On that afternoon I'm singing for the last time. I couldn't stand living in this world again Just the expression of my feeling on that day. If you like my art you can buy this art print or other on my shop : https://www.redbubble.com/i/art-print/The-last-song-by-misahiraysa/118153540.DJUF3
I'm doing a series of illustrations (one a week) combining my love of designer chairs and cats. This weeks chair is the famous Panton. The cat is called Anton ::)
had to paint light through trees in watercolor. The pattern on the chair was a pain in the butt, but I think it came out ok. Winsor & Newton professional watercolors on Blick premier cold press 140lb watercolor block. This is the first time I've used Blick Watercolor paper. It held up well, but the painting came out kind of light (not sure if the paper had anything to do with that, though). At any rate, I bought a bunch of it, so I guess that's what I'm using!
P. G. Wodehouse (1881–1975)
Once, when he was beginning a Wooster-Jeeves novel, he experimented with using a Dictaphone. After he had dictated the equivalent of a page, he played it back to check it over. What he heard sounded so terribly unfunny that he immediately turned off the machine and went back to his pad and pencil.
After this, according to the biographer Robert McCrum, “he might snooze a bit in his armchair, have a bath, and do some more work, before the evening cocktail (sherry for her, a lethal martini for him) at six, which they took in the sun parlour, overlooking the garden.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.”
― P.G. Wodehouse
#dailyrituals #inktober #PGWodehouse @masoncurrey
Two wicker chairs in the sun.
One for the waiting,
one for the hoped-for.
The table between them
holds its silence,
its place set for bread or talk.
I draw what is here—
lines quick and unerasable—
and what is not here,
her presence,
waits with me in the white of the page.
Day 2 of Inktober (I'm hoping to do this every day this year). A quick sketch in a clearer mindset than last night. Not sure why I named him Larry, but it seemed fitting. Here's to the fact that solving a physics problem on the first try legitimately made me jump out of my chair in excitement.
To draw is to notice.
To notice is to pause.
And sometimes, all it takes is a barefoot boy in a camping chair, chasing the drips of a popsicle, to remind us what it means to be here.
This is Popsiclence—a sacred kind of focus.
It’s where observational drawing leads us: out of the swirl, into the now.
And in that now, we heal.
A person in a relaxed posture sits in a bean bag chair, grasping a drink while surrounded by the phrase "It's an only exist kind of day." The color palette is cozy, with muted greens and reds creating an atmosphere of calm contentment.
Sometimes wisdom comes in a joke,
and sometimes laughter carries truth.
Brian spoke like a sage,
Mike answered like a friend,
and together they held the room.
We draw to remember.
Not only the lines of faces,
but the presence of goodness,
the gift of voices that echo
long after the chairs are empty.
