Running Late. The personification of the reaper running late for his next appointment.
10” x 15” Original ink and watercolor illustration on Strathmore 500 Series 4-ply Bristol illustration paper.
Signed by the artist. Unframed.
An attempt at people. This is Holy Week for some of us. Yesterday was Palm Sunday, and we watched mass on our church's new YouTube channel. The Gospel reading was very long, so everyone in the frame was standing still for a good while. I was really looking forward to our spring class People in the Park because I haven't done much figure work. It was postponed of course, so your constructive criticism is welcome.
I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root.
And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty.
This is compulsory education, after all.
So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past.
“Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge.
The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence.
Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen—
my scribble’s soft insurgency.
The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn.
Columns and corners chant structure.
Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter—
their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward.
I begin to draw.
Not their tardiness, but their motion.
A shoulder. A blur of sneakers.
A tilted head chasing freedom.
Feet flickering like seconds.
Each mark a pulse.
Each smudge a breath.
My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing—
trembling gently through the mundane.
This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed.
It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation.
It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock.
I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you).
Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic.
Not for polish—
but for presence.
This is how I remember I’m still alive.
Still growing.
Still watching.
Still choosing to see.
Because sometimes mental health looks like
a piece of scrap paper,
a moving pen,
and the simple, sacred act of
marking time with wonder.
In memory of the great John Lewis. (1940-2020)
Original ink and watercolor portrait painting on Strathmore 500 Series 4-ply Bristol illustration paper.
Signed by the artist. Unframed.
A dapper gentleman. 10” x 15” Original ink and watercolor illustration on Strathmore 500 Series 4-ply Bristol illustration paper.
Signed by the artist. Unframed.
In folklore, a will-o'-the-wisp, will-o'-wisp or ignis fatuus, is an atmospheric ghost light seen by travelers at night, especially over bogs, swamps or marshes. --Wikipedia
11” x 17” Original ink and watercolor painting on Arches 140# hotpress watercolor paper.
Signed by the artist. Unframed.
I had some 5x7 postcards produced if you're looking for some whimsical paintings to frame or use to mail to friends. I'll throw some stickers in with each order.
The Word "MOSTAFA" is written in Arabic using the Kufi writing style. The word is sculpted on wood. I've used colored pencils to color the word. I've also used an Islamic framework to surround the word and beautify it.
A collage made of scraps of cardboard, toothpicks, and words. The "frame" is also made from corrugated cardboard, spray painted. A fun project made from discards.
I wax specific areas (paint with wax) and light from the back...in the end it will be in a glass frame to hang in a window....tben the waxed areas will glow!!!
Another piece from my vernal pools/treescapes studies I have been working on in correlation to my interest in local creature found in our woodlands.
I adopted the use of a circle one night, wanting to frame out an idea/sketch and a wine glass happened to be close by. Since then I have used it often, loving the circle aspect.
Canvas mounted on wooden frame. Size: 25 x 30 cm Materials: acrylic, Chinese ink, brush, pen and marker. Is sold the original piece. For this reason, there may be slight differences from one piece to another.
Canvas mounted on wooden frame. Size: 25 x 30 cm Materials: acrylic, Chinese ink, brush, pen and marker. Is sold the original piece. For this reason, there may be slight differences from one piece to another.
The amount of erasing I've had to do in this digital sketch would have turned real paper into dust. I had so much trouble nailing down what I wanted, but I've got the beginning framework and I'm so relieved to have it out of my head.
A quiet study of restraint at altitude. Framed through an aircraft window, the world below drifts by while the interior remains still—objects worn, familiar, and waiting. Subtle distortions in perspective and muted tones emphasize the tension between motion and pause, progress and endurance. This piece captures the discipline of waiting while suspended between departure and arrival, where patience is not passive, but practiced under pressure.
In “I Love Lamp,” Ty Patmore blends nostalgia, humor, and subtle unease into a surreal domestic scene where time, space, and memory feel slightly off-center. A lava lamp—softly glowing with drifting shapes—sits on a worn wooden table, acting as the sole beacon of warmth inside a room that is quietly falling apart. The wallpaper peels back to reveal fractured brick beneath, as if the structure itself is shedding its old skin.
A melting wall clock drips down the surface like time losing its grip, while a framed picture of a UFO drifting over pine trees hints that even the outside world may not be quite right. Every object bends reality just enough to make the viewer question whether this room is comforting… or unsettling.
