Prompt: Mid 20 century style, a woman in a vintage striped beautiful dress sits on a sofa, drawing flowers on her lap with a felt-tip pen, Layered Artwork, in the style of Robert Rauschenberg, by William Kentridge
Prompt: CHILDHOOD, GARDENS, HEAT...
Yes, I was maybe eight years old.
Childhood, summer, distant rear.
The house, the rumble and creaking of steam-window carts,
Heat, gardens covered in dust.
And a cheerful woman in our yard,
Prompt: CHILDHOOD, GARDENS, HEAT...
Yes, I was probably eight years old.
Childhood, summer, distant rear.
The house, the rumble and creaking of steam-window carts,
The heat, the gardens immersed in dust.
And a cheerful woman in our yard,
Boarder,
that's what her grandfather called her,
My cheeks started to burn in the morning,
No, I was only eight years old.
I laughed when she smiled
I chatted: there were no words yet,
And when she washed herself by the stream,
I chased the boys out of the bushes.
It's all a long time ago
but now I remember -
Night, adobe, without shutters, house.
I stood leaning against the rough wall,
Under her cheerful window.
He returned from the war -
I understood that
but she hugged him.
He, damn it, lifted her in his arms,
and she kissed him.
I didn't know why my hands were shaking.
It's quiet outside, it's dark.
sob and whisper,
Eh, how can I restrain myself here!
I hit the window with a stone.
Someone ran out:
- You?
I looked into her eyes.
as if in a dream I wanted to scream.
and then, as a disabled neighbor, I said:
- Well, fuck off...
And she pushed him away: - Go away.
This is Grandfather Nazar's grandson...
and pressed it to the open soft chest:
- Oh, my little, stupid friend...
I rushed
Climbed onto the roof and lay down
On my grandfather's threadbare carpet,
How can I grow overnight!..
Become strong!.. I could
repay her shame.
...Childhood, no, is not forgotten.
let time fly.
but it’s hard for me to be with you,
when the boy is next door
will look at us
with unforgiving childish melancholy.
He stands leaning against the whitewashed wall,
Black-eyed, gloomy, angry.
He will give his first jealousy to you,
Your childhood
gardens,
heat...
Prompt: CHILDHOOD, GARDENS, HEAT...
Yes, I was probably eight years old.
Childhood, summer, distant rear.
The house, the rumble and creaking of steam-window carts,
The heat, the gardens immersed in dust.
And a cheerful woman in our yard,
Boarder,
that's what her grandfather called her,
My cheeks started to burn in the morning,
No, I was only eight years old.
I laughed when she smiled
I chatted: there were no words yet,
And when she washed herself by the stream,
I chased the boys out of the bushes.
It's all a long time ago
but now I remember -
Night, adobe, without shutters, house.
I stood leaning against the rough wall,
Under her cheerful window.
He returned from the war -
I understood that
but she hugged him.
He, damn it, lifted her in his arms,
and she kissed him.
I didn't know why my hands were shaking.
It's quiet outside, it's dark.
sob and whisper,
Eh, how can I restrain myself here!
I hit the window with a stone.
Someone ran out:
- You?
I looked into her eyes.
as if in a dream I wanted to scream.
and then, as a disabled neighbor, I said:
- Well, fuck off...
And she pushed him away: - Go away.
This is Grandfather Nazar's grandson...
and pressed it to the open soft chest:
- Oh, my little, stupid friend...
I rushed
Climbed onto the roof and lay down
On my grandfather's threadbare carpet,
How can I grow overnight!..
Become strong!.. I could
repay her shame.
...Childhood, no, is not forgotten.
let time fly.
but it’s hard for me to be with you,
when the boy is next door
will look at us
with unforgiving childish melancholy.
He stands leaning against the whitewashed wall,
Black-eyed, gloomy, angry.
He will give his first jealousy to you,
Your childhood
gardens,
heat...
Prompt: CHILDHOOD, GARDENS, HEAT...
Yes, I was probably eight years old.
Childhood, summer, distant rear.
