I’m still here… also similarly impressed
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From Arcimboldo to R. Cimboldo...
- Thread starter Arcimboldo
- Start date
FrankO
Executioner
I've always been impressed by Arcimboldo's work ... but from a non-technical utterly untalented graphically standpoint. What I like about his images are the feelings that they evoke and the non-standard perspective he often uses ... above, below, in-crowd, from the bystanders viewpoint etc etc.
He's been around for donkey's ages and is still one of the greats.
M
montycrusto
Guest
Yep
Nope. I just don’t want to keep repeating myself. But I do hold @Arcimboldo in very high regard.
No, I am also impressed by these pictures, even when I saw them for the first time on the web. That was years before I even discovered CF.
No, I am also impressed by these pictures, even when I saw them for the first time on the web. That was years before I even discovered CF.
Not just Melissa.
Arcimboldo was a pioneer.
The first erotic photo manip artist I encountered on the web was Ahab, I was amazed that such a thing was possible. In hindsight his work is crude, but he was the grandfather of us all.
Arcimboldo was the first one I encountered who did great work, and crux work too! His website Algolagnia was an inspiration to me, and in later years as fellow members of Crux I asked his advice when I started on the photo manip journey myself.
I'm pleased to say a snapshot of Algolagnia is still available out there, in the internet archive - Algolagnia
M
montycrusto
Guest
I also haunted the halls of Algolagnia, long before I ever came across this forum!
Thanks for that link (nostalgic sigh)
Arcimboldo
Magistrate
Thank you to a talented influencer for this effective use of crowd pychology!Hahaha, it worked! I knew you all loved these as much as I did, but I wanted him to have some more lovely comments.
Joking apart, thanks to to all of you for the overwhelming support!
Arcimboldo
Magistrate
Some more Wild West scenarios:
Demonstration how to inflict pain on a stark naked female body and how to break the strength and endurance even of a tough Comanche warrior girl...
Demonstration how to inflict pain on a stark naked female body and how to break the strength and endurance even of a tough Comanche warrior girl...
Stilet2
Governor
Arcimboldo
Magistrate
Target
It was a hot summer day in 1841 and it is engraved on my mind forever.
For months I had done deals with the Sioux tribe. I had bought furs and leather and mostly I had payed with firearms and amunition. From today's point of view I am not proud of those deals. It seemed we had learned to put our trust in each other. On that day in August I had just got them another load of rifles and had received dozends of buffalo skins in return.
That evening they had invited me to stay as a guest. They had decided to celebrate the successful deal and they would do it their own way. I can say I was somehow used to their customs. Several years ago I had witnessed the cruel fate of some captured members of an enemy tribe...
They brought two squirming captives. I was paralyzed with amazement: The captives were females and they were... white.
I learned they were sisters and the only survivors from a French waggon train attacked by the Sioux few weeks ago.
The Indians tied the older one to a tree trunk and started with her in their traditional manner.
I am convinced that it was not any bad intent to let me watch the dreadful procedure and that the Sioux did not think anything of it. They knew that those captives were strangers to me, and they could not imagine that I might have any sentiment and pity for them. In their opinion, the torturing of captives was great fun and pleasant entertainment, no matter what skin colour the victim had.
With her face covered with tears, the younger girl begged the Indians for mercy. But the braves did not take any notice of her. Then she turned to me and cried I was a white and a Christian and how I could stand idly by and watch those cruelties without any attempt to interfere...
I was embarrassed by her reproaches and tried to explain that I was absolutely powerless and had no way to change the customs of my trading partners. The girl stared at me in bewilderment, then started cursing and called me dreadful names.
I did not know what to reply. I was choked with dismay. Even more, when the victim at the stake turned to me. I shall never forget her dark eyes, so full of expression despite all the pain and misery.
With a low voice she told me not to listen to her sister. She said she would try to withstand and keep her self-control as long as possible. She was convinced the longer she was able to focus the interest of the torturers on her own body, the longer the Indians would spare the younger girl.
She did not even ask me for a coup de grace. Instead I should request her sister as a farewell gift from my trading partners or pay for her release and then leave as soon as possible.
* * * * *
It was late in the night when I succeeded in my bargains. It took me some more boxes of ammunition and brandy, but finally they left me the young girl.
In the meantime, they had not interrupted their job on the writhing body of the burned and bleeding victim. While she still managed to suppress loud screams of pain, her sister was yelling hysterically and struggled desperately in resistance when I forced her to climb my carriage. Finally we left the camp and I did not dare to turn my head back. I do not know what further happened to the beautiful woman at the tree trunk, and I do not want to know.
