http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/ lombi's gallery of images en-us 120 http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/176835

Dedicated to my father.
...The god grew impatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by Cupid, gained upon her in the race. It was like a hound pursuing a hare,
with open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal darts forward, slipping from the very grasp. So flew the god and the virgin he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear. The pursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his panting breath blows upon her hair. Now her strength begins to fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river god: "Help me, Peneus! Open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger!"
Scarcely had she spoken, when a stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her arms became branches; her feet stuck fast in the ground, as roots; her face became a tree-top, retaining nothing of its former self but its beauty. Apollo stood amazed. He touched the stem, and felt the flesh tremble under the new bark. He embraced the branches, and lavished kisses on the wood. The branches shrank from his lips. "Since you cannot be my wife," said he, "you shall assuredly be my tree. I will wear you for my crown. With you I will decorate my harp and my quiver; and when the great Roman conquerors lead up the triumphal pomp to the Capitol, you shall be woven into wreaths for their brows. And, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall be always green, and your leaf know no decay." The nymph, now changed into a laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment.
]]> Tue, 12 Oct 2004 09:54:30 +0000 http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/182941

I dreamed my genesis and died again, shrapnel
Rammed in the marching heart, hole
In the stitched wound and clotted wind, muzzled
Death on the mouth that ate the gas.
Sharp in my second death I marked the hills, harvest
Of hemlock and the blades, rust
My blood upon the tempered dead, forcing
My second struggling from the grass.
I dreamed my genesis in sweat of death, fallen
Twice in the feeding sea, grown
Stale of Adam"s brine until, vision
Of new man strength, I seek the sun.
(Dylan Thomas)
****
This is one of my first images done as a combination of Airbrushing, Photos and 3D Renders. Trying new stuff, perhaps it'll be good, perhaps it'll suck ... I am interested in hearing about your oppinions.
]]> Sun, 31 Oct 2004 18:55:24 +0000 http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/178051

Should I see a transparent ghost
against the tangible backdrop
of oppression speaking freely
Dapwhere the reaper quests for peace
because death be most humane,
I shall not answer your call
though my heart may plead loudly
its voice shall be but drowned
in the liquid of my eyes.
I trust thee not lest I touch
and my touch produce results!
How shall I know thy name true?
For I hath cracked my door past.
Tempted to stand beside you
but hath found false hope, fading away.
...
Experimenting with the boundaries of imagination and testing out my knowledge of available tools. This image is also known as Handomen 4, a successor of the image that got me some coverage in the beginning.
]]> Sun, 17 Oct 2004 00:50:46 +0000 http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/180920

If I stole away to the meadows
to wish a star to my fingertips
or blow a kiss to the midnight sky,
would you believe me a fool?
Or dreampt of inhabiting majestic castles,
entranced by royal knights
who conquer mythical dragons,
would you label me childish?
Hiding behind your false facade,
finding priority in your riches,
you exalt your synthetic world
by bowing to the axiom of society.
With a viper's tongue you cripple,
judging the creation of my fantasies
with pretentious ignorance.
Your envy for my innocence is foul.
(Teri Kilgore)
One of the images from my "No Need To Breed" exhibition which has opened this month in Ljubljana, Slovenia. What do you think of it?
]]> Sun, 24 Oct 2004 21:26:42 +0000 http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/190221

How shall my animal
Whose wizard shape I trace in the cavernous skull,
Vessel of abscesses and exultation's shell,
Endure burial under the spelling wall,
The invoked, shrouding veil at the cap of the face,
Who should be furious,
Drunk as a vineyard snail, flailed like an octopus,
Roaring, crawling, quarrel
With the outside weathers,
The natural circle of the discovered skies
Draw down to its weird eyes?
Sigh long, clay cold, lie shorn,
Cast high, stunned on gilled stone; sly scissors ground in frost
Clack through the thicket of strength, love hewn in pillars drops
With carved bird, saint, and suns the wrackspiked maiden mouth
Lops, as a bush plumed with flames, the rant of the fierce eye,
Clips short the gesture of breath.
Die in red feathers when the flying heaven's cut,
And roll with the knocked earth:
Lie dry, rest robbed, my beast.
You have kicked from a dark den, leaped up the whinnying light,
And dug your grave in my breast.
]]> Sun, 28 Nov 2004 23:27:46 +0000 http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/193800

What strange worlds in oceans wide
In this machine I could bestride?
What wonders to my oceans yet to see
Encircling infinity.
Far and wide I cannot report
In the scientist's cruel hold caught.
Sore mistakes on earth they made
Treachery in this decade.
My voice is not so small
If seldom heard, our call
To be seen as we should be
That virgin spaces, could first see.
***
The last image from the "No Need To Breed" exhibition. Photoshop and 3d studio max, published in Steeldolpnih artgroup pack 3. Thanks for the comments.
]]> Sat, 11 Dec 2004 12:40:30 +0000 http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/201004

*omg, no poem?*
Taken as a study of relationships between color and composition curves between elements in the picture. The shadow that the centaur casts is deliberately put the way it is put - with that I was trying to achieve the surrealistic note of the artworks and additionally mentally deform the surface on which it stands. What I find fun about this image is that it started as an anatomically correct centaur.
The lack of detail on the head part can be attributed to the fact that it does not have that much of an importance on the image itself, it does however, in a combination with the brush stroke, own an additional composition value, as it ends up forming an imaginary circle (well, elipse). The sad part of it all is that the web version doesn't even start to compare to the quality and amount of detail the original on canvas has, but that's the way it is.
Dedicated to Stasha.
]]> Mon, 10 Jan 2005 21:56:28 +0000 http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/233987

"The title character, Don Quijote, is far from static; indeed, he reinvents himself several times. He often is a victim of his own delusions and undergoes metamorphoses as he gains or loses touch with reality."
Looking for critiques on color / composition.
Thank you
]]> Mon, 25 Apr 2005 17:16:16 +0000 http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/272097

I could dream for you when I was awake
But I dreamt of this when I had faith
I could see you living a life
One that had been long denied
No one could see what I saw in you
They didn’t know, but I knew
I had trust in all that you are
But it’s flying by fast, like a shooting star
I’ve devoted so much of myself to helping you up
Taking your hand and leading you out of this rut
It was only me that saw this glimmer of hope
Saw you recovering from every blow
I couldn’t imagine how others didn’t see
But now I don’t know if I wish it were me
If I never had this loyalty
To what life had in store for you
It would not be killing me
Now that I don’t see you pulling through
I have never lost my conviction
I’ve always been steadfast
You were stronger for the addictions
Stronger for your past
But somehow through all of the afflictions
Your strength has just collapsed
You could always pick yourself up
I never had a doubt
Your soul and your mind were tough
But now you’ve worn yourself out
You’re denying the hand I gave you
Putting your hands over your ears
Rocking back and forth
And burying yourself in unspoken tears
All you do is think; think alone, to yourself
And I just look at you, and wonder if I can help
I can’t
I don’t see you getting out
All my hope is gone
My heart is dying now
I see it has withdrawn
I lost hope in anything a lifetime ago
But somehow with you, it started to show
Now I’m just so broken down inside
I can’t even see you when I dream at night
Poem by Kaylie Marceca
]]> Tue, 30 Aug 2005 18:48:19 +0000 http://lombi.cgsociety.org/gallery/276258

One of the images from my latest exhibition. I was hoping to go to a more personal level with these as each work depicts a story from my life.
This one is an experiment with deformation and it's relation to human flesh as the abstract.
Looking for critiques on colors, composition and overall feel.
]]> Sun, 11 Sep 2005 21:48:14 +0000