The house, the rumble and creaking of steam-window carts,
The heat, the gardens immersed in dust.
And a cheerful woman in our yard,
Boarder,
that's what her grandfather called her,
My cheeks started to burn in the morning,
No, I was only eight years old.
I laughed when she smiled
I chatted: there were no words yet,
And when she washed herself by the stream,
I chased the boys out of the bushes.
It's all a long time ago
but now I remember -
Night, adobe, without shutters, house.
I stood leaning against the rough wall,
Under her cheerful window.
He returned from the war -
I understood that
but she hugged him.
He, damn it, lifted her in his arms,
and she kissed him.
I didn't know why my hands were shaking.
It's quiet outside, it's dark.
sob and whisper,
Eh, how can I restrain myself here!
I hit the window with a stone.
Someone ran out:
- You?
I looked into her eyes.
as if in a dream I wanted to scream.
and then, as a disabled neighbor, I said:
- Well, fuck off...
And she pushed him away: - Go away.
This is Grandfather Nazar's grandson...
and pressed it to the open soft chest:
- Oh, my little, stupid friend...
I rushed
Climbed onto the roof and lay down
On my grandfather's threadbare carpet,
How can I grow overnight!..
Become strong!.. I could
repay her shame.
...Childhood, no, is not forgotten.
let time fly.
but it’s hard for me to be with you,
when the boy is next door
will look at us
with unforgiving childish melancholy.
He stands leaning against the whitewashed wall,
Black-eyed, gloomy, angry.
He will give his first jealousy to you,
Your childhood
gardens,
heat...
Prompt: CHILDHOOD, GARDENS, HEAT...
Yes, I was probably eight years old.
Childhood, summer, distant rear.
The house, the rumble and creaking of steam-window carts,
The heat, the gardens immersed in dust.
And a cheerful woman in our yard,
Boarder,
that's what her grandfather called her,
My cheeks started to burn in the morning,
No, I was only eight years old.
I laughed when she smiled
I chatted: there were no words yet,
And when she washed herself by the stream,
I chased the boys out of the bushes.
It's all a long time ago
but now I remember -
Night, adobe, without shutters, house.
I stood leaning against the rough wall,
Under her cheerful window.
He returned from the war -
I understood that
but she hugged him.
He, damn it, lifted her in his arms,
and she kissed him.
I didn't know why my hands were shaking.
It's quiet outside, it's dark.
sob and whisper,
Eh, how can I restrain myself here!
I hit the window with a stone.
Someone ran out:
- You?
I looked into her eyes.
as if in a dream I wanted to scream.
and then, as a disabled neighbor, I said:
- Well, fuck off...
And she pushed him away: - Go away.
This is Grandfather Nazar's grandson...
and pressed it to the open soft chest:
- Oh, my little, stupid friend...
I rushed
Climbed onto the roof and lay down
On my grandfather's threadbare carpet,
How can I grow overnight!..
Become strong!.. I could
repay her shame.
...Childhood, no, is not forgotten.
let time fly.
but it’s hard for me to be with you,
when the boy is next door
will look at us
with unforgiving childish melancholy.
He stands leaning against the whitewashed wall,
Black-eyed, gloomy, angry.
He will give his first jealousy to you,
Your childhood
gardens,
heat...
Prompt: CHILDHOOD, GARDENS, HEAT...
Yes, I was probably eight years old.
Childhood, summer, distant rear.
The house, the rumble and creaking of steam-window carts,
The heat, the gardens immersed in dust.
And a cheerful woman in our yard,
Boarder,
that's what her grandfather called her,
My cheeks started to burn in the morning,
No, I was only eight years old.
I laughed when she smiled
I chatted: there were no words yet,
And when she washed herself by the stream,
I chased the boys out of the bushes.
It's all a long time ago
but now I remember -
Night, adobe, without shutters, house.
I stood leaning against the rough wall,
Under her cheerful window.
He returned from the war -
I understood that
but she hugged him.
He, damn it, lifted her in his arms,
and she kissed him.
