Creating a doodle mural on wall with craft paint and brush. For more details, visit my blog here http://dharmakarmaarts.blogspot.com/2017/01/art-on-wall.html
I wanted to capture an introspective feeling and show the Detroit River's expansiveness. I went with a late summer sunset vibe with lots of warm pinks and cool blues.
A detailed pen-and-ink exploration of a modified auto-rickshaw turned into a mobile coffee stall. This design captures the charm of urban travel and the global love for street food culture, rendered in a raw, sketchbook style.
P. G. Wodehouse (1881–1975)
Once, when he was beginning a Wooster-Jeeves novel, he experimented with using a Dictaphone. After he had dictated the equivalent of a page, he played it back to check it over. What he heard sounded so terribly unfunny that he immediately turned off the machine and went back to his pad and pencil.
After this, according to the biographer Robert McCrum, “he might snooze a bit in his armchair, have a bath, and do some more work, before the evening cocktail (sherry for her, a lethal martini for him) at six, which they took in the sun parlour, overlooking the garden.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.”
― P.G. Wodehouse
#dailyrituals #inktober #PGWodehouse @masoncurrey
#14 Inktober 2023 Prompt number 26 "Remove" - I drew this picture during the #inktober event for an individual's artspace on magma.com (the word prompt to draw was "remove" for day 26). I came up with the idea to draw an RPG warrior battling a giant mosquito during his adventure. He is using OFF brand mosquito repellent spray to remove the enemy from this path (but he took damage and later is removing a Band-Aid from his arm). Drawn directly on magma.com live using an iPad pro (no pressure sensitivity and no Ai).
April has truly started off on a high note: 3 days of warm weather (a rare occurrence in an early Chicago spring), I finally did double-backs to the floor at gymnastics, found out I won a few art contests, and I got my first COVID vaccine! It's nice to have things starting to work out, even if it is just temporarily.
Gwenffrwd-Dinas is an RSPB nature reserve out in the wilds of mid-Wales. You could easily miss it driving past, but if you do park up, you're treated to some gorgeous scenery. Here the river Tywi (the longest in Wales) flows past the wooded riverbank then through a rocky gorge on its way down to Carmarthen. Pen and watercolour on watercolour paper (6x8").
I passed this old workshop numerous times going from Carmarthen to Drefach-Felindre. Eventually I parked up and took a photo so I could sketch it. I love old buildings like this which seem to be everywhere here in Wales.
"English as She is Spoke" is a delightful example of incompetence and bad judgement. Jose da Fonseca and Pedro Carolina set out to write a Portuguese-English phrasebook. The only problem was that they didn't speak any English. They did know some French and armed with French-English phrasebook, dictionaries and enthusiasm they brought forth this book. Mark Twain was an early admirer of this book. "Nobody can add to the absurdity of this book, nobody can imitate it successfully, nobody can hope to produce its fellow; it is perfect, it must and will stand alone: its immortality is secure."
Tell that do you will do.
"English as She is Spoke" is a delightful example of incompetence and bad judgement. Jose da Fonseca and Pedro Carolina set out to write a Portuguese-English phrasebook. The only problem was that they didn't speak any English. They did know some French and armed with French-English phrasebook, dictionaries and enthusiasm they brought forth this phrasebook. Mark Twain was an early admirer of this book. "Nobody can add to the absurdity of this book, nobody can imitate it successfully, nobody can hope to produce its fellow; it is perfect, it must and will stand alone: its immortality is secure." https://www.instagram.com/p/CIipkwDB0AG/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
Morning warmup sketch/doodle with Krita. I seem to have a thing for wood nymphs exploring nature.....or maybe I have a thing for naked people in the woods? Who knows.
Nornwan. Once there were Nature dwelling elves. They only ever lived, frolicked and played in the deep woods. Their bodies were quite accustomed to the trees. They could speak with the elements of nature, they could make the trees move and cause great mushrooms to grow from the earth. Theirs was the power to ask the spirits that watched over the wood fro guidance and peace. The Knights Factions implored these wild folk for aid on one fateful day. Few elves agreed to give trees and other supplies to the army, those that did not were attacked and destroyed and given no help by the army of Knights.
Réalisation d'une affiche/programme A3 pour la saison 2018/2019 des Spectaculaires de L'Excelsior.
des spectacles de théâtre, d’objets, marionnettes, cirque présentés en séances Tout Public à la Salle Jean Carmet à Allonnes près du Mans. http://lexcelsior.fr/category/les-spectaculaires/
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.
