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Description
After witnessing the horrors of the Great War, many British artists turned their back on movements like Futurism and Vorticism and sought solace in more traditional methods and genres. One such artist was Julian Bentick. His brush had long been celebrated for its ability to capture the subtle interplay of light and shadow and, following the Armistice in 1918, he turned that mastery towards depictions of rural idylls and genteel portraits.

However, in the year 1920, Julian Bentick’s artistic trajectory took an unexpected and perplexing turn. His once idyllic landscapes gave way to nightmarish visions, scenes of pastoral beauty becoming unsettling vistas of otherworldly dread and wonder. Faces, once serene, now held a disturbing blend of anguish and exultation.

The change was most evident when Bentick unveiled a series of paintings that bore an uncanny resemblance to the surreal prisons depicted by Giovanni Battista Piranesi in his iconic "Carceri d'Invenzione." These canvases portrayed a city of sprawling, impossible labyrinths, twisted staircases leading to nowhere, vast echoing chambers adorned with ornate but incongruous embellishments, walls of knotted, tangled limbs and bridges suspended over voids that defied reason.

Critics were both puzzled and captivated by this sudden departure from Bentick’s established style. Rumours began to circulate about the artist's mental state and increasingly reclusive behaviour. Whispers of madness and obsession spread among those who knew him. Some suggested that a derangement of the mind was to blame for these unsettling works, while others claimed a dark influence had overtaken him.

Unbeknownst to the art world at large, Julian Bentick had indeed come into contact with a malevolent force: Ptoliboros, an alien city that existed outside linear time, and a place that defied both logic and sanity. Whether through accident or design, he had encountered Ptoliboros and it now consumed his artistic endeavours.

As time went by, Bentick’s obsession with Ptoliboros deepened. His art became increasingly disturbing, reflecting the twisted corridors and abyssal voids of the nightmarish city as he tried to capture its essence on canvas. He toiled relentlessly, his studio cluttered with canvases portraying grotesque facades, impossible geometries and tortured figures. His own physical and mental well-being suffered, deteriorating in tandem with the mounting urgency of his work.

With each brushstroke, Bentick seemed to slip further into madness. His once-promising career faltered as he succumbed to the relentless pull of Ptoliboros, his art becoming a conduit for its malevolent influence. And then, on an ominous day in October 1922, he unveiled his masterpiece to the world. The gallery buzzed with anticipation as the heavy velvet curtain was drawn back, revealing Julian Bentick’s latest creation. Gasps of astonishment mingled with frightened whispers as the audience took in the painting before them.

The canvas seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a sickening peristaltic rhythm that evoked a sense of deep, visceral unease and revulsion in those who beheld it. The scene depicted a sprawling, surreal city reminiscent of Piranesi's labyrinthine prisons. Staircases defied logic, leading to nowhere and everywhere at once. Figures appeared trapped within the city's bizarre geometry, their forms contorted and fragmented, merging with the edifices around them.

Bentick stood before the audience and took a bow, his eyes filled with triumph and madness. Without hesitation, he stepped into the painting, into the nightmarish realm he had meticulously captured on canvas. The audience recoiled in horror as the painting seemed to writhe, hungry to consume the artist who had become one with his own creation. The heavy curtain fell back into place, shrouding the masterpiece.

Neither the artist nor his creation were ever seen again. The fate of the painting is not recorded, though employees of gallery claim that "men from the government" came and removed it. Its current location is unknown, and many collectors would pay handsomely to possess it.

Created using Midjourney and Leonardo

Description
After witnessing the horrors of the Great War, many British artists turned their back on movements like Futurism and Vorticism and sought solace in more traditional methods and genres. One such artist was Julian Bentick. His brush had long been celebrated for its ability to capture the subtle interplay of light and shadow and, following the Armistice in 1918, he turned that mastery towards depictions of rural idylls and genteel portraits.

However, in the year 1920, Julian Bentick’s artistic trajectory took an unexpected and perplexing turn. His once idyllic landscapes gave way to nightmarish visions, scenes of pastoral beauty becoming unsettling vistas of otherworldly dread and wonder. Faces, once serene, now held a disturbing blend of anguish and exultation.

The change was most evident when Bentick unveiled a series of paintings that bore an uncanny resemblance to the surreal prisons depicted by Giovanni Battista Piranesi in his iconic "Carceri d'Invenzione." These canvases portrayed a city of sprawling, impossible labyrinths, twisted staircases leading to nowhere, vast echoing chambers adorned with ornate but incongruous embellishments, walls of knotted, tangled limbs and bridges suspended over voids that defied reason.

Critics were both puzzled and captivated by this sudden departure from Bentick’s established style. Rumours began to circulate about the artist's mental state and increasingly reclusive behaviour. Whispers of madness and obsession spread among those who knew him. Some suggested that a derangement of the mind was to blame for these unsettling works, while others claimed a dark influence had overtaken him.

Unbeknownst to the art world at large, Julian Bentick had indeed come into contact with a malevolent force: Ptoliboros, an alien city that existed outside linear time, and a place that defied both logic and sanity. Whether through accident or design, he had encountered Ptoliboros and it now consumed his artistic endeavours.

As time went by, Bentick’s obsession with Ptoliboros deepened. His art became increasingly disturbing, reflecting the twisted corridors and abyssal voids of the nightmarish city as he tried to capture its essence on canvas. He toiled relentlessly, his studio cluttered with canvases portraying grotesque facades, impossible geometries and tortured figures. His own physical and mental well-being suffered, deteriorating in tandem with the mounting urgency of his work.

With each brushstroke, Bentick seemed to slip further into madness. His once-promising career faltered as he succumbed to the relentless pull of Ptoliboros, his art becoming a conduit for its malevolent influence. And then, on an ominous day in October 1922, he unveiled his masterpiece to the world. The gallery buzzed with anticipation as the heavy velvet curtain was drawn back, revealing Julian Bentick’s latest creation. Gasps of astonishment mingled with frightened whispers as the audience took in the painting before them.

The canvas seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a sickening peristaltic rhythm that evoked a sense of deep, visceral unease and revulsion in those who beheld it. The scene depicted a sprawling, surreal city reminiscent of Piranesi's labyrinthine prisons. Staircases defied logic, leading to nowhere and everywhere at once. Figures appeared trapped within the city's bizarre geometry, their forms contorted and fragmented, merging with the edifices around them.

Bentick stood before the audience and took a bow, his eyes filled with triumph and madness. Without hesitation, he stepped into the painting, into the nightmarish realm he had meticulously captured on canvas. The audience recoiled in horror as the painting seemed to writhe, hungry to consume the artist who had become one with his own creation. The heavy curtain fell back into place, shrouding the masterpiece.

Neither the artist nor his creation were ever seen again. The fate of the painting is not recorded, though employees of gallery claim that "men from the government" came and removed it. Its current location is unknown, and many collectors would pay handsomely to possess it.

Created using Midjourney and Leonardo