hands

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.

YOU'RE MY DEADLY DEADLY NIGHTSHADE OH ATROPA BELLADONNA THEY SAY YOU ARE DEATH INCARNATE AND I SHOULD STAY FAR AWAY - Blackbriar - Deadly Nightshade I did a thingy for my mutual. Her name is Belladonna and she is DC OC. ;) As I was drawing, I noticed how genius her design is. Her "villain" costume looks like the petals of a belladonna, her blonde hair and light skin like anthers (I belive that's how they called), her freckles like pollen. I don't know if it's inrentional, but it's amaizing! I can't draw clothes yet And hands And everything Spare me! It's also my first time drawing flowers :D

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.

Cover for my fanfic i writing for "Batman: Zero Year" comic. After Zero: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63498001 "I bloom, a flower fair and bright, A needed thing, for two, a light. In hearts' soft garden, breezes play, I grow in strength with each new day." The Riddler nodded patiently, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. Amber devoted almost all her energy to keep reciting this stupid rhyme that she had composed and practiced until she turned pale from exhaustion. The remaining part of her energy was spent on NOT clutching her jacket. "But then, a worm, with wicked bite. Gnawed at my grain and dimmed my light. A spreading blight, a change so foul. Cursed my existence, took its toll. My two companions, caught in strife. Began to gnaw and hurt their life. Absorbing poison, bit by bit. They both grew sick, they couldn't quit." "…" “Who am I?" The Riddler lazily raised his eyes to the sky and just as slowly raised his hands. "Love!" His voice was full of theatrical reverence. He didn’t even pretended that the riddle made him ponder over it. "To be more precise — twisted love. Am I right?"

Louise Bourgeois (1911–2010) “My life has been regulated by insomnia,” Bourgeois told an interviewer in 1993. “It’s something that I have never been able to understand, but I accept it.” Bourgeois learned to use these sleepless hours productively, propped up in bed with her “drawing diary,” listening to music or the hum of traffic on the streets. “Each day is new, so each drawing—with words written on the back—lets me know how I’m doing,” she said. “I now have 110 drawing-diary pages, but I’ll probably destroy some. - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “I am not what I am, I am what I do with my hands...” ― Louise Bourgeois “Every day you have to abandon your past or accept it, and then, if you cannot accept it, you become a sculptor.” ― Louise Bourgeois #dailyrituals #inktober #LouiseBourgeois @masoncurrey

Studying hands!

His clothes are dirty, but his- His hands are clean And you're the best thing that he's Ever seen

Dmitry Shostakovich (1906–1975) Shostakovich’s contemporaries do not recall seeing him working, at least not in the traditional sense. The Russian composer was able to conceptualize a new work entirely in his head, and then write it down with extreme rapidity—if uninterrupted, he could average twenty or thirty pages of score a day, making virtually no corrections as he went. But this feat was apparently preceded by hours or days of mental composition—during which he “appeared to be a man of great inner tensions,” the musicologist Alexei Ikonnikov observed, “with his continually moving, ‘speaking’ hands, which were never at rest.” Shostakovich himself was afraid that perhaps he worked too fast. “I worry about the lightning speed with which I compose,” he confessed in a letter to a friend. Undoubtedly this is bad. One shouldn’t compose as quickly as I do. Composition is a serious process, and in the words of a ballerina friend of mine, “You can’t keep going at a gallop.” I compose with diabolical speed and can’t stop myself.… It is exhausting, rather unpleasant, and at the end of the day you lack any confidence in the result. But I can’t rid myself of the bad habit. - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #shostakovich @masoncurrey

Original - Violeta & Huchu

A character concept drawing of a pirate vampire character I created for a collab writing project that died. His clothing and even his hair borrowed aspects from various jelly fish as inspiration. " The snap of inky sails catching the wind punctuated the subtle wooden creaks of the Sea Nettle as it slid over glossy black waves. The night was oppressive. With the moon obscured by clouds, the ship, with its doused lamps and its dark wood was nearly invisible as she crept closer to her prize. Tallis stood on the forecastle, one foot propped against the railing, his hands supporting a spyglass. He drifted the lens between the lights below deck, counting each of them and making note of any movement on the upper deck and in the rigging. A single sailor was at the helm. Another was lazily standing beside him, possibly engaged in conversation that distracted him from his watch. This was to be expected, not many would dare to disturb such a well-equipped vessel of the Luthen royal fleet. Nettie's crew was lesser in numbers, but they were experts in what few on the high seas could manage. Tonight, would be a quiet strike. Open combat spelled unnecessary danger for his crew."

for the 29th of Maymaginations today it's time for colors For this day I was thinking about what to draw and I remembered the occasion when Booger defeated King Nixels and that's when it occurred to me to draw Booger in front of a rainbow and a cubit in his hands

Fineliner on A4 paper.

I have been binging on the older X-Men shows and had the urge to draw up one of their most popular mutants. But what's better than Wolverine? TWO WOLVERINES! Now, I wasn't really sure what I was trying to do with these two. At first, I tried to have them just do a handshake but then switched it over to them competing. Still not convinced on what these two are doing but it was fun to draw so all is good. Question for all the X-Men fans out there. Which version of Wolverine is your favorite?

Hands

Sometimes, We have our hands so full of Ourselves That we have no room for others. Sometimes, We have our hands so full of Others That we have no room for ourselves or others.

Sketching hands with watercolor pencils

What a handsome little ghost

After being stuck with an A5 pad for a month, i finally got my hands on a A3 one. What better way to celebrate than painting a messy room? No rules, no plans, just making things up as i go.

This is my gorgeous bf/bsf. (Or at least my attempt at drawing him lol). For our two-month anniversary, my boyfriend challenged me to draw him, and he would draw me. I love him so much and he brings me so much joy. Thank you for being in my life Emery

When I am in a lecture, I need to do something with my hands, then I am fully listening.This was a lecture about relations

Doodling of the Day

Feature of the Day

Snack Attack is what happens when you don't pay attention to attacks from above while riding hands free on your bike and eating your triple fried fries and ketchup. I actually saw this happen. From my series Bikes of Amsterdam.

Another drawing of Meadhbh in my sketchbook. 2023, Double Page Spread-5” x 8,” Ballpoint Pen on Moleskine Sketchbook.

His name in German literally means the ice cream man.he is a giant snow clown who lives in the icy mountains of Dulcelandia.he is one of the first enemies Sweetnette and Cotton Fluffe encounter.he grabs them with his hands.he has stretchy powers.he can also summon snow monsters as he pleases.they defeat him by fireballs via their wands he and his monsters melt away.quickly the princess and the prince escape.he is able to regenerate since he is immortal.he is a 60 foot snow giant and he is maniacal yet clever at the same time.

Long story short:He is a ghost magician even though ghosts have magical powers themselves ex telekinesis teleportation invisibility shape shifting.therefore it would be pointless to be a magician however the talking book his father gave him gives him extraordinary powers never seen before .he becomes one to ultimately make people happy.I don't have an outfit for him yet but it has rainbows and stars.he doesn't wield a wand because he uses his hands.