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Posted the sketch of this earlier, but I thought the ink looked nicer, so here you are! I love dragonflies. Deadly hunters, slaughtering their prey without mercy, yet beguiling enough to somehow convince humans they are harmless as butterflies. They have their own sort of deadly, sleek beauty.

Not the neatest, but hey, it's a sketch. What's she sitting on, you may ask? I've no clue. Use your imagination

Louis Armstrong (1901–1971) Armstrong relied on music to lull himself to sleep. Before he could get into bed, however, he had to administer the last of his daily home remedies, Swiss Kriss, a potent herbal laxative invented by the nutritionist Gayelord Hauser in 1922 (and still on the market today). Armstrong believed so strongly in its curative powers that he recommended it to all his friends, and even had a card printed up with a photo of himself sitting on the toilet, above the caption “Leave It All Behind Ya.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “All music is folk music. I ain't never heard a horse sing a song.” ― Louis Armstrong #dailyrituals #inktober #LouisArmstrong @masoncurrey

Joseph Cornell (1903–1972) Cornell worked nights at the kitchen table, sorting and assembling materials for his boxes. It was not easy going. Some nights he felt too fatigued from his day job to concentrate on his art and would sit up reading instead, switching on the oven for warmth. In the mornings, his quarrelsome mother would scold him about the mess he’d left at the kitchen table; without a proper workroom, Cornell was forced to store his growing collection of magazine clippings and dime-store baubles out in the garage. In 1940 Cornell finally mustered the courage to quit his job and pursue his art full-time—and even then his habits changed little. He still worked nights at the kitchen table, while his mother and brother slept upstairs. In the late morning he would head downtown for breakfast at his local Bickford’s restaurant, often satisfying his sweet tooth with a Danish or a slice of pie (and lovingly cataloging these indulgences in his diary). - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #JosephCornell @masoncurrey

There's so much history to choose from. I feel that if we can add wizards to the middle ages, they should be everywhere else too. Also, all wizards in the seventeenth century wear scarves. It's a rule.

They prefer chilling at home over going out. Dalena's still new to drink and hasn't left the floor since

Dmitry Shostakovich (1906–1975) Shostakovich’s contemporaries do not recall seeing him working, at least not in the traditional sense. The Russian composer was able to conceptualize a new work entirely in his head, and then write it down with extreme rapidity—if uninterrupted, he could average twenty or thirty pages of score a day, making virtually no corrections as he went. But this feat was apparently preceded by hours or days of mental composition—during which he “appeared to be a man of great inner tensions,” the musicologist Alexei Ikonnikov observed, “with his continually moving, ‘speaking’ hands, which were never at rest.” Shostakovich himself was afraid that perhaps he worked too fast. “I worry about the lightning speed with which I compose,” he confessed in a letter to a friend. Undoubtedly this is bad. One shouldn’t compose as quickly as I do. Composition is a serious process, and in the words of a ballerina friend of mine, “You can’t keep going at a gallop.” I compose with diabolical speed and can’t stop myself.… It is exhausting, rather unpleasant, and at the end of the day you lack any confidence in the result. But I can’t rid myself of the bad habit. - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #shostakovich @masoncurrey

"Like maggots in a dog's carcass, they fill me, my children..." A cosmic being known as "The Sleeper", "The Ugly", but most often he is proudly called "The Father". "Like maggots in a dog's carcass, they fill me, my children..." A cosmic being known as "The Sleeper", "The Ugly", but most often he is proudly called "The Father". I SWEAR I made him before I knew about Barbatos. Anyway, The Father sleeps deep beneath Gotham and unwittingly poisons the city and its population with his toxic aura. He is known to his cult as the God of Madness and Chaos. He simply cannot control his influence on those around, which makes him a villain of a tragic fate. I figured his existence would be a good enough explanation for why Gotham is such a rotten piece of society, with very creative supervillains who loves to be so extra and why they not executed horribly for everything they've done. The cult of his worshippers is quite old and includes a huge number of people trying to keep him asleep, because if he wakes up and gets out of his prison, it will be the end of the city, and maybe not only the city... I should point out: he's not actually a god, he's an alien, and he's not the embodiment of "chaos and madness" - he's a cosmic horror, most likely mentally ill and therefore his aura is toxic. He didn't create the villains or Batman, but his aura affected the environment in which they were created.

Been developing in a way to free myself from external reference-based OC concepts, which was where I started from in drawing. In a way, exploring how I view characters from my own eyes. Here, is an example of drawing myself in two contrasting counterparts. Personal preferences are actually pretty simplistic by appearance.

