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After Doomsday Print
Philip Leister
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16 x 20 in ($120)
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$280
152 Views
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ABOUT THE ARTWORK
“…the sun disc burned within outspread wings of zodiacal light. And beyond and around lay space, totally black, totally immense, bestrewn with a million wintry stars. He realized with a shudder how little difference Ragnarok had made.” “Not just the glory of the galaxy, new suns, new folk, new knowledge as the Europa circumnavigated the great Catherine's wheel of stars, though that was enough splendour for a lifetime. But the final proof to a continent still sceptical of international cooperation and complete sexual equality, that many nations together could do this thing and that it could be done by women.” “But man had to go look first of all for God. And fail, naturally. Man is a nut from way back. The galaxy will miss a lot of fun, now he's gone.” “...a second generation of explorers went forth. They had to go further than the first; planets of interest to them lay far, far away, lost in a wilderness of suns whose worlds were barren, or savage, or too foreign for intercourse.” “‘…if the Galactics noticed us, they were benevolent secret guardians; or not-so-benevolent keepers; or kept strictly hands off.’” “Yeh, he thought, I get the idea. These people aren't human. Even Ramri, who sings Mozart themes and has Justice Holmes for a hero. Ramri, about the most simático guy I ever met—he's not human.” “‘There'd be small glory in repeating such a trip. Better go some place new?’” “‘What a splendid facet of reality was darkened when Earth came to an end! I do not think there can ever have been a nobler concept than your own country's constitutional law. And chess, and Beethoven's last quartets, and…’” “‘I—that is—I mean—All those ridiculous nations and tribes there— hold-overs from the Stone-Age, and still unable to agree... in the face of galactic culture... agree on unity and global peace—'” “‘How can two or three or a dozen dustmotes of ships, blundering blind in the galaxy, come upon each other before we die of old age?'” -Poul Anderson (After Doomsday)
Original Created:
2024
Subjects:
Materials:
Mediums:
DETAILS AND DIMENSIONS
Print:
Giclee on Canvas
Size:
16 W x 20 H x 1.25 D in
Size with Frame:
17.75 W x 21.75 H x 1.25 D in
Frame:
White
Canvas Wrap:
Black Canvas
Ready to Hang:
Yes
Packaging:
Ships in a Box
SHIPPING AND RETURNS
Delivery Time:
Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.
Handling:
Ships in a box. Art prints are packaged and shipped by our printing partner.
Ships From:
Printing facility in California.
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I’m (I am?) a self-taught artist, originally from the north suburbs of Chicago (also known as John Hughes' America). Born in 1984, I started painting in 2017 and began to take it somewhat seriously in 2019. I currently reside in rural Montana and live a secluded life with my three dogs - Pebbles (a.k.a. Jaws, Brandy, Fang), Bam Bam (a.k.a. Scrat, Dinki-Di, Trash Panda, Dug), and Mystique (a.k.a. Lady), and five cats - Burglekutt (a.k.a. Ghostmouse Makah), Vohnkar! (a.k.a. Storm Shadow, Grogu), Falkor (a.k.a. Moro, The Mummy's Kryptonite, Wendigo, BFC), Nibbler (a.k.a. Cobblepot), and Meegosh (a.k.a. Lenny). Part of the preface to the 'Complete Works of Emily Dickinson helps sum me up as a person and an artist: "The verses of Emily Dickinson belong emphatically to what Emerson long since called ‘the Poetry of the Portfolio,’ something produced absolutely without the thought of publication, and solely by way of expression of the writer's own mind. Such verse must inevitably forfeit whatever advantage lies in the discipline of public criticism and the enforced conformity to accepted ways. On the other hand, it may often gain something through the habit of freedom and unconventional utterance of daring thoughts. In the case of the present author, there was no choice in the matter; she must write thus, or not at all. A recluse by temperament and habit, literally spending years without settling her foot beyond the doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly limited to her father's grounds, she habitually concealed her mind, like her person, from all but a few friends; and it was with great difficulty that she was persuaded to print during her lifetime, three or four poems. Yet she wrote verses in great abundance; and though brought curiosity indifferent to all conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own tenacious fastidiousness." -Thomas Wentworth Higginson "Not bad... you say this is your first lesson?" "Yes, but my father was an *art collector*, so…"
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