These are my parts for a short film I'm currently working on.
It was SUCH a struggle to get the shadows of the tree canopy to be visible in this shot but the end result was so worth it.

This was a poem I wrote a while back as commentary on the way demagogues weaponise populist rhetoric to attack and demonise vulnerable groups of people.
It's conveys a message I feel is especially needed in the era we live in today.

WEEVILS
A plight has befallen my nation
A plight quite like none other in her history
A product of our decadence and kindness.
Weevils
Those wretched things
They deceive and steal grain from the humble working man
A hollow husk is served to him on a stone slab.
Why?
Weevils
They leech off our prosperity only because we grant them permission to do so
They are vermin and we ought not grant them high positions in our society
Whether or not their voices echo across marble walls or grand halls.
It matters not to honest people
They are weevils
Your artists opine about the world that could be
The world that should be
A world where weevils are granted a place in every society
In every silo
In every home
On every plate across all places and across all time
Such naivete is expected from virtuous peoples
But It’s not desirable
A weevil cannot sow seeds nor grain
Only steal, corrupt and stain
How perverse and wretched they are
Nesting in our homes
With their malignant offspring
Their grotesque substance; a perversion of the very heart of our nation
Our culture
Many say we ought to grant a voice all peoples
But they are not people
And certainly, they are not our people
yet
Their legs reach across every corner of our society
The intelligentsia
The church
The government
The arts
The beaurecracy
All elevate the weevil at the expense of the honest working man
Venerate their degenerate substance
And to what end?
So, his sons may have no maize?
His daughters no grain?
No food for his humble home?
His lineage eroded and His grain stolen
Many pontificate on what we ought to do with the weevils
But the solution is simple
Weevils are vermin
There are no such thing as good vermin or righteous vermin.
The only good vermin are vermin cast out or vermin corpses trampled upon
So let us call them what they are and say it as it is
Weevils are vermin.
Surely even the most high would sanctify their extermination?
And who are we to question God?
Lest the Gods we worship venerate a substance grotesque and degenerate as theirs?
Lest we cannot see when they infiltrate our churches and our holy temples.
Let not the hollowed-out corpses of institutions long decayed and rotten deceive you
Do not let them take your voice away
Do not let them take our voice away
Weevils are vermin
When shall the common man finally summon up the courage to say that?
Is it when the last silo is empty?
When families subsist off hollow husks?
Weevils are vermin
There is no Nation of Weevils
No tongue, weevil?
No such people to walk the earth as weevil?
Because where weevils thrive, nations die
Their bodies exist as mere vessels of rot
Carrying their grotesque agenda from nation to nation, state to state
Leaving nothing but husks in their wake
They survive not as people but as parasites
Their success can only be found over the bloated corpses of ou-
The weevils with their legs seek to subjugate us with fear
They seek the destruction of our young and some entertain their humanity?
I can understand the plight of the working man
The man to afraid to take up his banner and fight for his cause
So I will implore them
To at the very least
Call them what they are
We know who they are
They know who they are
And no matter how long they may nest in your towns or in your homes
I beckon you to always recall this simple truth
They are vermin
They are weevils

Rendering in art can be so fun. This was an eye I illustrated following a tutorial by sinix design on youtube.