Erik Satie (1866–1925) In 1898, Satie moved from Paris’s Montmartre district to the working-class suburb of Arcueil, where he would live for the rest of his life. Most mornings, however, the composer returned to the city on foot, walking a distance of about six miles to his former neighborhood, stopping at his favorite cafés along the way. According to one observer, Satie “walked slowly, taking small steps, his umbrella held tight under his arm. When talking he would stop, bend one knee a little, adjust his pince-nez and place his fist on his hip. Then he would take off once more, with small deliberate steps.” His dress was also distinctive: the same year that he moved to Arcueil, Satie received a small inheritance, which he used to purchase a dozen identical chestnut-colored velvet suits, with the same number of matching bowler hats. Locals who saw him pass by each day soon began calling him the Velvet Gentleman. The last train back to Arcueil left at 1:00 A.M., but Satie frequently missed it. Then he would walk the several miles home, sometimes not arriving until the sun was about to rise. Nevertheless, as soon as the next morning dawned, he would set off to Paris once more. The scholar Roger Shattuck once proposed that Satie’s unique sense of musical beat, and his appreciation of “the possibility of variation within repetition,” could be traced to this “endless walking back and forth across the same landscape day after day.” Indeed, Satie was observed stopping to jot down ideas during his walks, pausing under a streetlamp if it was dark. During the war the streetlamps were often extinguished, and rumor had it that Satie’s productivity dropped as a result. - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey

Teddy Bear's Change of Seasons - Sophie's Christmas included! Is beautifully written and illustrated, Teddy Bear’s Change of Seasons includes four charming stories, wonderfully rolled into one children’s novel.  Teddy Bear and his friends create magical ways to explore and learn about the snow-white, wonderful world they live in, which changes from summer to autumn and into an unforgettable Christmas.  Teddy’s journey of self-discovery through four seasons, Christmas included, begins in a magnificent old-growth forest, but Teddy is stuck inside a dark and lonely place. His dreams look far away and out of reach, until Teddy rescues a small mouse, who is desperate for help. From this one act of kindness, Teddy's life changes in ways he never imagined, bringing him close friends, a new loving family and the kind of challenges and adventures other teddies have never encountered before.  This is a dream of a book, the perfect snuggle-down bedtime story, accompanied by hot, sleepy cocoa.

I just finished the Calandra Lark. Here are some facts about this beautiful bird... Appearance: It's a large lark, about 17.5-20 cm long, with a robust build, a heavy bill, and noticeable pale eyebrows . Its plumage is mainly greyish-brown streaked above and white below, with large black patches on the breast sides. Habitat: This species is found in open plains, steppes, pastures, and dry cereal cultivations. It's mainly resident in the west of its range but Russian populations migrate further south in winter. Diet: Their main food source is seeds, but they also consume insects when nesting. Behaviour: Calandra Larks are known to be gregarious outside the breeding season, often forming large flocks. Song: Their song is considered musical and slower than the Skylark's. It has been historically popular as a cagebird.

Drawn and colored by me, inspiration from a pause oc challenge on YouTube. Zayn is an escaped lab experiment with water elemental abilities. The cat on his shoulder is Raya, a stray that frequented the lab that he befriended. Zayn is a human with animalistic features and four eyes, marking him as unnatural. He is an original character, not based off of anything.

All my drawings are random ideas from my head. I actually just started drawing in pencil about a year ago. I love to normally use felt tip pens. I just hope all like what they see. We're all artists here so everyone should know that we are our own worst critics lol.

Joyce Carol Oates (b. 1938) The first several weeks of a new novel, Oates has said, are particularly difficult and demoralizing: “Getting the first draft finished is like pushing a peanut with your nose across a very dirty floor.” From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #JoyceCarolOates @masoncurrey

i wanted to attemp to and try my roots at realism turns out i have a lot of practice to do to find my artstyle

Joan Miró (1893-1983) Miró always maintained a rigidly inflexible daily routine—both because he disliked being distracted from his work, and because he feared slipping back into the severe depression that had afflicted him as a young man, before he discovered painting. To help prevent a relapse, his routine always included vigorous exercise—boxing in Paris; jumping rope and Swedish gymnastics at a Barcelona gym; and running on the beach and swimming at Mont-roig, a seaside village where his family owned a farmhouse. Miró hated for this routine to be interrupted by social or cultural events. As he told an American journalist, “Merde! I absolutely detest all openings and parties! They’re commercial, political, and everybody talks too much. They get on my tits!” From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey

Initiate of the Order of the Saints of the Scrapyard. All members of the order are entitled to the scrap of the mechs they fell (with the pieces they decline to use or take with them being tithed). To join the ranks proper, an initiate must fell an enemy pilot and bring their mech to heel (often by detonating the cockpit and going from there)). Initiates are given little more than a fusion engine (that may double as a shaped charge (or a death sentence depending on their luck)), a kinetic energy recycler (and shield for it to power), a small pile of scraps to build the rest of their sled, and a book of prayers for the scrapyard saints. Most will not graduate their initiation, ending their short stint as little more than ash on the breeze.

