New deals posted everyday, starting Black Friday and running through the holiday season! No hassles, no lines - just awesome savings on art, deviantWEAR, Premium Memberships and more!
Artist's Comments• CLICK HERE TO SEE CLOSE-UP • CHECK THE MODEL'S BEFORE AND AFTER Koa's Little Earth by I am not a priestess, as most people intend the word. Not religious in any way. I always come back to the forest and I tell people that these trees speak to me. They do. There is nothing religious or mystic about it. Trees in this forest – an old-growth forest, one of those shadowed moss-hung places that looks like a legend brought to life – they are old. Ancient might be a more appropriate word, though on a natural time scale they’re not that far gone. All the same, they’ve lived a long time. In stories, old things are painted as wise and calm and patient. In life, old things are cynical. The trees have lived long enough to know that the world is not immutable. It is not just trees and creatures that die. Mountains die, and valleys. Slowly, the autumn of the world advances, and the trees are not calm or patient. They are resigned to their fate and that of the world, and they are bitter about it. They speak of shortening days. It’s the fall season now, and darkness comes sooner. And when it’s dark, they moan and murmur about death. If there was only one thing I could do, I would find a story to tell the trees about life. I would carry my lantern into the woods, walk in the shadows like I do every night. I would fill my lantern not with fire, but with healing light, like the moon drifting in this misty swamp-sky. Fairies, perhaps. I would walk among the ancient roots and the damp loam, and I would whisper to them about this world. It is a phoenix, a song, an idea and an incarnation. Walk on, little earth. Where autumn comes, spring follows; the saplings suck lifeblood from deceased leaves. New light is born from corpses of the old. An age will pass, and with it another generation of vibrancy. There will be another age, and it too will die. It will fade into the earth and nourish budding future. Walk on, little earth. © S. Gamze GUCKIRAN 2006 All my work is copyrighted and may NOT be used without my written and expressed permission |
|