I Was Possessed At 2 Am To Draw This

the sillies

Ruby drawings I'm never finishing + some WIPs I LOVE WIPS I LOVE WIPS

crow’s feet

gnnn

Klaasje outfits !!

another drawing based on Pinterest shitpost images…..

Harrier du Mwah

sketches for science

i will share some of thoughts behind the process here too why not! :D

‘first i was generally inspired by thoughts like “what did Kim feel when Harry was shot? how would it impact him, taking care of a barely conscious body for days, all by himself? which thoughts did he reflect on during that time? did he check for pulse from time to time, just to make sure?”. then my mind leaned into making a religiously inspired composition, considered how often Kim is deified by Harry (his portrait being the best example), however a composition that instead of calming and collected would be cracking, bursting. a carefully constructed façade of detachment breaking as Kim is encountered with death again. thus, this “pieta” feels wrong, Kim, who usually consists of warm colours (in og portrait too!), dives his head into the blue — faces the gruesome, cruel and cold. the blues in Harry and around him pierce through the warmth of the deified image, tear it down to the raw, scary reality in which Harry doesn’t *seem* to be alive. the bandages around him resemble cloths used in iconography, however they are unsettlingly soaked in the bright, accumulating blood. and here comes the central element — the bouquet of red carnations (i can’t rlly draw flowers lmao but it’s supposed to be that), the deep hue of which often symbolises blood, sacrifice, and is often used in the depiction of Christ’s blood in that regard. it could also be interpreted as the symbol of love, alongside with martyrdom. the flowers erupt from Harry’s injuries and lean towards Kim, his bright, golden halo, a sun almost. as they grow thicker and blooming, fed on Harry’s blood, they stretch to Kim, reach his halo. dark vines are taking over it, consuming it like a parasite, infest it with red that makes the halo look almost as some sort of organ permeated with capillaries. it cracks like a thin stained glass under the vigorous force of carnations, breaks into sharp shards. Kim can’t uphold to his holiness no more, doesn’t have a stable ground, he instead is absorbed by the horrors injected into him. even the background, dull and golden, was taken over by the destruction, it flakes off and crumbles. for some reason, i felt compelled to name it “His garden”, “garden” to signify the overwhelming scale of bursting flowers, their impact on Kim, and “his” because at the moment it’s Kim’s alone to observe, take care of, he’s the only one to be consumed, captivated and tormented by it. ‘

His garden

mama du bois