form

Patterns to celebrate summer. Original ink and watercolor drawings all together in digital format.

Model Ruth resting on a platform covered by red bed sheets. Bic4 Ballpoint Pen on Archival 9” x 12” paper.

#wip #formyself

I recently remembered hearing stories and seeing games showing the Devil trapped in ice in some way. It seemed so cool I decided to try it out. I'll admit that this form of the Devil is not the coolest or most intimidating, but I think it works. Kind of like the Anti-Christ sort of look. What do you guys think?

Patterns to celebrate summer. Original ink and watercolor drawings all together in digital format.

i feel to much focus is put on faces being to aesthetically perfect, or perfection in the media approach to what thats perceived to be. i enjoyed drawing a more imperfect edge to it and the use of the light beams was a cool thing to draw. the meaning was a look at self -adulation and the clamour for attention through various social platforms, being valentines day as well i feel to many people fall into that trap what promotes nothing more than a money making event. this helped form the title of "seduce her" using a medusa as a subject matter.

Pencil Drawing

Cute critters and kitchen goods form a unique pattern.

But it's nearly gone now. https://www.instagram.com/p/Caj88njrVM0/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link Explorations with format and watercolor inks.

Willful blindness is a tortured soul....

This is a graphite pencil drawing of a conch shell I found on the beach in Florida. I used this sketch as a base for a intaglio print I made. The sketch features the cool textures and forms of the shell in a harsh contrasting light.

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

It wasn't easy but I finally drew him again (even though he has a fairly simply design) his second form is the form he's usually.he still is able to possess even with hands and feet.he measures 5'6.when he goes with Fedren to seek adventures he walks or floats next to him.another striking resemblance to Soluto even though both aren't so diffrent.

Doodling around in my Moleskine - Amy_D's back.

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

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onH1YLml0zo !BOOM! It's dropping this week! The first of several Lore Videos to help world build the Untitled Heroes universe!

Studies of a simple form in order to experiment more with more complex elements.

Walt Whitman parallels his struggle with that of the spider. Here, his beard entangles, then forms, the web.

Now a name change would be great since I still haven't changed her name at all (I mean she was my first OC I thought of when I was 12) Hate the wings since basic demon wings don't suit her or black angel wings (I will keep drawing her wings differently)she wears a long tunic like top similar to a blazer,she wears trousers instead of tights and her fingers are covered (all alceridians have covered hands)and white boots.I hate how she's easier to draw as a person than as a Alceridian maybe because I rarely draw her in her true form.Redesigning characters can certainly be time consuming,I might draw her more better soon.

All acrylic paint in various forms: heavy body acrylic for the background, Golden fluid acrylic for the black, and Posca acrylic paint pens for everything else. In my mix media sketchbook.

I have lost interest in Paint 3D however I have made many 3D ish drawings of my new characters from early October.Al wears a black knit argyle sweater and he wears a button down long sleeve shirt under.he wears blue dress pants and wears black dress shoes.I will share more information about Al once I get started on a reference sheet for him.

Benjamin Franklin (Part 2) The plan worked, up to a point. After following the course several times in a row, he found it necessary to go through just one course in a year, and then one every few years. But the virtue of order—“Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time”—appears to have eluded his grasp. Franklin was not naturally inclined to keep his papers and other possessions organized, and he found the effort so vexing that he almost quit in frustration. This timetable was formulated before Franklin adopted a favorite habit of his later years—his daily “air bath.” At the time, baths in cold water were considered a tonic, but Franklin believed the cold was too much of a shock to the system. He wrote in a letter: I have found it much more agreeable to my constitution to bathe in another element, I mean cold air. With this view I rise early almost every morning, and sit in my chamber without any clothes whatever, half an hour or an hour, according to the season, either reading or writing. This practice is not in the least painful, but on the contrary, agreeable; and if I return to bed afterwards, before I dress myself, as sometimes happens, I make a supplement to my night’s rest, of one or two hours of the most pleasing sleep that can be imagined. From Daily rituals by Mason Currey #daulyrituals #inktober #benjaminfranklin @masoncurrey

Like her name,she's sour but she's more angry than glum,I really don't like how her dress turned out but I really couldn't try anything else since I'm drawing with my finger again.. hopefully I'll redesign the dress soon and use less orange.Duchess RavenWaves is my inspiration for her.She is a purple licorice princess albeit evil (you know how a lot of people hate licorice?) Instead of having simple sweet candy decorations on her dress she has candy corn decorations (no one likes candy corn) she is really bitter,evil, selfish and ruthless often enslaving many candy people with her father who works as her advisor.her wand isn't alive like Sweetnette's wand it still has powerful magic like Sweetnette,she has to dance and sing to transform, there's a jester form and a military leader form.she is taller and thin,and has a circular face in contrast to Sweetnette's square face.she often uses demonic magic,which sometimes backfires.

