Just a quick one because i gotta run and i have no idea where the camera is. And yeaahh my venitus need decent clothes, but y’know…….
Haha, that eye! Looks so…hmmm… These eyes are actually ones I made but FAILED, as in they have cracks and shit in them because the resin gloss thingy didn’t set properly, but hey they were just perfect for damaged zombie eyes, ey?
Warning: For mature audience only. Contains artistic nudity & adult themes.
I originally wanted to do a quick clip just as a way of showcasing the recent paintwork I did on this doll, but I thought it would be fun to give it a little story/context, so it’s not too stiff and portfolio-ish (hopefully).
This was unfortunately a quickly thrown together project with limited resources, but i hope next time i can make something better 🙂 better sets, props, better script!, maybe even some voice overs… I love short films and I am obsessed with sounds and music. I would rather go blind than give up my hearing.
Please view this with a mature mind. I did lay out several dark and taboo issues that may unsettle some viewers.
The Auction: Lot 19
It is just another day at the marketplace.
Despite last night’s heavy rain, rows and rows of stalls spring defiantly from the mud and filth. Traders and buyers from all five corners of the land gather here to go about their normal routines. I wade through the throng; pushing, being pushed, jostling with human and animal musk. The auction has started an hour ago. From afar I could hear the auctioneer’s cries. I approach the stage where the livestock are being displayed. Half curious, half revolted. Where I come from, slavery has been abolished. But I am here to learn about these people and their customs, so I remain silent as I watch young men lined up, stripped, prodded, sometimes beaten, teeth inspected like war horses.
I reach the front of the crowd just as one auction ends. One slave boy (he is weeping silently perhaps out of confusion) is dragged by the ropes about his neck off the stage, and they bring out another. My breath dies in a stutter in my chest. This slave… I have never seen one such as he. Clear eyed and clear skinned. Unnaturally docile that one wonders what manner of cruelty had broken such beauty? Yet, he does not stumble or flinch like the others. He climbs calmly onto the display podium, his metal chain leash curled casually in both hands, as some in the crowd spat in his direction muttering ‘filth’ and other demeaning accusations. Upon cue from his handler, he turns his body for all to judge (and perhaps admire). I watch. Intrigued. Wondering when his handler would notice that insolent slight upturn of his chin. Only his gaze reminds me that he might be here against his will: empty, resigned, broken beyond salvation … until it lands on me and I feel the shudder I see running down his spine. All of a sudden, he looks distressed. His mouth opens first and then a sound like a soft wail, perhaps even a word, follows. A plea? To whom? And for what? It earns him a slap across the face from his handler followed by a threat of much worse to come. Salvation… The word echoed ghostly in my mind. But this is not my place. This is not even my time. I should not interfere with events already predetermined. And yet… The bidding is in full motion. I find myself raising my hand as his price soars, until none other dare challenge me.