My drawings creating with a fine liner, pencil or color pencils and brush pen.
Sometimes they are also different collages.
They are a figment of my imagination
I’ve been busy working on a children’s book with my characters from @amousenamedpeter. It’s a tribute to my father, who passed last year, about the night many moons ago when he built a swing set for me. Here’s page 1
20. Ghost traitors.
Prompts are from @JanelleCShane generated using the OpenAI net GPT-3.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CVViLYFrwMw/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
Second attempt at uploading my fantastimazing aunt, first attempt I added it without the shading layer, whoops, anyway, fantastimazing is not a word I just like it so here we are!
I dedicate this one to : Pacita Abad . The Google sketch featured artist of 7/31/2020 . Gods honor you, let the stars ring your name on this day in history in our vast universe.
Listening to :
Grimes – 4ÆM
(basically on repeat )
World gone to hell
Sons duaghters leaving their families homes, dying of a new and namles plague. Where are the gods? And what has become of my hero? I am king, but no more subjects are under my command.
A kingdom falls. A new age dawns, the illest omens herald its bitter arrival .
God preserve us.
We have forasken god, they do not forasake us.
This is why we must be stricken with sickness. . . .. … …
Weep for me.
Weep for all our brothers and sisters.
And now every uncreative poet and halfwit bard seeks to make drama of our troubles.
We are their muse, their grand epic to tell the children.
Fear the virus, dont look away, disturb the dead, praise us for our lies to you. They lead the masses to slay each out of fear.
Cry.
Yes, cry
Cry for your fallen.
They will not be returning for you soon.
But you are still alive, and for that you shall become stronger.
Onward
We cannot always bury the dead. Today , time is against us. We move foward, we carry the sorrow, but the ultimate goal is to defeat sorrow. Whatever form this darkess takes, we face it. Unafraid. And unrelenting.
Forge on into the night. Not gently and quiet shall be our passing.
For, if i am to end, and you likewise, we plant our flag atop the highest hill.
We scream our battle cry and let none forget our actions
.
The very mountains will shake, and echo our last breath.
This is my promise.
If i shall die, i die as i am now
A man. I have decided.
So, i die
…..
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCKXBKF6a2BWVDy_SgMvk8GQ?view_as=subscriber
dear little universe ///
even just a tiny bit / and you / open up. /
peer out into the nightless
sky /
feel the stars, that /
“you, dear little universe” /
are always coursing /
through
your
veins.
— Neon Spencer