This portrait was created using mixed media like colored pencils, markers, and ink. The portrait features the face of a man resting in his hand, and staring dead-eyed at the viewer. I used non local color techniques to create depth and form using colors not typically found in the human face, like blues and violets for shadows and yellows and oranges or highlights. Parts of his face include small pink stars which originally faded from the previous page, but I really like the look it gives, they almost look like celestial freckles.

Luminary Festival - Auren Farkis (Digital Portrait I did as a colour study) Crisp reverberating strings danced through the evening. Notes twisted and echoed up through the emerald, velvet tiers of Ridgedow Gardens. Dusk’s veil had long since darkened to a diamond-encrusted black, and Clarglow was alive with activity. Footpaths were choked with revellers that formed a river of light that coursed and pulsed through the park. Will-o-whisp spots of light also glowed among the neatly trimmed hedgerows and statues. Their magic-addled voices rose up, joining in with the music of the Luminary Festival. A young man, no more than a quarter of a century old, glowed brightest of all. A soft orange radiated from his eyes, and his veins pulsed a brilliant red. He was dripping in gold and gems. Over an outfit that somehow managed to be heavily layered and revealing at the same time, he wore a sheer cape, which was heavily embroidered with blood-red crystals that refracted his own light around him in dazzling, concentrated rays. It was such a dangerous colour of magic, but his expression was soft and dreamy. Excited laughter rose up as a clustered group shot metallic confetti skyward. Gold flake drifted down and settled into his silver hair, cheeks, and shoulders. No doubt he would discover the remnants of this festival in his home weeks from now. He increased his pace, stepping off the cobbled path to overtake the group, when one of their number split from the group. The coils of her dark hair were so saturated with gold that she looked like she belonged on a pedestal next to the other statues. She intercepted him, matching his pace. She snaked a long, slender arm around his waist and pulled him closer. She pressed her lips against his neck, leaving a wake of golden kisses up to his earlobe, where she leaned closer to whisper. — “Aurie, Luv, I know that look. Don’t tell me you’re headed home. The eve has only just begun. “ Her glowing eyes Locked with Auren’s, her grip tightening, slowing the both of them to a stop, causing a temporary blockage in the flow of people. “Overdid myself Mel.. you’ll have to –” –” Come with us to the reflecting pool.” She cooed, meeting his lips in an off-center kiss, smearing his inky wine lipstick. Momentarily, he allowed himself to relax. He considered saying yes. His heart pounding, he dipped his friend backwards gracefully, resenting that he had to leave. An itch in his left arm reminded his fuzzy brain that he was in danger. Gasping softly, he gently lifted Mella upright and spun her out towards her friends, who were growing impatient. He couldn’t make out their faces in the fuzz of the evening. “I can’t, I’m sorry Mel! We’ll talk later.” Before she could protest, he danced, spinning forward in a brilliant display of speed that ended in a stumble as he met a set of steep steps that coiled sharply upwards out of the park and onto the pink brick streets overlooking Ridgedow Gardens. The glazed windows facing the street were empty and blank… their occupants elsewhere, enjoying the festival. The empty buildings were like faces, judging him for his lack of zeal. Auren wound his way through streets and side streets, his pace increasing as he grew more and more alone. Finally, he was climbing a set of steps to his own front door. Smirking at the sight of it he reached down into the front of the bodice that held together the layers of his outfit pulling free a loop of keys that were on a long chain looped around his neck. Aligning it to the keyhole he struggled with the lock, cursing softly under his breath as it initially failed to cooperate with him. In the quiet black of his foyer, he latched the door behind him and stumbled forward, tearing at the ribbon that held the gleaming cape that draped from his bare shoulders. He let it drop on a black lacquered table. He reached up to unclasp an elaborate choker and tore his single, crimson glove down from his elbow. He pressed a gilded fingernail against a band of red ink encroached upon by a spreading corruption. Marginally extending beyond the band were sinews of mismatched muscle and skin; even his hair had begun to glow red. Pulse rising, he wrenched his rings from his fingers, casting them into the ever-darkening room. Precious jewellery piled under him until only the dimmest glow from his own veins remained.. Slumping onto the steps, he tightened his grip on his arm and twisted it ninety degrees. A sharp click of crystal against porcelain met his ears. The room was enveloped in black as his final stone slid away from his arm, rendering the prosthesis inert. He slid to his side, the sounds of the party below overtaken by his own gasping breaths, panic refusing to subside alongside his magic.

And now the Worry Wolf can stick by your side and bring ease to your everyday worries. A doodle, turned into a weatherproof clear sticker, cloaking lonely water bottles worldwide. Thanks for looking!

A werewolf mid transformation. I Initially drew this last month for Adorkastock's draw everything June where you were given 20 stock poses to draw for the month.

Something different in the form of Pac-Man's long lost brother...