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Works in Progress
This is my first post, so I thought I'd show some artwork that I've been working on. The first is of my favorite Tibetan deity, Mahakala (Nagpo Chenpo), One of the Principle Dharmapalas (Dharma Protectors) of Tibetan Buddhism. This particular emanation is that of Shangpa Kagyu Nagpo Chenpo, protector of the Gelugpa Order. In his hands he holds:
a)skull rosary, which shows his constant beneficial nature
b)damaru/hand drum, which symbolizes the primordial sound that brings us to the Dharma
c)trident, which symbolizes the three jewels
d) lasso, which brings back those that have strayed from the Dharma
e)and a katrika(curved knife) and kapila(skull bowl) wich represent the severing of attachment and the conquering of the maras/demons(blood in the kapila from maras)
All six arms in general represent the six perfections. Nagpo Chenpo also tramples on a vinayaka representing the conquering of obstacles.
The second thangka (although they are not traditional since thangkas are paintings of deities on fabric, and both of these are marker on paper) is of Padmasambhava (Guru Rinpoche) who brought Buddhism to Tibet. He wears his traditional red hat and holds a vajra/dorje/thunderbolt and a kapila, as well as a Khatvanga, the divine weapon.
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a)skull rosary, which shows his constant beneficial nature
b)damaru/hand drum, which symbolizes the primordial sound that brings us to the Dharma
c)trident, which symbolizes the three jewels
d) lasso, which brings back those that have strayed from the Dharma
e)and a katrika(curved knife) and kapila(skull bowl) wich represent the severing of attachment and the conquering of the maras/demons(blood in the kapila from maras)
All six arms in general represent the six perfections. Nagpo Chenpo also tramples on a vinayaka representing the conquering of obstacles.
The second thangka (although they are not traditional since thangkas are paintings of deities on fabric, and both of these are marker on paper) is of Padmasambhava (Guru Rinpoche) who brought Buddhism to Tibet. He wears his traditional red hat and holds a vajra/dorje/thunderbolt and a kapila, as well as a Khatvanga, the divine weapon.
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Comments
I'm kidding!
They're very beautiful, and you obviously put a lot of work and Effort into them. you should be very pleased because they obviously represent hours of vocational devotion.
Well done.
Speaking of works in progress, I started to write a novel a few months back and hit a wall with motivation and plot. I will post the first 2,000 words if anyone is in fact interested in reading and sending my some criticism please
The Shadow Of Jake Pilkington
Jake Pilkington stood with his forehead pressed firmly against the windowpane, the cold hard glass gradually siphoning his warmth.
His arms dangled motionless at his side as if they did not belong to him anymore, maybe now belonging to the portal that gave a
glimpse to the outside world. His eyes gave a some what vacant and dilute stare, a stare that was seldom broken, a stare that
complimented the desolate view gazing back at him.
This corner of the country was enduring one of the harshest winters in recent history, and if you were to set your eyes upon the wilderness, you would not be mistaken to think everything was in a deep state of hibernation. It was a terribly lonely and desolate view, although some would be able to find some splendor within the bitter and unforgiving surroundings.
Jake watched the persistent falling of snowflakes, he watched as they managed to majestically dance and glide with all their beauty, eventually coming to an all too static end. It was as if an army of elegant and stupendous ballet dancers were each giving their unique and final performance, before coming to their inevitable demise.
He despised how the sulphur street lamps transformed the surroundings into unhealthy shades of orange, casting the world around him into a personal hell. Jake considered it a wicked circumstance how the purest white known to man was replaced by a detrimental spectrum of orange. You could distinctly see the fiery glow as it glistened across his glassy eyes, flickering like a naked flame in a blustery breeze.
Despite this familiar hatred for everything in that moment, Jake did not move but merely existed, experiencing everything within his complex and uniquely warped mind. He stood in such silence that you could almost hear the sound of snowflakes crashing down, shattering against the blanket of ice and snow that incased the ground.
Crackling away in the background was a tame log fire, the focal point to a some what mundane and gloomy room. It would occasionally spit embers up into the air as they quickly faded away into nothingness, leaving not a slightest trace to their short existence.
