The Smell of Earth In Dried Flowers

67
0
  • சாமியானாமானந்தகள்'s avatar Artist
    சாமியானாமா...
  • DDG Model
    ChatGPT 2
  • Mode
    Pro
  • Access
    Public
  • Created
    1d ago
  • Try

Prompt

Baroque Linocut portrait, smeary, side view, upper body portrait, contoured, thinned watercolor, abstract expressionist painting of a woman with dreadlocks sniffing flowers and weeds, stylized, elongated lineage, sgraffitto, stencil remniscence, moody expression, color palette includes shades of blue, beige, and white. The background is textured with a mix of dark and light tones. Bold brushstrokes are clearly visible, giving the painting a cultivated, modernist approach, posture is slightly tilted, concentration, empathy, introspection. Maximalism, rule of thirds. Plasticity 1.3, ambient occlusion 1.3, parallax occlusion 1.3, raytraced shadows 1.3, dynamic lighting 1.3,3d effect, foampunk style lighting by Ed Paschke, dark fantasy meets surrealism, paper-cut technique, sculpted, flowing hair illusion, stylized portrait with intricate background, line-art, watercolor overspray, illustrative stylization, graphic emphasis, visible textures, raytraced shadows 1.3, colored line patterns, serenity, reminiscent of geometrical art, gothical composition, wispy filaments on skirt, flecks, smeary paint, overspray of thinned watercolor, trippy, warm tones, squiggly brushstrokes, visible textures, highly detailed and attractive, professional corporate portrait, dramatic golden hour lighting, Hasselblad, 65mm lens, ultra-sharp, 8K resolution,

More about The Smell of Earth In Dried Flowers

Inspired by
https://deepdreamgenerator.com/ddream/gnb5y9u8hs5

Which was inspired by
https://deepdreamgenerator.com/ddream/4th1zvstklg

I found the place years ago,
when the internet still smelled to me
like dried flowers before rain
and earth remembering green.

There were Queens living there,
high in the strange machinery,
women—or names dreaming of women—
whose pictures floated downstream.

I watched their little rituals
and borrowed what I could,
the way rain borrows perfume
from flowers and dark wood.

One name kept returning: Darlene.
Darlene, improbable Queen.

This is not her garden.
My roses came up crooked and lean.
Still, I leave them by the road
where the clouds turn green—

a small bouquet before the rain,
for Darlene,
the Queen.

Comments


Loading Dream Comments...

Discover more dreams from this artist