This portrait of Mr. Joshua Anderson—our resident Shakespeare whisperer—was drawn by student artist Covey Garrett as part of a school-wide tribute to our teachers. Students photographed, gridded, and drew 18x24” posters of their teachers, each paired with a favorite catchphrase. Mr. Anderson’s? A classic:
“Hint, hint. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.”
We think the Bard would approve.
"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely teachers..."
(okay, we may have paraphrased a bit).
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.
Sketched while watching the Mariners get knocked out of playoff contention. Colored on the computer. I did a hue changing little animation with it if you check my Instagram. :)
For these Grahams Up the Tree drawings I used a Pilot Custom 823 with FA nib. This pen is legendary. It has a very soft nib and a giant vacuum filled tank of ink so you can write and draw for days.
A Female Pied Flycatcher Ficedula Hypoleuca…
The Pied Flycatcher is a summer migrant to the UK.
As the name suggests, it feeds on flies that are caught by making a quick dash from an obvious perch. There are around 40,000 pairs in the UK each summer. The Pied Flycatcher is a small unmistakable bird that often sits with drooped wings. It spends its winter in Africa.
Identification:
Adult
Adult males and females share the same plumage pattern but are different colours.
Male Pied Flycatchers are small and chunky,13cm in length and are black and white all over, they are quite unmistakable.
The upperparts are black and white, tail is black with white base to outer tail feathers, rump is a slightly paler, back is jet black, wings are black with white wing patch (tertials)
The nape and head is black except for small white patch above the black bill. Chin and throat white, extending to form a half collar.
The entire underparts are white, ie; chin, throat, breast, belly and undertail coverts. Legs, bill and eye black.
Females are brown versions of the male although tail is dark, no obvious white patch over the bill and the collar is less distinct. #piedflycatcher #brd #birdart #birdartist #birdsketch #birddrawing #bampidraws #birdlovers
