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(Contains: violence/gore and ideologically sensitive material)
I've been working on this piece for several months and only today came to it's completion.
It's one of these cases where I'll give a more extended description to the picture. I tried to express what maybe I alone feel, or other people sharing my views do too - the feeling of carrying a bomb, airbomb, grenade, buried deep down beneath our flesh and bone. Feeling onself a walking corpse. A weapon of an old war, that didn't work in it's time - maybe never will, or maybe will blow up unexpectedly. But probably, only death would tell, only death will show.
How would one react, being cut open for the world to see the weapon? Be crucified, or die in vain? Nobody knows. Will it be fear, or disgust, hate, revenge... And what really matters in any case.
This picture is somewhat of an enigma... It is centered upon a vivisected corpse surrounded with crude and bloodied surgical implements, and a ww2 ballistic missile in place of it's heart and lungs. The whole picture screams pain and a disregard for humanity in favor of a cold brutal purpose. Leading me to wonder if the clean metallic creation within is a quiet mockery of the sullied body it is placed within, however the corpse's face instils a sense of malice towards the viewer. With that out of the way, I dislike how the table is smeared and spattered with blood while body and internal organs are relatively clean, and I question the right hand; is it flensed, or covered in blood that some how stains the skin? All in all this picture (in my humble opinion) portrays that the core of all life there is strife, within every human there is a weapon waiting to be unleashed. Be it an ideal or machine.
I don't even feel like anything is real, can't relate, i have distanced myself so much. Not sure why i am posting then though, must be because i like you.
Well, if I would be working as a mortician doing the autopsy, id probably shit myself seeing the bomb inside the corpse. Then i'd calm myself after realizing its Nazi heritage.
With that out of the way, I dislike how the table is smeared and spattered with blood while body and internal organs are relatively clean, and I question the right hand; is it flensed, or covered in blood that some how stains the skin?
All in all this picture (in my humble opinion) portrays that the core of all life there is strife, within every human there is a weapon waiting to be unleashed. Be it an ideal or machine.
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