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Henry #7 (nothing to love) {art}
It's sad but it's true; now he has nothing to love.
It's clear that Henry is in a sharp physical decline; Annette is only a couple of years older than she was at the HyperBowl, but Henry looks like he's aged a decade or more. His hair is already going significantly grey, the skin under his eyes is loose, the lines above his mouth sharply defined, his right eyelid discolored, the eye itself weeping, cheeks and nose flushed, and his port wine stain birthmark has grown halfway across his cheek. He was always lean, but thick with muscle; now he now seems thin, like he's not eating well. It feels like he's running out of time.
When Annette makes her decision to forget, rather than forgive, we know that they really don't have long. This is his real punishment, the worst consequence of his actions, more devastating than simply being imprisoned. By trying so hard to keep her, to be sure that she couldn't be taken away from him, he's lost her entirely. His younger self would have responded with anger at her rejection, but instead of lashing out, this older and wiser Henry gently caresses her face as he clarifies what she means, gives her one last hug, and lets her go. His last words to her are simply to warn her not to make his fatal mistake, in the hopes that she'll listen, and be able to live a happier life than he did.
That's what I was hoping to catch, that moment, as Annette is so gently cradled against his chest, when he accepts what she's telling him. Henry's expressions are almost always characterized by a very flat affect, but somehow Adam manages to convey the deep wound that Annette's matter-of-fact rejection of him inflicts, without contorting his face or shedding a single tear. It's in the very subtle downturn of the corners of his mouth, the clench of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils, and the droop of his eyelids over unseeing eyes; if this were a man who cried, he'd be weeping.
As it is, we only hear the tears in his voice as he brokenly sings goodbye to Annette from the other side of the locked prison door, and we're the ones left with soaked tissues.
Photo used for reference was a screencap of "Annette" taken by yours truly.
This was about 10... maybe 11?... hours of drawing time; I don't really know, because I got caught up in the excitement of actually seeing Adam almost live for the first time in 4 months at the q&a after the HoG screening last night, and completely lost track of time.
It's clear that Henry is in a sharp physical decline; Annette is only a couple of years older than she was at the HyperBowl, but Henry looks like he's aged a decade or more. His hair is already going significantly grey, the skin under his eyes is loose, the lines above his mouth sharply defined, his right eyelid discolored, the eye itself weeping, cheeks and nose flushed, and his port wine stain birthmark has grown halfway across his cheek. He was always lean, but thick with muscle; now he now seems thin, like he's not eating well. It feels like he's running out of time.
When Annette makes her decision to forget, rather than forgive, we know that they really don't have long. This is his real punishment, the worst consequence of his actions, more devastating than simply being imprisoned. By trying so hard to keep her, to be sure that she couldn't be taken away from him, he's lost her entirely. His younger self would have responded with anger at her rejection, but instead of lashing out, this older and wiser Henry gently caresses her face as he clarifies what she means, gives her one last hug, and lets her go. His last words to her are simply to warn her not to make his fatal mistake, in the hopes that she'll listen, and be able to live a happier life than he did.
That's what I was hoping to catch, that moment, as Annette is so gently cradled against his chest, when he accepts what she's telling him. Henry's expressions are almost always characterized by a very flat affect, but somehow Adam manages to convey the deep wound that Annette's matter-of-fact rejection of him inflicts, without contorting his face or shedding a single tear. It's in the very subtle downturn of the corners of his mouth, the clench of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils, and the droop of his eyelids over unseeing eyes; if this were a man who cried, he'd be weeping.
As it is, we only hear the tears in his voice as he brokenly sings goodbye to Annette from the other side of the locked prison door, and we're the ones left with soaked tissues.
Photo used for reference was a screencap of "Annette" taken by yours truly.
This was about 10... maybe 11?... hours of drawing time; I don't really know, because I got caught up in the excitement of actually seeing Adam almost live for the first time in 4 months at the q&a after the HoG screening last night, and completely lost track of time.