On the chimney breast above the fire there was a very old cuckoo clock, a clock that no longer told the correct time and that in fact had stopped working all together many years ago. The batty old bird was permanently stretched out of it’s wooden home presented with a thick covering of dust, a covering that almost masked the startled expression that was forever stuck in time.
The stout walls were draped with pea green strips of wallpaper, a shade of green that had darkened with the many months and years. The paper was shabby, ripped and worn in certain places, obvious that it had seen better days. The walls themselves were totally bare, naked without a single picture or painting to which only fueled their emptiness. You could suggest that the room itself was a product of a designers nightmare, something they would recoil at the mere sight of.
Jake blinked and narrowed his eyebrows sharply at the sound of creaking floorboards. He turned his head slightly as he concentrated on the steady rhythm the ancient planks made as the sound drew ever closer. The glass began to collect steam with his breath gliding over the cold surface masking the view to some degree. Jake turned his head so his ear was parallel to the victorian door, waiting, expecting it to be flung open at anytime. All of a sudden the creaking came to an abrupt end as silence once again filled the room. Jake pivoted slowly, facing the door with a perplexed expression strung across his face. He tilted his head to one side whilst burning a hole into the wooden door with his glaring, glassy eyes. Yet nothing. He lifted his foot up from the floor boards as he began to walk hesitantly across the room, his tatty trainer scuffing over the tarnished wood as he went. As Jake walked towards the other side of the room, his head tilting at more of an angle with each step whilst maintaining eye contact with the door. When he arrived at the door he slowly raised his hands to place the palms on the wooden surface. As he did he gradually crouched down, his hands gliding over the corse surface feeling the texture that the door gave. He put his right eye in line with the key hole to try and get an insight to what, if anything was on the other side. A stream of light shone through onto his eyeball, dust floating in between the two. It managed to reflect the beam of light becoming visibly apparent. Jake could hear and feel his heart beating hard against his chest. He momentarily paused his breath in anticipation gazing through the keyhole. Whack, he felt the edge of the door suddenly connect with his forehead knocking him backwards. He toppled over finishing on his back in a daze, gazing up at the cobwebbed ceiling. His eyes squinted and then widened repeatedly, trying to regain a clear and focused vision. A blurry figure came into view towering over him as he lay on the ground.
‘’What are you doing down there boy, if you’re tired you should get to bed. That floor won’t do you any good’’
The figure came into focus as it slowly hobbled past, it was Jake’s grandmother. She cackled quietly to herself as she made her way to a chair in the corner of the room. She slowly hoisted herself down into the chair, slumping into the fabric as it seemed to cradle her frail physique.
Jake’s grandmother was a widow of nineteen years to very noble and light hearted enforcer of the law. Prior to that tragic day the poor woman would never the same again. A part of her noticeably withered away and died, destined to pass away with her unfortunate husband. As one part of her quickly dissolved away and disappeared, another was ultimately born. Although it was more of a front, a misleading mask of sorts that never allowed her to confront the deep routed trauma consuming her. If you then combine that with the inevitable decay of old age, you find a troubled woman drowning ever deeper into the sands of time. However, you would not think such a thing if you were to have the pleasure of meeting her, appearances are only skin deep after all.
Mona always had the same knitted cardigan draped over her shoulders, it was hard to tell if it was clinging to her or if she was clinging to it. The garment was a pale shade of blue and a piece of clothing she adored for one particular reason, it was a gift from her late husband many christmases ago. At the time it was nothing too special but now woven into each thread was something money could never buy.
She often wore her reading glasses that always provoked a discrete chuckle from Jake. They managed to magnify her eyes to the extent of being comical, as if you were looking at them through the distorted glass of a gold fish bowl. However, Jake had gotten the knack of being able to conceal his reaction to the pair of ridiculous glasses. He often had to look away or down at the floor briefly to compose himself. Other times he had to conjure an utterly vile image within his head, diverting his thoughts away from the sight that stood before him.
