Unknown Artists - September Feature

Sep 8, 200526 min read

Deviation Actions

Published: Sep 8, 2005

4.1K Views

The primary focus of the Unknown Artists Project is to expose talented, yet underrated, artists on deviantArt. In spirit of that goal, we will present to the community a monthly feature showcasing unknown artists in photography, traditional art, digital art and literature. This month serpentinekiss joins us as a guest to feature unknown artists in fetish photography.

selections by `garrit


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selections by ^serpentinekiss

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selections by ^superkev

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selections by ^oedalis

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selections by `twosilverstars

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selections by ^De-Profundis

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selections by ^ndifference

word: Oregoniani don't call the people that. i save it for the ducks and trout floating helplessly down the columbia river, wings and flippers detaching, hanging 80 ft. above where their dead bodies will come to rest. I've heard terminal velocity hurts. By the time those creatures hit the precipice bed, i'm sure their faces look nothing more than greased slices of pepperoni and sausage pizza. The cheap, sloppy kind. They are Oregonians. They build a mound of flesh and bone, so when people drop a mile tier, their deaths will be padded. The stench, their anesthesia.	:thumb22314755:	The Orange RoadYou wake up one warm morning at the end of June and decide to visit your uncle, halfway between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. You need to enter Jerusalem from the east, exit from the west, and take the Tel Aviv-Jerusalem highway the rest of the way there. As you pile into your car and ignite the engine, the radio turns on. It is still on the news station you were listening to yesterday, when peaceful protests against Sharon's disengagement plan slowed your return home to Gilo from near Gaza. The news anchor mentions that earlier in the day settlers threw nails and oil onto the Tel Aviv-Jerusalem road. The police, taking the settlers more seriously than they did yesterday, have already rushed to clear the road, and it should be open to traffic. Placing your faith in Israeli law, you back out into the parking lot of your apartment complex. In front of you, a car bearing the orange ribbon of protest pulls over to hail a group of teenagers on the sidewalk. The teens are dressed in orange and are	Comets and ProphetsComets and Prophets I saw corpses give confession and we gave songs of sanctity, though the only thing that moved was pen on paper, ink and lines. The hall was full and we danced poised and posing beneath rotting beams, trusting trusses and age old carpentry ever too busy to learn the trade. It was not an hour before, though, that I watched them cage an eagle just outside and name him freedom. I laughed, watching comets build, Wistfully remembering stories of old When prophets would appear pointing up Watching comets just as I watched With just the same burning in their eyes. I was told, though, that I would dance and that I'd someday catch a woman to curb my loneliness and desire… The comets never cleared in my eyes, never calmed, never ceased, never glazed and in the end, the comets won out throwing life to dream and confession And I heard songs of sanctity, though the only thing that moved was pen on paper, ink and lines. I could see them dance in sequence poised and posing b
:thumb15573492:	:thumb15787455:	:thumb18467466:	The Eyes Of The Night Teaser 1I used to fear the night. The way all children do. You know the stories… monsters hiding under your bed, sandmen, wraiths, and all sorts of other evil things from hell whose only purpose was to stop a child's heart. For children are innocent and defenseless… . I used to draw the curtains closed. Not that it could stop monsters of course. But I thought if they could not see me they would forget me. But they never did… whenever I switched the light off, darkness embraced me; I heard those voices, whispers in the blackness. Everywhere… there were words in it, lots of words, but incomprehensible to me. Devilish. My eyes would open, but they continued to tease me. Always mocking me with laughter from spots I didn't look at. Finally I would turn on the lights and run to mama… crying… My parents used to say there are no monsters. Mom said I should grow up and stop dreaming about nightmare creatures. Dad was a little more gentle. He said I was living in a dream world and that he understood. Bu

selections by =zebrazebrazebra

backseat driver . He has legs like parentheses. - holding the words of my aching thighs tight. - gazelle runner yellow jacketed forced to return. - kick in the teeth elemental fury with clean, wet whiskers He has legs like parentheses but every time I catch him looking his eyes scream period. .	:thumb18546149:	Cherry Blossoms and a Stranger little flowers curl across their respective branches like pink puffs of smoke there's a stranger on the other side of the sidewalk with sunlight in his eyes and he looks like distraction; someone else for me to write to this I ponder all the way across the stretches of coffee-colored ground and I think that just below that line of tiny rooftops - the horizon looks like eternity but even when the cherry blossoms have bloomed so long their roots touch the other side of earth will he have come over? if my heart boasts of a cloudy day maybe the waiting line will be filled only with the sign that says LINE STARTS HERE the sky is so old; it should start cracking at any second though I'm not quite sure why the faraway blacktops, steamed at midday can still catch reflections	twothis crisp night air is held still by taut silence (on the molecular level, paired ohs tremble against) and then she speaks, (each other awaiting the words that break them away parted like the red sea by waves of elevated frequency and then) her voice reverberating (with faded intensity, quietly, quietly) against the trees, awaiting the words that could break her and everything is quietly, quietly (broken and) held still by taut (silen sile ).
Where to Play? The nuclear blast ripped through Wembley Stadium, shattering steel girders like toothpicks and melting human flesh like butter. Ringo's head smashed into the concrete as the scorching air roared over him. It had been a pretty good day until this had happened. Earlier, the make up artists and costumers had descended on the four of them like a flock of gnats. A touch-up here, a snip there. Mr. Wesely, clothed in a pin-stripe suit, was calmly standing by the door of the dressing room, watching the talent coordinator of PeaceAid 3 hop around like an insane monkey. "We've only got 10 minutes!" she howled. "Get the hair right. No! Not the bowl cuts. More shaggy. This is in the Pepper era, not the damn Ed Sullivan stuff!" She turned to Mr. Wesley with an icy look of horror on her face. "They do know the program, don't they?" Mr. Wesley nodded. "Of course. It was downloaded two weeks ago." The coordinator howled in agony. "No! It's changed since then! It's changed!" she waved her data p	:thumb22136122:	Mature Content	A day in the lifeI read the news today, oh boy. Brian Wills As junior in college studying writing, I have found there are quite a few things lacking from the typical college curriculum. Sadly, as students we are told that it is more important for us to develop a refined set of ethics and competent math skills than it is to learn to cook and feed oneself in a healthy, or at least regular manner. We're fed greasy dining hall food which we discuss luridly with our neighbor in the next stall as we evacuate 45 minutes later. And we wonder why our life spans will be shorter than our parents. Ethics are no good if you're starving, or slowly killing yourself with Easy Mac induced scurvy and don't even know it. The solution? Change what we learn, to make it more useful to our immediate survival. We lack vocational classes in higher education, which is why we must become young professionals so we can afford to pay people to do things for us we're incapable of.

selections by ^damphyr

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selections by ^alyn


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selections by %walloftruth

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Comments651

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wokejacqueline

Dec 14, 2006

I'm new to hearing about any of this, the Unknown Artists.

and frankly, I think it's a wonderful project, which is continuing down a great path. Any artist worth the title of being featured within the Uknown Artist's broadcast is certainly worthy of the attention.

I'll definitley have to reccommend some talented artists, that seldom get one, or two comments on their work.

Positive publicity is nice for everyone, I think.

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