Art Style of Brian Mashburn, Alcohol Ink Style, Watercolor, Mixed Media

Gaslight

In the echo chamber of the dark, mist curls fingers about the stone facades, moths flutter in numb muffled strikes against the murky glass hood over a gently wicked flame, fed by whale oil teardrops, footfalls refract backward to create a sinister metronome

Shadows lean-to at obtuse angles from the bare shouldered alleyways, stark gaps in the teeth of the Metropolis as it sprawls it's slowly settling cellars across the buried bones of antiquity

Here, in the crimson hued gullies, where doors are barred across their shut mouths to ward against the ghouls that prowl through the murk and mist, throwing their silhouettes in the nude moonlight that sometimes slips through to bathe the tableau

Here, all the world holds it's tongue between its teeth as evening slides it's silent black flood across the Earth, turning it's gaze into the vastness, into the stretched and burning abyss