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!
This is an old Formula 3 race car built by Joseph Potts ltd, Lanarkshire, in 1952. They have it in the National Museum of Scotland, where I drew this a couple of weeks ago as a part of Urban Sketchers meetup (as it’s too cold to go outside yet). This is pretty mixed media: pencil, watercolour pencil, white gouache and some acrylic markers. Drawn on spot.
Another beautiful illustration for today! This is someone playing near the shore on a windy day with some waves and rocky style beaches. The weather seems odd to be out and about outside and this woman keeps her balance courageously against the streams of cold, while her hat is covering her face only because of the stormy weather, she still seems to know what she is doing while she seems to be enjoying this! Another little story for today with another scenery!
Lords of War - otep
With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph. So help us, God
More wars on foreign shores
More names for us to mourn
To misguide the misinformed
To ignore the sick and poor
Thus, we praise the lords of war
On our knees and beg for more
A fresh poison for the weak
Filthy little beasts
Bred to conform
It's the dwarfed souls of greedy men
Feculent, arrogant
That shackles our young to the cold concrete
And empty their guns into bodies
They scream "I'm not guilty"
They scream "I'm not guilty"
But cowards here are only what they fear
Shoot until the threat stops
I'd rather be in battle than at peace
I'd rather be a wolf than a sheep
I'd rather be in battle than slaughtered like cattle
The weak can sleep while
You were born to be led
That's what religion says
With a bifurcated tongue
America eats its young
Bullet-toothed, empty gods
Paralyze the minds and contest the thoughts
With devils everywhere
Bombs bursting in the air
Drones flown over thrones
Of bone and brimstone
Sabers rattle in the homes
Of the cowards and the crones
As they shackle our young
Blood stains the streets
Pigs empty their guns in their bodies
Bow down to the lords of war
On your knees for the lords of war
Bow down to the lords of war
On your knees for the lords of war
We rise in defiance
We won't remain silent
To triumph over tyrants
And police violence
Shoot until the threat stop
We're not guilty
Help us God
The lords of war
On your knees for the lords of war
Bow down to the lords of war
What is so terrible about a child screaming?
Why should it disturb us?
Just because we happen to be there to hear it?
What about the child who comes from an inadequate home, where he gets no encouragement from his parents
Where he doesn't have enough to wear, he doesn't have enough to eat, he comes to school hungry...
This beautiful, breathtaking #embracingnightmares
A detailed, hand-drawn illustration of a frothy beer mug featuring the play-on-words "Auto Therapy." Perfect for craft beer enthusiasts, home brewers, and anyone who finds peace in a cold pint.
It got cold very quickly and the fog was there, moving thickly around us, shutting us in on all sides. The smooth swell rolled out of the fog, crawled under the raft with a swallowing movement and rolled back into the fog the other side.
....
Albert picked it up by the neck and looked at it, and it began to screech and flap one wing.
Let it go! I shouted. Everything looked so terrifying with the fog and the black water and the bird creeping around and screaming that I was beside myself and said: give it to me, I'll hold it in my lap, we must make it well again.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
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
Another "Sick Day Scarecrow" I did recently getting over a cold. There's too much comic stuff to get into to explain this, but in summary its a parallel universe Scarecrow I decided to design who is more of a superhero. Kinda.
It was the first time I tried using a Fabriano 200 gsm cold pressed watercolor paper. And I had learned different techniques in watercolors through the process of creating this painting. It was also fun painting the waves. Thank you, Maria Raczynska.
Another vampire I created for my world, a few years ago I created Mademe. But she wasn't created as a vampire originally, but since shes mine I can do what I want. She is sexy, powerful, intelligent and she would kill you in cold blood. She stands alongside Aledric (he is still in development), not as a wife but his ally. She is also known as the mother of the clan.
You know you can always count on me, friend
Like no one else, I've gotten used to the coldness of the stone
So I can be with you often
Silver rain will wash away the tears of the Dread Sky
I will rise with the sun…
I will rise with the sun…
- Valyrym.
Referring to the story "The Dragon In The Dungeon"
Some say I'm hitting the point.
So I strike again.
When the Writer dies, the World creates a seemingly imperceptible void, a void waiting to be filled, greedily begging others for revelation.
For the next One to take its place in this great spiral.
Light.
Narrow tunnel.
Echoes.
Arise.
Rest in Peace
Coyote - Of The Wilds was a talented writer, author of many fantastic stories which he never managed to finish.
He was able to convey true, deep emotion through words, through many unfinished stories. Now, through the ending of the Story.
These stories have contributed a lot to my life in 2020, as I wrote about in “Split Of… Personality”. Like for many others, he inspired me to create. I wrote “Split Of Fate”, deleted it, now I'm bringing it back to life, but I also have other plans - regarding the stories of Of The Wilds… but more on that later…
This was difficult to draw. Difficult without getting eyes wet.
Just a quick doodle…
Well, if I were nearby, I would place an apple on his grave.
