Here's the rough in of a collage of little plants in various containers... just a fun scribble on a hot, summer afternoon. Color is on the way... 9x12 micron on mixed media board
Charles Darwin (1809–1882)
From the time he arrived at Down House until 1859, when he finally published On the Origin of Species, Darwin led a double life, keeping his thoughts on evolution and natural selection to himself while bolstering his credentials in the scientific community.
Meanwhile, he divulged his secret theory to a very few confidants; he told one fellow scientist it was “like confessing a murder.”
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge: it is those who know little, not those who know much, who so positively assert that this or that problem will never be solved by science.”
― Charles Darwin, The Descent of Man
#dailyrituals #inktober #CharlesDarwin @masoncurrey
GLOOSCAP AND THE BABY
From Favorite Folktales from Around the World byJane Yolen.
Glooscap, having conquered the Kewawkqu’, a race of giants and magicians, and the Medecolin, who were cunning sorcerers, and Pamola, a wicked spirit of the night, besides hosts of fiends, goblins, cannibals, and witches, felt himself great indeed, and boasted to a woman that there was nothing left for him to subdue.
But the woman laughed and said, “Are you quite sure, master? There is still one who remains unconquered, and nothing can overcome him.” In some surprise Glooscap inquired the name of this mighty one. “He is called Wasis,” replied the woman, “but I strongly advise you to have no dealings with him.” Wasis was only a baby, who sat on the floor sucking a piece of maple sugar and crooning a little song to himself. Now Glooscap had never married and wasignorant of how children are managed, but with perfect confidence he smiled at the baby and asked it to come to him. The baby smiled back but never moved...
#dailydrawing #folktales #kidlitart #babies #algonquian
I love the versatility of acrylic paint. You can change the consistency by adding water or acrylic mediums. These additions enable artists to create transparent glazes or thick impasto textures. The fast-drying nature of acrylics makes it easier to correct mistakes or make alterations during the painting process. This painting is part of a three piece set featuring my favorite plants painted on a soft gradient background.
When I moved into my first apartment, I knew I wanted to create my own wall art. So like any Potterhead artist, I binged Harry Potter movies and painted for many hours straight. This painting is part of a three piece set featuring my favorite plants painted on a soft gradient background. This 8”x10” acrylic painting is made on pre-stretched canvas.
Watercolour crayon, crayon and fineliner drawing... i like to think everything is connected and feeds off each other, a constant cycle. Im fasinated with plants like the venus fly traps and tried to incorporate into the flower with some snake eyes.
Living, breathing, and creating with nature
When you wake up to the gentle sights and sounds of the pond, trees, plants, birds, bees, and dragonflies, inspiration flows effortlessly. So, when the owner asked for a menu design for @SarayaGoa Art Café, I thought—why not let nature speak for itself?
Using pen and ink, I captured the beauty of my mornings here—each stroke reflecting the lush surroundings that make Saraya unique. Instead of focusing on just food items, I filled the cover and inside pages with illustrations of the vibrant life around us. Dining here means eating among the green, surrounded by the diverse plants of our permaculture gardens.
This study is a tribute to the beauty that shapes every meal at Saraya.
I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root.
And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty.
This is compulsory education, after all.
So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past.
“Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge.
The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence.
Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen—
my scribble’s soft insurgency.
The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn.
Columns and corners chant structure.
Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter—
their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward.
I begin to draw.
Not their tardiness, but their motion.
A shoulder. A blur of sneakers.
A tilted head chasing freedom.
Feet flickering like seconds.
Each mark a pulse.
Each smudge a breath.
My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing—
trembling gently through the mundane.
This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed.
It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation.
It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock.
I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you).
Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic.
Not for polish—
but for presence.
This is how I remember I’m still alive.
Still growing.
Still watching.
Still choosing to see.
Because sometimes mental health looks like
a piece of scrap paper,
a moving pen,
and the simple, sacred act of
marking time with wonder.
A bonsai tree sits in a black pot against a bright yellow circular background with humorous text surrounding it. The words "Why aren't they called... Bonsai People?" suggest a playful twist on the terms little person, person with dwarfism or person of short stature.
