Nobody puts baby in the corner Print by Barrie J Davies 2020 - unframed Silkscreen print on paper (hand finished) edition of 1/1 - A2 size 42cm x 59.4cm
Needing to get out of the house, I walked down the street to the antique shops that are right around the corner from my house and did some urban sketching.
(Black biro on a 139mm x 89mm postcard). Another dreamscape piece that uses automatic drawing techniques to produce random imagery. I was going to call this one "bloodlines" due to the shaded central areas which developed, but the lettering in the bottom-left corner began to take shape and so I highlighted them and used them as the title.
I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root.
And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty.
This is compulsory education, after all.
So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past.
“Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge.
The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence.
Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen—
my scribble’s soft insurgency.
The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn.
Columns and corners chant structure.
Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter—
their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward.
I begin to draw.
Not their tardiness, but their motion.
A shoulder. A blur of sneakers.
A tilted head chasing freedom.
Feet flickering like seconds.
Each mark a pulse.
Each smudge a breath.
My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing—
trembling gently through the mundane.
This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed.
It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation.
It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock.
I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you).
Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic.
Not for polish—
but for presence.
This is how I remember I’m still alive.
Still growing.
Still watching.
Still choosing to see.
Because sometimes mental health looks like
a piece of scrap paper,
a moving pen,
and the simple, sacred act of
marking time with wonder.
A drawing for someone I somehow met from the corner of the internet, his original character Runali. A few years of ups and downs, but there were many struggles due to poor mental health. In the end as things heal, we gradually recognised our differences and decided to take different paths.
So the end is near, well at least this year is near the end... and Christmas is around the corner. Gotta start getting ready, even though this one is gonna be a bit different.
Daily drawing 682
Sower and the Seed
This painting illustrates the parable “The Sower and the Seed,” a teaching of Jesus
recorded in the book of Matthew chapter 13. The four hearts in the sky represent four
different responses of those who hear the Gospel message.
The heart on the lower left represents those who have heard the gospel but reject it.
The devil then comes and takes it away from their hearts. This is illustrated by the
crows flying away with the seed that fell on the road side.
The second heart on the upper left side of the sky represents those who receive the
gospel message with joy, but it doesn’t take root in their faith, and their faith is temporal, falling away when trials or affliction come their way because of the gospel. This
is illustrated by a grape vine withering away in the heat of the day due to a lack of a
deep root system.
The heart in the upper right corner of the sky represents those who received the gospel
and believe, but the worries of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, choke the
word, and it becomes unfruitful. This is illustrated by the grapevine being choked out
by a purple, flower-bearing, climbing, strangling vine called, morning glory.
These vines produce pretty flowers, but they are an organic farmer’s enemy because
they will choke out his crops. I learned this firsthand in organic farming when I was a
missionary for a couple of summers.
The heart in the lower right corner of the sky represents those who hear, believe, and
are committed to living for the gospel, so they produce much fruit. This is illustrated
by a healthy, strong, fruit-bearing grapevine. The tilled field represents the world that
God has prepared to receive the Gospel message. The sower represents all Christians
that are commanded to go into the world and proclaim the gospel message. The seed
being thrown by the sower represents the gospel message going out to the world.
The seed bag has written on it, “The Word Seed Co.”
(October 28, 2017)
The Tool Bench marks my 50th canvas—completed exactly one year to the day after I finished my very first one. This piece is a tribute to work, memory, and the quiet corners where both creativity and responsibility live.
Drawn entirely freehand, it’s built like a snapshot of a lived-in workspace: mismatched tools, worn wood, scribbled reminders, and the little personal things that actually make a place yours. The clipboard holds a “Honey-Do” list that never seems to end. The Polaroid-style sketch of my wife sits taped to the wall like a reminder of why the work matters. The shadows on the back wall match the tools lying on the bench—suggesting a moment in progress, a task paused, life happening between motions.
Catty corner or kitty corner or also cater cornered.
Such a weird expression that today I learned is to be identified with obsolete cater “four”, from Middle French quatre.
Favorite words.
https://www.instagram.com/p/Cq8Dw2QO_Vr/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
Inktober Prompt: RIP (I suspect that it was rip=tear, but since Halloween is just around the corner, Rest In Peace seemed a timely prompt :-) Shaeffer Tuckaway fountain pen, Hero blue black ink