I didn't know why my hands were shaking.
It's quiet outside, it's dark.
sob and whisper,
Eh, how can I restrain myself here!
I hit the window with a stone.
Someone ran out:
- You?
I looked into her eyes.
as if in a dream I wanted to scream.
and then, as a disabled neighbor, I said:
- Well, fuck off...
And she pushed him away: - Go away.
This is Grandfather Nazar's grandson...
and pressed it to the open soft chest:
- Oh, my little, stupid friend...
I rushed
Climbed onto the roof and lay down
On my grandfather's threadbare carpet,
How can I grow overnight!..
Become strong!.. I could
repay her shame.
...Childhood, no, is not forgotten.
let time fly.
but it’s hard for me to be with you,
when the boy is next door
will look at us
with unforgiving childish melancholy.
He stands leaning against the whitewashed wall,
Black-eyed, gloomy, angry.
He will give his first jealousy to you,
Your childhood
gardens,
heat...
Prompt: No tears, no words, no melody
I won't be able to revive my heart,
There is no such remedy, even in theory,
To resurrect me to life.
From now on my stay is only a memory
Have the most wonderful days
Love killed by accident
Among the Kazakh steppes.
My personal <girlish> logic is gone,
The foundation has disappeared somewhere...
I shouldn't say goodbye to you,
But I won't say, "Wait!"
Some phantasmagoria, some complete nonsense.
Where is the wisdom of the entire universe,
How long does grief give rise to sadness?
And where does our happiness hide?
We'll never find
If, being terribly confused, you don’t accidentally come across...
Prompt: No tears, no words, no melody
I won't be able to revive my heart,
There is no such remedy, even in theory,
To resurrect me to life.
From now on my stay is only a memory
Have the most wonderful days
Love killed by accident
Among the Kazakh steppes.
My personal <girlish> logic is gone,
The foundation has disappeared somewhere...
I shouldn't say goodbye to you,
But I won't say, "Wait!"
Some phantasmagoria, some complete nonsense.
Where is the wisdom of the entire universe,
How long does grief give rise to sadness?
And where does our happiness hide?
We'll never find
If, being terribly confused, you don’t accidentally come across...
Prompt: No tears, no words, no melody
I won't be able to revive my heart,
There is no such remedy, even in theory,
To resurrect me to life.
From now on my stay is only a memory
Have the most wonderful days
Love killed by accident
Among the Kazakh steppes.
My personal <girlish> logic is gone,
The foundation has disappeared somewhere...
I shouldn't say goodbye to you,
But I won't say, "Wait!"
Some phantasmagoria, some complete nonsense.
Where is the wisdom of the entire universe,
How long does grief give rise to sadness?
And where does our happiness hide?
We'll never find
If, being terribly confused, you don’t accidentally come across...
Prompt: ***
No tears, no words, no melody
I won't be able to revive my heart,
There is no such remedy, even in theory,
To resurrect me to life.
From now on my stay is only a memory
Have the most wonderful days
Love killed by accident
Among the Kazakh steppes.
My personal <girlish> logic is gone,
The foundation has disappeared somewhere...
I shouldn't say goodbye to you,
But I won't say, "Wait!"
Some phantasmagoria, some complete nonsense.
Where is the wisdom of the entire universe,
How long does grief give rise to sadness?
And where does our happiness hide?
We'll never find
If, being terribly confused, you don’t accidentally come across...
Prompt: Belarusian folk fairy tale
First, you need to thresh the sheaves, pour the grain into bags, take the bags to the mill and grind the flour...
- No, not all. You need to knead the flour in a bowl and wait for the dough to rise. Then put it into a hot oven.
Prompt: Belarusian folk fairy tale
First, you need to thresh the sheaves, pour the grain into bags, take the bags to the mill and grind the flour...
- No, not all. You need to knead the flour in a bowl and wait for the dough to rise. Then put it into a hot oven.
Prompt: First, you need to thresh the sheaves, pour the grain into bags, take the bags to the mill and grind the flour...
