Looking back to the beginnings. There among the dry leaves and the forgotten toys of our youth when bliss and eternity were one together. Our tree mother who embraces us lifting us up high and higher to swing us high above the treetops and greeting the light. Finally the wind grabbing our hands to take us far away beyond the horizon on this unforgettable journey.
He sank into his very own mire of black thoughts of doom and gradually became himself the fullfilment of the diabolical threat he was warning for. He was no longer one of us, for he was not able to feel affection or love for anybody than himself. Burn: ink reedpen brush - PS
The preacher of the new age is crying out against the hydraulic strong arm of the law when democratical system made place for a strong and surpressing leadership led by the totalitarian technocrats of SAT (Safety Authority Technology). The preacher: pencil - PS
The crowman, the protector of our village. He puts the scavengers to trial and scares them away from our crops.He becomes one with his prey by dressing in dark rags decorated with his victims feathers black. He is said to be living in the fields somewhere behind the horizon. We will suffer no famine as long he prolongs his hidden route. Crowman: reedpen ink brush - PS
The usage of the time fungus which can regenerate the muscle tissue and the skin structure to an earlier state must be undertaken with the outmost care. The spells must not be spoken, the surrounding air should not vibrate, but produced by alpha waves by dreaming the mantra. This conté-drawing is dated somewhere around 1998. Sibir - Regeneration: conté pencil - Gimp
