Finished this up. Not particularly a fan of Barcelona, but greatness is where it is. It’s funny, no matter how dark I make shadows and shading, I always feel I could have gone darker.
Oils on canvass. This is Charlie. He's the parrot owned by the supermarket where my husband used to work. The owner of the shop brought him in to keep him from getting bored and pulling his feathers out. He has a large cage at the entrance which he often escapes from, and can be found hopping from trolley to trolley on the handles, to amuse himself. He's usually found by a staff member who brings him back. A real character lol
I drew this for my sons bedroom wall, it’s inspired by the Beatles yellow submarine and includes an all seeing eye in keeping with the surreal nature of the 70s animation.
I've been experimenting doodling on fabric with Sharpies an turning that fabric into pencil cases...I'm getting a good response from people so I think I'll get good quality fabric pens and create some unique items with doodles....
An article/rant/annotation to an illustration. A #Hackney bar and its flies.
This picture is not as sad and blue as it might at first seem, I promise.
It is early in the week and the pub becomes the territory of the most outspoken drinkers. Raised somewhere between Churchill and Harold MacMillan, a night such as this is time for them to spin out a yarn of nostalgic fantasy. Encouraged by the lack of a crowd and with space to fill, statements start to fly.
In the opening rounds the barman athletically hits back with factual blocks and reality-check haymakers; statistics and personal experiences are given. Two histories cross examined, one where 1982 means Thatcher and the Falklands, the other renders Reagan and the AIDS crisis. Stoicism and national pride vs mental health and realism.
In the latter rounds the barman is fatigued, swaying on the backbar, glasses begin to stack up as form begins to drop. The older men seem stronger than ever.
The barflies come in close now, they scrutinise his generations work ethic and make wild political comments on poverty, immigrants and the minimum wage.
The barman is close to sheer bloody despair, he maintains his defence and focuses on breathing while maintaining his professional stance.
But at the end of the night the barman knows HE will ring that bell, they will politely leave and they will return again in a week and maybe, just maybe there will be a change, common ground or maybe at least polite silence.
But what these interactions have given despite the salt in the eye is community and an exchange between generations, culture and class of those participating. No home is ever straight forward, no relative without their good and bad traits and in a world where we often slide into echo chambers online or in our physical environments, the pub is still a place where society is family, face to face, pint to pint. Or maybe it's just a room with alcohol on tap?
Lufgt Huron, also known as Huron Blackheart and the "Tyrant of Badab," was once the Chapter Master of the Astral Claws and self-claimed Imperial Governor of the world of Badab Primaris in the Maelstrom Zone of the Ultima Segmentum. But ultimately, Huron was corrupted in his ambitious pursuit of power and he tainted most of his Chapter as well, leading them into an open rebellion against the Imperium of Man, known as the Badab War, which lasted from 901-912.M41. Bound to machines which keep him alive and forever in pain, Huron is now a scarred creature of hate. His machine claw clicking, he has strode to battle time and again, followed by the daemonic Hamadrya, and each time the agony of his existence grows and the spite within him deepens.
