Fall Down, Part Four

This is, by far, one of my favorite paintings in the series. It felt like the story was finally starting to come into fruition. Each painting in the series occurs about 200 years apart in the timeline, and with this piece, I knew immediately the era I wanted to draw from: the Renaissance/Medieval period. The main subject of this painting is classism, and I felt the Renaissance was a perfect symbol for that. The stark divide between the rich and the poor—massive castles and mansions standing in contrast to the squalor and disease in the streets—mirrors the societal divide that still exists today. The “10%”—those at the top of the economic ladder—are a modern reflection of the immense gap between extreme wealth and daily struggle.

Growing up, I witnessed the failure of many small businesses due to the rise of larger chains. My first job was at a family-owned grocery store that once had four locations. By the time I started working there at 16, it had been reduced to just one location, which wasn’t doing well. Customers would complain about the prices, and sometimes the quality of the food—products sold too close to their expiration dates, kept on shelves for longer than they should have to save money. I worked there for almost four years, moving from cashier to courtesy booth attendant, and even painting windows for the store. Many customers would tell me they still shopped there to support small businesses, even though prices were high. The owner, who inherited the store from his father, was there nearly every day, greeting customers and chatting with them. It was a small, tight-knit community, and I miss it sometimes. It felt like family, something you don’t get in big business stores.

Big businesses run the world, though, having grown from small operations into sprawling empires. Even smaller chain stores are often owned by larger parent companies. Restaurants, food brands, clothing, home décor, grocery chains, and even entertainment are all part of this system. When a major faction controls the entire distribution of goods, quality control tends to suffer in the name of cost-saving. So much of our food is filled with chemicals, and many brands are banned in other countries due to their dangerous ingredients. I remember visiting other countries and being amazed by the quality of food—no generic American candies or cereals, just fresh, high-quality butter and milk. It’s a stark contrast to what happens when business is unregulated and health becomes a secondary concern to profit.

Wealth is something that every human strives for, if only to feel secure and free from the stress of financial burden. If you asked anyone on the street what they could use more of, I’m sure the answer would be money. Money runs the world, and this brings me to another theme I wanted to explore: the prevalence of church and state. While there is a claim that church and state should be separate, moral values rooted in religion still drive many government decisions. This was especially true in monarchical societies during the medieval era, where kings had religious advisors who influenced political matters. Decisions were made in the name of God—entire genocides and conversion missions carried out in His name. Throughout history, many groups have claimed their way is the “right way,” a dangerous mindset when held by people of power, where death is the ultimate consequence. Even in the United States, where there’s an amendment that supposedly separates church and state, numerous historical events and decisions have been influenced by religious beliefs. But I digress—let’s get into the painting.

At this point in the story, the sun has returned, now high in the sky on the right side, signaling that it is early evening. Since this piece is over the halfway mark in the series, I wanted to create a clear shift in tone. The sky is dark and ominous, as if a storm is brewing. One of my favorite theories in painting is the use of the sky to set the mood. It’s my favorite element to paint in landscapes, and the sky in this piece remains one of my favorites. Smokey and dark, filled with clouds, the sun is completely blocked, only allowing a few beams of light to filter through. This symbolizes that hope is almost lost. When I conceptualized this piece, I remember drawing it under my bed in my dorm room. My bed was raised, and I created a little space underneath it. I drew this in one night, staying up late because once I had the idea, I couldn’t stop. The visual needed to communicate a sense of hopelessness and defeat. I wanted the rich to appear distant and cold, while the poor would be closer to the viewer, making direct eye contact and mirroring ourselves.

I began the drawing with the skulls on the architecture and a bridge connecting their mouths, and everything else fell into place after that. I designed the buildings to be made of crystal, a resource mined by the lower-class workers. Crystals hold energy and have been precious commodities in our world for centuries, used in jewelry and other valuable items. I wanted to convey both extravagance and an inanimate coldness. The city is filled with walls and narrow passageways, making it almost inaccessible to the lower class—an impenetrable fortress. In another light, the city could be beautiful, but instead, it feels dark and unfeeling.

