(Red biro on a 89mm x 139mm postcard) When technology becomes so intrusive on our daily lives that we feel we simply can't live without it, then perhaps the one-eyed man is truly king.
I wanted to draw a crowned animal with a crest on top of its head. Originally , this was colored with colored pencils but I didn't like how it looked so I tried to save it by painting over it with acrylic paint.
Having younger siblings is 50% about having spoiled rotten playmates and 50% about making sure those little morons dont accidentaly kill themselves. Border collies are so hard to draw antropomorph! Ever noticed how they most of the time keep their head lover than the bum?
Haven't drawn the thorny trio in a while because I have way too many ocs.i tried to replicate the same style of drawings from the middle ages but due to my lack of skills I haven't really been the best in doing so.anyway the three are devouring mortal souls.i imagined it better in my head honestly
The Woman Puppet from Rome. A clay or plaster of paris puppet head that was glossy and smooth. This painting of the woman pupped is regal and dignified. It shows little animation or dramatic expression. It is unlike most of the others, say for its counterpart
Many beginnings.
Beginning 8.
Lola stared in astonishment as the water spout grew and grew and grew.
* Starting is easy, it's the middle that is often a muddle. And I won't even mention the endings. Here are some beginnings for children stories that flitter through my head.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CO2nszuBn2Z/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
Many beginnings.
Beginning 3.
The mouse was going on an adventure. But he just couldn't decide what to take with him. He wanted his favorite shoes and second favorite shoes. His tennis racket and the cactus he was given for his birthday. And so he put his house on the wheels and went on an adventure in his rolly polly house.
* Starting is easy, it's the middle that is often a muddle. And I won't even mention the endings. Here are some beginnings for children stories that flitter through my head.
https://www.instagram.com/p/COktNgnhex4/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
hello:) the themesong of my favourite series is stuck in my head and i love it. drew this some time ago. love to sit under a tree drawing, reading or just look at the sky and this inspired this drawing hihi. have a nice day!:)
So many heads so much opinions.
Tantas cabeças, tantas sentenças.
Idiotisms and Proverbs from "English as She is Spoke" by Jose da Fonseca and Pedro Carolina.
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.
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.
There’s a lot of waiting in life.
Waiting in lobbies.
Waiting on answers.
Waiting for braces to tighten, kids to grow, hearts to heal, or prayers to be answered.
I sat at the orthodontist, watching dollars tighten on tiny wires, and made this sketch. A tree. A house. A street. Color helped the moment breathe.
I remember once hearing a chess master say, “There is no waiting in chess.”
It confused me—wasn’t there always a turn to wait for?
But he explained: “There’s no waiting. Only planning. Plotting. Analyzing. You’re always thinking.”
I once repeated that to a FIDE master. He got mad.
Maybe because waiting and patience aren’t the same thing.
We can be still and deeply active inside.
We can pause without being passive.
And then there’s Lindsey’s voice in the back of my head:
“That sounds like a first-world problem.”
“Speak life.”
“Be thankful. Rejoice always.”
And she’s right.
So here’s to filling waiting time with something creative.
Something kind.
Something that turns a delay into a doorway.
Taking some inspiration from some things me and my girlfriend talked about regarding old highs in one’s past and asking yourself if revisiting them later on in life is worth it… the usual stuff I guess.
