The forest nearby is full of baby banksias growing in poor gravelly/sandy soil which they do better in. The little one was growing on the edge of a gravel road.
Many people walk past plants either without noticing them or with just a glance. For the Walmajarri people in the Kimberley region of Western Australia, and many other Indigenous groups, plants provide a source of food and medicine. These outlines are of plants that are used by Walmajarri people as either food or medicine. For most people they remain a mystery, hence the outline only.
The monochromatic weekly challenge inspired me to do an eye study. I've been having a bit of a composition block and thinking about starting to sell at art fairs, so my thoughts are preoccupied. I wanted to keep practicing tho. Lemme know what you think. I used pencils, smudges, and liquify in Rebelle 6. This is not AI nor is any part of this AI.
Yet another senseless lynching that has me here with a broken heart. Like my other paintings on this subject, I wanted to focus on life. Tyre was dynamic and energetic, so I wanted to paint him soring. I also wanted to paint him defiant in the face of his oppressors. He was a skater, and they are no strangers to defiance. Thankfully, I found some excellent references to help me with the composition. Aesthetically, I wanted the comp to be modern, colorful, and hopefully impactful. I went for a pop art, illustration, and false-color vibe and minimized blending and refining layer edges. I painted this in Rebelle 6 and Photoshop. Much respect.
Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power fanart. Theo imagined as the Mouth of Sauron with Mount Doom and the Eye of Sauron in the background. I went for a painterly feel but a decent amount of detail. Lemme know if you like it.
I had a rock tumbler as a child and really enjoyed it. When my youngest was a child we bought her one. She was eager to enjoy it too, but somewhere after starting on that path, we lost track and it everything inside turned into a solid mass. We tossed it and forgot about it. On a recent beach trip, I collected handfuls of rocks, as I am always likely to do, and, upon return, remembered how I loved my childhood rock tumbler. I immediately researched, ordered and eagerly anticipated its delivery. Of course, with Amazon Prime, that was only a couple day’s wait. As soon as I unboxed it I thought “what am I doing?” I have neither time, nor space for yet another hobby. I thought “what will I DO with a pile of polished, pretty rocks?” I would gather them in my hands and feel their silky smoothness. I would likely gather them in some beautiful glass bowl and…then what? I have toddler grand kids frequently at my home. They put small colorful things in their mouths and up their noses and feed them to the dogs regularly. And I don’t even have a single space to display a bog bowl of pretty rocks. So I quickly decided “I’m Returning the Rock Tumbler” and will, for NOW, stick to painting them when the mood strikes.
"Billy gets there last, wiggles up a spot..." from the Graham's Up the Tree book. I grew to love these kids after drawing them so much. They sort of became real to me.
"I don't want to be here. I want to go back." *Her hands pressed against the glass tank. Her eyes searched his eyes, a silent plead. But the prince just smiled, not a charming pleasant one. It was one with dark intent. "You will never leave. This is your home. So enjoy the attention as you get it."
Lords of War - otep
With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph. So help us, God
More wars on foreign shores
More names for us to mourn
To misguide the misinformed
To ignore the sick and poor
Thus, we praise the lords of war
On our knees and beg for more
A fresh poison for the weak
Filthy little beasts
Bred to conform
It's the dwarfed souls of greedy men
Feculent, arrogant
That shackles our young to the cold concrete
And empty their guns into bodies
They scream "I'm not guilty"
They scream "I'm not guilty"
But cowards here are only what they fear
Shoot until the threat stops
I'd rather be in battle than at peace
I'd rather be a wolf than a sheep
I'd rather be in battle than slaughtered like cattle
The weak can sleep while
You were born to be led
That's what religion says
With a bifurcated tongue
America eats its young
Bullet-toothed, empty gods
Paralyze the minds and contest the thoughts
With devils everywhere
Bombs bursting in the air
Drones flown over thrones
Of bone and brimstone
Sabers rattle in the homes
Of the cowards and the crones
As they shackle our young
Blood stains the streets
Pigs empty their guns in their bodies
Bow down to the lords of war
On your knees for the lords of war
Bow down to the lords of war
On your knees for the lords of war
We rise in defiance
We won't remain silent
To triumph over tyrants
And police violence
Shoot until the threat stop
We're not guilty
Help us God
The lords of war
On your knees for the lords of war
Bow down to the lords of war
What is so terrible about a child screaming?
Why should it disturb us?
Just because we happen to be there to hear it?
What about the child who comes from an inadequate home, where he gets no encouragement from his parents
Where he doesn't have enough to wear, he doesn't have enough to eat, he comes to school hungry...
This beautiful, breathtaking #embracingnightmares
A detailed hand-drawn ink and wash illustration featuring two majestic dogs that look like statues perched above a historic gothic cathedral. This piece captures the timeless atmosphere of old European streets, blending architectural precision with the organic soul of a loyal companion cast in stone. Perfect for fans of urban sketching, dark academia, and classical monument art.
A quiet moment before escape.
Time is counted, tools are gathered, and the destination is already marked.
The treasure isn’t taken yet—not because it’s unknown, but because patience is part of the journey.
A sketch recalling an era when smoking indoors after a meal was commonplace—a fleeting pause of stillness before continuing the journey ahead. Done with mechanical pencil on scrap printer paper.
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.
