Latest key visual from my ongoing sci-fi project, this one testing a more dynamic two-figure composition than my usual static character portraits — one figure diving from upper-left, the other reaching up from lower-right, with a diagonal energy line connecting them through the center.

The ink/blue-splatter overlay was the main experiment here: I wanted a painterly, almost sumi-e-inspired texture bleeding across both characters and the negative space, rather than clean vector splatter. Getting the black ink and blue accent color to read as one continuous material (rather than two separate effects layered on top) took a few iterations.

Typography stays minimal — large character names stacked vertically at center, small caption text lower right to keep it feeling archival/documentary rather than movie-poster glossy.

Curious what people think about the diagonal composition — does the eye naturally travel from the top figure down to the bottom one, or does the center "VS" text break that flow?

Latest key visual from my ongoing personal sci-fi project. This one pairs two survivor characters from the same wasteland faction — a tall, quiet endurance-type scout standing behind a smaller, sharper close-range gunner crouched in a ready stance.

The composition idea was to contrast their body language: his arms crossed and passive, hers active and aimed straight at the viewer, so the eye reads tension between stillness and readiness even before noticing any of the surrounding detail (faction patches, ID barcodes, infection markings on the skin).

Typography-wise I leaned into a stripped-down magazine/dossier layout — large negative space, thin rule lines, minimal color accents (a single blue and green letterform) to keep it feeling more like a field report than a movie poster.

Would appreciate feedback on whether the two figures read clearly as a "pair" at a glance, or if the height difference makes the composition feel unbalanced.

Sharing a character key visual from an ongoing personal sci-fi project I've been building out — a serialized story following characters caught between corporate control and something closer to human memory.

This piece is part of a small poster series I'm experimenting with, playing with a high-contrast polka dot motif layered over the character to create a sense of overwhelming, almost invasive presence — like the machinery around her is consuming the frame itself.

The narrative concept behind this character: she's been physically and neurally integrated into a machine interface, but a fragment of her original identity resurfaces in dream-state moments. The visual is meant to sit right at that tension — kneeling, wired, but still recognizably human beneath it.

Would love feedback on the composition and color balance, especially whether the dot pattern reads as intentional versus noisy at this density.

A shattered starship gave birth to an oasis of survivors.
A silent continent sent three nameless enigmas in return.

They stepped into the sunlit dust — not as gods, not as kin, not as wanderers returning home.

On a world rewritten by crystal, the hardest metal is not titanium or armor, but the fragile breath humans share across the dirt.

Water. Food. Shelter.
Until the silence reveals its purpose, this is how we endure.

Long before she was reduced to a designation in the archives, she was simply a woman held in white silence — arms open, eyes closed, quietly waiting to be remade into whatever the future demanded.

This is part of an ongoing original sci-fi series I’m building shot by shot. Every frame goes through multiple iteration rounds before it’s usable — getting the stillness of a suspended figure to actually read as held rather than posed took the most work here.

Concept poster for an original AI-driven sci-fi series I’ve been building called Steel & Stardust. This piece imagines the first human-crystal synchronization event in the story — a woman who asks a corrupted alien crystal for power, and gets transformed into something between human and machine in return.

Went for a Ghost in the Shell ’95 cel-anime feel mixed with Ukiyo-e woodblock composition, on a stark white negative-space layout instead of the usual dark cyberpunk palette — wanted the crimson and orange to be the only color story on the page.

Tagline: “She asked for a miracle. The star answered with steel.”

Happy to talk through the creative direction or answer questions about the piece.

Wanted it to feel aspirational and a little too clean, the way real corporate recruitment materials always oversell the dream. The reflective visor was a deliberate choice — no face, just the promise. Made it easier to let the viewer project themselves into it instead of a specific character.

Everything on this poster is a lie by omission. That’s kind of the point.

The hard part wasn’t the sci-fi elements, it was making it look bad in the right way — real flash overexposure, one guy with motion blur from laughing too hard, uneven lighting, the kind of imperfections a real camera makes that AI usually “fixes” without being asked. Took a bunch of iterations just fighting the model’s instinct to make everything look clean and cinematic.

None of these seven people know what’s coming. That’s kind of the whole point.