Mona had just taken her glasses from the modest table neighboring her chair and put them on. As she did this she also opened a copy of the new testament and plunged herself into the holy book. Jake had now sat up with his arms behind him supporting his weight like two feeble joists. He was poised in that moment as his head was at an angle resting on his shoulder, almost as if it was too heavy for his neck to bear. After being thwacked to the floor, he had turned his attention to the docile fire that ceased to abstain in the monotonous room. He marveled at the magnificent spectacle the fire had to provide, almost as if there was a show being personally performed for Jake, a show where he had a front row seat. He gawked at the sheer energy it fabricated, at the numerous colours it seemed to create out of nowhere and how it had a certain seductive sway and flicker to its nature. The flames were hypnotic to Jake as he became misplaced in their splendor, pinpointing a moment in which everything was calm, where everything seemed virtuous. He gazed deeper into the burning inferno as the intensity of the flames became more evident to him, the sharp crackling sound grew louder as it resonated around the room. He narrowed his piercing blue eyes as he became ever more engrossed in the overpowering combustion. He knew of nothing else in that moment as the faint sound of a persistent hiss started to cry out from sizzling wood. It began to emerge as a prominent tone building in volume, sweeping the room and slithering across the walls. Jake was transfixed with a startled and anxious expression painted across his face, he could not escape the illicit lure the fire gave as the sound mushroomed around him. He heard another faint sound becoming ever more apparent as it almost struggled with the prominent hiss.
‘’Jake. Jake!’’
He swiftly turned his head as his fringe flicked with the sharp movement. He gaped at his grandmother with his mouth slightly open, his eyes heavily dilated and panting in short breaths.
‘’The kettle has come to the boil, didn’t you hear it or were you lost again Jake?’’
Mona paused, pining for a response from the bewildered boy. She raised an eye brow as Jake stood himself up towering over the frail woman. His shadow stretched far across the room dancing with each flicker of the flames. He meticulously brushed his hands over the navy blue jumper he was wearing in an attempt to remove anything that should not be there. He examined it for a moment and looked back at his grandmother,
‘’Sorry, milk and no sugar right,’’ Jake asked in a faint hearted manner. Mona closed her eyes and slowly nodded in confirmation to Jake’s question, soon diverting her attention back to her book. He traipsed across to the door and caught a glimpse of himself in the brass door knob. It was a misshapen and distorted reflection that ballooned his head out of all proportions, an image that grabbed his attention for a brief moment before he reached for the knob. On opening the door Jake immediately felt the torrent of cold brisk air as it gushed out of the hallway, sweeping over his sensitive skin. The hallway was virtually in darkness, that is apart from the slither of light that shone from under the kitchen door at the opposite end. He gently closed the door behind him, the clicking sound of the mechanism echoing throughout the narrow walkway. As he walked to the kitchen he glided his hands across the two adjacent walls as he found a slight pleasure within the texture of the paper. The individual floral patterns were raised up from the surface in exceptional detail, something that did not go unnoticed by Jake. He loved to brush his fingertips over the detail feeling each and every crease and raised petal the design had to offer. As he opened the opposing door a cloud of what seemed to be steam lingered in the air, presumably from the kettle. He was about to make his first step into the kitchen as he looked down and noticed Sooty poised upright leering at him. Sooty was the household tabby, a typical cat, black in colour apart from a minute white patch on her front right paw. Jake flinched slightly as he didn’t expect sooty to be waiting there in such a manner. After the brief shock had subsided, he narrowed his eyes at the cat in annoyance to being startled.
‘’What do you want cat?’’
Jake rarely called Sooty by her name and referred to her simply as ‘cat’. He continued to glare down at the feline as it flicked it’s tail and proceeded to leer back.
‘’I wonder if you know what I am saying to you, you always give me the same old stare as if you understand me or something.’’
Sooty didn’t flinch as she continued to leer up at Jake with an all too heinous stare, her emerald green eyes gleaming back at him. Jake continued to scrutinized the feline trying to gage exactly what she was doing. He considered how intelligent Sooty could be, if she understood any of what Jake said to her and the most absurd of thoughts, did she know what he was thinking? This actually crossed his mind as he began to play a mental game of tennis, throwing remarks and questions at the cat and ultimately fabricating answers in return.
