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ллюстрация для моей серии книг «Тлеющий Ад», для седьмой книги («Тлеющий Ад 7. Выгорающий Рай II: 99 Имён Всевышнего») + декламация.Книга на Автор.Тудей: author.today/work/160832
Ваттпад: https://www.wattpad.com/user/AzazelAlKhalifa
Данный текст на русском опубликован статьёй на Дзен: https://dzen.ru/a/aIarYWmIQEPJXE4s
Illustration for my series of books "Smoldering Hell", for the seventh book ("Smoldering Hell 7. Burning Paradise II: 99 Names of the Almighty") + recitation.The book is by the # author.today/work/160832 The wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/AzazelAlKhalifa
This diptych has been my work for quite a long time, since the period when I was painting in watercolor technique. Now, in my oil painting technique (digital), I would have drawn this scene much larger and more spectacular (probably), so I didn't even really plan to post this work, but I don't have the desire to redraw it (maybe someday later), and besides, these illustrations were done by me in combination. with a recitation, and I, of course, really wanted to post it. Well, first things first.
This is a moment from my life in true embodiment. Babylon, the palace-hall of archdemon Mammon (at that time, this hall had not yet been destroyed, but was in the process of destruction). I stand behind the column and look with calm interest and sad understanding at Mammon, who sits on a throne in the middle of the vast throne room, gloomy, thoughtful, with an immeasurable burden on his heart. The illustrations contain the quatrains from my song (there are both lyrics and backing tracks, all that remains is to record the vocals), in these lines I talk about my, apparently, really first meeting with Mammon (original text in russian):
My acquaintance with him happened a long time ago,
The age of Babylon was coming to an end.
I went into his palace hall,
I walked the world, wandering, alone.
The throne room was empty in the silence of the tomb,
The columns crumbled under the yoke of the ages.
He sat on the throne with his eyes closed,
Horned like a Devil, great like a God.
I think this is one of the iconic moments of my life. Understanding the loneliness of a warrior, whom most of the horned avoid out of fear of him, I then cles… And our dialogue itself, however, is firmly etched into my memory, left an indelible mark on my heart. Apparently, it's not just me. Although it would seem that there was something in the conversation? But it was a conversation between two hearts, isolated from the world in their loneliness and in their burden.
That's why I wanted to recite this dialogue on the record - and now I'm showing you my, uh, track? It's called "Archdemon Azazel Al-Kalifa - A Conversation with Mammon in Babylon." You can listen to it on yandex.disk, you can download or listen to it right away: https://disk.yandex.ru/d/9TMDPPPWhTIkzQ
Why "track"? Because this time it's not just a reading: I wrote a melody for our dialogue, to which our conversation sounds on the recording. Thus, a full-fledged musical composition has already been released - my unhurried, easy attempt to finally get closer to recording vocals on my backing tracks, which have been waiting for this for a long time. Nothing: all in good time. That's why I called this recitation a track above: it's not a song, because there's no singing, but it's not just a recitation.
I have voiced not only my own words, but also Mammon's words, and here I have added voice processing to achieve as close a timbre as possible to Purgator's real voice: his voice is incredibly deep and low, and every time he speaks, it gives him goosebumps.
And here, meanwhile, is the dialogue itself (in the sixth and seventh books, I wrote about myself in the third person):
"The great most luminous palace spread its hall from the inside out, massive white stone columns towering over the city streets, similar in architecture to the Roman one, although there were no Roman palaces in those years; a vast and throne-like hall appeared before Azazel the wandering, who walked between impressive columns, dressed in traveling clothes and leaning on a staff as he walked; The archdemon stopped quietly next to one of the pillars of those great ones, looked ahead, towards the golden throne; and on the throne, Mammon sat pensive, in open ancient armor, with a single durable shoulder pad; leaning on the throne arms, Mammon propped his horned head with his fist, looking joylessly, lonely and eerie in the midst of the silence of the hall of the white stone palace, there was not a soul in anyone else. And the great palace itself, meanwhile, has already been thoroughly destroyed, bricks have collapsed in some places, colorful tiles have cracked. And in the silence of this grave, painful, Mammon heard footsteps clearly, raised his gaze slowly, gloomily, looked attentively at Azazel, — the archdemon was standing just behind the column, half-hidden to the gaze, looked back without any condemnation.
