The Alliance is a project group intended to encourage visual and literary artists to work together. I've felt for some time that the dA Literature Community can at times be somewhat insular - to its detriment. We in the Lit Community are also sometimes prone to griping about the lack of exposure our work receives when compared to that of visual artists. 

So. In the spirit of thorns brilliant Complaint Challenge I would try to do something about that. And so was born. 

As often as I hear literary artists complaining about lack of exposure, I hear visual artists complaining of a lack of inspiration and motivation to create art. And that, I must say, is simply nonsense. There is a massive amount of inspiration to be found on dA - and it's called the Lit Community. 

Lit-Visual-Alliance aims to bring together literary and visual artists, to encourage visual artists to create artwork based on literature pieces, and literary artists to create literature based upon visual art pieces. 

Anyone who wishes to submit to our group is welcome, and we have folders for anyone who would like people to draw their literature, or write about their visual art. We also have folders for exceptionally inspiring literature and visual art, filled with art guaranteed to inspire!

The most important folder is the Featured folder, which will contain artwork created by visual artists based upon literature, and vice-versa, of course!

To kick things off, and get you lovely deviants creating artwork inspired by others, we'd like to announce our very first CONTEST!

To enter the contest all you need do, if a visual artist, is to create a piece of artwork based on a piece of literature on dA. If you are a literary artist, all you need do is create a literature piece based upon a visual artwork on dA. Then kindly submit it to our Contest Folder. Although our Featured folder is happy to accept old deviations, to qualify for our contest, your deviation must be new. Come on guys, show us what you can do! To give you some inspiration, I'd like to show you some of the amazing artwork submitted to our "Exceptionally Inspiring" folders over the past weeks. Just to make it clear, these examples are just examples. You are free to use any artwork on dA! Multiple entries allowed encouraged.

Of treesDeep ghost-groves of freckled aspen
burn white beneath the winter sun,
whisper hoary adulation,
canticles for the Holy One.
And in the trees, the spirits dance
betwixt the motes of starry snow
illuminated by the lance
of lightning flash and candle glow.
All lights within this place combine,
reflect in splendour, white on white,
and mingle in a trance sublime
that breathes in peace through winter night.
The lofty heads of stately pine
rear up and brush the lowered sky
as if they could, by straightened spine,
so please the God who built them high.
Their incense needles, fragrant, fall
in silence to the chapel floor
and still above, they shade the hall
where ghosts who come by night adore.
Black on black, and brown by green,
create a hush bereft of light
where one may linger safe, unseen,
and sleep in peace through winter night. strangeryou came clinging to the grace of a summer storm's
underbreath, came cold hands and tired eyes
and a bruised lip i'd longed to kiss
when you stumbled on night listing
too far to the left
cross my thistledown garden by old dusks
that wilt between, i'll keep my door open:
your lady in sepia doesn't live here, only
the ghosts and i -- and Grandmother,
in the far-between wanders when she can
remember --
but i've a place where you can
lay your wayworn bones to dry, and
if morning should come calling, i'll not
tell her where you sleep. and stayed awhile.  A Textual AnnealingA thousand thousand generations
misinterpreting the lightning,
A tumult of attempts, many
mumblings while we burn - each time
most is lost, some survives.
At the whistle of illusion that awakens,
day drops dream on me. I am
thick with swerve: If there are giants
there is a world they walk on.
And for the final faith
to be an inversion: We are
the electricity lunging toward the sky. :thumb277325397:    Delirium Sings a Song for MeYesterday I was a little girl
with blueberry stains on my fingers.
But today—I am
simply mad,
a Baba Yaga in the woods,
standing tall on knobbly chicken legs,
making stews of children's hearts.
Beware the magic-weavers in the dark.
But I must be a siren, too—
with salt on my lips and flowers in my hair,
but with eyes black, black as crows.
Beware our sing-songs, little one.
Surely I am a cello.
Play me like an instrument—
my body is no longer me.
Strip me down to my bare bones and tell me,
what am I?
I have a face but no substance beneath.
That drumming you hear in my naked ribcage
can only be the sea.
I have no identity.
I am a creature of the air,
rash and whimsy,
distant, intimate—
ancient.
My mind is the green-purple gray
of the nights before stars.
My heart grows cold, my heart grows cold.
Already old, already old.
A mad girl's mind is awful drear,
and I've got fishes in my hair,
yes, I've got fishes in my hair.
Won't you take my hand, Alice dear.
We are nearly   Transient?Transient?
Do you sing upon the dunes,
   my desert angel,
beneath the black moon
   and brilliant stars?
Do you dance across the sands,
   my shining spirit,
between the smooth earth
   and the infinite sky?
Do you dream of distant worlds,
   my graceful lover,
here beside the gleaming water
   and me?
Will you wake to the faraway call,
   my starry traveler,
here in my planet-bound home
   and go?
Vorübergehend?
Singen Sie auf den Dünen,
   mein Ödlanderengel,
unter dem schwarzen Mond
   und den leuchtenden Sternen?
Tanzen Sie über die Sande,
   mein glänzender Geist,
zwischen dem glatten Boden
   und dem endlosen Himmel?
Träumen Sie von dem entfernten Welten,
   mein anmutigen Lieber,
neben dem glänzenden Wasser
   und mir?
Wecken Sie zum weiter Anruf,
   mein Sternreisender,
von mein hausfesthalten Planet
   und abreisen? :thumb277651414:  

           

Mature Content

                     :thumb139626978: :thumb216006775:   :thumb251153526: 

And now for the prizes!

