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AI art "A weathered old sailor stands on a windswept cliff" featuring #Cloud and #Cloudy sky
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A weathered old sailor stands on a windswept cliff

#Cloud#Cloudy sky
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Кирил Героєв

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Prompts on PixAI are public by default, but creators can hide them on any artwork they publish. The creator of this one chose to, so the words used to generate the image stay private — only they can see them. Hiding a prompt doesn't change anything else: the artwork is still public, and you can like, comment on and share it as usual.
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wide shot, 1boy, solo, single tiny wooden boat, small fragile rowboat, pitch-black ocean, monstrous storm, colossal jagged waves, crashing wave, towering wave, sea foam, spray, thick fog, low visibility, heavy bruised storm clouds, storm clouds, sliver of pale cold moonlight, moonbeam, moon behind clouds, single shadowy figure, hooded figure, tattered cloak, worn torn fabric, holding lantern, dying lantern, faint lantern flame, warm lantern glow, chiaroscuro, deep cold blues, desaturated blacks, dark romanticism, isolation, dread, survival, tiny figure in vast sea, off-center composition, expansive negative space, from below, low horizon line, high contrast, oil painting texture, impasto brushwork, film grain A cinematic wide shot from just above the waterline, tilted slightly up, so the sea's black mass fills the lower two thirds and the boat is set small and off-center in the right third, occupying no more than a tenth of the frame while the swells dwarf it utterly. The boat is a cracked, fragile wooden rowboat, paintless planks sprung apart, its gunwale splintered and its bow reared up the near face of a swell, oars shipped and useless; a thin rope trails from its stern into the black water. Water climbs its starboard side, and where the hull is about to break the crest, a sheet of foam slides down the planking. In the stern a single shadowy figure crouches low, hunched against the boat's ribs, entirely wrapped in a tattered cloak whose hem is shredded and streaming straight out to leeward; the hood is pulled forward and its face is lost in darkness, showing only the line of a jaw in shadow. Both hands cup a dying lantern at chest height, fingers curled around the rust-pitted frame, and the lantern's last flame is a burnt-orange point no larger than a fingertip, throwing a weak warm oval onto the cloak's folds, the figure's knuckles, and the wet wood beneath it — nowhere else. The figure's head is tilted toward the flame, watching it, not the sea. Around the boat, colossal jagged waves rear up in walls of near-black water, their crests tearing into ragged claws of spray; the nearest swell rises above the boat's mastless length and hides its far horizon, throwing a fine blown mist across the frame that softens the distant swell lines into flat grey silhouettes. Thick suffocating fog lies flat on the water and swallows everything beyond the second wave, so the ocean reads as a void the waves emerge from. Above, heavy bruised storm clouds in bruised indigo and graphite stack in towering masses; a single thin sliver of pale cold moonlight breaks through a rift high in the left of the frame, and its beam angles down as a faint cold shaft catching the near faces of the spray and the top edge of one wave while every trough and lee falls into absolute black. Chiaroscuro is absolute: two sources only — the cold moon shaft from upper left and the tiny warm lantern in the stern — with the lantern's glow the sole warmth in a palette of desaturated blacks, deep cold blues and deep cold blues shot through with slate grey, nothing else admitted. The boat is dwarfed, the sea is enormous, the light is nearly gone. Hyperdetailed oil painting texture, visible impasto ridges in the churned foam and cloud banks, glazed dark passages where thin paint lets the ground show through, an all-over fine film grain and a soft vignette pressing in from the corners. Isolated, dread-soaked.
C9I
AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
wide shot, 1boy, solo, single tiny wooden boat, small fragile rowboat, pitch-black ocean, monstrous storm, colossal jagged waves, crashing wave, towering wave, sea foam, spray, thick fog, low visibility, heavy bruised storm clouds, storm clouds, sliver of pale cold moonlight, moonbeam, moon behind clouds, single shadowy figure, hooded figure, tattered cloak, worn torn fabric, holding lantern, dying lantern, faint lantern flame, warm lantern glow, chiaroscuro, deep cold blues, desaturated blacks, dark romanticism, isolation, dread, survival, tiny figure in vast sea, off-center composition, expansive negative space, from below, low horizon line, high contrast, oil painting texture, impasto brushwork, film grain A cinematic wide shot from just above the waterline, tilted slightly up, so the sea's black mass fills the lower two thirds and the boat is set small and off-center in the right third, occupying no more than a tenth of the frame while the swells dwarf it utterly. The boat is a cracked, fragile wooden rowboat, paintless planks sprung apart, its gunwale splintered and its bow reared up the near face of a swell, oars shipped and useless; a thin rope trails from its stern into the black water. Water climbs its starboard side, and where the hull is about to break the crest, a sheet of foam slides down the planking. In the stern a single shadowy figure crouches low, hunched against the boat's ribs, entirely wrapped in a tattered cloak whose hem is shredded and streaming straight out to leeward; the hood is pulled forward and its face is lost in darkness, showing only the line of a jaw in shadow. Both hands cup a dying lantern at chest height, fingers curled around the rust-pitted frame, and the lantern's last flame is a burnt-orange point no larger than a fingertip, throwing a weak warm oval onto the cloak's folds, the figure's knuckles, and the wet wood beneath it — nowhere else. The figure's head is tilted toward the flame, watching it, not the sea. Around the boat, colossal jagged waves rear up in walls of near-black water, their crests tearing into ragged claws of spray; the nearest swell rises above the boat's mastless length and hides its far horizon, throwing a fine blown mist across the frame that softens the distant swell lines into flat grey silhouettes. Thick suffocating fog lies flat on the water and swallows everything beyond the second wave, so the ocean reads as a void the waves emerge from. Above, heavy bruised storm clouds in bruised indigo and graphite stack in towering masses; a single thin sliver of pale cold moonlight breaks through a rift high in the left of the frame, and its beam angles down as a faint cold shaft catching the near faces of the spray and the top edge of one wave while every trough and lee falls into absolute black. Chiaroscuro is absolute: two sources only — the cold moon shaft from upper left and the tiny warm lantern in the stern — with the lantern's glow the sole warmth in a palette of desaturated blacks, deep cold blues and deep cold blues shot through with slate grey, nothing else admitted. The boat is dwarfed, the sea is enormous, the light is nearly gone. Hyperdetailed oil painting texture, visible impasto ridges in the churned foam and cloud banks, glazed dark passages where thin paint lets the ground show through, an all-over fine film grain and a soft vignette pressing in from the corners. Isolated, dread-soaked.
C9I
#Grim Reaper

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4#Puella Magi Madoka Magica#Kaname Madoka#Puella Magi Madoka Magica
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