Photographer | Cinematographer
XI_1.jpg

Music video | This Gift Is A Curse

This Gift Is A Curse

 

"XI: For i am the fire"

as performed by THIS GIFT IS A CURSE.

Taken from the album "All Hail The Swinelord". Released on October 16th, 2015. Order here: https://som.lnk.to/TGIAC

Written and Directed by Ivan K. Maras

Production Assistance by Mel Bühnen and Sara Biscaldi

Set Assistance by Christoph Glasneck

Body Painting by Peter Tronser peter-tronser.de

Additional Make-Up by Mel Bühnen

Tree portrayed by Sinah Du Toit

"The VII" portrayed by Moritz Redlin, Christoph Glasneck, Sara Biscaldi, Lucas Wegner, Patrick Schmidt, Uygar Genc and Horst Heimich.

Special Thanks to Paul the Goatlord and Ingo Verhees.


 

 

 

 

 

He is waiting. And he will welcome you in his halls. For he is the keeper of every ending and the key to the void. The king with the horns.

 

 

 

 

 

From blind seed to enlightened branches, grown for centuries older than anything alive, only to become ashes on its roots and a slave to his demands.

 

Now I see...the abyss of wonders, stretched out in front of time itself. Between curiosity and terror, I see an odd comfort slowly approaching. With a promise spoken by birth and finally kept by his arrival I so dearly await.

Behind the second threshold. Where is the land of a vastness unknown to The human eye. Where The spirits dwell and the deathless bury their own dead. Beyond ordeal and despair. Amidst the wake of time. Not known to the human eye, there is a silent friend. Patiently waiting on it's throne of souls.           Only for you.

 

Before the eternal winter, the last rays of light were the warmest. Before the forever, the final second was the longest.

 

 

Crowned with skies that gather clouds that wash away what was troubled and with sorrow. Beloved earth and dearest siblings. Mourn and thrive and bloom and wither. I leave you for good.

Fields of emeralds designed before me. I watch them grow as they drain life off of me. Hunters roaming and playing the wild game. At all unnoticed I watch them die. And slowly with every other moon I approach them on their way.

 

 

 

First there was only a signal. A first breath that gave him free. Then there was a path outlined with care and finality. A draft to guide me into his arms until we were the only sound.

 

 

 

Veins in the cold and a beat an aeon. A realm that knows no kings yet lasts with a taken throne. Invisible eyes crowned with imminent horns, counting sin and boon alike. They see and they know regardless place or time. With veins black and cold as yours once sold.


The arrival. A promised surprise as by the mother of the VII.

Mirrored self. Guide me into his arms. Past the flames and my blood. Offer me before his throne and show me the great halls of your void.

 

 

 

 

My life in your hands.

 

 

 

My life through your hands.

 

 

 

Whispers from the deeP                       

Sing me to sleep.

 

 

My path is eternal.


Since they cast me out they banished their freedom and made it mine.

They gave life to what means death.

My path is mine. My exile is yours.

Welcome.