Many years back, I watched that documentary ‘The Boy Whose Skin Fell Off’ about a fellow called Jonny Kennedy who lived with the skin condition EB. There’s a bit in that film where he talks about what he hopes his afterlife would be like and, for whatever reason, a couple of coffees as I was re-reading the Wikipedia article about it triggered an idea I had to scribble down...
I started a new youtube series called Paint With Frenemy. Channeling Bob Ross in short painting videos. Check it out if you like and please like an subscribe! I'lll be posting new videos every Sunday 9am eastern time. This week video I paint a happy little taco with some stop motion animation mixed into the painting process. Link here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Hfj3xBju_c
A Female Pied Flycatcher Ficedula Hypoleuca…
The Pied Flycatcher is a summer migrant to the UK.
As the name suggests, it feeds on flies that are caught by making a quick dash from an obvious perch. There are around 40,000 pairs in the UK each summer. The Pied Flycatcher is a small unmistakable bird that often sits with drooped wings. It spends its winter in Africa.
Identification:
Adult
Adult males and females share the same plumage pattern but are different colours.
Male Pied Flycatchers are small and chunky,13cm in length and are black and white all over, they are quite unmistakable.
The upperparts are black and white, tail is black with white base to outer tail feathers, rump is a slightly paler, back is jet black, wings are black with white wing patch (tertials)
The nape and head is black except for small white patch above the black bill. Chin and throat white, extending to form a half collar.
The entire underparts are white, ie; chin, throat, breast, belly and undertail coverts. Legs, bill and eye black.
Females are brown versions of the male although tail is dark, no obvious white patch over the bill and the collar is less distinct. #piedflycatcher #brd #birdart #birdartist #birdsketch #birddrawing #bampidraws #birdlovers
I went on ahead to the house, crying all the way, but now it was mostly to make an impression. Daddy followed and lit a candle because all the lamps were in the theater. He showed me the pike he had caught.
It's a lovely one, I said, because one must always say something when someone catches a fish. And then it was too late to cry any more. I put on my ordinary clothes again and we had a cup of tea together.
Sculptor's daughter by Tove Jansson.
#dailydrawing #toveJansson
riding while looking at your phone is a very bad idea and can land you a fine in Amsterdam but I've watched people type whole messages while riding around the city.
Stripped of skin, status, and story, what remains is the truth beneath it all. Bone Deep is a minimalist skeletal portrait rendered in graphite and ink on canvas, built through cross-hatching, stark contrast, and deliberate restraint. The exaggerated skull and hollow eyes confront the viewer directly — not with fear, but with inevitability.
Pressurized Patience
16x20 canvas
sealed interior, a distant promise, and time marked in scratches and routines.
Pressurized Patience explores endurance, isolation, and the quiet humor found while waiting under pressure.
Behind the Russian Church there is an abyss.
The moss and the rubbish are slippery and jagged old tins glitter at the bottom. For hundreds of years they have piled up higher and higher against a long dark-red house without windows. The red house crawls round the rock and it is very significant that it has no windows. Behind the house is the harbour, a silent harbour with no boats in it. The little wooden door in the rock below the church is always locked.
Hold your breath when you run past it, I told Poyu. Otherwise Putrefaction will come out and catch you. Poyu always has a cold. He can play the piano and holds his hands in front of him as if he were afraid of being attacked or was apologizing to someone. I always scare him and he follows me because he wants to be scared.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
The Tool Bench marks my 50th canvas—completed exactly one year to the day after I finished my very first one. This piece is a tribute to work, memory, and the quiet corners where both creativity and responsibility live.
Drawn entirely freehand, it’s built like a snapshot of a lived-in workspace: mismatched tools, worn wood, scribbled reminders, and the little personal things that actually make a place yours. The clipboard holds a “Honey-Do” list that never seems to end. The Polaroid-style sketch of my wife sits taped to the wall like a reminder of why the work matters. The shadows on the back wall match the tools lying on the bench—suggesting a moment in progress, a task paused, life happening between motions.
I have been going Disney strong the last few days. It feels soooo good. Its been nice sitting back and watching carefree movies. I was watching Luca when I made this little gal.
So yeah, I will color this image and add a word bubble. But um, this was my honest reaction to season two of Hazbin. Soooo, I will continue the roller coaster ride, but my ears will burn from the singing and my eyes will be scratched out due to the content in which I am forcing them to focus on. I might even go see a therapist and question all my life choices.
A colorful assortment of various fruits, including a dragon fruit, pineapple, and apple. The vibrant colors and unique textures create an eye-catching display.
A whimsical yet haunting reflection on the passage of time, From Time to Time imagines a fragile machine built to bend reality itself. The “Tempus Machina” stands as both invention and relic — humming with promise but tethered by a frayed cord and a warning: Watch Your Step. The cracked wall, warped floorboards, and distorted clock hint that tampering with time comes at a cost. Blending humor, nostalgia, and existential tension, Patmore’s work transforms a steampunk curiosity into a metaphor for our human impulse to repair, rewind, and relive what’s already slipping away.
A whimsical yet reflective scene blending humor and nostalgia. Ty Patmore transforms an ordinary tavern tabletop into a surreal narrative—where a whiskey bottle doubles as a rocket, a lighthouse watches over the horizon, and every object hums with quiet irony. Mixing ink and graphite with storytelling detail, this piece captures the playful spirit of escapism and the bittersweet comfort found in small rituals.
The Skyscraper to the Moon and How the Green Rat with the Rheumatism Ran a Thousand Miles Twice.
Blixie Bimber's mother was chopping hash.
And the hatchet broke. So Blixie started downtown with fifteen cents to buy a new hash hatchet for chopping hash.
Downtown she peeped around the corner next nearest the postoffice where the Potato Face Blind Man sat with his accordion. And the old man had his legs crossed, one foot on the sidewalk, the other foot up in the air.
The foot up in the air had a green rat sitting on it, tying the old man's shoestrings in knots and double knots. Whenever the old man's foot wiggled and wriggled the green rat wiggled and wriggled. #dailyDrawing #rootabagaPigeons #carlSandburg
If i was real youd see me cry
If i was real youd watch me die
If i was real youd spit in my eye
If i was real youd know a lie
If i was real youd know my name
If i was real id bring you shame
If i was real id show you pain
If i was real id drive you insane
But im not real
Im just a name
Meet me in the dark
Meet me in the light
Ill crawl inside your skin
Eager for a bite
Ill coil around your thoughts
Let me stay
Together we can obsess
Over every shade of grey
Deny my existence
Dont say my name
I dont love you
Make no mistake
Im not here for salvation
Im here for the pain
Embrace me my child
Nightmares
My name
#embracingnightmares
