My final entry for Stage 3 of the doodle addicts challenge! I have loved doing these challenges. They have not only got me drawing things I wouldn't have considered off my own back, but they have brought me out of my comfort zone too. Drawing steam is harder than I thought!!!
What happens when Jimmy is reading Ezekiel in the morning then discovering @themarcuskingband and @billystrings and doodling on the same day? There is no logical reason to throw all this randomness together in one drawing. This stream of consciousness improv drawing can get weird at times. All I can say is if you were in my head 24/7 it would all make perfect sense. I have become comfortably weird.
What's more comforting than a summer day with butterflies flitting and bumblebees tumbling amonst the flowers in the meadow? My husband felt that blue was most comforting for him. Me, I liked the salmon. The mandala is drawn in Spirality...which takes the designated "wedge" and repeats it around the circle. Colored in Photoshop (given there is a 20 min. time given for this challenge---otherwise, I would have colored it by hand).
Samuel Beckett (1906–1989)
On a late-night walk near Dublin harbor, Beckett found himself standing on the end of a pier in the midst of a winter storm. Amid the howling wind and churning water, he suddenly realized that the “dark he had struggled to keep under” in his life—and in his writing, which had until then failed to find an audience or meet his own aspirations—should, in fact, be the source of his creative inspiration.
“I shall always be depressed,” Beckett concluded, “but what comforts me is the realization that I can now accept this dark side as the commanding side of my personality. In accepting it, I will make it work for me.”
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #samuelbeckett @masoncurrey
I drew a cute Easter bunny! My neighbor's bunny inspired me to draw her. I used a different name because the owner didn't feel comfortable having the name on her. She has taught me how to draw a few years ago and now since I am older I wanted to share it with you guys. Thank you!
I see you~
Time-lapse, https://www.instagram.com/p/CCc4tKbnc4w/
Black Eyed Children are fascinating but I hope I never meet one :,) They're thought to be aliens disguised as human kids. Their eyes have no white in them, only black. Similar to vampires, they need permission to come into your home. There's no color I hate working with but it's very difficult for me stick to a limited palette. Working with markers was very much out of my comfort zone! I hope to work with them more.
The meal was my attempt to bring a little comfort into the rugged outdoors. The sketch was my reminder—to hold onto the moment, even when mosquitoes, ashes, and deflating air mattresses had other plans.
Man, I’ve been random lately. I think my mind’s eye sees stuff that normal people don’t. That might make me abnormal. I’m kinda comfortable with that. Guess who’s going to be watching some Clint Eastwood tonight?
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Truman Capote (1924–1984)
He compulsively added numbers in his head, refusing to dial a telephone number or accept a hotel room if the digits made a sum he considered unlucky.
“It’s endless, the things I can’t and won’t,” he said. “But I derive some curious comfort from obeying these primitive concepts.”
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act.”
― Truman Capote
#dailyrituals #inktober #TrumanCapote @masoncurrey
Raise a hand if you've ever been pressured into any kind of physical activity that made you uncomfortable. Raise your hand if you've been raped, touched, pressured into sending pictures, or anything of the sort? A lot of you, ey? Bet you dunno who to tell, or how to tell em'. Or maybe you don't even want to tell them. But you still feel so many strong emotions about it, or maybe you don't feel anything. No matter what the case is, what you are going through/went through is valid. You are valid. I hope this piece finds you well. And if you don't understand this piece that's ok, don't judge it though hon. Ain't nobody got time for ur judgment. OWN YOUR GODDAMN STORY. IT'S YOURS DONT YOU DARE LET SOMEONE ELSE TELL YOU OTHERWISE OK SWEETIE?
Say hi to Darling Knight, business major and murder club member. Other than making Remy Thompson uncomfortable, his favorite passed times include hanging out with his many friends, socializing at clubs, and eating omelets with his favorite informant.
...To step into your shoes and walk out the door, leaving the comfort of your cocoon.
Into the world again, after long to interact with people face to face.
To realise you can’t, turn around and run away.
I think, I have become insane with long intervals of horrible sanity.
Imagine trading your soft bed for a deflating mattress.
Imagine food cooked under ash, a fire that smokes more than it warms.
Imagine waking at dawn with stiff muscles, yet finding yourself strangely alive.
This sketch is not just about tents, cars, and campfires.
It is about the in-between—where inconvenience and beauty wrestle, and something deeper sneaks in.
Camping reminds me: comfort is overrated, but presence is priceless.
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 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.
A far-too-common archetype that i have observed frequently in people as they converse with another is one in which an individual uses two layers of defense to protect an otherwise unexamined confusion or emptiness. This relates to a defense of the ego and does not apply to all situations involving anything discussed.
First posturing:
-A mask (or wall) of mockery is sustained in which the defensive individual behaves flippantly as if in jest. This positioning is a way to be aloof from the situation, using incredulity and belittlement to keep a person or their ideas away from the defensive individual.
Second posturing:
-A mask (or wall) of rage is revealed after a certain level of perceived threat is achieved internally. This positioning is usually the one the defensive individual maintains when they have given up the argument or the introspection. Not risking an ontological or existential crisis, the defensive individual lashes out with anger, often accusatorily in manner, potentially belittling others further or just plain rushing away in a huff. This is usually the end of the engagement.
Third posturing:
-The masks (or walls) both come off, leaving the defensive individual to examine the thoughts or behaviors involved in the situation more critically. The defensive individual may find themselves feeling deeply uncomfortable, sad, uneasy, lost, or confused. This position leads to introspection and to a genuine openness, which is not something that the defensive individual had been prepared for. They may find that they were incorrect, only partially correct, or that the perceived rightness of their idea/behavior now has an expanded context, all of which may seem frightening. Individuals may become mentally paralyzed at this point. It takes a strength and an honesty to reflect in this position, which is not something that everyone expressing this archetype will be capable of doing.
(Based on my professional insights as: a cashier, as a member of various technical support staffs, as an occasional minister, and as a peer counselor. Also based on my casual and repeated interactions with both strangers and with more intimately known persons over the course of my lifetime. Observations are my own.)
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
Sigmund Freud (1856–1939)
“I cannot imagine life without work as really comfortable,” Freud wrote to a friend in 1910. With his wife, Martha, to efficiently manage the household—she laid out Freud’s clothes, chose his handkerchiefs, and even put toothpaste on his toothbrush—the founder of psychoanalysis was able to maintain a single-minded devotion to his work throughout his long career.
Freud’s long workdays were mitigated by two luxuries. First, there were his beloved cigars, which he smoked continually, going through as many as twenty a day from his mid-twenties until near the end of his life, despite several warnings from doctors and the increasingly dire health problems that dogged him throughout his later years. (When his seventeen-year-old nephew once refused a cigarette, Freud told him,
From Daily rituals by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #sigmundFreud @masoncurrey
