыбкой скучного взрослого и отчетливо видишь, как некоторые уже не кажутся такими крутыми, как в детстве. А некоторые, наоборот, удивляют тем, что вызывают уважение, которому наконец не мешают подростковые предрассудки. На взрослое поколение теперь смотришь с интересом, уже заранее пытаясь угадать, в чьем же будущем наибольшая вероятность оказаться через 15 лет? Лечу ли на всех парах по стопам извращенного отшельника? Или будущее бабули Цунаде, портрет которой по чистой случайности уже 11 лет висит над моим рабочим столом, выглядит более правдоподобным?
Verso has always given Lune plenty of reasons to be angry — and he did it again 🙈
All the love and happiness to our dear Verso on his special day 💜
I'm back with my new obsession. I played Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. This game gave me an incredible number of hours of pleasure, pain, joy, suffering, and reflection. Invited to the first dance. Verso once talked about how he missed the Lumière festivals. I wondered how that could have been. I wanted to draw something tender and kind with this couple. Without tragedy.
“Are you going to ask her for a dance or not?” Clea spoke into his ear.
Verso choked on his swallow of wine. “What—who—” he sputtered, then pounded his fist on his chest until he was done coughing and had recovered his composure by the same token. “Whatever do you mean?” he asked innocently.
Clea did not fall for it. “You’ve been mooning over her since we got here,” she retorted with one of her scathing eye rolls. “It’s really quite pathetic.”
Verso ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. As a rule, he never asked anyone for a dance: he never lacked for dance partners regardless, but he was all too aware of the eyes on him, and the last thing he wanted was feed Lumière’s ravenous gossip machine. The harbour was crowded enough he didn’t think anyone would notice on what—or whom—his gaze lingered, but of course nothing escaped Clea’s sharp eye.
The young woman was dancing alone, seemingly without a care in the world. Her hair whirled around her in a billow of dark gold as she moved—not gracefully, nothing like the studied elegance of his mother’s dance, but with an abandon that put him in mind of the wild horses Alicia loved to draw. Every once in a while she twirled on someone’s arm, but then inevitably returned to her lone, secret dance, like the music guiding her steps had nothing to do with the cello and accordion of the festival band.
A flash of emerald caught his through the dancing crowd. The blonde woman looked at him, her hair tousled, colour riding high on her cheeks, then spun away.
Verso sighed into his glass. “She looks happy dancing on her own, though, doesn’t she?” he said quietly.
Clea shrugged, then nudged him with one elbow. “Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t like dancing with you,” she said, in a rare show of sisterly support. “Now go ask her or I will.”
He chuckled; that was more like the Clea he knew. “Fine,” he relented. He drained his wine, then made his way to the alluring dancer before the courage left him.
“Hi,” he said, very eloquently. “I’m Verso.”
She turned and raised her green eyes at him. This close, he could see her pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat and the smattering of freckles on her rosy skin. She wasn’t one of those classical beauties modelling for his family’s paintings, but he couldn’t get enough of her face’s asymmetrical quirks, the vivacious spark of her gaze, the teasing slant of her smile.
The corner of her lips gave an amused quirk. “I know,” she said.
Verso blinked at the unexpected retort. He’d been afraid of spooking her like some wild thing in the woods, but now he realized he was the one who’d ventured on her turf, wholly unprepared. “Oh. Um. Care for a dance?”
“With you?” she blurted.
He glanced over to Clea for moral support, but she simply dropped her face into her palm. “Well … that was the idea, yes.”
He was about to excuse himself and crawl back to his sister when the woman finally nodded. “Okay,” she agreed, like she couldn’t think of a good reason to turn him down. “I’m Julie.”
Everyone was watching them now, likely wondering who this mysterious girl was who had caught the attention of the Dessendre son, but to hell with it, he decided. Let them talk.
Verso bowed at the waist and reached for her hand; then he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and was gratified by the flush deepening on her cheeks and the surprise widening her eyes.
“Enchanté, Julie.”
There was no way I wasn’t going to do it.
I'm back with my new obsession. I played Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. This game gave me an incredible number of hours of pleasure, pain, joy, suffering, and reflection. Invited to the first dance. Verso once talked about how he missed the Lumière festivals. I wondered how that could have been. I wanted to draw something tender and kind with this couple. Without tragedy.
“Are you going to ask her for a dance or not?” Clea spoke into his ear.
