Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn
In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.
-"The Calling of Cthulhu" by H. P. Lovecraft
Digital Painting-Photoshop-About 26 hrs
Ever since I finally found a collection of Lovecraft's collected novellas a few months back, I've been wanting to do the obligatory Cthulhu pic. The problem being that, as usual, I didn't want to do something "normal" with an idea.
I've always felt that a lot of depictions of Cthulhu miss an important aspect of the creature in trying to match the exact description in the story, which Lovecraft himself said was only one aspect taken on by a shape-shifting entity. To me, Cthulhu is one of the most disturbing creatures in all of literature not merely because it is an undeniable abomination, but because Lovecraft was not merely a horror writer- he was a science fiction
writer. A recurring theme in his work is that at a certain point, it ceases to matter whether one is talking about a demon from another realm possessed of unholy magics, or an intelligence from the stars wielding incomprehensibly advanced technology. What matters is only that it is not of this earth, that it cares nothing for humanity, and that it is only biding its time to rise again.
And that line of thought lead me to this; a sort of modern re-imagining of the hunt for the lost city, and the consequences that it leads to.
This time found not on an uncharted island, but sunken beneath the waves. A city-ship fallen from the stars, its master driven into retreat by the primitive creatures it had enslaved, as the ice age began and its children perished in the endless snow. It senses the minds of the humans. What factories and monuments the humans did not destroy, glaciers and aeons of time ground into dust. The entity is now only half-remembered in stories and fables, visions from those able to sense its mind, as the Lord of Flies, Apophis, Tiamat, Prometheus...Cthulhu. They have come far since the days when mere plasma discharges and tectonic manipulation could convince them of godhood- but not far enough. Though the millenia it sleeps in stasis, and dreams of the day when this planet will return to the tropical climate its children thrive in. When it can reclaim the world that it once ruled. And now the same reckless curiosity and inane tinkering which once turned its own weapons against it has lead the babbling bipeds to dare invade its sanctum with their prodding sticks. The sleeper stirs, and dreams of retribution...
(I want to make this movie so badly...)