Smiling woman in cafe with dark blue mug and sculpture

imago

Artist
eryn
DDG Model
ChatGPT 2
Mode
Pro
Access
Public
Created
11h ago
Similar Try Try style
Public
61

0

30
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  https://deepdreamgenerator.com/ddream/8puh434xk74 COPY LINK
- Info
  imago
  
  Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)
  
  Size: 2224 X 1664 (3.70 MP)
  
  Used settings:
  
  Prompt: Realistic and painterly blend: soft photographic realism with oil-paint edges, loose brushwork in the dim background, fine ink linework tracing the forms, the light carried by the strokes. Medium-wide composition, full figure, calm and quiet. A small neighbourhood café at first light, still mostly in cold blue dusk, a raw wooden counter, a warm red brick wall behind her, one low warm beam of the first sun crossing the counter and falling on her alone. On a tall stool at the counter, seen whole from head to boots, sits eryn, a woman of about twenty-eight: short copper-auburn hair freshly and unevenly cut, one small tuft at the crown growing back in rainbow; pale sapphire eyes with a darker limbal ring and a single catchlight; fair skin, light freckles across the nose and cheeks; a soft, youthful, lived-in face, faint lilac shadows under the eyes, a touch of concealer not quite blended, a little too much rosy blush, a small old pale scar through one eyebrow. A simple ink-navy blouse, sleeves pushed to the forearm, an open camel wool coat she hasn't taken off yet, dark trousers, worn ankle boots, a thin old necklace, a fabric wristband, a bag at her feet. One boot hooked on the rung of the stool. The barista is a woman, seen only as a canvas apron, a slender forearm with a rolled sleeve and a thin bracelet, and one hand setting a cup of coffee down in front of her, face out of frame. On the counter beside the cup stands a tiny folded paper figure, the size of her thumb, folded from a white café napkin while she waited: a little witch with a pointed hat and long paper hair. The fingertip of her left hand rests lightly on its hat, absently, keeping it upright. Her right hand closes around the cup. Her head turns slightly to the left, toward the edge of the image, a sideways glance and a small wry private almost-smile, as if toward someone she left at home and is not sure she misses. Colour lives on her: copper hair, the rainbow tuft, navy blouse, camel coat, the coffee, the sunbeam. Everything else stays muted and blue. A few early customers far behind in soft focus. A torn paper border frames the image. Quiet, solemn, ordinary, faintly hopeful. No lettering anywhere. Out-of-time and timeless. The first ordinary morning after. By eryn.
  
  Using base image: No
  
  Aspect Ratio: landscape
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Prompt: Realistic and painterly blend: soft photographic realism with oil-paint edges, loose brushwork in the dim background, fine ink linework tracing the forms, the light carried by the strokes. Medium-wide composition, full figure, calm and quiet. A small neighbourhood café at first light, still mostly in cold blue dusk, a raw wooden counter, a warm red brick wall behind her, one low warm beam of the first sun crossing the counter and falling on her alone. On a tall stool at the counter, seen whole from head to boots, sits eryn, a woman of about twenty-eight: short copper-auburn hair freshly and unevenly cut, one small tuft at the crown growing back in rainbow; pale sapphire eyes with a darker limbal ring and a single catchlight; fair skin, light freckles across the nose and cheeks; a soft, youthful, lived-in face, faint lilac shadows under the eyes, a touch of concealer not quite blended, a little too much rosy blush, a small old pale scar through one eyebrow. A simple ink-navy blouse, sleeves pushed to the forearm, an open camel wool coat she hasn't taken off yet, dark trousers, worn ankle boots, a thin old necklace, a fabric wristband, a bag at her feet. One boot hooked on the rung of the stool. The barista is a woman, seen only as a canvas apron, a slender forearm with a rolled sleeve and a thin bracelet, and one hand setting a cup of coffee down in front of her, face out of frame. On the counter beside the cup stands a tiny folded paper figure, the size of her thumb, folded from a white café napkin while she waited: a little witch with a pointed hat and long paper hair. The fingertip of her left hand rests lightly on its hat, absently, keeping it upright. Her right hand closes around the cup. Her head turns slightly to the left, toward the edge of the image, a sideways glance and a small wry private almost-smile, as if toward someone she left at home and is not sure she misses. Colour lives on her: copper hair, the rainbow tuft, navy blouse, camel coat, the coffee, the sunbeam. Everything else stays muted and blue. A few early customers far behind in soft focus. A torn paper border frames the image. Quiet, solemn, ordinary, faintly hopeful. No lettering anywhere. Out-of-time and timeless. The first ordinary morning after. By eryn.

Modifiers:

8k Ultra filigrane texture of fine lines by eryn will it get better? the gentlest nudge

Prompt

Realistic and painterly blend: soft photographic realism with oil-paint edges, loose brushwork in the dim background, fine ink linework tracing the forms, the light carried by the strokes. Medium-wide composition, full figure, calm and quiet. A small neighbourhood café at first light, still mostly in cold blue dusk, a raw wooden counter, a warm red brick wall behind her, one low warm beam of the first sun crossing the counter and falling on her alone. On a tall stool at the counter, seen whole from head to boots, sits eryn, a woman of about twenty-eight: short copper-auburn hair freshly and unevenly cut, one small tuft at the crown growing back in rainbow; pale sapphire eyes with a darker limbal ring and a single catchlight; fair skin, light freckles across the nose and cheeks; a soft, youthful, lived-in face, faint lilac shadows under the eyes, a touch of concealer not quite blended, a little too much rosy blush, a small old pale scar through one eyebrow. A simple ink-navy blouse, sleeves pushed to the forearm, an open camel wool coat she hasn't taken off yet, dark trousers, worn ankle boots, a thin old necklace, a fabric wristband, a bag at her feet. One boot hooked on the rung of the stool. The barista is a woman, seen only as a canvas apron, a slender forearm with a rolled sleeve and a thin bracelet, and one hand setting a cup of coffee down in front of her, face out of frame. On the counter beside the cup stands a tiny folded paper figure, the size of her thumb, folded from a white café napkin while she waited: a little witch with a pointed hat and long paper hair. The fingertip of her left hand rests lightly on its hat, absently, keeping it upright. Her right hand closes around the cup. Her head turns slightly to the left, toward the edge of the image, a sideways glance and a small wry private almost-smile, as if toward someone she left at home and is not sure she misses. Colour lives on her: copper hair, the rainbow tuft, navy blouse, camel coat, the coffee, the sunbeam. Everything else stays muted and blue. A few early customers far behind in soft focus. A torn paper border frames the image. Quiet, solemn, ordinary, faintly hopeful. No lettering anywhere. Out-of-time and timeless. The first ordinary morning after. By eryn.