Graphite drawing in a Moleskine notebook - illustration for Grimm's fairy tale. I'm posting both the raw graphite version and the one I painted in Photoshop b/c I never know which I end up liking better!
A depiction of Winston's neutralization. Winston was such an innocent, kind, funny character. He didn't deserve any of that trash that MM gave him. I see why she gave it to him, though, I suppose. I just think Nightmare, that jerk, should've gotten it instead lol
I wanted to draw a crowned animal with a crest on top of its head. Originally , this was colored with colored pencils but I didn't like how it looked so I tried to save it by painting over it with acrylic paint.
Marker, and colored pencil on paper. My partner bought me some fancy markers that have been really fun to play with. I'm thinking about making this image into a greeting card.
Another inktober2020 drawing combining 6 rodent 7 fancy and 8 teeth. Lumin, A blue blooded vampire of mine, apparently does not enjoy his furry visitor arriving without a proper invitation. I tried experimenting with a low single point perspective for this piece and I think It turned well, except for maybe the thumb I forgot was a thumb midway through drawing.
Alright , people, who here remembers a brilliant show by the name of Samurai Jack ? Just me ? C'mon now ! Don't be afraid ! Say it loud and proud ! Samurai Jack is A W E S O M E !
One of my original characters from a series of novels I am currently working on. This is Selnam Nameless, a refugee from the planet Jehikar. He is full of secrets.
hey friends!!! i finally got around to uploading the first for chapters of my novel!! i've worked really hard on it and hope you enjoy! would love to hear any headcanons or AUs you can think of, and can't wait to hear your feedback. xoxo honey :) https://www.inkitt.com/stories/fantasy/385506
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?
My vision of the character ‘Smaug’ from J.R.R. Tolkien’s ‘The Hobbit’.
Pencil sketch, coloured digitally on IbisPaint X.
Here is a passage from The Hobbit describing Smaug’s appearance: “There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were low in slumber. Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail, and about him on all sides stretching away across the unseen floors, lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light. Smaug lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on one side, so that the hobbit could see his underparts and his long pale belly crusted with gems and fragments of gold from his long lying on his costly bed.”
