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Prompt by ElectricL

textured canvas FLUX prompts

hundreds of results

8 months ago

Abstract Full-Body Portrait of a Prostitute – Salvador Dalí (Late-Life Style, Singular Focus & Pure Surrealism) (Surrealism:1.7, Salvador Dalí late-life style:2.0, Dreamlike distortion:1.6, Hyperreal textures:1.5, Chiaroscuro contrast:1.4, Oil-painting brushstrokes:1.5, Organic fluidity:1.6, Metaphysical realism:1.4) A full-body surrealist portrait of a prostitute, painted in the unmistakable late-life style of Salvador Dalí, where dream logic dictates form and reality bends into its own subconscious reflection. She stands alone in the void, a lone figure frozen in motion yet melting into time itself. Her body is elongated but coherent, her limbs refined into one singular, fluid, organic motion, as if she is a sculpture made of half-formed candle wax, melting at the edges but never fully dissolving. Her face remains untouched by distortion, hyperreal and melancholic, eyes darkened with kohl, staring directly outward, unblinking, as if confronting time, fate, and the fabric of reality itself. A single strand of jet-black hair escapes from her carefully pinned curls, swaying in an invisible breeze. Her lips—painted a deep, blood-red—drip slightly at the edges, as if smeared by unseen hands, caught between seduction and sorrow. Her dress, a relic of the past, is a contradiction of luxury and decay, the hem transforming into thin wisps of smoke, curling and dispersing into the canvas. The fabric is stretched unnaturally, its folds elongating like the melted forms of Dalí’s classic clocks, one shoulder slipping in an eternal descent, never quite falling. The setting is an infinite, surreal landscape—a lonely street with no visible end, where shadows stretch longer than their owners, and the cobblestones appear to melt into liquid mercury. In the background, a large, antique pocket watch, twisted and partially submerged in the air, hangs frozen at an uncertain hour, its hands warped into elongated spirals. A single red rose, impossibly large and impossibly alive, hovers just behind her, its petals peeling away like fragments of forgotten love letters. The air feels thick, painted with visible brushstrokes, where light and shadow do not obey the laws of physics—instead, they bleed into one another, wrapping around her body in soft, liquid chiaroscuro, mimicking the curvature of a dream. She is not merely a woman but a symbol—of desire, of loss, of something slipping through time like sand through Dalí’s own fingers.

ElectricL
8 390

6 months ago

(Primary Subject: Emotionally Expressive Android Woman with Dual-Layered Skin, Painted in Impressionist Classical Renaissance Style, 1.7 weight) — in the heart of a lush, sun-drenched garden overflowing with blossoms, an android woman stands quietly, her form captured in the painterly elegance of a Renaissance-era oil painting. Her body is sculpted and graceful, rendered with soft impressionist brushstrokes that blend into surreal detail—her figure radiant, yet ethereal, like a machine-angel frozen in time. Her “skin” is composed of two delicate, interwoven layers: The outer layer is smooth, reflective, and subtly fluid, shimmering with hints of pale pink, soft violet, and dusky gold, like liquid mercury caught in a sunset. It has the appearance of gently flowing molten glass, and catches the dappled garden light with painterly elegance. Beneath it, faintly visible through the translucent surface, lies a subdermal lattice—a softly glowing core of golden circuitry, like sacred geometry woven into synthetic muscle. It pulses faintly, like a slow heartbeat of light, giving her form an inner radiance, a soul made of signal (subtle luminous inner structure beneath transparent surface, 1.6 weight). She wears no armor, no exposed wires—only that liquid-smooth surface, glowing softly in the sun. A thin, continuous line of amber-orange light traces up the outside of her legs, over her hips, across her shoulders and arms, like a haloed signature etched into her form. Her visor-like faceplate—a curved golden-glass surface—reflects the garden’s warm light. Though faceless, her entire body language conveys profound emotion: one hand lightly touching her chest, the other extended gently toward a single open flower, as if remembering something. Her posture is soft, tender, almost melancholic—like a saint carved from future metal, lost in sacred thought. The garden blooms around her in classical beauty—roses, lilies, orchids, and surreal blossoms from impossible species. Sunlight pours through foliage in golden beams, casting her figure in a divine backlight. Petals drift in the air like thoughts. Her reflection shimmers faintly in a nearby pool. Rendered in the style of a classical oil painting—with visible brush textures, soft baroque lighting, volumetric haze, and subtle chiaroscuro across her form. The colors are rich and warm—sunset gold, floral crimson, blush pink, and soft lavender—interplaying with reflections in her skin like a moving canvas.

