let me explain

@willscross-blog

This ugliness, this cruelty, this repulsiveness. It will all die out. And now I cry for all that is beautiful. William Cross. Call me Will. 19. Going to school for visual art. I'm not a very pleasant or happy person. Don't try to change that. I can promise you now that I won't thank you for it. Not now. Not ever. Now please. Hear what I hear.

8 posts

Posts

templeofapelles

La Belle Dame sans Merci Marc Fishman

#art

littlelionghost:

Whatcha’ readin’?

“New source material. I have to take art history to be a visual arts major.”

#c: leo #he has no clue leo's a ghost and knows literally nothing about the murder house lol

viennacalls

#art

artists || will & emerson

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining through the leaves in the trees just right. It was dappling the ground with golden-green light. As Will stared at it from his place on the top floor of the House, he knew he had to go outside and try to at least sketch it out with a pencil. Ever since the death of his little sister, Alex, Will’d been having a hard time sketching, he barely got any inspiration anymore, and now that he had gotten some, he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to go outside and sketch.

He grabbed his sketchbook off his desk, bolted down the stairs and out the door and sat down in the grass. He flipped open to a blank page and began to fill it in with what looked like just pencil scratches, but as he continued to draw, they filled out until individual blades of grass could be made out, the shadows the leaves were casting could be seen and even the way the light filtered through the trees was captured on the page.

Will continued sketching, drawing in everything he saw. He wanted to turn this into an acrylic canvas painting later. He wrote numbers on the side of the page and labeled them as different colors before beginning to write the number in next to every bit of light and shadow and just about everything in between on his page. He was almost finished with it, when another shadow darkened the area he was still working on filling in. He sighed and, without turning around, said, “Can’t you back away? I’m not finished.”

#emersonreid