MARTEN BROADCLOAK | The Art of Michael Whelan

OTHER WORKS

Mixed Media on Watercolor Paper - 15" x 11"
2010

MARTEN BROADCLOAK

Date

© 2010

Details

Mixed Media on Watercolor Paper

Size

15" x 11"

THE DARK TOWER

A solitary figure sits atop a throne made entirely of skulls. His hands are the only features not obscured by shadow or the flowing crimson of his hooded cloak, which spills down the raised dais. Candles set on each arm of the throne melt over the inset skulls. A wisp of smoke trails from one. On the floor lie several bodies. One man died grabbing at his throat. A woman in a white gown lies awkwardly on one hip while her arm extends behind her where she fell. An empty chalice lies on its side.

19 O’CLOCK

A man in a cowboy hat and tattered leather duster steps through an open doorway that hovers impossibly a foot off the ground. A gun is holstered on his left hip. On close examination, the index and middle finger of his right hand are shortened to stubs. At his feet lies a thicket of vibrant red roses littered with human skulls. Straddling the doorway, the Gunslinger stands in awe of a massive, asymmetrical tower so tall that it blocks the sun. Traces of cloud sweep across the field of view and up the height of the tower, creating a hazy atmospheric effect that obscures the detail of the tower. Ravens circle the field just about the horizon.

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In a scene lit only by muzzle flash, a disfigured green humanoid grabs the leg of a boy threatening to pull him off a platform. As the boy Jake turns back, his face is etched in horror. Roland, the last Gunslinger, grabs his arm while simultaneously firing his big revolver. Roland's weight is shifted back so the lines of his arms and legs all parallel drawn out on diagonals to add to the sense of motion. From the set of his square jaw and snarl on his lips to his brow pinched in concentration, Roland's expression is pure grit and determination. His eyes are drawn to murderous beads taking aim at the slack jawed, drooling Slow Mutant.

Roland Deschain, the last gunslinger, stares contemplatively across the sea as waves gently lap the shore. Footprints can be seen in the damp sand leading to where he sits, pistol unstrapped at his hip and bedroll at his side. The sun hangs low but intense, blazing a line of orange across the horizon. Over a low stretch of wispy clouds, the silhouette of an asymmetrical tower rises dream-like in the sky. Odd projections mark the sides while spires of varying height sit atop the peak like chaotic crenelations.

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On a dusty, titled horizon, the Gunslinger stands with pistols gripped in each hand but now resting at his side. Bodies pile at his feet and dozens more extend in a line that snakes to the foreground. Various weapons, from scythes and machetes to bricks and boards, lay discarded in the lifeless dirt beside the twisted, bloody corpses.

Roland, the last Gunslinger, stands with one hand in the pocket of his leather duster and the other gripping the gun belt crossed at his waist. He wears a red silky kerchief around his neck. His dark hair is blown and his skin tanned from his trek through the desert, but his posture is stoic and his gaze determined as he peers off frame left. A raven, facing the opposite direction, spreads its wings as it perches on his shoulder. The silhouette of the Tower looms tall behind him set against a mustard sky. The sun blazes low in the sky as seen through an opening at the base of the Tower.

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