Perfectly matching and replicating colors just by seeing them is an art, and, while it’s also a very useful task, people who can do this are primarily artists.
Yeah but no but yeah – Look he didn’t just colour match it, he also added in the turbulence medium, the clearcoat and the correct metallic flecks… for a paint that will dry a lighter shade than when it goes on.
That’s like being served an entire thanksgiving meal made my one person in 45 minutes and then saying “Oh they made me a snack”: It is radically underselling what this person can do.
This animation without the filter because it fucked with the framerate for some reason (this isn’t the intended look otherwise, but bleh)
im sure most of you dont give a flying dick tit about godzilla shit but this model and now animation is the first thing ive made and was kinda proud of in a long time .
WAIT YOU MADE THIS?
idk probably
im worried that the reason you’re getting less attention than you deserve is that this looks like it was clipped out of a Movie, and not one of the lower budget ones
I have almost no energy to move or to think. My eyes hurt. My head hurts. I’m constantly on the verge of puking. The room is spinning. Normally bouncing off the walls with the desire to exercise, try new things, and socialize, all I want to do is sit silently in the dark. I am incapacitated, in an inescapable way, by the demands of full-time work.
I had forgotten for a while that I am so profoundly disabled, because I have been able to build a life around my natural rhythms and my inarguable sensitivities. But for just one week, I’ve been thrust back into approximating something of a “normal” working life, and I can’t handle it. Not even remotely.
If I were to live by this schedule all of the time, if necessity forced me to work an actual full-time job with real, in-person, full-time hours, I would have zero energy for meal preparation, physical fitness, social outings, on-the-ground activism, or any of the random adventures that make life so worthwhile. In my schedule I’d scarcely find the time for doctor’s visits, tooth cleanings, trips to the DMV, birthday parties, conferences, runs to the post office, or any of the other small journeys that make it possible for supposedly “independent” adult life to run. My health, my relationships, my community, and my grounding in reality would dramatically collapse.
Working full-time is a sickness. And not just for especially sensitive people like me. The friends I know with full-time jobs are tired nearly all the time, and have had to give up on so many of their passions and fulfilling pursuits. Over the years some full-time workers I know have become a bit dull-eyed and distant, no passion in their voice, a ghost of their younger selves. They assume it is because they are growing “old,” but I’m older than many of them, and many people older than me are similarly able to bounce off the walls.
We have energy if we get enough sleep, if we eat robustly and eagerly, and if life is filled with shared wanderings that we can look forward to. We need repetition, and comfort, and rest, but also ample space to dream, and the power to bring some of those dreams into reality. So many people under capitalism lack all of those things. Their jobs are a chronic illness they must cradle, manage, and make endless sacrifices for every single day.
There is so much they can’t do. They don’t go on dates with their spouses because they’re falling asleep at 8pm. They’re behind on doctor’s appointments and haven’t visited their siblings for years. They’re too weak and weary to travel, to volunteer, to meet anybody new. All they have it in them to do at the end of the day is collapse in front of something familiar on the TV. And it is so normal that nobody even considers it a sickness.
Sergei Krikaliov stranded aboard the Mir space station in 1991 during the breakup of the USSR. Technically the last citizen of the Soviet Union until he was able to land 10 months later in March 1992.
