Uhh.....
Okay...i think i might have seen something similar to this piece...this...one...day...some....5 to 10...years ago...when i wuz about...a certain height. Never mind, it's freakin' awesome.
Reviews for "Time of Immaturity"
Bullsik responds:
Many thanks!
wtf?????
i don't get it. its great art but, a skin suit????? btw kingkobraXXX i think its rated M because of the silhouette of his dick.
Woh
Making skin into the textures of clothes requires a lot of imagination. Does this represent Immaturity or is it a fan made portrait from a movie like you do with characters from other shows?
Bullsik responds:
It's an in-depth potrait of my favourite writer but it easily represents us all.
Yes, the skin has a lot to do with the time of immaturity - it's the time when you seek for your own shape and a way to show yourself to other people.
What i think.
I think that the time of immaturity is when your a young teen and you change how you act to please other people and be popular, and this boy is trying on different skins which are a symbol of personalities.Thats whats great about art, there are so many meanings that you can draw from a single picture......
Bullsik responds:
Oh yes, out of several meanings this one is very accurate.
I know what this picture is supposed to convey, and who it's supposed to portray, yet no matter how hard I try, it makes me think of my own life. It makes me think of my mornings everyday, and the fake skin I put on. The people I try to be like. The person I want people to see me as. I'm not fitting to a conscious acceptable to society. I'm wrapping myself in the life I wish I could live. I'm wishing I could live a normal life, with a normal family, and that if I keep on acting like that is what it is, that one day it'll be so. Every day, I put on a fake smile, and throw jokes around and laugh like nothing's wrong. I fit into someone else's skin, just because I desire the life that the skin represents. I desire it to an extant that the sane mind can't even fathom. I can't show anybody who I really am, or show anybody the demons caged within my private hell. I can't show anybody, because once I do that somebody becomes a nobody to me, as they fall out of my life. Back to their Perfect. Little. Life. So I do it to keep that portion of a normal life I have. That wretched piece of humanity that I hold on to so dearly. The fragment of a life never to be mine. The one thing that makes me put myself through demented routines meant to torture a normal soul to insanity to keep. I hold on to it. Because it is hope. It is faith. It is the one thing that separates me from the brink of a place beyond insanity. Beyond a living hell on earth. It is what keeps me alive. I proudly wear a uniform unfamiliar, and fly a flag foreign to keep this. This order in the chaos. This panacea for my problems. This light flickering in the darkness.
This. Is what makes me human.