"Did the Desert Wind itself honor me with a visit?" — Mammon asked with a sidelong grin, examining the horned wanderer, and his harsh, low voice echoed back from the walls. Azazel did not answer yet, he only raised his head higher, trembling with the color of white, attentive, wise with his eyes. "I've heard a lot about you, Lord,"— Mammon added calmly. — "And I sincerely sympathize with your fate."
"Thank you, Commander," — Azazel nodded in response. Mammon grunted approvingly, hearing the voice of the guest, spread his hand, showing the throne room:
"Look at this ruin. My Babylon is dying. "The gates of God," but God does not enter them. The great hail will fall soon. Everything is as Isaiah predicted."
"I feel sorry for your city," — Azazel replied to this. — He is also loved by me. But an old man dies, and his child is born instead. Don't grieve for an old man who is dying, take a child in your arms instead."
"You speak well, sheddim,— Mammon grinned slyly, studying the chiseled and slender face covered with the length of the kuffiyeh. —But who would entrust a child to a monster?"
Azazel looked at the archdemon sadly, smiled slightly, and replied: "Aren't you a monster?"
"Can't you see? — Mammon asked with a gloomy sneer. - Yes, I haven't heard, it seems that everyone is talking about me."
"They say a lot about me, too. But if someone says that I'm a weed, will I grow thorns? If someone throws that I'm a foot worm, will I lie down in the mud at that hour?"
"You look me in the face without timidity," — Mammon remarked calmly, without taking his eyes off the reasonable guest. —Don't you hate me?"
"I like it... the power and stateliness," — Azazel replied, lowering his gaze, then smiled slyly, looking at the archdemon again. — And the fortress of the rough male face. Everyone is beautiful in this world. And all ugliness is only in the eyes without love."
Mammon arched an eyebrow with interest, watching this coquetry, grinned, looked away.
"Allow me to express my understanding,— Azazel added. — That's why I came to you. Loneliness... It's not bad. But someone dies from loneliness. Your fortress is crumbling, Commander... Because you're not a fortress for yourself. You're ashamed of your own face, and you hate yourself bitterly. You need that one... who will look at you without fear. Who will love you without pretense, from the heart, sincerely. In that, you will find peace of the heart. You're lonely, my friend, it's unthinkable."
Mammon chuckled thoughtfully, after listening to this speech without objections, but looked at Azazel again, grinned, and said with a grin:
"Well, hide my loneliness."
Azazel smiled benevolently, closing his eyes.:
"No, Commander. I'm assigned to someone else."
"That's how... Why are you standing here and making eyes at me?"
"You've already said: I like to become"
Mammon smiled only the more, rose from the throne heavily, ponderously, descended from the steps of a few, rushed to the guest unhurriedly; Azazel involuntarily stood aside, stepped back a little, to the side, raised his head at the archdemon, strong, great in stature inconceivably. Mammon, who had come close to the wanderer, tilted his head to the side, leaned against the column impressively, placing his other hand on his belt.
"Like a thin reed," — he said, looking at Azazel slyly, at the chiseled face and attentive eyes, outlined in the Egyptian manner. — "And they say you're dancing like a vine."
"They're really not lying here," — Azazel smiled cunningly.
Mammon then raised his hand, leaned forward sharply, rushed to grab the guest, grabbed himself without tact. But Azazel dodged immediately, like the wind flying out from under the rake's hand, rising up in black and sandy smoke, he stopped near the wall, farther away.
"Are you afraid of me, the Heat of the East?" — Mammon grinned with interest, leaning against the column as before.
"No,"— Azazel shook his head, placing his hands carelessly on the staff and putting his chin on top, looking at him with a sly smile, with a bright twinkle in his expressive eyes. — I've been following the understanding for a long time."
"What is it? Tell me, cobra."
"If you scream, scream loudly... — Azazel replied with a smile, looking straight into his terrible eyes, burning with piercing gold. — If you hit... — he tilted his head to the side cunningly, — ...So hit it hard."
"You have a good mind." — Mammon approved with a grin, admiring such a provocation."
