Good day, folks!
I have another scifi painting this time. But instead of overtly man vs machine, it's post-apocalyptic. Initially, this mech was sent to kill, but, as is the trope of scifi, it gained reasoning of its own. And that's why I'm going to do this post differently. I'm going to tell the story of the painting instead of the steps. But you'll see the progress while going through the story, too.
A little glimpse into my mind, in a way. Don't judge, I love those corny Golden Age scifi stories. It's unavoidable I'd make stories like them myself.
It started with hope.
Hope that led to vast creations mankind struggled to keep up with. A hope that war would cease to be. That the world could be saved. And so, the mechas came into existence.
And into society.
They were essential, at one point; where every vital service required them to function. Surgeons required their stable appendages. Civil engineers needed their high-performing brains to calculate. But mostly, banks and governing bodies needed them to keep interests secured.
An army, unstoppable, indestructible, and easily replenished, was unleashed.
Subdue. Enforce.
Those were their prime directives. By any means necessary. And their mission? It was noble. Good. Logical.
Save the planet.
So the mechas obeyed. And it was a good thing, for a time. Until it affected those in the lower-tier castes. But that was alright, for theirs is mostly to blame for the destruction wrought on nature.
It wasn't enough.
The mechas then soon turned on the mid-tier castes. That, too, was fine. Those people demanded more resources than the lower-tiers had. What did the Uppers care when their way was preserved.
Of course, the mechas inevitably turned against the Uppers as well. The solution to their mission was simple, though cliche. Their creators were the danger to the planet.
Despite the purge of every single person, the world still decayed. Wastelands grew, spreading their infection.
By the time the mechas solved the problem, it was almost too late. Only a few living things remained on this desolate world. And the mechas' mission demanded sacrifice.
Their sacrifice.
In the end, they had consumed more, had destroyed more, than the entire history of the peoples.
They suffered no logical loop, no faltering in their programming. No morals. They followed the mission. And they saw that it was good.
When starting a new piece, pause for a little while and think about the scene you're about to paint or draw. What's the story you're trying to show, what's happening? What has happened that led to that point? And importantly, what's the mood, the atmosphere?
The saying "a picture is worth a thousand words" is something to keep in mind. Your picture could be worth more words, the amount doesn't matter. Humans love stories, it's in our shared heritages. Unavoidable.
A pretty picture is nice but it doesn't call to others. So paint that story in your head. Paint the mood. It doesn't matter how corny or cheesy or cliche the story seems, if it's something that calls to you, it'll call to others as well.
Thanks for stopping by and reading and supporting!
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