hands

Not true to size, but we do hold 'hands'. Toddy is a big boy, a 36kg window-licking Boxer. Best thing in my house by far.

A pair of lungs being given in hands that represents my donors hands. The lungs are surrounded in flowers to symbolize the beautiful gift of organ donations. The lungs are also being represented with birds flying to symbolize life. This painting goes from dark at the bottom to lighter colors at the top to symbolize the darkness of someone’s death being transferred to saving of someone else’s life from their selfless act. I’m a lung recipient, and this is the story of my selfless donor!

Extremely useful around the house, but doomed to constant despair, the Kitchenware Octopus loves to cook but has no free hands for carrying groceries. The last of her kind, she yearns for a mate to lovingly entangle ladles with, but has yet to meet anyone willing to risk constant proximity to the cheese grater.

'Ecstatic Motion' 2019, coffee and ink @aniapawlik2019

Handsome pencil portrait work.

This artwork is about an alien who is most comfortable in the clarity of thought that hands are his greatest friends. Magical energy surrounds them as they rejoice in the company of their hands.

Just a fanart. Lazy detail. Still learning to draw hands. ~3 hours. I’m new here btw :p Looking for critiques, opinions, suggestions. (ah damn, uploaded wrong pict. this one is cropped, should be half body)

A sketchbook spread where I played with positive negative space with a limited color palette

Life Toward Hands / Ink pen and dry paint on paper

Emma holds a mug. I like drawing hands and faces, so why not have them closer together?

Sometimes the quickest drawings hold the deepest truths. During an after-sermon discussion about understanding the love of God, I found myself listening with one ear and drawing with the other. Frank, seated across the room, made a natural model—relaxed posture, thoughtful presence, and a face full of character. With a pen in hand, I traced his form in a quick contour line, following the folds of his shirt, the tilt of his jaw, the stillness of his hands resting in his lap. Contour drawing asks us to see more than just the surface—it demands patience and presence, a slowing down until the line itself feels like prayer. Frank became more than a subject; he was a reminder that the love of God is often revealed in ordinary moments and everyday people.

The tables were covered in white paper. Crayons, pastels, and smooth sticks waited quietly. Then came Lucy’s glittery purse—her 8-year-old hands had filled it with stones to pass along, one by one, to the strangers around the table. We traced them. Pushed them. Held them. Then we let the colors lead: -Red for emotion. -Yellow for curiosity. -Blue for memory. Each color came with music, with story, with space. At the Museum of Wisconsin Art, we made marks not for meaning but for presence. Thank you to Ann Marie and MOWA for the invitation and trust. And thank you to the participants—some new friends, some old students—for showing up and making lines that listened before they spoke.

A Brief Pause at the Edge of Becoming It seems I am always seeking a place to sit— not just to rest the body, but to settle the soul. Yet even in stillness, Gary Brecka’s words whisper: “The quickest way to old age is the aggressive pursuit of comfort.” So I do not stay long. I walked until I found a picnic table beneath a canopy of bare-limbed trees, branches like open hands waiting for green. The blue spruces nearby— stoic, unchanged, whispering that some things endure. I sketched. Not perfectly. Not for anyone’s praise. Just a mark to say: I was here. Alive in this in-between. Waiting. Listening. Not for leaves— but for something truer than comfort. Thank you for joining me in this small noticing. A moment borrowed from the rush. A table. A tree. A thought. A gift.

Years ago, I sketched Gibby at work—pencil in hand, bold strokes alive with motion. I caught them from over the shoulder: just the back of their head, the soft curve of their face, and that focused arm bringing something into being. They were 9 or 10 then, already showing the spark of creativity and concentration that pointed toward who they’d become. Now in their mid-20s, Gibby is thoughtful, insightful—quick to listen, slow to speak, and wired to process the world with care. Their path has been remarkable: two degrees in 2.5 years, no debt. That didn’t happen by accident. It took grit, German immersion schooling, 16 college credits earned in high school, and testing out of 24 more once at university. That’s Gibby—quietly determined, resourceful, and steady. But their story isn’t just academic. Gibby’s always been gifted with their hands—drawn to set design, locksmithing, welding. Trades they wanted to pursue early on, and still feel pulled toward. They’re at a bike shop now. It’s not the dream, but it fits: their hands know how to build, repair, and reshape the world. There’s been frustration—maybe even anger—that we didn’t let them follow the trade route right away. I get that now. Life veers, and sometimes the path chosen isn't the one imagined. But Gibby’s resilience—their ability to adapt and press on—is what I admire most. They’ve embraced their journey with honesty, stepping into their identity as a they/them person, unafraid to define success in their own terms. That takes courage. I’m proud of them—not for a résumé, but for who they are. This old drawing isn’t just a memory—it’s a thread connecting past to present. A reminder that the creative spark, the steady hands, the deep soul I saw back then is still shining. So here’s to you, Gibby: the kid who sketched with fire and the adult who still shapes the world with quiet brilliance. Your value has never been about the path you’re on. It’s about the person you are. And I’ll be here, cheering you on—every step of the way.

What a handsome little ghost

I love the show Breaking Bad, and rewatch watch it a lot. I noticed the other night Saul said this to Walt and I immediately got out my iPad and started in on the letters.

Everyone is already doing it, this is mainly a reminder for me!

He sits up in his teacup with his hands wrapped 'round a porg, Thinking up new ways to join forces with the Borg. To eradicate the Rebels by infecting them with spores, And assimilate the hive mind to become one with the Force.

I had a rock tumbler as a child and really enjoyed it. When my youngest was a child we bought her one. She was eager to enjoy it too, but somewhere after starting on that path, we lost track and it everything inside turned into a solid mass. We tossed it and forgot about it. On a recent beach trip, I collected handfuls of rocks, as I am always likely to do, and, upon return, remembered how I loved my childhood rock tumbler. I immediately researched, ordered and eagerly anticipated its delivery. Of course, with Amazon Prime, that was only a couple day’s wait. As soon as I unboxed it I thought “what am I doing?” I have neither time, nor space for yet another hobby. I thought “what will I DO with a pile of polished, pretty rocks?” I would gather them in my hands and feel their silky smoothness. I would likely gather them in some beautiful glass bowl and…then what? I have toddler grand kids frequently at my home. They put small colorful things in their mouths and up their noses and feed them to the dogs regularly. And I don’t even have a single space to display a bog bowl of pretty rocks. So I quickly decided “I’m Returning the Rock Tumbler” and will, for NOW, stick to painting them when the mood strikes.

"Her cricket kids traipse in to wash their hands." Cricket is a popular bat-and-ball game in Australia where the winning team gets to eat crickets at the end of a match.

"She was a handsome woman"

Sometimes I just want to dress up from the 30s, I know I would look great. (But damn those hands.)

I have been trying to work on poses and body composition. Also, HANDS!

I liked her so much I drew her again, but I learned some things about her. (Damn those hands, gotta work on them.) Concept art Name: Carina Age: ??? Race: Demon (Father is a demon, mother human) Ethnicity: Her mother was a young Italian woman who was tricked into falling in love with a demon. Status: Sorceress Abilities: She wields a staff that consumes souls of the living. She uses those souls to feed her power. Extra (for now): The globe on her staff is an ancient artifact in which she had to prove her will and strength to achieve it. The artifact draws out the souls of her victims. But before it does, it puts them in a trance like state to keep them immobilized.

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Yup, when I see a gorgeous pixel. Hey there handsome, you need an OC.

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