Sunday 21 August 2016

Painting a Sagodjur Fjorlag Astartes

Hallo everyone.  I'm an artist and I'm mad.
  To-day I shall tell you a story.  A story with my paints.  Here, look, look!  The empty canvas, the white of innocence unmarred by the artist's hand, look!  Down there, do you see him?  And his raven?  There they are.


I start with Abaddon black where black wishes to go, dark and matte like the thoughts forever behind my eyes; but sometimes the black goes where I don't want it to-- bad black-- bad!  I am compelled to go over with with white again.

See, look!  There is white again!

Next I add the Averland Sunset, the darkest of yellows like the tarnished gold of our lord the Praetorian of Terra.  The Sable pale down the middle of the Or field of the Sagodjur's heraldry symbolizes a habit of penance and servitude overshadowing their past history as a VIIth legion assault chapter.

With the setting sun I add the spot colours, cheerful red and sombre brown where later I'll be applying bronze-- shiny bronze!  The green depths of his eye-lenses open, and I dust a bit of white around his faceplate to brighten it.  This works, I know it does!  It does!

And now I give him a coat of watered-down dryad bark with spots of doombul brown, and this is-- yes, this-- this is where the fun begins, for the paints wash away the need for all caution and care and pointy brushes and--

Now for the shiny-- so shiny!  The silver and the bronze!  I went over the parchments again and again with screaming skull and now they're white again.

And the black returned, across all the corners and the edges-- it's like edge highlighting!  Only it isn't; my my, aren't I funny!  I could write a book of jokes because I'm funny!

The silver tries to stop the black from his game, and now more washes!  Mournfang brown!  Caliban green!  More black!  I'm an artist, an artist, Throne curse you!  What am I even doing with my life?

 What have I done?  The rust of ages is consumed me!  Typus corrosion!  Nikalah oxide!  ryza rust and nurgle's rot, bring them all to the alter!  My own will do just fine, above the thumb, above the thumb as always!  Hee hee, it hurts me; yes, even Blood for the proverbial Blood God!  Can't you see?  It is done, IT IS DONE!

... It is done.  I have borne a sweet child into the world.  I will name him Allangan, because he is all my delight, and his raven I will name Ebenfalls, because she is too.
Blotfjord 1st command, at your disposal my captain.  To doom, and to the finding of our lord the Praetorian; on wings of blood and rust I fly.


So there you are.  This ridiculous rambling is pretty much what goes through my head while I paint.  Not very insightful, I suppose, but that's that.
Bye-bye for now.  Hope I didn't put you off the blog forever ;)

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