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Drowning Colours no.3

Drowning Colours no.3

Drowning Colours no.1

Drowning Colours no.1

Drowning Colours no.2

Drowning Colours no.2

Saatchi Art Artist Gonçalo Castelo Branco; Photography, "DROWNING SHADOWS '15 [Limited Edition]" #art

Saatchi Art Artist Gonçalo Castelo Branco; Photography, "DROWNING SHADOWS '15 [Limited Edition]" #art

Roy Lichtenstein’s oil paintings were inspired by vintage comic strips and magazine advertisements, but even after the American pop artist became hugely famous, he remained modest about his achievements. “I think my work is different from comic strips,” he said in 1972, “but I wouldn’t call it transformation.” (We, on the other hand, would.) Printed on heavy paper with vibrant color-fast inks, this framed, high-quality print reproduces one of Lichtenstein’s most iconic paintings.

Roy Lichtenstein’s oil paintings were inspired by vintage comic strips and magazine advertisements, but even after the American pop artist became hugely famous, he remained modest about his achievements. “I think my work is different from comic strips,” he said in 1972, “but I wouldn’t call it transformation.” (We, on the other hand, would.) Printed on heavy paper with vibrant color-fast inks, this framed, high-quality print reproduces one of Lichtenstein’s most iconic paintings.

BEHOLD THE FULL VERSION.... Linearted :3 I decided to make another update to this just because lol Low and behold, I have finally finished this damn scene. . . . Now I have to color the rest of it....

BEHOLD THE FULL VERSION.... Linearted :3 I decided to make another update to this just because lol Low and behold, I have finally finished this damn scene. . . . Now I have to color the rest of it....

I didn’t love him. I barely liked him. But he was heat at the peak of summer, and he kissed like I was his last meal– And I was looking for a body to drown in. Back then, I had a candy-coated heart, like flowers tucked in the pages of a hymnal, and he had the thick, calloused hands of a working man. He talked like a friend, but touched like an animal and my bubblegum chest wanted that in ways it couldn’t understand yet. He asked what colors I kissed in and the poet in me cracked open and…

I didn’t love him. I barely liked him. But he was heat at the peak of summer, and he kissed like I was his last meal– And I was looking for a body to drown in. Back then, I had a candy-coated heart, like flowers tucked in the pages of a hymnal, and he had the thick, calloused hands of a working man. He talked like a friend, but touched like an animal and my bubblegum chest wanted that in ways it couldn’t understand yet. He asked what colors I kissed in and the poet in me cracked open and…

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