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Blood Meridian - Landscapes #4

Cormac McCarthy's literary masterpiece 'Blood Meridian' (rightfully described as 'the ultimate Western') had a profound impact upon me. The intensity of his prose and descriptive passages border on an almost biblical, hallucinatory form of poetry.
Alongside recent character designs, I decided to try and depict some of the landscapes and interiors he describes in the American Southwest of 1849.
If you haven't read the book, I cannot recommend it highly enough.

'The town was little more than a mudhole...roads churned to slush and the buildings were little more than wrecks...walls half fallen, roofs sagging under the weight of years. The wind blew through the empty streets, carrying with it the scent of decay'

'The town was little more than a mudhole...roads churned to slush and the buildings were little more than wrecks...walls half fallen, roofs sagging under the weight of years. The wind blew through the empty streets, carrying with it the scent of decay'

'They passed the remains of a church, its walls crumbling and the windows gone...the timbers splintered and broken. The dirt around it was littered with the detritus of the world, empty bottles, broken glass, old papers. The air was thick with dust...'

'They passed the remains of a church, its walls crumbling and the windows gone...the timbers splintered and broken. The dirt around it was littered with the detritus of the world, empty bottles, broken glass, old papers. The air was thick with dust...'

'...the sun was just down, and to the west lay reefs of bloodred clouds up out of which rose little desert nighthawks like fugitives from some great fire at the earth's end.'

'...the sun was just down, and to the west lay reefs of bloodred clouds up out of which rose little desert nighthawks like fugitives from some great fire at the earth's end.'

'They crossed a plaza where boys were selling grapes and figs from little trundlecarts. There were clusters of women and many shapes of clay jars...there were trees and the walls whitewashed...the horses patient and motionless in the heat and the flies.'

'They crossed a plaza where boys were selling grapes and figs from little trundlecarts. There were clusters of women and many shapes of clay jars...there were trees and the walls whitewashed...the horses patient and motionless in the heat and the flies.'

'..as they entered the dim interior a shaft of light fell across the floor. The light cut the room in two, and the men moved along the edge of the beam, careful not to pass beneath it, as if it were some sort of boundary, something that would mark them.'

'..as they entered the dim interior a shaft of light fell across the floor. The light cut the room in two, and the men moved along the edge of the beam, careful not to pass beneath it, as if it were some sort of boundary, something that would mark them.'

'They rode into a valley where snow lay heavy upon the ground. The air was frigid and the horses' breath misted in the air. Overhead, a group of buzzards wheeled in tight circles, waiting, ever vigilant for the smallest sign of life or death below.'

'They rode into a valley where snow lay heavy upon the ground. The air was frigid and the horses' breath misted in the air. Overhead, a group of buzzards wheeled in tight circles, waiting, ever vigilant for the smallest sign of life or death below.'

'The desert lay vast and silent under the pale moon, its scrubland stretching endlessly. Stars burned coldly in the immense vault above, their light tracing the bare outlines of rock and thorn.'

'The desert lay vast and silent under the pale moon, its scrubland stretching endlessly. Stars burned coldly in the immense vault above, their light tracing the bare outlines of rock and thorn.'

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