This is a surrealist self-portrait, but I will refer to the character portrayed as “her.”
The entity behind her is a sort of surreal thought-form / imaginary creature emerging from her, but also beckoning her from behind.
It is not clear if he is a benevolent spirit that is guarding her, or if he is a darker more malevolent spirit.
I made this drawing to honor and remember my friend Preston Thomas Wagen. He passed away this year.
The symbolism I used is that his soul is emerging from a cocoon like a butterfly, surrounded by a halo of all-seeing eyes of consciousness, and transcending into the next stage of life, after death.
I hope this brings peace and calm and comfort to his friends and family and loved ones.
We love you Preston, Rest In Peace. 💖🌟💫
The house in the clouds is the one of her dreams, and it’s raining down on the one she has in real life because she thinks about the one in her dreams too much. and so her obsession with the dream house badly effects the real house that she has on earth.
A fine arts drawing by Saima Shamsi
Barnabus Humphrey was a strange little boy.
He was troubled and listless and resigned to a wretched fate. Riddled with anxiety and irrational guilt, he attempted to keep his head from falling off.
On account of this, his life was unbearably dreary. He wished he had a more handsome name, like Marcus or William. Perhaps his life would have been different.
Instead he was sad and awkward. He fumbled over complete sentences.
And eerie music followed him everywhere.
His smile disturbed adults and made little children cry.
Meeting people was always unbearable, to the extent that he was often found hiding in closets, covering his head.
For these reasons Barnabus preferred to remain locked away and safely hidden from others, in his tiny little room.
Where no one could ever hurt him, or trample on his sickly head.
Sometimes he would sit and stare at the wall, facing the stark and unpleasant truth of its nothingness. Until he would fall tired, and goto sleep.
Upon waking up, he would ponder the uncertainty of his weary existence.
At times he felt so hopeless that everything around him seemed to grow darker and darker, causing him to feel as if he were going blind.
And then, one day, he did.
Or perhaps, he thought he did.
When Barnabus awoke, his eyes were open, but he could see nothing. He then realized that he was at the very bottom of what seemed to be an endless, quivering pit.
And it was slowly threatening to swallow him. Completely.
With every passing moment, it seemed to grow deeper and deeper. In the dark he could barely see his own hand in front of his face.
It was as if he had lost all sense of feeling. Without any awareness of himself, he wondered if he had any identity left.
Barnabus worried that this hole was swallowing him to death. But he was stronger than he thought.
Night after night, he scuttled higher and higher up the hole, leaving the shadows of his fear behind.
The hole seemed to be endless.
But after much scuttling, he reached the edge of darkness.
And saved himself.