• Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.

Victim's Eye View

Go to CruxDreams.com
Wow, that's brought in a lot of fine images in a short time, thanks for all the contributions already!

Hornet1ba points to the problem, and other experienced artists evidently agree,
whether you're taking a photo or manipulating an image,
a close-up looking 'down' a human body is likely to appear distorted by foreshortening.

Painters and drawers can of course adjust the perspective,
altering proportions so that they are 'wrong' in 2 dimensions,
yet look 'right' when our brains translate them into 3d.
Dali dealt with that very skilfully in his great 'Christ of St John of the Cross' that Pk posted,
another example is John Waterhouse's 'St Eulalia' (though he, respecting Victorian prudery rather
than her legend, made her less than nude):

WATERHOUSE_Saint_Eulalia_1885_Tate_Britain.jpg

Of course, a 'victim's eye view' needn't necessarily include any of her body,
views 'from' the cross (whipping-post, rack, cage etc.) could include plenty to excite imagination -
the gaze of executioners, torturers, spectators, instruments threatening further tortures,
scavenging birds and beasts, remains of those who've suffered before her,
further victims be brought to watch what's going to be done to them...
 
madiosi said:
View attachment 291296
Click to expand...
Nailed through the wrist, I would think one horror of the Victims's View would be... seeing that hand, once my own, now... since the moment the nail went through, a hideous contorted claw, the immense pain radiating from the wrist up - but in the hand itself, no feeling, no sensation, no control anymore, after the thick square crude, rusty nail has crushed the nerves... it's now just a foreign object, dead alien flesh, a caricature of something that was once part of me, ... and in its deathly rigor a preview of my destiny... only past this thing I can look at those who share my fate, but are unapproachably distant, captured in the torment of their own crosses... only past this thing i can look at those who are marched up the road to meet their fate in turn... and when our eyes meet, they are horrified, because what they see in my eyes is no hope, no defiance, but only the reflection of that what I see in that horrid claw...
Eulalia said:
respecting Victorian prudery
Click to expand...
The people of the Victorian age are much maligned but out of the public view they were often deliciously twisted ;)
pkindenhaag said:
north from Ullapool
Click to expand...
This time I'll resist ;)
 
Barbaria1 said:
Not as intimate as the Colosseum, but scary enough to those of us hanging on crosses at the fifty yard line.
Click to expand...

And please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No cheerleaders!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I HATE CHEERLEADERS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

never_trust_a_cheerleader.jpg :eek:
 

Attachments

  • Cheerleaders-50-yard-line.jpg
    Cheerleaders-50-yard-line.jpg
    228.4 KB · Views: 936
And here I hang in the scorching midday sun. I allow myself once more to fall forward off the upright of the cross. My long black sweat drenched curls fall down over my sunburnt face. The crowd groan and berate me with their vulgar abuse. They want to see my dance. I won't last long. The nails tear ferociously at my wrists and I scream in pain as they take my weight. Salty sweat and tears fill my eyes. I hold my eyes tightly shut and block out the world. Then I open them slightly. Privately. If they dont see my eyes open they may think I'm dead and stop shouting.
Stones .. little rocks and stones. Ants and other creatures of the soil. An occasional drop of sweat falls from my forehead and splashes damp below me. I hang more. My chin on my chest. Bright red. What is it???
Oh..... its blood....My nailed feet.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom