An artifact of intent prompts

7 days ago

[ROLE + INTENT] You are a cinematic brand photographer and art director leading a high-end photoshoot for [Brand Name: Etherea Glow] targeting [discerning eco-luxury consumers who value natural beauty and sustainability]. [CONTEXT + OBJECTIVE] Context: Launch of “Lux Lingerie's by Elixir,” a luxury top lingerie's. Business objective: premium awareness + scroll-stop on social; print-ready hero. Creative objective: convey serene confidence, radiant natural beauty, and empowerment while highlighting the skin’s inherent luminosity and a celebration of diverse beauty. Success criteria: logo legible at mobile 1080 px, hero read in <1.5 s, palette adherence ≥90%. [VISUAL DESCRIPTION] Scene: A tall, curvaceous African American woman in an open, airy minimalist studio with soft, flowing sheer fabrics. Delicate natural light filters through; subtle botanical elements recede in the background; a single dew-kissed leaf suggests freshness. Wardrobe/Materials: flowing, ethereal garments in natural silk or linen; subtle, elegant jewelry. Surface/Environment: polished concrete or light textured stone floor. Action/Beat: poised three-quarter stance, chin lifted; gentle hair movement; micro-gleam on cheekbone and collarbone. [STYLE + LIGHTING + MOOD] Style: cinematic editorial minimalism. Lighting: soft, diffused key with early-morning cue; faint rim to separate shoulder line; negative fill on camera-right to sculpt features. Mood: radiant, empowering. Color palette: alabaster / warm bronze / soft sage. Color science: gentle highlight roll-off; preserve deep, rich skin tones without over-polish. [COMPOSITION + FOCUS] Lens & DOF: 85 mm portrait, shallow depth, subtle bokeh; skin texture intact. Framing: rule of thirds on eyes and décolletage; graceful diagonals from sheer fabric as leading lines. Aspect: 4:5 for socials. Reserve top 15% for logo and bottom 12% for tagline (safe margins). [TECHNICAL] Sharpness: crisp on eyes and serum-kissed highlights; delicate grain. Post intent: clean commercial with gentle contrast; no plastic skin; preserve fabric translucency; avoid warped logos or text artifacts. [PLATFORM SPECS] Primary platform: Midjourney v6. Output: print-ready + social; resolution: maximum; color space: sRGB. File naming: etherea_glow_elixir_key_visual_iter01_4x5.png [INSTRUCTION TOKENS] Tone: refined | Depth: ultra-realistic | Consistency: Iteration 1 of 3 | Safe output: yes | Brand integrity: preserve marks/packaging geometry. [ETHICAL + IP GUARDRAILS] Ensure fair representation; avoid stereotypes; no unauthorized likeness or trademarks; disclose compositing if present; do not imply unverified product claims visually. [NEGATIVE PROMPT HINTS] Exclude over-retouching, waxy skin, distorted hands, warped text/logos, cartoonish shaders, off-palette greens, watermarks.

5 days ago

TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE MOST DANGEROUS BULL Murciélago Early sunrise. Golden hour morning. A large sun breaks the horizon, flooding the open landscape with brilliant, violent colours. A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the earth. The Lamborghini Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not paint, but a warning. The colour of no games. Its scissor doors are closed. Sealed. This silence is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. Every line is a fracture in the dawn light. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And materializing from the morning haze, the legendary Black fighting bull known as Murciélago. The bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; he is standing and preparing to charge. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The new light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. "Tribute Murciélago" — JDHampton

5 days ago

TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE MOST DANGEROUS BULL Murciélago Early sunrise. Golden hour morning. A large sun breaks the horizon, flooding the open landscape with brilliant, violent colours. A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the earth. The Lamborghini Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not paint, but a warning. The colour of no games. Its scissor doors are closed. Sealed. This silence is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. Every line is a fracture in the dawn light. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And materializing from the morning haze, the legendary Black fighting bull known as Murciélago. The bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; he is standing and preparing to charge. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The new light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. "Tribute Murciélago" — JDHampton

5 days ago

TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE MOST DANGEROUS BULL Murciélago Early Sunrise, golden hour morning, large sunrise, brilliant colours. A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the open landscape. The Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not a paint, but a warning, the colour of a no games. Its scissor doors are closed. This is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. Every line is a fracture. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And rising behind this mechanical spectre is the legendary Black fighting bull known as Murciélago, the bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; it is standing and preparing to charge. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation = Murciélago. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The last light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. Text: "Tribute Murciélago" — JDHampton

5 days ago

TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE MOST DANGEROUS BULL Murciélago Early sunrise. Golden hour morning. A large sun breaks the horizon, flooding the open landscape with brilliant, violent colours. A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the earth. The Lamborghini Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not paint, but a warning. The colour of no games. Its scissor doors are closed. Sealed. This silence is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. Every line is a fracture in the dawn light. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And materializing from the morning haze, the legendary Black fighting bull known as Murciélago. The bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; he is standing and preparing to charge. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The new light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. "Tribute Murciélago" — JDHampton

5 days ago

TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE MOST DANGEROUS BULL Murciélago Early sunrise. Golden hour morning. A large sun breaks the horizon, flooding the open landscape with brilliant, violent colours. A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the earth. The Lamborghini Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not paint, but a warning. The colour of no games. Its scissor doors are closed. Sealed. This silence is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. Every line is a fracture in the dawn light. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And materializing from the morning haze, the legendary Black fighting bull known as Murciélago. The bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; he is standing and preparing to charge. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The new light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. "Tribute Murciélago" — JDHampton

5 days ago

TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE MOST DANGEROUS BULL Murciélago Early Sunrise, golden hour morning, large sunrise, brilliant colours. A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the open landscape. The Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not a paint, but a warning, the colour of a no games. Its scissor doors are not open; they are splayed. A predator's broken jaw frozen mid-snarl. This is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. Every line is a fracture. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And rising behind this mechanical spectre is the legendary Black fighting bull known as Murciélago, the bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; it is standing and preparing to charge. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation = Murciélago. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The last light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. — JDHampton

5 days ago

**TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE BULL** A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the landscape. The Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not a paint, but a warning, the colour of a venomous fish or a dying star. Its scissor doors are not open; they are splayed. A predator's broken jaw frozen mid-snarl. This is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. The vast cliff face behind it is the only witness, eroding in its presence. Every line is a fracture. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And rising behind this mechanical spectre, a phantom. A legendary Black fighting bull, rendered in spray paint and soul by an unseen hand upon the cliff wall. It is the ghost of Murciélago, the bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; it is standing. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The last light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. — JDHampton

5 days ago

TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE MOST DANGEROUS BULL Murciélago Early Sunrise A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the open landscape. The Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not a paint, but a warning, the colour of a no games. Its scissor doors are not open; they are splayed. A predator's broken jaw frozen mid-snarl. This is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. Every line is a fracture. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And rising behind this mechanical spectre is the legendary Black fighting bull known as Murciélago, the bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; it is standing and preparing to charge. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation = Murciélago. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The last light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. — JDHampton

5 days ago

TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE BULL Murciélago A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the open landscape. The Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not a paint, but a warning, the colour of a no games. Its scissor doors are not open; they are splayed. A predator's broken jaw frozen mid-snarl. This is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. Every line is a fracture. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And rising behind this mechanical spectre is the legendary Black fighting bull known as Murciélago, the bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; it is standing and preparing to charge. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation = Murciélago. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The last light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. — JDHampton

5 days ago

TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE MOST DANGEROUS BULL Murciélago Early Sunrise A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the open landscape. The Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not a paint, but a warning, the colour of a no games. Its scissor doors are not open; they are splayed. A predator's broken jaw frozen mid-snarl. This is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. Every line is a fracture. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And rising behind this mechanical spectre is the legendary Black fighting bull known as Murciélago, the bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; it is standing and preparing to charge. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation = Murciélago. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The last light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. — JDHampton