Ahh Dee that looks so damn awesome! And what M said, it's a booze heaven...did you enjoy making it :P
It's all about the scabs, guns and peanut butter
06-25-2011, 08:58 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-30-2011, 01:22 AM by Phyre.)
@ Ly - This time I listened to the song you'd chosen before looking at your pictures. I immediately fell in love with the song (it's added to my Itunes now), and when I then looked at the pictures all I could do was stare in disbelief. I think you've captured the essence of the song so incredibly well; I don't think I can describe exactly how well.
First there's the bench on that seemingly endless road. A beautiful spot; a light, a book, a violin, some food; a place where you can stay for a while. Yet it's situated on that road, nothing but an inbetween, with always that inviting light in the distance. And once you pick up your legs, and travel down that road, you come home. Time may have weathered the wood, allowed the plants access to the cracks in the walls, but it's still home; welcoming you back.
I know that the interpretation of a song is very personal, as are the feelings a song may elicit, but those pictures perfectly emulate the symbolism I hear when I listenen to that song. Just perfectly.
@ Dee - Speechless. Just speechless. I can't imagine that was easy to design. Where to start... When I look over those pictures, sure, I see a booze heaven. Yet I can't help but feel like that isn't all there is to see.
The entire place is filled to the brim with alcoholic beverages, yet there is a pile of books stacked under the sidetable. Hidden, forgotten; but not discarded. Similarly, the guitar in the corner is also "cluttered in", attempted to be hidden. But again; it hasn't been discarded. Almost like momentos of a long forgotten, painful, reality. Combined with the expressively depressive wall hangings, it makes you wonder if the bottles aren't just a facade. The reference to a higher purpose and the sleeping bag give rise to more questions; does the person who lives here realize his or her predicament. The passed out boy near the bottle of pills finally answers all those questions, the only not-so-subtle statement. It's confronting, and it's touching.
I don't know if you've consciously decided to design the room like this, or if it happened intuitively, out of a feeling. But I am speechless. Just speechless.
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