Nietzsche Paintings Novels & Stories

There were just two equals who had stripped away each other's armor and chosen to stay in the ruins. ​When Adrian pulled back, his hands slid down to wrap firmly around Kai’s waist, pulling him close against his chest. He looked past Kai’s shoulder to the massive canvas leaning against the brick wall. The final piece of The Triad of the Soil series was finished. It was a sprawling, visceral depiction of the Nairobi skyline emerging from a deep, textured root system made of charcoal and vibrant gold leaf. It was beautiful, complex, and entirely alive.

Not like I have been to any museum, but I have a feeling that that would be the best one ever. We saw a lot of paintings by popular artists. Some of them were The Garden of Early Delights, a triptych oil painting by Hieronymus Bosch; we also saw Las Meninas, a painting by Diego Velazquez and we saw the painting “Saturn Devouring His Son” by Francisco Goya. Saturn Devouring His Son was the one that captivated me the most and I didn’t even know the reason why. Back to the present time, Adrian and I just stepped into the house with me on his back. He gave me a piggyback ride on our way home because of how tired I was. Now, he was helping me take off my sneakers.

I yelled. That was when he finally spoke. “You shouldn’t raise your voice here, Nathan. This place really doesn’t like noise.” He turned around slowly, and I froze. His eyes… they were not normal, yet I couldn’t pull away. It felt like I was falling deeper and deeper into darkness just staring at his eyes. “Nathan, look away,” I heard Zade’s voice from inside of me, snapping me out of whatever that was. “What the hell are you?” “I’m a painter but I paint truth,” he said simply, and the brush behind him continued painting on its own, now sketching a wolf and a woman entwined beneath a blood moon.

Naelis quickly stepped inside, Zoran’s broad back came into her view, he was shirtless and there were a lot of color palettes on his side. He seemed to be painting something and was too focused to notice her entrance. Naelis raised her head and glanced at the wall in front of him, she suddenly froze and her mouth opened in disbelief. There were paintings of her, from infancy to adulthood. She stared at everyone one of them and a cold chill ran down her spine. Zoran finally noticed her presence and turned around with a shocked expression, staring at the door in confusion. Naelis finally got a clear view of his new painting. It was a painting of her naked in her bedroom.

he said softly, nodding toward my sketchbook, which I hadn’t realized he was still holding. “Them?” “The people in these paintings,” he said, stepping closer to one of the canvases. It was a portrait of a woman, her face partially obscured by shadows, her eyes piercing and sad. “Each one of these was inspired by someone who mattered to me. People who... shaped me.” I looked around the room again, seeing the paintings in a new light. They weren’t just art—they were pieces of Nasir’s soul, fragments of his past. “You’re the first person who’s made me feel like this part of me isn’t... wrong,” he admitted quietly.

~~Niccolò Amoretti~~ Forget photos, this video is everything. I really should paint her. Just turn one of the empty rooms in the mansion into a mural of her nude body. I learned how to paint from Nero. He’s good at almost everything, but he’s such an underachieving jackass that he can’t be bothered to really put effort in past the bare minimum. And his boredom is another curse he deals with. I used to love his paintings, but then the same year he taught me, he stopped painting. Calling it a waste of time.

“And sometimes, to escape.” His art collection was next. Abstract paintings hung alongside sharp, angular sculptures and black-and-white photographs. Each piece was a window into Zane’s complex mind, pieces that spoke in color and form when words failed. I paused in front of a large painting. It had swirling shades of blue and gray that seemed almost alive. “This one’s beautiful,” I said. He smiled softly. “It’s called ‘Tempest.’ Bought it on a trip to London. Reminds me there’s always chaos beneath calm.”

The one who opened the door for him is one of the butlers in this huge mansion. Seeing inside Athena's room, he was amazed that the place was stunning with the art collection hanging in her room. All the painting is painted by the painter who is so mysterious. Known by the name of the goddess, Nike. He is one of Nike's fan art. Rumor said that she is a disabled person who worked on the painting to earn a living. Some people said that she is actually a goddess looking girl. She doesn't like to be known to the public, so she went with the pseudonym.

Hector glanced at her briefly, then moved on, hands still tucked into his pockets like he wasn’t in any kind of rush. Next was a large canvas painting—thick strokes of red and gold exploding out from a dark, stormy center. It looked like a sun giving birth to chaos. “This one’s supposed to be ‘emotional rebirth.’ Artist said it was about becoming a better version of yourself through suffering.” He paused. “I mostly see fire and anger. Also, it cost more than a yacht.” Jeanne’s brows lifted slightly. “You own a yacht?” “God, no. Too obvious.” He smirked. “I just like burning money more creatively.”

She pointed at a landscape painting, and said proudly, “I know this one. It was painted by the famous Dylan Collins. Each of his works is valuable. His work last year, Unconditional Love, was sold for nine million dollars. “This one he painted this year. The distant view is rough, the close-up is delicate, and the colors are sharply contrasted. The vivid, decadent flora and fauna form a strong contrast against each other, delivering a message to protect nature. It’s a masterpiece!” Natasha looked at Talia with admiration. She couldn’t interpret the painting—all she could do was say that it was a good painting, and nothing else. She was pleased with Talia’s skills. No doubt, Talia was far bet