1st Place will receive 300 + a one-shot from 

2nd Place will receive 200 + a one-shot from 

3rd place will receive 100  + a one-shot from 

All three winners will also receive a prize package from AnotherContestGroup courtesy of megan24601, features from the group, as well as LadyofGaerdon and AzeeraTheNinja

Judging will be conducted by the admin of Judging criteria will be, in order:

How well the deviation uses the source inspiration

 Impact

 Quality

 Creativity

The deadline is  April 25th.

Please include our group icon in your artist comments. Thanks!

And now, to give you an example of what we'd like you to do, I'd like to present our first monthly feature! Beginning with my two very favorite submissions to the Featured Folder this month (I just couldn't choose between them!)

Stolen KissThey imprisoned her for her father's vocal arguments that android's do have souls, since he was out of reach. "Blasphemy must be punished," said the clergyman to the sounds of a slamming door and clacking lock.
Today, they mockingly toss David's broken body into her prison with her. She circles him inspecting the damage, and looking for a flicker of life. "If the spark is not yet fled...", she thinks to herself. The club that they struck him with when he leapt to her defense had separated the top of his head. David's empty, staring eyes, the clear separation of his spine somewhere internally and the gradual ooze of his hydraulic blood leaves little hope, but she completes her inspection while she fights back the tears. "There's no sign of life at all."
She draws the death art to send his soul onward with the only ink she has in her cell, the fluid slowly seeping from his wounds. She begins with the flowers that David had tended outside her father's mansion. As she draws each one, it co based on  

I love how Synnic took the tiny glimpse that Zelkats gave us into that world, and expanded it so vividly. Well done!

Robin Red-Breast, the Devil and MeRobin red-breast
sold his soul for a song,
cast a bundle of his scarlet feathers
on the forest floor.
The Devil stole the whole forest-full of birdsongs,
dressed them up with a bit of glitter
and holds them crumpled in his fists—
hostages for weary souls.
In a forest of silent throats
Robin red-breast sings with downcast eyes.
And I—
landspirit, windspirit am I—
running twig fingers through hair
red as fire,
I'll make ribbons of rose petals,
catch the clouds in a bucket
and make room for Robin red-breast
              to nest in my branches.
I'll cut up the Devil
and I'll cut him up again,
release the wickedness
like cracking hazelnut shells,
burn up song-souls—
primroses and plague victims—
and scatter their ashes in the mountains
so their owners can find them again.
Lo—
the little red-breasted devil carries them to market
           based on 

I love how AzizrianDaoXrak has really taken the imagery in the photo by TheNightSheDied and managed to make it her own, while still preserving the flavor of the original piece. Great job!

We've had so many wonderful submissions to our Featured Folder, in just these three weeks since the group was founded. Please check them out!

:thumb272457029: based on 

Homage To 'Dancing In Flight'
dancing in flight
aquatic ballerina -
spins beneath the waves based on 

KelpieEastern bound we tread in youth,
To chase the break of day,
But in the moors so fogged in mourn,
The white horse blocks our way.
Approached the equines eyes I did,
In sleep they seemed to never sleep.
The pale eyed beauty posed with pride,
And us did to, in dream we were to ride.
But in a desperate turn of fate,
The sleepless eyes where now to sleep,
The bog moors then began to haze,
Turning the white one black.
And thus, the end of my dear friend,
But yet none did believe me,
For in my eyes,
Saw deathly skies,
That equine haunted be.
Through pouring rain,
I seek that beast,
To make the innocent see,
I take the branch to hand,
And sculpt that monster,
For you left me behind. based on 

:thumb274901637: based on  31:12N, 121:30Emy Dear i just noticed
my balcony is shaped
like wings
and the wind is billowing
the moon up, up to-night
in her dusty purple garb
and i think
no Dear i do not want
to leave here: where men
build bridges over oceans
and live inside of mountains
like river dragons
where the sun shines
not at all at noon but gleams
like an orange at sundown
where the moon walks home
surefooted to where my neck
cannot crane

based on :

based on 

Defy"Well? Where are your famous last words now? Gerard..." Korse hissed, the hot plastic of the ray gun burning Gerard's neck.
"I won't last long, in this world so wrong." The Killjoy sang not even bothering to look at Korse instead gazing at his lover Frank Iero who watched the two despite being in the middle of a raygun fight.
"You worthless scum." He sneered pulling the trigger and watching as the Killjoy leader slumped to the ground, though even in death the bastard still defied him by looking away, his gaze upon his lover who now lay sprawled on the ground sightless eyes returning Gerard's stare. based on 

Thank you so much for reading! We'd be thrilled if you'd come look around at and perhaps join us. If you have questions, about the contest, the group, anything at all, please ask! Thanks!

The team:  

The following people have provided prizes for the contest:

- 300

- 115

- 100

- 85

The following people will provide Features:

Thanks so much! If you'd like to donate a prize, it's not too late!

I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank haijinik for sending out affiliations for us! Thanks a lot! And also to withinmeloveresides1 for sending out invitations. Thank you so much!