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Description
This started out as a drawing based on The Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot, my favorite lines which are:

A woman drew her long black hair out tight
And fiddled whisper music on those strings
And bats with baby faces in the violet light
Whistled, and beat their wings
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.
In this decayed hole among the mountains
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.

But basically, as I drew, I forgot Eliot (sorry, babe) and started thinking about how almost everything nowadays is just glitter without the underlying grit needed to sustain it. And as I shaded and drew, it became less about the Waste Land more about strength stretched thin, wire tight and on the verge of snapping.

This can hardly be called a good drawing; I'll be the first to admit it. The anatomy is horrendous (I never took classes), and you can see where parts of it fall apart; the face is cartoonish some musculature is undeveloped. But there are portions where I think some of what I was trying to portray shows through, the hands, the feet.

So...I'll keep it to remind myself. I guess.

Description
This started out as a drawing based on The Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot, my favorite lines which are:

A woman drew her long black hair out tight
And fiddled whisper music on those strings
And bats with baby faces in the violet light
Whistled, and beat their wings
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.
In this decayed hole among the mountains
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.

But basically, as I drew, I forgot Eliot (sorry, babe) and started thinking about how almost everything nowadays is just glitter without the underlying grit needed to sustain it. And as I shaded and drew, it became less about the Waste Land more about strength stretched thin, wire tight and on the verge of snapping.

This can hardly be called a good drawing; I'll be the first to admit it. The anatomy is horrendous (I never took classes), and you can see where parts of it fall apart; the face is cartoonish some musculature is undeveloped. But there are portions where I think some of what I was trying to portray shows through, the hands, the feet.

So...I'll keep it to remind myself. I guess.