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Mermay Day 2: Daycare

I travelled around Uzbekistan for two weeks during easter. It is definitely one of the most interesting and beautiful countries I have travelled in. These are some of the urban sketches from my travel sketchbook, of some of the most famous buildings in the different cities of Uzbekistan. I would LOVE to hear what you guys think.

I am entering the Mermay 2019 challenge and these are the first 3 mermaids I have drawn so far :D I am open for commissions, please check out my deviantart.com/siara-chan or visit my instagram @siarachan and follow me there for daily updates on the Mermay challenge. Thank you. :)

Charcoal is a new medium for me. This is violet szabo an agent in the s.o.e during ww2. She was shot as a spy in a concentration camp on Hitler's orders.i like to draw portraits of people with interesting stories to their lives. The picture is created without lines and only with the use of shaded areas. Thanks for looking.

The freshness of morning withdrew in front of the warm rays of the sun. The Wizard of Cirilo Bum and I came to the High Meadow, one beautiful gazebo, where we planned to spend a day off. - Only those who work hard and get their work done, fully enjoy all the pleasure of a vacation - said the wizard Čirilo Bum. I did not answer him, my life plan was to work as little in life, for that reason, I have taught for the wizard at him. By the time we took the time to see the water that emerged from the earth, in the air she created a form of grapes and spirals of various colors that had disappeared in the unknown. The Ghosts of water had fun, trying to show each other their skills. We chose a place on the edge of the High Meadow for our accommodation, where we could watch the landscape: meadows and forests scattered to distant mountains of dark blue. Above us were an old, large yew tree as created to keep us from the strong sun and the negative energy. Below the meadow was stretched by which a dozen young dragons rode along and across, skillfully changed the direction of movement and twisted with their long bodies, they played hunting. Hidden in the crown of a large oak tree near us, pointed snake watched their game with their big green eyes, but I noticed that she quickly dropped into sleep. Then I remember that I did not do some important jobs yesterday, Čirilo Bum will definitely see it when we get home. It spoils my mood a bit, and I pulled out of the baskets a few of the dried sausages that the old wizard worked so well. Full stomach I always better mood. - There are rare opportunities to see the Big Redbeak - suddenly spoke Cirilo Bum - bird right now wants to snatch egg. I stared for a while around so Čirilo Bum says: I said Big. And indeed, I find him so big that several other creatures sought accommodation in his body. Cirilo Bum spent almost all day hovering in the crown of the old yew, napping with a satisfied look on his face. Every time I was constantly tortured by the fact that I would have to listen, a critic of the old wizard, when we come home because of my unsolved tasks. My nervousness I softened so that I ate all the food from the basket. Late in the afternoon, we went home, from the trees they began to descend some new, hitherto unseen beings in search for food or night hideout. Spirit of water was gone, but a good part of the way, perhaps from curiosity, we were followed by other inhabitants of the World of Fantasy, were to me welcome companions, I took my thoughts with them, to the house. A 3 format

I have a good bit more to do with this but I thought I’d post the progress so far. First time using real software besides stuff like paint. Sketched out the bones of it in pen and scanned to myself.

Still experimenting with watercolors, I should buy decent paints (maybe Faber Castell Pans), actually the ones here are very cheap! and just don't mix well. So yeah have a look :D

Found some tattoo markers at hobby lobby, so much fun!

Inspired by Billie Eilish

my new work! - Here he is, he comes! - Pepe Fajgl said, pointing at the top of the hill. The environment was typical for the territory of a mortician: valleys overgrown with low grass, and with some high ground. Pepe Fajgl and I left the corpse Henri de Functa at the foot of the hills and watched the Mortician as it approaches the dead body at a uniform speed, his beautiful eyes were fixed to the deceased. "It's wonderful," I said to Pepe, - it is certainly longer than 20 meters. - The Morticians are the beings that all the inhabitants of the World of Fantasies respect and love, since they have appeared, the precious earth is no longer polluting with graves and cemeteries, number of burning corpses and then a terrible smell almost came to zero, pollution of the lake and the sea throwing the dead into the water stopped. After Mrs. Death takes life and the soul went away in the wheel of the final verdict, it remains only material, dead, a bit valuable part once alive being, the meat that becomes a problem for family and community. Mortician comes to the dead body of the late Henri, its enormous mouth silently sucked corpse, he turned, and dignity went behind the elevation, the problem was solved forever. A 3 format

The first pen drawing I've attempted in a long time! Also the first pot plant that has survived my care...

Pencil Eye Study

Whenever I get an emoji only comment, I honestly have no idea how to respond. I still prefer the old-school "Colon Closed Parentheses".

I made this for a family member who is dealing with this horrid disease.

This was a commissioned illustration created for a wedding gift for a couple who are working in turtle conservation.

A blind study with aquarelle...

"Perhaps one reason we are fascinated by cats is because such a small animal can contain so much independence, dignity, and freedom of spirit. Unlike the dog, the cat's personality is never bet on a human's. He demands acceptance on his own terms." - Lloyd Alexander Materials - Alchohol-based Markers, White Gel Pen and Black ink pens

A weird little project i started a while ago. All pictures are based on, more or less, drawings from my childhood. Hence the childish style and story. I'm not going insane, so you know, yet...

Graphite aquarelle faber-castell

Been a busy couple of weeks, school holidays are always a bit tricky to find time. I have been working on some illustrations for a software product that my husband and I are building so I can't share those at this stage but I was back at the gallery today sketching with my new drawing group, I spent most of my time with a bunch of Mesoamerican statues. I am starting to not get so freaked out by people watching me draw :)

Today, April 19, is Garlic Day. These sandwich bag drawings are part of a series that I started in 2008.

Some late night doodling with neon pens, pity the camera couldn't pick up the colours coz they are lookin' mighty.

An article/rant/annotation to an illustration. A #Hackney bar and its flies. This picture is not as sad and blue as it might at first seem, I promise. It is early in the week and the pub becomes the territory of the most outspoken drinkers. Raised somewhere between Churchill and Harold MacMillan, a night such as this is time for them to spin out a yarn of nostalgic fantasy. Encouraged by the lack of a crowd and with space to fill, statements start to fly. In the opening rounds the barman athletically hits back with factual blocks and reality-check haymakers; statistics and personal experiences are given. Two histories cross examined, one where 1982 means Thatcher and the Falklands, the other renders Reagan and the AIDS crisis. Stoicism and national pride vs mental health and realism. In the latter rounds the barman is fatigued, swaying on the backbar, glasses begin to stack up as form begins to drop. The older men seem stronger than ever. The barflies come in close now, they scrutinise his generations work ethic and make wild political comments on poverty, immigrants and the minimum wage. The barman is close to sheer bloody despair, he maintains his defence and focuses on breathing while maintaining his professional stance. But at the end of the night the barman knows HE will ring that bell, they will politely leave and they will return again in a week and maybe, just maybe there will be a change, common ground or maybe at least polite silence. But what these interactions have given despite the salt in the eye is community and an exchange between generations, culture and class of those participating. No home is ever straight forward, no relative without their good and bad traits and in a world where we often slide into echo chambers online or in our physical environments, the pub is still a place where society is family, face to face, pint to pint. Or maybe it's just a room with alcohol on tap?