I also included a golden building to represent finance, large observatories symbolizing science and progress (which also serve as watchtowers over the working-class citizens). On the right side, I placed a building so far from the rest of the city—it’s the church where the god Self has fully established its presence. The church is marked by large, pointed steeples and is separated from the rest of society by a wall, with only a single bridge allowing access. Only the rich are allowed to worship here, as Self only accepts those it deems worthy. The painting conveys the themes of money, religion, and power, and I believe I captured them well.

Beneath the city flows a river that can only be assumed to be blood. Great empires are built on the backs of the working class. To the right, I depicted large Kurro vortexes—symbols of the industrialization of consumerism. The production process has been mechanized, making it easier to churn out goods. The only stairs leading to the foreground are from these vortexes, representing the workers’ only means of travel and labor. It’s their entire life, their sole purpose—something that still holds true today. In modern society, with so many people working full-time jobs and struggling to find time for hobbies or other pursuits, work can consume everything.

Leading into the foreground are the worker pods. A single Manz is seen walking toward their pod, using a crutch. They’re returning home after work, but it takes them longer to get there than the others, who are already asleep in their pods. These pods are small, holding only the barest necessities—nothing more. The Manz in the foreground are devoid of color, symbolizing the loss of hope and passion. They are withered and worn down, their surroundings a constant reminder of their place in society.

Out of the entire series, this was my favorite image to paint. Color choice was crucial, especially with the shifting tone of the series. For the sky, a stormy, foreboding atmosphere was a no-brainer, though it was difficult to capture at first. It took multiple layers to complete the sky, and at one point, I was completely stuck. These paintings were a steep learning curve, and I didn’t always know what I was doing. In a moment of desperation, I reached out to one of my good friends for help late at night. She, a ceramicist, was also up working, and she told me, “The sky is wrong; you need more depth.” I owe her a huge thanks for that advice. To this day, this sky receives the most compliments, and I’m grateful for her input. The depth was crucial because when hope is so distant, it gives the painting an even deeper meaning.

I also thought about the story of Moses, with the Holy Spirit coming down with vengeance, which led me to the idea of the river of blood. While it was initially a random decision, it ended up carrying some unintentional symbolism. The river of blood echoes the first plague sent by Moses—although a punishment from God, it now represents the lives lost in the creation and maintenance of the great city. A city built over a river of blood… how ominous is that? I made sure the blood reflected off the crystals to amplify this effect. The red of the blood reflecting in the purple crystals was a particularly fun detail to paint. Purple, representing royalty, combined with blood, created an intense visual of power, control, and the sacrifices made to maintain such an empire.

In the city, the colors are uniform—devoid of individuality. The need to conform is rampant, something I find very relevant in society today. People are taught to believe they need certain brands, lifestyles, and beliefs to belong. The fear of being ostracized is used by big businesses to push consumption—especially in the fashion industry. As a child, I always resisted this pressure to fit in. Throughout my life, I’ve noticed a lack of individuality, and the desperate yearning for acceptance by others. But true love, I believe, can only come from loving oneself.

In the painting, the church is the same color as the city, symbolizing its connection to the same power structures. However, it looms ominously in the background, like a foreboding force. The god Self is always present, controlling the story in its favor. The Kurro vortexes are depicted in the same color as their surroundings, blending seamlessly into the city. However, the worker pods were designed to resemble the vortexes, a constant reminder of where the workers’ lives are centered. Their existence is consumed by the system, a constant spiral with no escape.

Although the worker pods should have been the most saturated elements in the painting, I desaturated them to reflect the hopelessness and suffering that defines their lives. There is nothing positive in this image. When I finished this painting, I felt excited—I knew it was a pivotal moment. The story was unfolding, and the message was clearer than ever. Narrative is a huge part of my artistic expression, and I knew this piece marked the turning point in the series. After this, there’s no turning back for the Manz. They are doomed to fail.

Thank you for reading the fourth piece of my six-part series, Fall Down! I’m thrilled to share this journey with you, and I hope you’re as excited as I am to see what happens next. Don’t miss out—sign up for my newsletter to stay updated on new content and be the first to know when part five is released!