Cute couple. Shame they are too relevant to her story

(Gel Fineliner on A5 Paper) A simple image to show that sacred cows, of all kinds, should not be immune in the eyes of any artist.

I've been going through my sketches, both completed and incomplete, and found a drawing of a young Sumatran Tiger that I began working on around two years ago, but never completed. I'm actually relieved that I didn't draw it earlier, as it has allowed me to gain more experience in illustrating this stunning creature, which is unfortunately a species at risk of extinction. A few facts about the Sumatran Tigers... The Sumatran tiger Panthera tigris sumatrae*, the smallest tiger subspecies, is critically endangered and stands as the final surviving species of island tigers. Poaching poses a significant danger to Sumatran tigers as hunters target them for their skin, bones, and canines. Additionally, habitat loss caused by oil palm, coffee, and acacia plantations, further endangers these big cats by reducing their prey availability and pushing them closer to human habitations. It is estimated that there are fewer than 400 mature individual tigers in Sumatra in isolated pockets of protected land. Three of the protected areas are classified as UNESCO World Heritage Sites but all are in danger of losing this status due to threats from poaching, illegal logging, agricultural encroachment, and planned road building. It is for these reasons the Sumatran tiger is classified in the most severe IUCN status: Critically endangered. Description: The Sumatran tiger is the smallest and darkest tiger subspecies and tends to be more bearded and maned than the other subspecies. Male tigers can expect to reach somewhere in the region of 120kg and 8ft from head to tail vs females who average 91kg and 7ft length. Breeding: Female tigers are sexually mature at about 3 or 4 years of age, and males at about 4 to 5 years. Mating may occur any time during the year, but it most frequently takes place from November to April. The information was obtained from conservewildcats.org. Thank you. #indonesia #criticallyendangered #sumatrantiger #amateurartist #tigerdrawing #tigersketch #tigercub #sketchadayapp #october2024

Anthony Trollope (1815–1882) "All those I think who have lived as literary men,—working daily as literary labourers,—will agree with me that three hours a day will produce as much as a man ought to write. ... "I always began my task by reading the work of the day before, an operation which would take me half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing with my ear the sound of the words and phrases.… This division of time allowed me to produce over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, and if kept up through ten months, would have given as its results three novels of three volumes each in the year..." From Daily rituals by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #anthonyTrollope @masoncurrey

"You flee my dream come the morning Your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep"

(Gel Fineliner on A5 Paper) The fifth, and last, of these small CBA images, and even an artist can find better things to do when they get bored of doing artwork, but don't worry, they always return to it.

(Gel Fineliner on A5 Paper) An artist isn't being stroppy when they don't want to do any work. It's literally because they "can't be arsed!"

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1864-1901) Toulouse-Lautrec drank constantly and slept little. After a long night of drawing and binge-drinking, he would often wake early to print lithographs, then head to a café for lunch and several glasses of wine. Returning to his studio, he would take a nap to sleep off the wine, then paint until the late afternoon, when it was time for aperitifs. (One of his inventions was the Maiden Blush, a combination of absinthe, mandarin, bitters, red wine, and champagne. He wanted the sensation, he said, of “a peacock’s tail in the mouth.”) From Daily rituals by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #henriToulouseLautrec @masoncurrey

Journey presents a surrealist setting where a man is rowing his boat through a wondrous landscape, surrounded by buildings and stones with strange symbols and runes. A bright heavenly light illuminates the traveller's origin while a stark contrast is made with the vibrant blue light, from behind the walls, of this mysterious sunken building. This artwork is for sale on inkywinky.com.au

(Gel Fineliner on A5 Paper) The central image is small because it is that small (about 4cm). It's the first of five which represents that point every artist gets to where they say to themselves: "I really CAN'T BE ARSED doing this!" and casually knock out anything. I thought it was apt for the "encouraging" nature of Inktober ;P