Inspired by the work of Bella Kotak and others, this shoot is my first attempt into the high fashion / fantasy world.
The aspects of her images that captivated me are:
- Dark, dramatic lighting and color
- Beautiful use of props, settings, wardrobe, etc.
- A dreamy, fantastical styling with otherworldly elements
The setting will be (I hope) in the back of my property which is a creek surrounded by old oak and black walnut trees. The light back there is incredible especially during the morning and afternoon.
Ever so often, across the aeons, in a dark and wooded place, the old gods come to dance their dreams and memories.
It starts with the merest wisp of fog and light and a single crystal tone to announce their arrival. The Mortal Witness would see sudden stillness in the forest followed by a soundless breach of reality as the promenade began.
First, of course, comes the All Mother, she who first danced the maelstrom and from the arms of the nebulae drew together atoms, then specks, then pebbles, boulders, and mountains. It was she that poured the essence of singularity into the fog and drew out a sun. It was she that lit its fusion heart as her own and coalesced the planets to lay across her breast.
As she steps into the forest, her song is the high pitched shrill of quasars and dark matter. Her eyes shine with the deep blue of an aging star and the the necklace around her neck quivers in quantum flight.
To the Witness whose tiny mind cannot grasp but the smallest hint of her essence, he sees her as a crystalline beauty, both dark and cold but filled with the eldritch energy and vitality.
Next comes the the Life Mother. It was she who saw the beauty and promise of everything that the All Mother created and yearned to give it her own dance. In her movement, she gathered the raw elements together into that primordial salve and caressed it to the satellites. Jealous of her austerity, the All Mother rained fire and acid down upon them to cleanse her children, but Life Mother was tenuous and wildly persistent. After a battle that lasted through the cataclysm of several of her resonances, the All Mother relented and let the spark survive and flourish.
Into the glade she comes, Life Mother, verdant, fecund, and endlessly mutable. Terror drowns the mind of the Witness to behold her as in her eyes is not just the gentle sigh of a lilac’s bloom, but also the ferocious intent of predator and pray. Life cannot exist without struggle, misery, hope and death. He wants her to be the gentle, loving embrace of his human mother, but she is that frantic rush of plant and animal, fish and fox, stick and cilia that is all life on the earth. Her demeanor shifts endlessly seeking a stronger hold, a greater control.
The Witness, now somewhat recovered in the presence of both Adam and Eve in her being, see her as human, yet not. Her green gown covers her with the density of opulence of the deep jungle or a thriving coral reef, yet parts of her dress start to fall away with the dusty gray of concrete and plastic that block the light of the All Mother. Lines of divergence simplify and become uniform as diversity dies. She is angry and spiteful as she looks over her shoulder at she who comes next. Her thoughts are of evolution and revenge.
For next, comes Prometheus in her fire form.
Prometheus, of course, is the name the Witness gives her, but we know that she is much more than that stale, fateful meme. While Life Mother gave the spark and the hunger, Fire Mother gave the initiative. While beneath the notice of the haughty All Mother, she