At first I planned on keeping this drawing realistic. But over a week ago I learned that a dear friend lost their sibling in an accident. Then this past weekend I worked on a small project that really struck a chord with me. I helped a friend and her son record a song she dedicated to her father, who had recently passed away as well. They sang "Let it Be" by the Beatles. There was so much emotion in the air. And for the first time ever I was brought to tears after I mixed a song. For the rest of the weekend I thought about my family a LOT. Especially my Parents. They've done so fucking much for me and my brother. It sucks that, only as an adult, I realized that every fiber of who I am, and where I am now is due to their love, support, and sacrifice. This piece goes out to the people you can count on. They're there for you no matter what the cost... No matter the pain, even if it's literally killing them. It's Purely out of Love and they wouldn't have it any other way❤️.
This is the first little 'Thumbodies' character that I designed during the holidays. She has many other kind, creative & adventurous friends! Online comic & doodles @ doodletowncomic.com
Doodle with Pentel brush, and posca! A little bit note to self. "In between goals is a thing called life that has to be lived and enjoyed." by Sid Caesar.
Queen inspired by the nicotiana alata flower (which is called Night's Queen in Romanian) and the Greater Death Shead Hawkmoth which feeds with the flowers nectar.
This is part of an ongoing series. This time we pass through The Great Exhibition and meet the different characters there to view art or just to socialise and hang out.
Following the daily painting challenge with Lisa Congdon over at CreativeBug though I haven't quite managed to keep up daily. Still, it's wonderful picking the brush up again and splashing around with paint!
"Girl & Death". What started out as two separate pieces for Upfest in Bristol, slowly merged into one collaborative painting. On the left my part, on the right the artwork by Luke Gray (http://lukegray.net)
Just finished the excellent EXPLORING Kourse (Sketchbook Skool), I had to set my own agenda. I am trying to get used to using watercolors. I like it when they don't fill the page entirely. Here is an archerfish trying to catch an insect by spitting at it,
Creating a doodle mural on wall with craft paint and brush. For more details, visit my blog here http://dharmakarmaarts.blogspot.com/2017/01/art-on-wall.html
I always tell students to start a project with quick sketches to develop a shape language. Plus research, then you can start to generate ideas. This is one of who knows how many small sketches I'll do to start this project. #ideation #designsketches #pilo
This is the the Icelandic parliament house in Reykjavik Iceland.
Usually I don´t draw houses, I am more into faces, but have always wanted to draw houses though and enjoy watching them. This house has always been one of my favourite.
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.