Verso choked on his swallow of wine. “What—who—” he sputtered, then pounded his fist on his chest until he was done coughing and had recovered his composure by the same token. “Whatever do you mean?” he asked innocently.
Clea did not fall for it. “You’ve been mooning over her since we got here,” she retorted with one of her scathing eye rolls. “It’s really quite pathetic.”
Verso ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. As a rule, he never asked anyone for a dance: he never lacked for dance partners regardless, but he was all too aware of the eyes on him, and the last thing he wanted was feed Lumière’s ravenous gossip machine. The harbour was crowded enough he didn’t think anyone would notice on what—or whom—his gaze lingered, but of course nothing escaped Clea’s sharp eye.
The young woman was dancing alone, seemingly without a care in the world. Her hair whirled around her in a billow of dark gold as she moved—not gracefully, nothing like the studied elegance of his mother’s dance, but with an abandon that put him in mind of the wild horses Alicia loved to draw. Every once in a while she twirled on someone’s arm, but then inevitably returned to her lone, secret dance, like the music guiding her steps had nothing to do with the cello and accordion of the festival band.
A flash of emerald caught his through the dancing crowd. The blonde woman looked at him, her hair tousled, colour riding high on her cheeks, then spun away.
Verso sighed into his glass. “She looks happy dancing on her own, though, doesn’t she?” he said quietly.
Clea shrugged, then nudged him with one elbow. “Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t like dancing with you,” she said, in a rare show of sisterly support. “Now go ask her or I will.”
He chuckled; that was more like the Clea he knew. “Fine,” he relented. He drained his wine, then made his way to the alluring dancer before the courage left him.
“Hi,” he said, very eloquently. “I’m Verso.”
She turned and raised her green eyes at him. This close, he could see her pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat and the smattering of freckles on her rosy skin. She wasn’t one of those classical beauties modelling for his family’s paintings, but he couldn’t get enough of her face’s asymmetrical quirks, the vivacious spark of her gaze, the teasing slant of her smile.
The corner of her lips gave an amused quirk. “I know,” she said.
Verso blinked at the unexpected retort. He’d been afraid of spooking her like some wild thing in the woods, but now he realized he was the one who’d ventured on her turf, wholly unprepared. “Oh. Um. Care for a dance?”
“With you?” she blurted.
He glanced over to Clea for moral support, but she simply dropped her face into her palm. “Well … that was the idea, yes.”
He was about to excuse himself and crawl back to his sister when the woman finally nodded. “Okay,” she agreed, like she couldn’t think of a good reason to turn him down. “I’m Julie.”
Everyone was watching them now, likely wondering who this mysterious girl was who had caught the attention of the Dessendre son, but to hell with it, he decided. Let them talk.
Verso bowed at the waist and reached for her hand; then he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and was gratified by the flush deepening on her cheeks and the surprise widening her eyes.
“Enchanté, Julie.”
I’m completely speechless This was such an unexpected and wonderful surprise. And it’s so much better than anything I’d imagined. Julie and Verso are unbelievably adorable, and Clea is absolutely stunning!
Expedition Zero • Verso & Julie
Artober day 3!
A quick sketch of Verso today. The good news: after weeks of painting figurines, I still remember how to draw. Beloved painted man
Since the Maelle figurine was received so warmly on X, here’s another one — Verso. I painted him about a month ago, and he was definitely more challenging: textures, weathering, scars. But I loved every hour of this process. Model by bulkamancer Painted by me
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 • (dev. Sandfall Interactive)
I love this smile so much! 😭 💔
I had a little photoshoot yesterday of the figurines I’ve been painting these past months. Here’s one of them — only the second fully painted figure in my life. I’m still learning, but I’m really proud of how she turned out.
Model by NekoFigurines Painted by me
I didn’t realize how much this moment meant the first time I played. But on the second run, it hit like a train.
You captured this moment so well. It's a damn powerful one, and you've really elevated it with the sheer saturation of the flames on Maelle and around Verso, plus the darker background. His face is also quite soft, a moment I bet that made him hurt considering who Maelle is to him. This looks awesome dude, well done!
Thank you for your attention to my work! That moment in the game struck me deeply, and I wanted to draw it in a way that intensified the horror of it — especially through color.
After drawing their sad moment, I just needed to paint them in peace for once. Maybe there were days like this too — sunlight, hopeful.
A post in praise of Verso’s glorious ass. Spent a couple of hours with this handsome man — and I’m shamelessly pleased to have caught up on drawing… well, the area just below his back. No regrets!
