dark

I bought a set of 3 Bic multi-color ballpoint pens, a total of 10 colors including black, and a new sketchbook. Playing around with what colors and effects are possible, I'm excited to do more stuff with these pens. The colors didn't perfectly reproduce between the photo and JPEG compression. But I love how the upper left section is all done with the one dark blue, green, and red pen.

Fine liner, 8.5" x 11". This one is pretty dark but still amuses me years later.

Sketch of a joke Dark Crystal OC, "SkekKaren". Someone pointed out that ALL of the Skeksis are "Karens" and okay, point taken! Haha. Based her look on Queen Victoria and a Patoo.

Some more Dark Crystal (Age of Resistance) fanart- SkekMal was a new fave! Broke out my alcohol markers and colored pencils.

It's a perfect day to read a book written by your friend. My friends book right now is "Projections" by S. Porter. Her book is so good! It is dark and fascinating and so well researched. I am really enjoying it. https://www.instagram.com/p/C4QrZoSO96u/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Color version of the previously uploaded sketch! Design for an OC Skeksis from the Dark Crystal.

The day slowly gos to a end while seeing the lovely pink sky and the seagull.

Sketch today, cleanup and color tomorrow? Translating Jim Henson's crazy detailed puppets from the Dark Crystal into what I feel would be an appropriate illustrative style for 2D was a lot of fun, and I might fiddle around more with it. Character is an OC Skeksis with the title of Therapist/Psychologist, so the little designs on his jacket are supposed to represent neuron synapses and the back... thing (which you can't see from this angle) would look like a brain.

Drawing made using multiple colored pencils and black fineliners. The inspiration came from spilling ink over a page. This way I imagined something dark covering colors bit by bit.

Suddenly the light goes out and staying in the dark is a test of resistance, but when everything seems lost, it turns on again, so simply: sometimes a single attempt isn't enough, there are many moments to spend without light, but you don't have to be afraid of it, because sooner or later we will succeed in the undertaking and it will make you smile as the thing that seemed so difficult came spontaneously, it was enough not to force the process. I hate the darkness because it shows me a version of myself that I would never want to meet, yet if I accept that the punches of life in some periods are stronger than others, sometimes leaving bruises and burns, but that life itself has granted me caresses like this sweets that I would not have appreciated without going through pain, then everything around me will seem golden. I can only appreciate the hatred and wonder of it. I can feel those caresses, I can savor them with the same intensity with which I feel the pain of the punches, because ultimately they give so much: the strength to take another step, to not give up right now, right now that I am so close to feeling them in my heart those precious caresses.

This is an oil painting of an African American couple. They’re sharing an intimate moment with each other. Some maybe would say that they’re the epitome of “Black Love”. His skin is dark tones as compared to her lighter shade. The two skin tones wrapped together in sheets gives life to what I call “The Happy Couple”.

Here’s a charcoal drawing of a design. Of course, I have a plethora of curvatures that range from narrow to wide in some areas. The curvatures are mirror images when comparing the left from the right. They come together to form the shape of a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Some may even view the drawing as being similar to the pelvic area of a female. A dark blue is highlighted on the drawing to add more charm. Finally, the background is a lattice style with a light smear.

Pencil + Gimp

Luminary Festival - Auren Farkis (Digital Portrait I did as a colour study) Crisp reverberating strings danced through the evening. Notes twisted and echoed up through the emerald, velvet tiers of Ridgedow Gardens. Dusk’s veil had long since darkened to a diamond-encrusted black, and Clarglow was alive with activity. Footpaths were choked with revellers that formed a river of light that coursed and pulsed through the park. Will-o-whisp spots of light also glowed among the neatly trimmed hedgerows and statues. Their magic-addled voices rose up, joining in with the music of the Luminary Festival. A young man, no more than a quarter of a century old, glowed brightest of all. A soft orange radiated from his eyes, and his veins pulsed a brilliant red. He was dripping in gold and gems. Over an outfit that somehow managed to be heavily layered and revealing at the same time, he wore a sheer cape, which was heavily embroidered with blood-red crystals that refracted his own light around him in dazzling, concentrated rays. It was such a dangerous colour of magic, but his expression was soft and dreamy. Excited laughter rose up as a clustered group shot metallic confetti skyward. Gold flake drifted down and settled into his silver hair, cheeks, and shoulders. No doubt he would discover the remnants of this festival in his home weeks from now. He increased his pace, stepping off the cobbled path to overtake the group, when one of their number split from the group. The coils of her dark hair were so saturated with gold that she looked like she belonged on a pedestal next to the other statues. She intercepted him, matching his pace. She snaked a long, slender arm around his waist and pulled him closer. She pressed her lips against his neck, leaving a wake of golden kisses up to his earlobe, where she leaned closer to whisper. — “Aurie, Luv, I know that look. Don’t tell me you’re headed home. The eve has only just begun. “ Her glowing eyes Locked with Auren’s, her grip tightening, slowing the both of them to a stop, causing a temporary blockage in the flow of people. “Overdid myself Mel.. you’ll have to –” –” Come with us to the reflecting pool.” She cooed, meeting his lips in an off-center kiss, smearing his inky wine lipstick. Momentarily, he allowed himself to relax. He considered saying yes. His heart pounding, he dipped his friend backwards gracefully, resenting that he had to leave. An itch in his left arm reminded his fuzzy brain that he was in danger. Gasping softly, he gently lifted Mella upright and spun her out towards her friends, who were growing impatient. He couldn’t make out their faces in the fuzz of the evening. “I can’t, I’m sorry Mel! We’ll talk later.” Before she could protest, he danced, spinning forward in a brilliant display of speed that ended in a stumble as he met a set of steep steps that coiled sharply upwards out of the park and onto the pink brick streets overlooking Ridgedow Gardens. The glazed windows facing the street were empty and blank… their occupants elsewhere, enjoying the festival. The empty buildings were like faces, judging him for his lack of zeal. Auren wound his way through streets and side streets, his pace increasing as he grew more and more alone. Finally, he was climbing a set of steps to his own front door. Smirking at the sight of it he reached down into the front of the bodice that held together the layers of his outfit pulling free a loop of keys that were on a long chain looped around his neck. Aligning it to the keyhole he struggled with the lock, cursing softly under his breath as it initially failed to cooperate with him. In the quiet black of his foyer, he latched the door behind him and stumbled forward, tearing at the ribbon that held the gleaming cape that draped from his bare shoulders. He let it drop on a black lacquered table. He reached up to unclasp an elaborate choker and tore his single, crimson glove down from his elbow. He pressed a gilded fingernail against a band of red ink encroached upon by a spreading corruption. Marginally extending beyond the band were sinews of mismatched muscle and skin; even his hair had begun to glow red. Pulse rising, he wrenched his rings from his fingers, casting them into the ever-darkening room. Precious jewellery piled under him until only the dimmest glow from his own veins remained.. Slumping onto the steps, he tightened his grip on his arm and twisted it ninety degrees. A sharp click of crystal against porcelain met his ears. The room was enveloped in black as his final stone slid away from his arm, rendering the prosthesis inert. He slid to his side, the sounds of the party below overtaken by his own gasping breaths, panic refusing to subside alongside his magic.

