*PS photo 1 finished is is better is better then photo 2 is inked ver.*
*ps my og inked sketch is lost media so i used finished to photo edit on Google photos an inked since my cam roll rsndomly deleted it...
All men have parties and are pals who never let each other down. A pal can say terrible things which are forgotten the next day. A pal never forgives, he just forgets and a woman forgives but never forgets. That's how it is. That's why women aren't allowed to have parties. Being forgiven is very unpleasant.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
In the end I began to feel weak at the knees and then I knew that soon it would be too late, in a few seconds it would be too late, so I let it fall into the gutter and began rolling very quickly and without looking up. I kept my nose just above the top of the stone so that the room I had hidden us in would be as tiny as possible and I heard very clearly how all the cars stopped and were angry but I drew a line between them and me and just went on rolling and rolling.
You can close your mind to things if something is important enough. It works very well. You make yourself very small, shut your eyes tight and say a big word over and over again until you're safe.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
Grandfather was a clergyman and used to preach to the King. Once, before his children and his children's children and his children's children's children covered the face of the earth, Grandfather came to a long field which was surrounded by forests and hills so that it looked like Paradise. At one end it opened out into a bay for his descendants to bathe in.
Then Grandfather thought, here will I dwell and multiply, for verily this is the Land of Canaan.
Then Grandfather and Grandmother built a big two-storey house with a sloping roof and lots of rooms and steps and terraces and a huge veranda and placed plain wooden furniture everywhere inside and outside the house and when it was ready Grandfather began to plant things until the field became a Garden of Eden where he walked around in his big black beard. All he had to do was to point at a plant and it was blessed and grew until it groaned under its own weight.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
From the chaotic artist mind pours the energy needed to grow your future. A little seed takes growth in your life and stretches across everything manifesting ideas into tangible results.
(2B pencil on 180mm x 136mm paper) "They're not flag-waving wannabes, or finger-pointing-blamemongers. They're true British Heroes! They were born with spines of steel, have spunk by the bucketload, and their upper-lips aren't just stiff, they're rock-solid! They're the type who'll kick those mad-dogs aside and proudly march, bare-arsed, into the midday sun!"
Final assemblage - manual drawing enriched with digital elements, A5 format
The punch line:
An external, independent force ruined the morning by shattering the cup.
Fate took its share.
The question is:
Does this same external interference have the power to destroy the rest of the day?
Does one rotten fruit have the chance to rob all the others of their flavor? The sun will shine no matter the situation.
Choice and acceptance don't have to be mutually exclusive!
In “I Love Lamp,” Ty Patmore blends nostalgia, humor, and subtle unease into a surreal domestic scene where time, space, and memory feel slightly off-center. A lava lamp—softly glowing with drifting shapes—sits on a worn wooden table, acting as the sole beacon of warmth inside a room that is quietly falling apart. The wallpaper peels back to reveal fractured brick beneath, as if the structure itself is shedding its old skin.
A melting wall clock drips down the surface like time losing its grip, while a framed picture of a UFO drifting over pine trees hints that even the outside world may not be quite right. Every object bends reality just enough to make the viewer question whether this room is comforting… or unsettling.
A woman holds a megaphone directly to her face and out of the megaphone burst an explosion of flowers to comunícate the message "be your biggest fan" in a playful, self love, confidence boost, way.
(2B pencil on 140mm x 130mm paper) "They're not flag-waving wannabes, or finger-pointing-blamemongers. They're true British Heroes! They were born with spines of steel, have spunk by the bucketload, and their upper-lips aren't just stiff, they're rock-solid! They're the type who'll kick those mad-dogs aside and proudly march, bare-arsed, into the midday sun!"
Her name is Wendy, and I don’t know how I got the idea for her...I just wanted to draw really fluffy hair and she came out of it. Lol...It's also been forever since I've on here...I've been busy with work, but I'm finding that drawing again is really helping me wind down. So I'll probably be posting more again.
Hey Boos! This was a little doodle my bestie @CutePanda asked me to draw! This is my oc Peekaboo, in a beanbag chair (that are her two fave colors, pastel blue and pink) and she's playing animal crossing because yes! (PS her favorite villager is a deer named erik)
Edit: Man I just realized how much this drawing sucks.
Who hasn't, at least once in their lifetime, fly towards something that seemed reachable?
“With the background, being unity, contrast. Like Venus in the morning”
~Golgaaryol, 2025
KO-FI https://ko-fi.com/tinebress
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.
This figure explores how the relentless pursuit of monetary gain and digital distraction stifles genuine attention and moral listening.
* Visual Focus: The mask is equipped with a headphone covering a single ear. The headphone wire is visibly broken, frayed, and cut short, suggesting a deliberate disconnect or a failed attempt at communication. A small coin dangles conspicuously from the corner of the figure's mouth.
* Symbolism:
* The Headphones: Represent modern distraction and the ability to selectively "tune out" inconvenient truths or moral calls. The broken, frayed wire reinforces the idea of a failed connection to the real world.
* The Coin in the Mouth: Serves as a powerful, visceral metaphor for being "consumed by monetary means." It connects the act of speaking/listening to the theme of greed, suggesting that the voice and ear are functionally "plugged" or corrupted by the all-consuming focus on wealth. The refusal to hear moral guidance is dictated by the pursuit of money.
Up on a hill, deep in Deadwood
Lies an old shack, that fosters no good
Inside this shack floats a very old being
To seek it out, is to regret such a meeting
A blue floating skull, who brings sweet promises of doom
Sits all alone in a dark four corner room
Why is the reason, this being is there
Why does it beckon one to come near
Its lonely and bored
So it calls out to you
The skull was once mighty and powerful too
Causing great pain on subjects like you
The beast of an age
Caught by a mage
imprisoned in here
no longer to torment the world and spread fear
But just being caught wasn’t enough
It stifled its power but its will, was left uncorrupt
The skull, now a seeker of dreams
Destroyer of love, life, and of schemes #embracingnightmares
"Industrial Timeout" presents a meticulously rendered scene of solitude and tension within a utilitarian setting. The composition is split between a vast, empty white space and a tightly constrained, detailed industrial corner. In the foreground, a single, unassuming cardboard box sits on a pallet. It is labeled "FRAGILE" and "M.P.C." (possibly a reference to 'Minimum Package Content' or a similar industrial acronym), suggesting a precious, yet standardized, cargo awaiting movement.
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