Just so you know: I was at the premiere night of the #FantasticBeasts in Moscow. But I kept silent all this time, because, well…
I’ve been following the works of Colin Farrell for a rather long while, because, let’s face it, he is a very good actor - yet somehow I’ve never attempted painting him. I kept silent because the monster in me who is always hungry for information was bombarded with tons of various content my feeds provided. The monster consumed. The monster analysed. The monster now has its headcanons and points of view, that don’t really matter.
What matters is that Colin Farrell is both a professional whom I respect, the only person whose sex video helped me overcome a few of my own psychological issues (I’m being quite serious here, you have no idea how helpful that was), and a very complex person.
The latter is mostly based off my perception of his range of movements, because boy did I have the references to study. But then I’m just a Russian insomniac who remembers people by the sound and the motion they produce, so that might just be me noticing things that might not even be there in the first place.
I’m not exactly sure why I’m writing this at 4 AM, but Moscow is covered in snow, and some Russian guys from my playlist are nervously singing about people choosing not to die young, and I’m thinking of smoking and re-reading Dostoyevsky and Philip K. Dick. That’s not some basic fan reactions, but then - I’ve never had a proper fangirling moment over anyone except Rickman and Dance, so there you go.
Oh, and one last thing…
I started the top image as a simple sketch. But now I see Rick Deckard in there, and this makes me feel hollow, because I never planned for this to happen. Howling on the moon while being sober is somehow too relevant.