Now with an expression of great perplexity drawn across his face, Jake concluded that Sooty probably did not have mystical mind reading abilities and made his way to the cupboard. He opened the little wooden door revealing three mugs placed in a row. He grasped two of them with one hand and gently placed them on the kitchen work top. Mona’s was decorated with a fetching arrangement of flowers that covered the entirety of the mug. It displayed hints of mauve lavenders, vibrantly warm yellows and deep blues. Jake however owned a mug that lacked colour, it was plain and simply white. The third mug that remained hidden away in the shadows of the cupboard belonged to Jake’s deceased grandfather. Mona insisted that it belonged there and should not be moved, thus there it stayed. Jake opened a jar with ‘tea’ aptly written across it and took three tea bags dropping one into his grandmothers mug and two into his. He then reached for the old-fashioned kettle and steadily poured a measurement of water into the two mugs. As he did, he made sure that he positioned his face over the rising steam as it gave a brief snug pleasure in the all too frigid room. He closed his eyes and gave a satisfied sigh as he felt the steam cuddle and embrace his skin. The moment was short lived however as something began to tug at his trouser leg forcing him to snap out of the therapeutic moment. Jake abruptly looked down to find Sooty clawing gently at the frayed fabric of his trouser. Although now she had a helpless and innocent stare you would expect from any attention seeking cat. Jake simply studied the cat almost with a notion of pity as it began to ‘meow’ desperate for something. The cat tilted it’s head gazing up at Jake, playfully padding his trouser leg now and then. Jake’s notion of pity was not one of compassion but more a notion that lead to self satisfaction. He pitied the cat for having such a mundane and simple life, for having such a miniscule level of intellect and to be at the foot of every man or woman. This in turn induced a feeling of satisfied contentment that brought a slight smirk to Jake’s face.
‘’You can have some milk once I have finished with it cat.’’
He added a little milk to each mug as he watched the liquid plume into shades of white, soon blending into the mixture and disappearing all together. Sooty still lingered around Jake’s feet which didn’t go unnoticed by him to say the least. He slowly submerged his index finger into the cold milk and kept it there for a brief moment, still smirking at the cat. He then raised it out of the bottle and dangled his pointy digit over Sooty as a droplet of milk collected on the tip. The droplet swelled at a swift rate as it became heavier with each second, quivering with every slight movement Jake made as he was unable to maintain a steady hand. He could detect that the droplet would detach itself at any moment as the majority of the milk now collected within it. The droplet inevitably gave into gravities persistent force and began to free fall towards the ground. He could almost see the form of the droplet changing with its decent as he seemed to perceive the event with a slowed sense of time. His eyes widened with anticipation as the droplet neared its destination now only mere inches away. The milk evidently landed on Sooty’s glossy black coat before breaking up into several smaller droplets. They bounced and proceeded to slide their way over her furry exterior, each taking a unique route and eventually dripping onto the tiled kitchen floor. Sooty flinched a little obviously not expecting what had just happened, but she immediately began to lap up each and ever drop of milk. Miniscule as they were she wanted every drop to herself, making sure she had left nothing behind. Much to Jake’s amusement after the cat had finished licking the floor it stared back up at him, this gave him the opportunity to repeat the same thing once again. You could say that both parties were in a win win situation, Jake sought cynical amusement from the simple act and the household tabby received a small helping of full fat milk.
‘’Jake, is that cup of tea on its way by any chance?’’
Mona’s faint words carried through the hallway and floated to Jake who was still toying with Sooty. He had completely forgotten about the tea which had steadily lost heat and left on the side.
‘’Nearly finished Grandma’’, Jake replied in a preoccupied manner whilst lunging for the sugar pot. He measured one teaspoon of sugar and dropped it into the concoction as the granules quickly disappeared, then after meticulously measuring one third of a tea spoon and lowering that into the drink which happened to be his cup.