This is an original painting of a secluded cove in the trees. I’ve tried sharing my art before and for criticized and accused of plagiarism when I drew an original animal that resembled that of another. I assure that my works are original. If they aren’t, I will give credit where credit is due.
One of my favorite things about being a parent is listening to the stories my daughter makes up and really trying to encourage her imagination. She has named a bunch of the cacti which line our windowsills, while our cacti are very accustomed to their suburban lives they also like a bit of adventure, this is a group of them taking a family vacation to the desert.
Old drawing that I had contributed to a charity art book for Japanese tsunami relief efforts. Feel free to follow my facebook for additional updates! http://www.facebook.com/sonialaiart
Overwhelmed...started as a little tiny sketchbook sketch and turned into my statement about recent events. It complements my previous post "Fevered Dreams." Bic ballpoint pen on archival 9” x 12” paper, scanned into Photoshop where the text overlay was added. Model: Jose
Whew! Baby yoda was fun to draw and gave me an excuse to get familiar with some of these brushes. The original sketch had a special guest, so you might see this one pop up again in the future. Hope you like him! .
45/100 of my nature illo themed 100 Day Project. I started my challenge drawing only on my iPad but hit some bumps when I forgot my Apple Pencil in Florida (I live in California). With that, I have been getting reacquainted with my sketchbook which has been set aside for a few months until now. Feels good to get back into it. Everytime I come back to painting, I wonder why I ever paused in the first place.
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?