____
"But who would entrust a child to a monster?"— Mammon asked once, in ancient times, during the time of Babylon the great... not knowing yet in advance that centuries later a child would entrust him with Existence itself. That's just literally, not figuratively. He will entrust the orphan into the hands of a lonely warrior in order to show that the "monster" knows how to love – and thaws his heart, seeing sincere love for himself. Oh, it's amazing and wonderful Being! And I am delighted by the coherence of the Script of Existence, its meaningfulness and symbolism. I admire Existence as a Chronicler documenting its versatility in his Chronicles, and I am in love with its versatility as an artist who celebrates this beauty in his paintings.
_________________
Для тех, кто не знает:
- Кто я? Азазель Аль-Калифа, архидемон Востока, ныне попавший в человеческое воплощение. И это, мать его, не выдумка.
- О чём моё творчество? Я пишу и рисую о реальных ангелах и демонах, Дьяволе и Боге, о тех событиях, что некогда были всерьёз; через своё творчество я стремлюсь донести людям правду о нашем мире, о мировой истории, о Звере и Святости, о Небесах и Адах, о смысле жизни и о том, что сокрыто с глаз.
- Как я узнал всё это? Я получаю откровения и видения, информацию извне и из памяти собственной души; и в этом я не один, ибо в сей мир угодил я вместе с Семиазой, со своим избранником: периодически мы даже получаем одинаковые откровения независимо друг от друга.
- Какова моя цель? Открыть тебе, Человек, глаза, разум и сердце.
For those who don't know:
- Who am I? Azazel Al-Khalifa, the archdemon of the East, now in human incarnation. And this is not a fucking fiction.
- What is my work about? I write and draw about real angels and demons, the Devil and God, about those events that were once serious; through my creativity, I strive to convey to people the truth about our world, about world history, about the Beast and Holiness, about Heaven and Hell, about the meaning of life and what is hidden from the eyes.
- How did I know all this? I receive revelations and visions, information from outside and from the memory of my own soul; and I am not alone in this, because I landed in this world together with Semiaza, with my chosen one: periodically we even receive the same revelations independently of each other.
- What is my goal? Open to you, Human, eyes, mind and heart.
Ваттпад: https://www.wattpad.com/user/AzazelAlKhalifa
Данный текст на русском опубликован статьёй на Дзен: https://dzen.ru/a/aIarYWmIQEPJXE4s
Illustration for my series of books "Smoldering Hell", for the seventh book ("Smoldering Hell 7. Burning Paradise II: 99 Names of the Almighty") + recitation.The book is by the # author.today/work/160832 The wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/AzazelAlKhalifa
This diptych has been my work for quite a long time, since the period when I was painting in watercolor technique. Now, in my oil painting technique (digital), I would have drawn this scene much larger and more spectacular (probably), so I didn't even really plan to post this work, but I don't have the desire to redraw it (maybe someday later), and besides, these illustrations were done by me in combination. with a recitation, and I, of course, really wanted to post it. Well, first things first.
This is a moment from my life in true embodiment. Babylon, the palace-hall of archdemon Mammon (at that time, this hall had not yet been destroyed, but was in the process of destruction). I stand behind the column and look with calm interest and sad understanding at Mammon, who sits on a throne in the middle of the vast throne room, gloomy, thoughtful, with an immeasurable burden on his heart. The illustrations contain the quatrains from my song (there are both lyrics and backing tracks, all that remains is to record the vocals), in these lines I talk about my, apparently, really first meeting with Mammon (original text in russian):
My acquaintance with him happened a long time ago,
The age of Babylon was coming to an end.
I went into his palace hall,
I walked the world, wandering, alone.
The throne room was empty in the silence of the tomb,
The columns crumbled under the yoke of the ages.
He sat on the throne with his eyes closed,
Horned like a Devil, great like a God.
I think this is one of the iconic moments of my life. Understanding the loneliness of a warrior, whom most of the horned avoid out of fear of him, I then cles… And our dialogue itself, however, is firmly etched into my memory, left an indelible mark on my heart. Apparently, it's not just me. Although it would seem that there was something in the conversation? But it was a conversation between two hearts, isolated from the world in their loneliness and in their burden.
