Even if it is (in my case at the least) just doodling away to the point of allsorts in the hopes it’ll make at least one person a) happy b) perked or c) amused, do good and be good in wake of the current shitstorms in the making.
More for another day...
This shambling creature haunts the fetid marshlands and is a protector of the birds and beasts who reside there. He's ancient, the last of his kind and a gentle soul who would much rather hide under the sticky mud than come face to face with a stranger.
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Drew this for a professor that mentored me on my first research paper! You can also find me on facebook www.facebook.com/sonialaiart for WIP and updates!
The challenging thing with just using pen is that I can't paint over a mistake. I usually redo a face more than once. I didn't mean to make their face so stoic, it makes them look like a statue.
Really enjoying experimenting with soft pastels. This piece was the first time I used Pastelmat. It's an amazing surface to use with pastels as it takes loads of pastel, the colour stays vibrant, and there's minimal dust
It's definitely been a bit since I've posted, sorry about that, things have gotten very chaotic very quickly. I'm officially less than a month out from graduation (the finish line is almost here!), which also means it's time for my teachers to cram in projects. Other than that, I'm happy to say I received two official art commissions! I'm hoping to get something set up to hopefully begin selling some pieces, but, for now, I'll have some pieces in a gallery soon. Things, things, things, and Tony's face. Part of a larger project, hopefully to be completed soon.
Old drawing that I had contributed to a charity art book for Japanese tsunami relief efforts. Feel free to follow my facebook for additional updates! http://www.facebook.com/sonialaiart
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?
Part of a series of black and white drawings on birch plywood. I took some liberties with horns and the look of the face. Don't consider this a realistic bison.