So if you didn’t get enough of us at the Renaissance Festivals, we will be at Libertycon in 2 weeks! Paul and I will be special guests, which means we are on a ton of different panels for you to heckle us at.

The consuite is great at the show, the pools open 24 hours a day and the con staff is wonderful. I hope to see you there!

-mike

Oh and ps, the image on the flyer is what I painted for their badge this year!

So anyone who knows me (or has spent anytime after hours at conventions listening to me), knows my strong feelings about the state of the art world. In the world of fantasy and sci fi illustration, we are often used, abused and tossed away. Now there are a group of guys who are trying to do something about it.

From Art Pact’s Facebook page:

Description

artPACT will be an online resource for illustrators, at first focusing on the fantasy, sci-fi, horror, and comic book genres. Once up and running, the artPACT website will have information for artists of all experience levels regarding contracts, copyrights, and alternative income solutions.
Most importantly, the artPACT website will feature an anonymous ratings system for companies. Members of artPACT will be able to log on and grade companies overs a variety of criteria such as amount of pay, timeliness of pay, granting of rights, and ease of work. These will be compiled into what will be an overall score for that company. This will allow artists to see, based on a companies rating, if it is one that they want to work for or not.

–

So right now they are running an Indiegogo campaign to help get the site going. I have already contributed and  hope you will as well!

Click here to help fund artPact!

Edgar Allen Poe, oil on panel, 11×14, 2013.

For sale at :

Aradani Studios Gallery

I started with Lovecraft, and then was commissioned to paint Poe. I think the final in the creepy series should be Stephen King.

I loved when we got to read Poe or other creepy things growing up, it is probably the reason I am so strange as an adult.

And just because I can:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never-nevermore.”‘

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore -
Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!

Well, As you have all seen this being worked on, you can now see it finished! I have been mailing out all the rewards to my kickstarter backers, and now it is available for sale!

The Watcher II, oil on panel, 18×24, 2013.

Get a print of the newest red dragon at:  http://www.aradanicostumes.com/art_apparel/art_michael_bielaczyc?product_id=336

I am already working on the next piece, which will be a 2′x3′ elf oil painting!

copyright 2013 m bielaczyc

This was an image I drew for an upcoming World of Uteria project. It is an Alfiren, or elfling, named Peras.

I finished this piece in 2012, I just never got around to posting it. It was for the Lovecraft Show the Black Raven had last fall.

The Dagon (Lovecraft), oil on panel, 11×14.

In the same style as my Lovecraft portrait from last year, I am working on an Edgar Allen Poe painting! This is presold to my good friend April, but I will have plenty of prints available at upcoming shows!

Here is the current work in progress:

Edgar Allen Poe, 11×14, underpainting.

New painting that will be shown at Chattacon this upcoming weekend.

I have been working overtime on finished the new version of the Watcher, and its finally finished. As a review, I have repainted this because it was originally the first painting I professionally ever finished. That was in 2002. So I wanted to paint the same subject and see how far I had come.

I also launched a Kickstarter for preordering prints. which can be accessed below.

But this post is bout Chattacon, which is happening next weekend! I will have some newer work, but the Watcher II will be shown for the first time ever at the show! Paul and I will also be in the dealers room, so come visit!

-mike

Just posted the latest update with new images off the easel!

Every night brings new challenges, but I keep making little break thrus, which is great!