That's why I wanted to recite this dialogue on the record - and now I'm showing you my, uh, track? It's called "Archdemon Azazel Al-Kalifa - A Conversation with Mammon in Babylon." You can listen to it on yandex.disk, you can download or listen to it right away: https://disk.yandex.ru/d/9TMDPPPWhTIkzQ
Why "track"? Because this time it's not just a reading: I wrote a melody for our dialogue, to which our conversation sounds on the recording. Thus, a full-fledged musical composition has already been released - my unhurried, easy attempt to finally get closer to recording vocals on my backing tracks, which have been waiting for this for a long time. Nothing: all in good time. That's why I called this recitation a track above: it's not a song, because there's no singing, but it's not just a recitation.
I have voiced not only my own words, but also Mammon's words, and here I have added voice processing to achieve as close a timbre as possible to Purgator's real voice: his voice is incredibly deep and low, and every time he speaks, it gives him goosebumps.
And here, meanwhile, is the dialogue itself (in the sixth and seventh books, I wrote about myself in the third person):
"The great most luminous palace spread its hall from the inside out, massive white stone columns towering over the city streets, similar in architecture to the Roman one, although there were no Roman palaces in those years; a vast and throne-like hall appeared before Azazel the wandering, who walked between impressive columns, dressed in traveling clothes and leaning on a staff as he walked; The archdemon stopped quietly next to one of the pillars of those great ones, looked ahead, towards the golden throne; and on the throne, Mammon sat pensive, in open ancient armor, with a single durable shoulder pad; leaning on the throne arms, Mammon propped his horned head with his fist, looking joylessly, lonely and eerie in the midst of the silence of the hall of the white stone palace, there was not a soul in anyone else. And the great palace itself, meanwhile, has already been thoroughly destroyed, bricks have collapsed in some places, colorful tiles have cracked. And in the silence of this grave, painful, Mammon heard footsteps clearly, raised his gaze slowly, gloomily, looked attentively at Azazel, — the archdemon was standing just behind the column, half-hidden to the gaze, looked back without any condemnation.
"Did the Desert Wind itself honor me with a visit?" — Mammon asked with a sidelong grin, examining the horned wanderer, and his harsh, low voice echoed back from the walls. Azazel did not answer yet, he only raised his head higher, trembling with the color of white, attentive, wise with his eyes. "I've heard a lot about you, Lord,"— Mammon added calmly. — "And I sincerely sympathize with your fate."
"Thank you, Commander," — Azazel nodded in response. Mammon grunted approvingly, hearing the voice of the guest, spread his hand, showing the throne room:
"Look at this ruin. My Babylon is dying. "The gates of God," but God does not enter them. The great hail will fall soon. Everything is as Isaiah predicted."
"I feel sorry for your city," — Azazel replied to this. — He is also loved by me. But an old man dies, and his child is born instead. Don't grieve for an old man who is dying, take a child in your arms instead."
"You speak well, sheddim,— Mammon grinned slyly, studying the chiseled and slender face covered with the length of the kuffiyeh. —But who would entrust a child to a monster?"
Azazel looked at the archdemon sadly, smiled slightly, and replied: "Aren't you a monster?"
"Can't you see? — Mammon asked with a gloomy sneer. - Yes, I haven't heard, it seems that everyone is talking about me."
"They say a lot about me, too. But if someone says that I'm a weed, will I grow thorns? If someone throws that I'm a foot worm, will I lie down in the mud at that hour?"
"You look me in the face without timidity," — Mammon remarked calmly, without taking his eyes off the reasonable guest. —Don't you hate me?"
"I like it... the power and stateliness," — Azazel replied, lowering his gaze, then smiled slyly, looking at the archdemon again. — And the fortress of the rough male face. Everyone is beautiful in this world. And all ugliness is only in the eyes without love."
Mammon arched an eyebrow with interest, watching this coquetry, grinned, looked away.
"Allow me to express my understanding,— Azazel added. — That's why I came to you. Loneliness... It's not bad. But someone dies from loneliness. Your fortress is crumbling, Commander... Because you're not a fortress for yourself. You're ashamed of your own face, and you hate yourself bitterly. You need that one... who will look at you without fear. Who will love you without pretense, from the heart, sincerely. In that, you will find peace of the heart. You're lonely, my friend, it's unthinkable."