The next day, about thirty miles from the camp, the freed girl grabbed one of my two-barrel rifles. The bullet missed me narrowly. Then she turned the gun and shot herself dead.
It was a hot summer day in 1841 and it is engraved on my mind forever.
For months I had done deals with the Sioux tribe. I had bought furs and leather and mostly I had payed with firearms and amunition. From today's point of view I am not proud of those deals. It seemed we had learned to put our trust in each other. On that day in August I had just got them another load of rifles and had received dozends of buffalo skins in return.
That evening they had invited me to stay as a guest. They had decided to celebrate the successful deal and they would do it their own way. I can say I was somehow used to their customs. Several years ago I had witnessed the cruel fate of some captured members of an enemy tribe...
* * * * *
They brought two squirming captives. I was paralyzed with amazement: The captives were females and they were... white.
I learned they were sisters and the only survivors from a French waggon train attacked by the Sioux few weeks ago.
The Indians tied the older one to a tree trunk and started with her in their traditional manner.
I am convinced that it was not any bad intent to let me watch the dreadful procedure and that the Sioux did not think anything of it. They knew that those captives were strangers to me, and they could not imagine that I might have any sentiment and pity for them. In their opinion, the torturing of captives was great fun and pleasant entertainment, no matter what skin colour the victim had.
With her face covered with tears, the younger girl begged the Indians for mercy. But the braves did not take any notice of her. Then she turned to me and cried I was a white and a Christian and how I could stand idly by and watch those cruelties without any attempt to interfere...
I was embarrassed by her reproaches and tried to explain that I was absolutely powerless and had no way to change the customs of my trading partners. The girl stared at me in bewilderment, then started cursing and called me dreadful names.
I did not know what to reply. I was choked with dismay. Even more, when the victim at the stake turned to me. I shall never forget her dark eyes, so full of expression despite all the pain and misery.
With a low voice she told me not to listen to her sister. She said she would try to withstand and keep her self-control as long as possible. She was convinced the longer she was able to focus the interest of the torturers on her own body, the longer the Indians would spare the younger girl.
She did not even ask me for a coup de grace. Instead I should request her sister as a farewell gift from my trading partners or pay for her release and then leave as soon as possible.
* * * * *
It was late in the night when I succeeded in my bargains. It took me some more boxes of ammunition and brandy, but finally they left me the young girl.
In the meantime, they had not interrupted their job on the writhing body of the burned and bleeding victim. While she still managed to suppress loud screams of pain, her sister was yelling hysterically and struggled desperately in resistance when I forced her to climb my carriage. Finally we left the camp and I did not dare to turn my head back. I do not know what further happened to the beautiful woman at the tree trunk, and I do not want to know.
The next day, about thirty miles from the camp, the freed girl grabbed one of my two-barrel rifles. The bullet missed me narrowly. Then she turned the gun and shot herself dead.
(after the memoires of Jonathan Caldwell, written in 1890)
Arcimboldo
Magistrate
It was on the last edition of Algolagnia, as far as I can remember.
Harsh Martinet
Consul
Love the remnants of tattered clothing!
Arcimboldo
Magistrate
Real versatility: Lesbian sadomasochists worshipping the God Priapos
Hottouch
Hottouch
Arcimboldo
Magistrate
Priapos
Lativia clenched the polished wooden statue of Priapos and moaned while the wardress shoved her entire fist into the slavegirl's vagina.
Domina Lydia laughed with amusement - but her voice sounded a bit wrathful, too. She grapped the bronze collar of her kneeling pet girl and forced her to look at the spectacle.
"Watch your fellow mate! This morning Gaius told me that he had enjoyed her cunt last night and that it had been most satisfying.
Of course my husband is allowed to do to our slaves whatever he likes.
But in equal measure I am allowed to do to our slaves whatever *I* like."
The pet girl swallowed in disturbance while Lydia gloated over gruesome phantasies.
"My little favorite, tell me what should Senia do to that horny slut? What would you suggest?
Nailing her wrists to that statue and slowly roasting her skin?"
Or stabbing her tits?"
"Or something even more incisive?
For example, carving another cunt slit into her bottom cheek?"
In this moment a sonourous male voice broke the shouts of the tortured slave.
"What is this? What are you doing to her?"
The women looked at Gaius Marcellus who early and unexpectedly had returned from the meeting of the Senate.
"Release the poor girl from the post", he ordered, "and call Indula to clean the wounds and stitch up that slit buttock."
Now singing small, Lydia answered: "Your wish is my command, Gaius Marcellus Dominus."
