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Tw Animal Injury - Blog Posts

1 month ago
You Can Survive This. Outlast Your Enemies And Thrive. (Plan For A Two Part Linocut. I Think I'm Just

You can survive this. Outlast your enemies and thrive. (Plan for a two part linocut. I think I'm just going to have to suck it up and buy some new lino; I have rubber blocks and a couple small pieces of lino but it seems I just can't do without detail.)


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1 year ago
A Flashlight’s Glow

A flashlight’s glow


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1 year ago

Hello no pressure but I would love more of your thought process behind the Dying Dog. It's a gorgeous piece and I need the directors commentary.

Thank you guys for giving so much attention to that one, you make me happy as ever!

Well, about the thought process.... heh... Let's say... *puffs a sig like Joker from the movie Joker*.. There were no thought process.....🚬

The picture just popped up in my head and I knew that was some kind of symbolism or metaphor here (I can't differentiate the two) but consciously I couldn't explain what it was. Just feelings... With both writing and art, it happens often - symbols are born by themselves and I'm unable to decipher what they mean unless I materialize them.

If I am to guess, the Dying Dog is just a metaphor for Sniper's inner state. When dogs die from natural causes, there's usually a period of time, about few weeks, to notice. In this period, the dog owners usually prepare for the loss, saying goodbye and making sure the last days of their pet are happy.

But in this piece Sniper is not an owner but a dog himself. He feels like slowly dying somehow, he's prepared and he's waiting. Except the end doesn't come near. Imagine lying there in pain, waiting for the sanctuary of death, but it's been months and years and it never ends. Yet it feels like the end. Does it make sense? Just what is he preparing for, exactly, then?..

Dizziness, feeling cold and sweaty from the inner heat. Yet no physical sign of dying.

A literal dying dog looks more alive than him.

(Also, a little timelapse!!)


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1 year ago
A digital painting of the elk of birch and bone. It is twisting and writhing as it rises around a pointed birch tree, its ribs exposed and guts spilling out, its faces contorted in agony. Ivy vines are tangled around it in some places, and strain after it as it ascends. Several parts of the elk are wounded and bleeding. The background is faint; a reddish night sky, silhouetted forest, dim stars, a sharp crescent moon.

4 episodes into The Silt Verses and I’m already being so normal about it


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