Mammon chuckled thoughtfully, after listening to this speech without objections, but looked at Azazel again, grinned, and said with a grin:
"Well, hide my loneliness."
Azazel smiled benevolently, closing his eyes.:
"No, Commander. I'm assigned to someone else."
"That's how... Why are you standing here and making eyes at me?"
"You've already said: I like to become"
Mammon smiled only the more, rose from the throne heavily, ponderously, descended from the steps of a few, rushed to the guest unhurriedly; Azazel involuntarily stood aside, stepped back a little, to the side, raised his head at the archdemon, strong, great in stature inconceivably. Mammon, who had come close to the wanderer, tilted his head to the side, leaned against the column impressively, placing his other hand on his belt.
"Like a thin reed," — he said, looking at Azazel slyly, at the chiseled face and attentive eyes, outlined in the Egyptian manner. — "And they say you're dancing like a vine."
"They're really not lying here," — Azazel smiled cunningly.
Mammon then raised his hand, leaned forward sharply, rushed to grab the guest, grabbed himself without tact. But Azazel dodged immediately, like the wind flying out from under the rake's hand, rising up in black and sandy smoke, he stopped near the wall, farther away.
"Are you afraid of me, the Heat of the East?" — Mammon grinned with interest, leaning against the column as before.
"No,"— Azazel shook his head, placing his hands carelessly on the staff and putting his chin on top, looking at him with a sly smile, with a bright twinkle in his expressive eyes. — I've been following the understanding for a long time."
"What is it? Tell me, cobra."
"If you scream, scream loudly... — Azazel replied with a smile, looking straight into his terrible eyes, burning with piercing gold. — If you hit... — he tilted his head to the side cunningly, — ...So hit it hard."
"You have a good mind." — Mammon approved with a grin, admiring such a provocation."
____
"But who would entrust a child to a monster?"— Mammon asked once, in ancient times, during the time of Babylon the great... not knowing yet in advance that centuries later a child would entrust him with Existence itself. That's just literally, not figuratively. He will entrust the orphan into the hands of a lonely warrior in order to show that the "monster" knows how to love – and thaws his heart, seeing sincere love for himself. Oh, it's amazing and wonderful Being! And I am delighted by the coherence of the Script of Existence, its meaningfulness and symbolism. I admire Existence as a Chronicler documenting its versatility in his Chronicles, and I am in love with its versatility as an artist who celebrates this beauty in his paintings.
_________________
Для тех, кто не знает:
- Кто я? Азазель Аль-Калифа, архидемон Востока, ныне попавший в человеческое воплощение. И это, мать его, не выдумка.
- О чём моё творчество? Я пишу и рисую о реальных ангелах и демонах, Дьяволе и Боге, о тех событиях, что некогда были всерьёз; через своё творчество я стремлюсь донести людям правду о нашем мире, о мировой истории, о Звере и Святости, о Небесах и Адах, о смысле жизни и о том, что сокрыто с глаз.
- Как я узнал всё это? Я получаю откровения и видения, информацию извне и из памяти собственной души; и в этом я не один, ибо в сей мир угодил я вместе с Семиазой, со своим избранником: периодически мы даже получаем одинаковые откровения независимо друг от друга.
- Какова моя цель? Открыть тебе, Человек, глаза, разум и сердце.
For those who don't know:
- Who am I? Azazel Al-Khalifa, the archdemon of the East, now in human incarnation. And this is not a fucking fiction.
- What is my work about? I write and draw about real angels and demons, the Devil and God, about those events that were once serious; through my creativity, I strive to convey to people the truth about our world, about world history, about the Beast and Holiness, about Heaven and Hell, about the meaning of life and what is hidden from the eyes.
- How did I know all this? I receive revelations and visions, information from outside and from the memory of my own soul; and I am not alone in this, because I landed in this world together with Semiaza, with my chosen one: periodically we even receive the same revelations independently of each other.
- What is my goal? Open to you, Human, eyes, mind and heart.
Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1923 x 1916px
File Size 1.25 MB
Comments