Dark-eyed Junco done with water live brushes and a few others in Adobe Fresco.

cry in the dark

#embracingnightmares

Originated from listening to an old radio show by the same name. #embracingnightmares

My little Brother, Timmey, asked me to draw something scary with his red marker/pen thingy. I said okay and in 5 minutes made this monstrosity. While its not that "scary" it certainly is disturbing. Its funny how the same mind that can create such heartful and goofy images can also create at times depressing or unsettling things like this. I guess every artist can draw "Dark" stuff. They just have to try.

Trying oil pastel. A “portrait” of a dark red autumn apple

Gnome sits in the dark and has fireflies keep him company

Tao Te Ching “A great nation is like a great man: When he makes a mistake, he realizes it. Having realized it, he admits it. Having admitted it, he corrects it. He considers those who point out his faults as his most benevolent teachers. He thinks of his enemy as the shadow that he himself casts.” ~~~~~~~ CIM Chapter 10 88 Children perceive terrifying ghosts and monsters and dragons, and they are terrified. Yet if they ask someone they trust for the real meaning of what they perceive and are willing to let their interpretations go in favor of reality, their fear goes with them. When a child is helped to translate his “ghost” into a curtain, his “monster” into a shadow, and his “dragon” into a dream, he is no longer afraid and laughs happily at his own fear. You, my children, are afraid of your brothers and of your Father and of yourselves. But you are merely deceived in them. Chapter 12 35 It is through these strange and shadowy figures that the insane relate to their insane world. For they see only those who remind them of these images, and it is to them that they relate. Thus do they communicate with those who are not there, and it is they who answer them, and no one hears their answer save him who called upon them, and he alone believes they answered him. Projection makes perception, and you cannot see beyond it. Again and again have men attacked each other because they saw in them a shadow figure in their own private world. And thus it is that you must attack yourself first, for what you attack is not in others. Its only reality is in your own mind, and by attacking others, you are literally attacking what is not there. 36 The delusional can be very destructive, for they do not recognize that they have condemned themselves. They do not wish to die, yet they will not let condemnation go. And so they separate into their private worlds, where everything is disordered and where what is within appears to be without. Yet what is within they do not see, for the reality of their brothers they cannot see. 41 Vision depends on light, and you cannot see in darkness. Yet in the darkness in the private world of sleep, you see in dreams, although your eyes are closed. And it is here that what you see you made. But let the darkness go, and all you made you will no longer see, for sight of it depends upon denying vision. Yet from denying vision, it does not follow that you cannot see. But this is what denial does, for by it you accept insanity, believing you can make a private world and rule your own perceptions. Yet for this, light must be excluded. Dreams disappear when light has come and you can see.

One of my Swirly Designs, illustrated with different tools such as Graphite, Aquarelle, Ink Pens and Ai & Tablet. Sometimes sheer Vectorillustration/design. . Urh.-Nr:1811955 . Copyright  by Carolina Matthes

Acrylic on wood

Suppose that 'meaning' is a faint word scribbled on a wall in a dark room. The words that we use are often barriers that separate, then, our 'comprehension' from 'meaning.' Let us suppose then that the light of the intention of a speaker is obscured by a 'word.' The angle and setup of that intention then, along with the angle and setup of the comprehension of the listener, can distort or disguise the true meaning of what the speaker is saying. Of course, the angle and setup of these things can vary greatly, just as easily as the shadows that cover 'meaning' can vary. It would seem best, then, with this in mind, to communicate as transparently as possible and to avoid and/or to detect deceit whenever possible. Dishonesty and misdirection, whether deliberate or otherwise, in the speaker or in the listener, always risk shrouding 'meaning.' When communicating earnestly, distraction can be dangerous. Shrewdness is recommended.