King of the rot
King of decay
Worlds will end, upon his say
King of the rot
King of decay
Is all you bring, just misery?
Upon my cries i heard him say
“Yes its true, I’m father to dismay”
“Loathe me, hate my ways”
“But look beyond the death”
“You find in my wake”
“I may swallow life”
“I may bring pain”
“But how beautiful is the rose that blooms on the grave?”
“How soft to the touch is the grass, after the rain?”
“I am the king of rot”
“I am the king of decay”
“But i also bring new life to the day” #embracingnightmares
In this sketch, I drew myself during the time I lived in Kyiv for a couple of months.
It was one of those clear, sunny days when you really want to go outside - but all my friends were busy, and I was too tired of wandering around alone.
So I just sat on the carpet, staring out at the balcony, watching the blue sky, the clouds... and the occasional freshwater seagull flying by
René Descartes (1596–1650)
Descartes was a late riser. The French philosopher liked to sleep until mid-morning, then linger in bed, thinking and writing, until 11:00 or so.
His comfortable bachelor’s life ended abruptly in late 1649, Descartes accepted a position in the court of Queen Christina of Sweden.
Descartes accepted a position in the court of Queen Christina of Sweden,Arriving in Sweden, in time for one of the coldest winters in memory, Descartes was notified that his lessons to Queen Christina would take place in the mornings—beginning at 5:00 A.M. He had no choice but to obey. But the early hours and bitter cold were too much for him. After only a month on the new schedule, Descartes fell ill, apparently of pneumonia; ten days later he was dead.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.
(English: "I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am")”
― Rene Descartes
#dailyrituals #inktober #reneDescartes @masoncurrey #wouldratherdiethangetupearly
in my idle time over Christmas holidays, i was inspired to make something unlike any of my other art. so i raided my recycle bin and made this fun little thing that sits between my window and the blinds.
It shines! Doodle inspired from Pinterest, from The Calm Creator. Drawing done in Sakura Pen-Touch Black and Silver C paint marker + Uni Pin Fineliner 0.2 black pen. I'll continue looking for inspiration!
Draped in delicate pencil strokes, this artwork elegantly portrays a historic city gate, standing as a timeless sentry to myriad untold stories. Each shaded contour brings forth the intricate details of the gate's architecture, echoing the urban landscape of a bygone era. The deft use of monochrome evokes a nostalgic journey through the annals of time, where every shadow and highlight adds to the depth and texture of this piece. This mesmerizing blend of artistry and history invites viewers to step into the past and embrace the serene splendor of the city's storied gateway.
Jean-Paul Sartre (1905–1980)
By the 1950s, too much work on too little sleep—with too much wine and cigarettes—had left Sartre exhausted and on the verge of collapse. Rather than slow down, however, he turned to Corydrane, a mix of amphetamine and aspirin then fashionable among Parisian students, intellectuals, and artists (and legal in France until 1971, when it was declared toxic and taken off the market). The prescribed dose was one or two tablets in the morning and at noon. Sartre took twenty a day, beginning with his morning coffee and slowly chewing one pill after another as he worked. For each tablet, he could produce a page or two of his second major philosophical work, The Critique of Dialectical Reason.
The biographer Annie Cohen-Solal reports, “His diet over a period of twenty-four hours included two packs of cigarettes and several pipes stuffed with black tobacco, more than a quart of alcohol—wine, beer, vodka, whisky, and so on—two hundred milligrams of amphetamines, fifteen grams of aspirin, several grams of barbiturates, plus coffee, tea, rich meals.”
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #jeanPaulSartre @masoncurrey
Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971)
“I get up at about eight, do physical exercises, then work without a break from nine till one,” Stravinsky told an interviewer in 1924. Generally, three hours of composition were the most he could manage in a day, although he would do less demanding tasks—writing letters, copying scores, practicing the piano—in the afternoon.
Unless he was touring, Stravinsky worked on his compositions daily, with or without inspiration, he said. He required solitude for the task, and always closed the windows of his studio before he began: “I have never been able to compose unless sure that no one could hear me.” If he felt blocked, the composer might execute a brief headstand, which, he said, “rests the head and clears the brain.”
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
