This is madness!
The Madhatter, Ofelia, Renfield, Bellatrix Lestrange, Phantom of the Opera... even Tom Bombadil, and Jack the Ripper, too, I think... they all have something in common. They're not that much sane. In this contest every sense can go wild. Depict or describe madness and insanity, mania, phobia, pica or anything of this chaotic sort that comes to your mind.
I'd like to add that by this contest I'm nowhere near to mean anything offensive towards people suffering from mental illnesses and any entries that would offend anybody will not be accepted.
We've got a special folder for the entries. It can be accessed here. If your submission gets accepted, I will edit this entry and your piece will be featured here, so everybody could see how awesome things you can do. There are allowed all the techniques you may find in our gallery, and remember, it must fit The Rules.
Deadline: extended until the 2nd of March.
Limit of submissions: one piece per member.
The entry can be old or new (but new gets +3 points).
You must be a member to participate.
How to vote - first, second and third place - are choosen by you. Every entry have its own number, so voting looks like this: in a comment you write three (no more and no less) numbers and points - three points for your most favourite one, two points for your preferable second place and one point for the third. So it should look like this:
10. 3 points
21. 2 points
4. 1 point
Remember - all of the submissions deserve your attention, which means also reading the literature ones. Voting will be closed after two weeks (March 16th). Deviations prepared specially for the contest get +3 points. The deviation with the highest number of points is the winning one. After the votes are counted, I shall choose a deviation which gets the distinction (from all the submissions except the 3 winners).
All the winners will have a feature in our group. Also, they will be featured by Angelles-LaVeau, Asfodelo, NoctiLuna, Meredyth, Sieskja, erinclaireb, Doertchen, STelari and Realm-of-Fantasy.
- First Place - a drawing from Sieskja - a full coloured illustration from BeckyDIllustrations - an exclusive stock pack from PirateLotus-Stock - 50 points from BeckyDIllustrations - 100 points from ZawArt - 100 points from Angelles-LaVeau - a sketch from Asfodelo - a sketch from NoctiLuna - a sketch from erinclaireb - a sketch from Ytril - a sketch from STelari Second Place - a drawing from Sieskja - a full coloured illustration from BeckyDIllustrations - an exclusive stock pack from PirateLotus-Stock - 70 points from ZawArt - 75 points from Angelles-LaVeau - a sketch from Asfodelo - a sketch from Ytril - a sketch from STelari Third Place - a drawing from Sieskja - a line art illustration from BeckyDIllustrations - an exclusive stock pack from PirateLotus-Stock - 50 points from ZawArt - 50 points from Angelles-LaVeau - a sketch from Asfodelo - a sketch from Ytril - a sketch from STelari Distinction - a drawing from Sieskja - an exclusive stock pack from PirateLotus-Stock - 50 points from an anonymous donator - 30 points from ZawArt - 30 points from Angelles-LaVeau - a sketch from Asfodelo - a sketch from Meredyth - a sketch from Ytril - 2 sketches from STelari
- Have a great year and good luck! Telari
1. 2. 3.
Defining InsanityMy mother once defined insanity to me.6.
"It's when your thoughts are running through your head at such a speed that you don't know whether the thoughts you've just had are right or wrong. They just are."
But I don't know if that's true or not. I don't think it is. Because if it was, right and wrong would have to be the same as black and white. And to be quite plain, they're not. Right and wrong don't even exist. They're all in the mind.
Some people say that insane people cannot see the line between right and wrong. That isn't true. They've made their own rights and wrongs. Their own definitions for existence. And who are we to say that they shouldn't have them? Just because they are different from our definitions, doesn't mean that they shouldn't be.
And me? I think insane people think too much. They think so much that common ideals blur and fade and then they disappear. But that doesn't mean that they're wrong. Perhaps it's a good idea to think outside the box? Perhaps it's a go
7. 8. 9.
It was in one of those Northern kingdoms: ice, salted cod, stone. The prince of it, Hamlet, ran into the ghost of his father who told him that he, the ghost, was murdered, poison in the ear, one drop, two drops, by his brother, Hamlet's uncle.
Even more dismal was the aforesaid uncle-brother married Hamlet's mother, the ghost's wife. Are you still with me? Well Hamlet pretended to be insane and told his beloved Ophelia to take herself off to a brothel and somewhere along the way he also killed her father. Who did not come back as a ghost.
Ophelia killed herself. They say she fell into the river. But what do they know. Murder, adultery, incest, madness, suicide, poison, subtle, slippery, so sweet, sliding inside, harebell, hawthorn, marsh marigold, cowslip and hart's tongue woven in her hair, plaited, looped, raddled and fretted, the warp of her breath, her fingers fringed with mimosa, irises on her eyes instead of coins.
She stood over the river, her tongue a foxglove, if only
i. I was still, once;
a rock amidst constellations that
flapped like birds.
Their spinning gravity wells
have strung me—
a glittering necklace of asteroids.
Madness is only a quiet hunger for those
who do not live within the skull
that is being broken apart by too many stars.
as a fox kit i will wander ice white russian forests in winter hoping to be taken in
longing for bright red curls but silver furred and searching hungry for the mice beneath the snow
ringed round with chicken wire and caught amongst the hens wishing for the
russet hair that would blend me in
if i were catherine the great i would not have to feel the rising fear every december
and as virgin queens go i would be more of an elizabeth than a victoria always
turning tailward to devour enemies of the throne
but the most i may hope for by march is to be caught by the forest witch
and have my bleached boiled bones strung like constellations amongst my fox kin
16. 17. 18.
The pure white snow swallowed the drops of hot blood. Swift watched his finger, watched the red swelling from the cut. He could smell it in the air, like the animals he used to hunt, back before this winter.
The snows had lasted much longer than usual, and this was after a scarce harvest. They had gone through their stores, and it had been several days since he had caught game.
When he first realized the cold was choosing to stay past their supplies, he had rationed his portions smaller. Then his oldest son followed suit. Now there was almost nothing for him, his wife and their five children.
He had ranged much farther than usual, desperate for meat. Staying at home with the two youngest ones, huddled together for warmth, his wife was dwindling quickly. She had altogether stopped eating so that her children wouldn't starve. Now Swift was afraid that her sacrifice was in vain.
He had cut his finger on his knife, really a small slice, but in just the right place for it to bleed
LithiumA single trickling rain drop23. 24.
Like gossamer silk strands
Gliding along my third eye
Whispers wind's secret caress
I exhale. Lungs releasing-
Pressing translucent memories;
Fragment of a fragment
As water kisses rose petal,
Drifting down stream's curtain
Pretty little curtain.
Where the wizard lies.
He smiles up at me
With his monocled brow-
Sipping on warm tea
And fingers quacking casually
To the rhythm of his notes
This is a safe-zone. Free-zone.
Innocent eyes sparkle,
Imploring it to be true. I breathe.
25. 26. 27.
28. 29. 30.
31. 32. 33.