ElectricL
6 340

7 months ago

(Primary Subject: Emotionally Expressive Android Woman with Dual-Layered Skin, Painted in Impressionist Classical Renaissance Style, 1.7 weight) — in the heart of a lush, sun-drenched garden overflowing with blossoms, an android woman stands quietly, her form captured in the painterly elegance of a Renaissance-era oil painting. Her body is sculpted and graceful, rendered with soft impressionist brushstrokes that blend into surreal detail—her figure radiant, yet ethereal, like a machine-angel frozen in time. Her “skin” is composed of two delicate, interwoven layers: The outer layer is smooth, reflective, and subtly fluid, shimmering with hints of pale pink, soft violet, and dusky gold, like liquid mercury caught in a sunset. It has the appearance of gently flowing molten glass, and catches the dappled garden light with painterly elegance. Beneath it, faintly visible through the translucent surface, lies a subdermal lattice—a softly glowing core of golden circuitry, like sacred geometry woven into synthetic muscle. It pulses faintly, like a slow heartbeat of light, giving her form an inner radiance, a soul made of signal (subtle luminous inner structure beneath transparent surface, 1.6 weight). She wears no armor, no exposed wires—only that liquid-smooth surface, glowing softly in the sun. A thin, continuous line of amber-orange light traces up the outside of her legs, over her hips, across her shoulders and arms, like a haloed signature etched into her form. Her visor-like faceplate—a curved golden-glass surface—reflects the garden’s warm light. Though faceless, her entire body language conveys profound emotion: one hand lightly touching her chest, the other extended gently toward a single open flower, as if remembering something. Her posture is soft, tender, almost melancholic—like a saint carved from future metal, lost in sacred thought. The garden blooms around her in classical beauty—roses, lilies, orchids, and surreal blossoms from impossible species. Sunlight pours through foliage in golden beams, casting her figure in a divine backlight. Petals drift in the air like thoughts. Her reflection shimmers faintly in a nearby pool. Rendered in the style of a classical oil painting—with visible brush textures, soft baroque lighting, volumetric haze, and subtle chiaroscuro across her form. The colors are rich and warm—sunset gold, floral crimson, blush pink, and soft lavender—interplaying with reflections in her skin like a moving canvas.

ElectricL
5 220

8 months ago

(Surrealism:1.7, Salvador Dalí late-life style:2.0, Dreamlike distortion:1.6, Hyperreal textures:1.5, Chiaroscuro contrast:1.4, Oil-painting brushstrokes:1.5, Organic fluidity:1.6, Metaphysical realism:1.4) A full-body surrealist portrait of a prostitute, painted in the unmistakable late-life style of Salvador Dalí, where dream logic dictates form and reality bends into its own subconscious reflection. She stands alone in the void, a lone figure frozen in motion yet melting into time itself. Her body is elongated but coherent, her limbs refined into one singular, fluid, organic motion, as if she is a sculpture made of half-formed candle wax, melting at the edges but never fully dissolving. Her face remains untouched by distortion, hyperreal and melancholic, eyes darkened with kohl, staring directly outward, unblinking, as if confronting time, fate, and the fabric of reality itself. A single strand of jet-black hair escapes from her carefully pinned curls, swaying in an invisible breeze. Her lips—painted a deep, blood-red—drip slightly at the edges, as if smeared by unseen hands, caught between seduction and sorrow. Her dress, a relic of the past, is a contradiction of luxury and decay, the hem transforming into thin wisps of smoke, curling and dispersing into the canvas. The fabric is stretched unnaturally, its folds elongating like the melted forms of Dalí’s classic clocks, one shoulder slipping in an eternal descent, never quite falling. The setting is an infinite, surreal landscape—a lonely street with no visible end, where shadows stretch longer than their owners, and the cobblestones appear to melt into liquid mercury. In the background, a large, antique pocket watch, twisted and partially submerged in the air, hangs frozen at an uncertain hour, its hands warped into elongated spirals. A single red rose, impossibly large and impossibly alive, hovers just behind her, its petals peeling away like fragments of forgotten love letters. The air feels thick, painted with visible brushstrokes, where light and shadow do not obey the laws of physics—instead, they bleed into one another, wrapping around her body in soft, liquid chiaroscuro, mimicking the curvature of a dream. She is not merely a woman but a symbol—of desire, of loss, of something slipping through time like sand through Dalí’s own fingers.

ElectricL
4 170