This Artwork will be the following of The Council. I intend to make this Artwork more gore, more disgusting, weird, twisted, perverted than The Council just below. And as always, I intend to learn and improve myself with a new challenge.
Still inspired by Pasolini‘s Salò, and Marquis de Sade‘s The 120 Days of Sodom. In this Artwork, our four “heros” (as the Marquis de Sade would call them) will be on the last days of a 120 days non-stop binge of food, alcohol, drugs, sex, humiliation, rape, violence, torture and murder. Our four “heros” won’t wash, won’t shave during the entire pilgrimage. Since dirty sex is even dirtier when you’re dirty. At least, that’s what they think.
Nothing yet to show. I’ve just scanned it to see which date I’ve started.
I think about getting The Banker on the far right, no pun intended, passed out or dead in a wheelchair. He is 101 years old and all that expensive wine and pharmaceutical-level cocaine must have take a tremendous toll on his stone cold heart.
While The Pope is wearing a wifebeater and shit-stained white underwear would be branding an hapless victim held by two guards.
I can see The President, fat and coked out of his mind, wearing stars and stripes underwear having a blast pissing on someone’s face.
For The King, I can’t figure him yet. Maybe naked with a fat belly and a tiny weeny?!
I do want to see the white wall far behind.
It will be funny and creepy. What about The Banker dead-drunk in a nitro fuel wheelchair?!
Here are our Four Oligarchs/Illuminatis after 120 Days of Anarchy (no more grooming, only excesses and debauchery of all kind) with inches of beard, hairs and filth and nearly 100 pounds of fat on each. Except for The Banker who is just too old and frail to gain any weight.
Being a banker at heart, he insists on wearing his suit and tie at all time despite the hot weather and festive atmosphere of the tropical island. Thanks to being a century old and a permanent state of drunkenness, he has been nailed to his nitro-fueled wheelchair since day 1. Is he still alive?
Doing some branding work, The Pope is high on meth, haven’t sleep for three days. He doesn’t bother to wear his dentures anymore. He wears a shit-stained short, a dirty wifebeater, his pimpin’ pope red shoes.
The President, dressed as Uncle Sam, drunk and coked out of his mind, is pissing his brownish pee into the wide-open mouth of a praying girl.
While The King didn’t really care about getting a double blowjob by two hot gals.
Will our Four Oligarchs, Libertines as they are, ever want to quit their Libertine Island to return to the civilian life? Will they want to take a shower, get dressed, and get sober ever again? Now that there are no limits to their excesses, do they still care about ruling the world?
Had some challenge drawing the lady and the henchman behind her. Without any reliable visual references, a fucking chicken-wing choke hold isn’t the easiest thing to figurate.
I’ve added a baby BBQ on the top left to give a taste (no pun intended) of my next Artwork featuring The Four Oligarchs.
After 6 steps, I give you The 120 Days of Anarchy.
“Nothing is more anarchic than power, power does what it wants” – Pier Paolo Pasolini.
“Yes indeed.” – The Four Oligarchs.