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Having a little fun with scratchbostd

Ink and coffee on hand-cut watercolor paper, ACEO size. (In collection)

6"×8" watercolor, marker and ink on Strathmore Toned Tan. "Succumb" #9 of 25 Dreamcatcher series. This piece is for sale in my etsy shop. You can find the link on my Facebook page

This's the hazy blurred version of a watercolor tutorial I watched earlier!

Watching too many Greek warrior movies back then? The images were embedded in my subconscious all along !

Sasquatch/ Cthulhu combo

Always that game of catching and evading. I added hands on this one to hint the figures.

Painting done on canvas with Arteza and Master's Touch acrylic paint

sketch of an idea. would you wear them? anyone, watching dan mace?

This was my first time using scratch paper and I love it

Happy people in my life. Precisely just what they look like. They smile big and some wear hats. They hatched from eggs all laid by cats.

She saw something in the darkness... something magnificent and horrific.

✏️ Practicing tone and proportion. Published: May 29, 2019 (2019-05-29) Tools: • 0.3mm Mechanical Pencil • White Colored Pencil • Kneaded Eraser • Toned Tan Paper Official: https://www.apricotjamspodcast.com https://www.instagram.com/_apricotjams https://www.twitch.tv/apricotjams https://www.pinterest.com/apricotjamspodcast https://www.twitter.com/_aprictotjams https://www.behance.com/apricotjams https://www.deviantart.com/apricotjamsofficial Business Inquiries: apricotjamspodcast@gmail.com © 2019 Apricot Jams. All Rights Reserved.

The 3rd planet is sure that they're being watched By an eye in the sky that can't be stopped when you get to the promise land You're gonna shake that eye's hand... ~ modest mouse

Kafka's version of Samsa, turning into an insect, hanging from the ceiling watching down. He did not mention a girl dancing, but this is what I found within the subconscious lines.

Had some fun doing some crosshatching. Wanted to see if it would give the trees more texture instead of just leaving it blank.

A 3 format, mixed technique. "My dissatisfaction with my progress in magic is growing," I said to the wizard Cirilo Bum, "I want to quickly become a wizard and not stagnate in the place." "Every creature, so the wizards, have their own way, and always travel, even if they stand in place," the old wizard answered. Then make a quick gesture by hand, a piece of paper was created in his hand. Give me the paper and say: "This is your way, the way you will have to pass before you feel the pleasure of becoming a wizard. When you get to the green path, you've almost succeeded." This paper, the picture you are watching, was a weak attempt by Cirilo Bum - one in a row - to express his artistic side. - If there is a magic spell or magic process in the picture, it would be good - I mumbled sullenly - what is this drawing at all? - The drawing contains all the answers. You have to start thinking with your head, think a lot, if you want to become a wizard - sighs Chirilo Bum - You are on one of the yellow points. The picture shows two tracks, each you need to cross. Paper, namely drawing, is a world of magic and witchcraft. The world of witchcraft, then, touches on the real, material world. I was studying the picture for a while and all I've concluded is that the green trail is not connected to another path. "There is an error here, it is impossible to reach the green path," I said to the wizard. - The only one who learns and understands the material world in which he lives is advancing in every sense - answer me the wizard Čirilo Bum - if your ground is firmly under your feet, it is easier to climb the path of witchcraft. On the other hand, too long a stay in the world of magic may end up with a fall in the unknown. I nodded because I did not get the answer I needed, so I went to the forest. "Do not forget to clean the house, my boy," Cirilo Bum told me as I left. I was in the mind other things, the formulas I found in the old books of Cyrus Bum. (Speaking of these magical formulas will lead to the appearance of five giants (Mato Bumps, Bruno Biceps, Miro Mass, Karlo Stone, and Alayas Him) in the world of Fantasy.)

Urszyg [oorshig] – a daimon watching over garden cabins, summer houses, dachas, etc. He’s very fond of DIY projects, grilled dishes (although he wouldn’t say: „No“ to a good cat food). Unfortunately, he also likes strong beverages (particularly if they have a cherry flavor). For this reason, not all of his repairs and DIY projects can be considered successful. Generally, however, he is a good soul and I can‘t say anything bad about him.

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

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

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 :)

Hunchback of Notre-Dame watches as his home burns to the ground.

Scratchboard, 5x7”.

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?