3D orbits + investigation into unfurled textures.
“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world”
“When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.”
“And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”
Note to Self:
- The messy feel of this ‘beastie’ is how I want it, as if it has just emerged from some primordial ooze.