- No, not all. You need to knead the flour in a bowl and wait for the dough to rise. Then put it into a hot oven.
Prompt: Belarus fairy folk tale. Wolf and mower's dialogue.
First, you need to thresh the sheaves, pour the grain into bags, take the bags to the mill and grind the flour...
You need to knead the flour in a bowl and wait for the dough to rise. Then put it into a hot oven.
Prompt: Wolf ran to the river. He sees geese grazing on the shore. “Shouldn't I eat them?” -thinks. Then says:
- Geese, geese! I'll eat you.
Magic surrealism, deep colours, magical, dreamy.
Easy bread Belarusian folk fairy tale Illustration
Model:
AIVision
Size:
1024 X 1024
(1.05 MP)
Used settings:
Prompt: Belarusian folk fairy tale
The wolf came to the pasture. He saw a horse.
- Horse, horse! I'll eat you.
Magic surrealism, deep colours, magical, dreamy.
Prompt: Belarusian folk fairy tale
A mower man was mowing the meadow. He got tired and sat down under a bush to rest. He took out the bag, untied it and started chewing the bread.
Magic surrealism, deep colours, magical, dreamy.
Prompt: Postcard for LinkedIn.
celebrating the first anniversary of the Europe and Central Asia Transport and Trade Association (ECATA)!
Successful launch and establishment of ECATA as a pivotal player in the transport and trade industry.
Forming strategic partnerships with key stakeholders and industry leaders.
Prompt: stylish, modern
Implementing initiatives that have enhanced connectivity and facilitated smoother trade across borders.
Prompt: Traditional Belarusian folk costume
thresh the sheaves, pour the grain into bags, take the bags to the mill and grind the flour...
by Anna Dittmann, by James Tissot
Prompt: "Easy bread" Belarusian folk fairy tale.
thresh the sheaves, pour the grain into bags, take the bags to the mill and grind the flour...
by Anna Dittmann, by James Tissot
Prompt: Easy bread Belarusian folk fairy tale.
A haymaker man was mowing the meadow. He got tired and sat down under a bush to rest. He took out the bag, untied it and started chewing the bread. Hungry wolf come close to him from the forest.
by Anna Dittmann, by James Tissot
Prompt: A hungry wolf comes out of the forest. He sees a peasant man sitting under a bush and eating something.
oil on canvas mesmerizing portrait depicts a young man standing proudly beside his horse and cart, holding a beautifully illuminated lantern. black, brown, cart, dark, horse, light, orange, painting, white, darkness. remarkable attention to detail, essence of evening dusk, play between light and darkness, addictive deep atmosphere. Hyper-Detailed illustration; 16K; volumetric light; harmonious shades of Very dark grayish pink, Very dark desaturated blue, Dark moderate blue, Dark grayish yellow. by Stanhope Forbes, John Singer Sargent, Jean-Édouard Vuillard, David Wilkie, George Bellows, Gustave Courbet, Joseph Wright, Robert Henri
realistic oil on canvas high definition crisp quality Unreal Engine cinematic postprocessing acrylic art high contrast Gouache Oskar Kokoschka Bright anatomically correct perfect composition a masterpiece Piet Mondrian idyllic dramatic lighting and shadows painstaking attention to detail mysterious atmosphere golden glow flawless painting mobile, light, melting brushstrokes virtuosity drawing carefully constructed composition figurative and colorful painting detailed modern masterpiece
Prompt: A belurus man planting wheat, was mowing the meadow. He got tired and sat down under a bush to rest. He took out the bag, untied it and started chewing the bread, masterpiece, yellow Eranthis hyemalis in the snow , very detailed, watercolor and ink
digital painting elegant very attractive beautiful high detail award winning ultra detailed crisp quality very cute Jean Babtiste Monge
Prompt: A belurus man planting wheat, was mowing the meadow. He got tired and sat down under a bush to rest. He took out the bag, untied it and started chewing the bread.
collage vibrant colours Watercolor painting Aaron Douglas translucent shadows Transparent
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.