She relayed the orders of her husband to the other household slaves.
Meanwhile Gaius glanced at the young girl with the bronze collar and then turned to his wife again.
"You've got a new pet? Bought today? A pretty one! I'm sure you really love her perfect body, don't you? I would like to try her after sunset. Have her nailed to the statue and order Senia to take her knife and carve a hole into one of her breasts."
He looked down upon the bulging spot at the front of his toga.
"A hole with an adequate size in diameter and depth!"
Lativia clenched the polished wooden statue of Priapos and moaned while the wardress shoved her entire fist into the slavegirl's vagina.
Domina Lydia laughed with amusement - but her voice sounded a bit wrathful, too. She grapped the bronze collar of her kneeling pet girl and forced her to look at the spectacle.
"Watch your fellow mate! This morning Gaius told me that he had enjoyed her cunt last night and that it had been most satisfying.
Of course my husband is allowed to do to our slaves whatever he likes.
But in equal measure I am allowed to do to our slaves whatever *I* like."
The pet girl swallowed in disturbance while Lydia gloated over gruesome phantasies.
"My little favorite, tell me what should Senia do to that horny slut? What would you suggest?
Nailing her wrists to that statue and slowly roasting her skin?"
Or stabbing her tits?"
"Or something even more incisive?
For example, carving another cunt slit into her bottom cheek?"
In this moment a sonourous male voice broke the shouts of the tortured slave.
"What is this? What are you doing to her?"
The women looked at Gaius Marcellus who early and unexpectedly had returned from the meeting of the Senate.
"Release the poor girl from the post", he ordered, "and call Indula to clean the wounds and stitch up that slit buttock."
Now singing small, Lydia answered: "Your wish is my command, Gaius Marcellus Dominus."
She relayed the orders of her husband to the other household slaves.
Meanwhile Gaius glanced at the young girl with the bronze collar and then turned to his wife again.
"You've got a new pet? Bought today? A pretty one! I'm sure you really love her perfect body, don't you? I would like to try her after sunset. Have her nailed to the statue and order Senia to take her knife and carve a hole into one of her breasts."
He looked down upon the bulging spot at the front of his toga.
"A hole with an adequate size in diameter and depth!"
Arcimboldo
Magistrate
Colosseum
While marching her victim through the Colosseum, Vulnia enjoyed the cheers of the crowd. She looked at the naked girl behind her. The blonde had already suffered several degrees of harsh torture. Her body was covered with whip marks and burns. Vulnia was satisfied with her job. But it was not yet finished at all. A horrible branding on the victim's forehead indicated the next stage of torment. Vulnia thought about the schedule of agony she had designed for the next hours to give the people a thrilling spectacle...
But Vulnia knew it was just a matter of time: One day the mob would not be satisfied by her ingenious cruelties any more. She was a star, a former gladiatrix, but nevertheless she was still a slave girl. In the near future the spectators would call for brand new entertainment. Then she, Vulnia, would be made the victim, and someone else would march her through the hot sand of the arena. Vulnia remembered all the elaborate tortures she had invented within the last months to fulfill the lust of the crowd, and she knew they would apply all of these methods one by one to her beautiful body.
But Vulnia was absolutely determined: Even then she would make it a great show...
While marching her victim through the Colosseum, Vulnia enjoyed the cheers of the crowd. She looked at the naked girl behind her. The blonde had already suffered several degrees of harsh torture. Her body was covered with whip marks and burns. Vulnia was satisfied with her job. But it was not yet finished at all. A horrible branding on the victim's forehead indicated the next stage of torment. Vulnia thought about the schedule of agony she had designed for the next hours to give the people a thrilling spectacle...
But Vulnia knew it was just a matter of time: One day the mob would not be satisfied by her ingenious cruelties any more. She was a star, a former gladiatrix, but nevertheless she was still a slave girl. In the near future the spectators would call for brand new entertainment. Then she, Vulnia, would be made the victim, and someone else would march her through the hot sand of the arena. Vulnia remembered all the elaborate tortures she had invented within the last months to fulfill the lust of the crowd, and she knew they would apply all of these methods one by one to her beautiful body.
But Vulnia was absolutely determined: Even then she would make it a great show...
Arcimboldo
Magistrate
Entertainment
This is a sequel (or a prequel?) of the Vulnia story about a former gladiatrix starting a most successful career by torturing female captives in the biggest Roman arena.
This is a sequel (or a prequel?) of the Vulnia story about a former gladiatrix starting a most successful career by torturing female captives in the biggest Roman arena.