Latest Posts by l-ondina-norda-l - Page 2
In abandoned home a withered plant awaits me.
Body is just a body.
Cookies need love like everything does.
I just have never heard a program speak of love.
POV: You come back home tired and forceless wishing only to sit a little in calm silent dark without being disturbed by any soul. But there is someone home, and they want to talk to you, to chat, to gossip, to rattle. Immediately.
That interesting and seductive feeling when you look so godlike and radiate such confidence in own irresistibility it makes you ready to desire for self.
Lightened by rays of the setting sun, I looked illegally beautiful in a side mirror.
I almost hadn't expirienced it so strongly since then, and don't know when I will. Warmth and light are slipping away, so I'll just leave here this lost piece of summer and continue my transition to the phase of darkness and cold.
The healing hand.
Sometimes she leaves me alone, this venomous little serpent. But far more often she entwines my neck and makes me cry by her toxic whispering.
This is my dream workspace. Let it live at least on paper since at the present time for it there's no way to reality.
Some time ago I found a Huffpost interview with Jackie Fuchs of The Runaways where she's telling about sexual assault she had suffered from band's manager Kim Fowley on one of her early days as a Runaway. I drowned in Jackie's tale for a while, and it struck me hard. But I also was very inspired with her strenght and vitality. And, as a result, felt a will to draw her little portrait.
The witching hour phantasia
TW: depression.
Almost every day of my life I have thoughts which are so exhausting. Every single one of them is able to plunge me in a dark.
I've heard from some people that it may be just a phase - unwillingness to do anything is not eternal, and one day art block will surely end. On the opposite, others warn that hesitation is dangerous and without treatment it may get worse. Besides, sentences on illustration concern, I guess, not only art crisis, but mental health in general.
That's why I desided to write down my sickly toxic thoughts and draw this art on their base. Maybe I was hoping they will leave me alone after that at least for some time. Have to admit I really felt in my persistant outer grey mist a glimmering of something lucid and hopeful, especially strong during the art work itself.
I'm glad I found this way of self-help. Such thoughts had better be on paper. Not in my head, thanks, no.
Communicating with people I often stay closed to them, showing only that side of myself which consists of socially approved, conventional features, and hiding the rest behind this layer of normality. Of course, there are exceptions - those ones who are more trustworthy - but even with them some of my thoughts remain unspoken as well as certain intentions stay undone because of the fear of hostile misunderstanding.
During most of interactions I carefully choose my words, keep my emotions under lock and key, fit my appearance to certain standarts (to be honest, this is what I always do, unfortunately), because I foresee that otherwise I will look like a weirdo.
But in thoughts I'm counting minutes till the moment when I'm alone. When I can stop thinking of how I look, erase the smile away from the face and simply become myself.
I'm tired of waiting
An' closing my eyes
I'm asking myself
Why is it all my horizons
Are so far away
I look in the mirror
Don't like what I see
In my reflection
A stranger is staring at me
Looking for love
·
I understand these lines exactly how they're illustrated.
Man sees a stranger in the mirror, and this stranger looks so longing-for he begins to drill with eyes a lyric hero. And I believe this passage has a continuation.
When I had listened to these words closely, joyful relief and stupid giggling started to tear me apart, because it seemed like a clear allusion on slash (and selfcest). Which would mean classic rock is not entirely soaked with heteronormativity and toxic masculinity.
I know what the song tells about further. But I better close eyes on it and leave my delight untouched.
Vikki Nixx aesthetic.
Do you see this too? Do you feel this softest inkling captured on stills of the movie?
Pockets of an archetypical 80s rocker.
January 15 th, 1987 Van Nuys, 8:30 p.m.
Today we were back in the studio, writing for the new album. I rode in on my Harley feeling all jittery and decided to stop for a small fix... Went in Denny’s on Gower and Sunset (always the classy guy!). I didn’t have a spoon, so I bought a bottle of Pepsi, threw the bottle away, kept the cap and went in their bathroom to shoot up. The shitter was disgusting - black rings and shit stains around the bowl and the unclever graffiti all over the walls... I sat on my motorcycle helmet on the floor and filled the cap with water from the toilet. I dunno why I didn’t fill it from the sink, like any sane person would. I put the bottle cap on the toilet seat in the piss and stains, and poured coke in it. I drew it up in the syringe, washed it out in the shit water, put a little china white in the cap and cooked it, burning my fingers. I had no cottons, so I just drew it up and shot up. The studio was fine after that... I just felt dead.
Nikki Sixx, “The Heroin Diaries: A Year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star”.
I hope we all understand it’s not a lure, but a warning.
Sometimes the song is so damn good you just have to illustrate it.
https://lono.bandcamp.com/track/--5
The moment when after learning a lesson from his teacher the apprentice stops perceiving his nearly dollish beauty as a curse that makes others stare at him shamelessly. Now he views it as a power able to take away anyone’s will. Which means the shame he used to feel when looking at his naked body becomes an obsolete, needless feeling.
Иллюстрация к фанфику:
https://ficbook.net/readfic/1940249/5830585#part_content
Fanfic illustration.
Description of the scene:
Axl being in hot pursuit of the unknown bloody-minded creature. Although he is a kitsune in depicted reality, this part of him in current moment is mirrored only in the window glass behind.
Иллюстрация к фанфику:
https://ficbook.net/readfic/2706226/18604110#part_content
Fanfic illustration
Description of the scene:
Dr. Sixx introduces beloved patient to the dark secret hobby, showing him an obscure album filled with photos of his tortured victims.
Иллюстрация к фанфику:
https://ficbook.net/readfic/1154260/3530090#part_content
Mötley Crüe after a show. Shout At The Devil Era. Part II.
Antidepressant overdose
Complete project is here: https://www.behance.net/gallery/76409795/Cover-art-and-lyric-book-for-the-music-album
Dove personifying a metal poser
Complete project is here: https://www.behance.net/gallery/76409795/Cover-art-and-lyric-book-for-the-music-album
Fanfic illustration.
Description of the scene:
Axl and Mick come to life after a salvation from being by a hair's breadth of death in jaws of the wicked supernatural creature.
Иллюстрация к фанфику:
https://ficbook.net/readfic/2706226/18604110#part_content
The only fact of his existence in the deep of my headphones to resurrect atrophied art skills or to encourage while being among humans tranquilizes me as hell.
Mötley Crüe after a show. Shout At The Devil era. Part I.
Nikki under a blood moon