Week Forty Eight – Dr Who – All Timey Wimey

Bow na now bow na now bow na now, whoo oooo ooohhhhh. Dr Who. After a mispent youth, hiding behind the sofa, I still love Dr Who. In honour if it’s 50th birthday, an experiment in speed painting and in the style I hinted at in a past painting… I present to you Dr Who – All Timey Wimey. (Yes, the paint has supposed to run. Yes, those colours are bizzare.)
DrWho50

Week Fourty Three – Renata Daninsky

So finally I finished the painting I started on holiday. I realised the other day that I only had a few more weeks to go!

This is Renata Daninsky aka Peach. For your own sake, she is most certainly not safe for work. Repeate NSFW. Probably not safe for facebook.

If you click on the picture, you will see an proper, uncensored version.

NSFW

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Week Fourty Two – To Wish

To Wish that your back on holiday, not having to face the daily grind of life. That moment, captured while away that you reminisce over and over. This is one of those moments, caught by me good friend Francis on his holday. It now hangs in his living room, as a reminder to happy times. Enjoy good buddy.

To Wish

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Week Fourty One – Heroic Last Stand

I don’t have a lot of music tastes. What I mean is I don’t have a vast music collection and I’m not really tied to any particular style. That said, in my youth, there were a few select bands that I loved and the music across these bands was varied.

Weiss Heim by Richie Blackmores Rainbow, quoted as a “glorious instrumental”. A mix of very slow rock ballad, with a deep yearning, that’s hard to describe. Go listen, you won’t be disappointed. For me, being a young teenager, it always conjures up the same imagery, an imagery I’ll attempt to share.

Imagine a low hill; the sun is reaching it finale for the day. Standing on the hill is an armoured warrior. Sword in hand he observes what can only be described as the horde of enemy approaching his defended position. Slowly they approach. He will not quaver from his duty. This is the place he will hold. He will not fail. He checks his sword. He checks his armour. He watches as they make slow progression towards him. This will be his finest hour. He readies himself.

As the sun stretches it’s last light towards the horizon his sword swings, and the first foe falls. Striking left, striking right, his foes are struck down with such ferocity and determination. They will not defeat him. The light is fading yet still they come, not one at a time but crowding in, striking at him, determined to relieve him of his position and his life. No ground is made, no ground is lost. His sword is a flurry of steel, a beautiful, shimmering dance of light and dark, astounding to watch, deadly to feel. The ring of fallen grows around him. Then at last, there are no more. The foe is vanquished. The day is won. The battle is over.

Collapsing to his knees he catches his breath. Blood seeps from the open wound. Taking a steady breath, he looks up at the setting sun and knows this to be the last he will ever see. He glances down, the day is done, the light is passed and our warrior is no more, surrounded by the hundred that tried to take him.

Heroic Last Stand

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