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head

Aubrey Aubrey
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December Nights

I made this banner/header for my webcomic's page. I do love those winter nights though

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Charlie Haggard Charlie Haggard
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Talking heads

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Maia Palomar Maia Palomar
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A Pile of Rock Heads

I feel like I haven't made any actual art in a while, let alone actually said anything about anything. It's been a long week, in both good and bad ways. First off, I was accepted into college, and then (for lack of better words) I accepted my acceptance to that school (I'm officially a Blue Demon!). Gymnastics is shut down, which I feared would happen, due to the rising cases in IL. It'll be closed at least until after the holidays, which scares me, but it is what it is (I wish people would just follow guidelines and wear masks)... I've been frustrated lately, mostly artistically. I go through times where I'm not satisfied with anything, nothing is good enough but all I want to do is create. There are a few larger projects I've been working on in the background, two for school and one personal. The personal one I haven't had much time to work on, but I'm hoping I will over the next few days (since I'm on break.) So yep. Lots of moving parts right now. Anyway, I hope everyone has a safe Thanksgiving!

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TimShch TimShch
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100heads #11-20

100 heads challenge #11-20. Ballpoint pens

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Sabina Hahn Sabina Hahn
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Truman Capote

Truman Capote (1924–1984) He compulsively added numbers in his head, refusing to dial a telephone number or accept a hotel room if the digits made a sum he considered unlucky. “It’s endless, the things I can’t and won’t,” he said. “But I derive some curious comfort from obeying these primitive concepts.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act.” ― Truman Capote #dailyrituals #inktober #TrumanCapote @masoncurrey

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Step Agustin Step Agustin
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Ornithophobia

Head #45 of my 100 Heads.

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Vi Vi
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What Could Have Been

“Claire!” Elle woke up with her daughter’s name on her lips. Startled, she sat up and looked around the living room with her heart still beating loudly in her chest. A dream, she realized dazedly. Slowly, she crossed the way to the back door. With unseeing eyes she gazed out into the garden. She remembered waking up in the hospital six years ago and seeing her husband sitting next to her. She remembered how he took her hand into his and looked at her with eyes full of despair. He told her that the doctor thought Claire might not survive. That she might die before she was even born, die before she had a chance to look into her mum’s eyes, feel a kiss on her forehead, clench her little fist around her dad’s finger, hear them speaking to her without a belly barrier between them… It was a silent, terrible death. It was the death of someone so precious, so innocent, so tiny… Elle took a shuddering breath.

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Robert Falagrady Robert Falagrady
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Air ballon head

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Carolin Schottenheimer Carolin Schottenheimer
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Inktober 17 Fromoraig

Daemonic giants with only one arm and one leg sometimes they have animal heads like goats, deer or bulls. It comes from Irish mythology

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Marian D Marian D
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Sun on my noggin.

Sun on my head makes me happy.

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Bleu Hope Bleu Hope Plus Member
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Low Grade Retrograde, June 2020.

Lockdown makes some of us forget what good times were like before the coronavirus reared it's nasty little head, so in response we dig down into our brains for times that really mattered.

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Bobcomics Bobcomics
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Woolly Headed Reader

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Bleu Hope Bleu Hope Plus Member
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“Cool Will Hunting”, December 2019.

Because two heads are better or worse than none.

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Ginger Ginger
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Mugman Halloween Comic Page 15

Things just gotten a lot scarier now.

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Valeria Valeria
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Good vibes only

Generic trippy drawing I did a couple of weeks before heading off home

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Step Agustin Step Agustin
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Birthday Boy

Head #91 of my 100 Heads.

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Step Agustin Step Agustin
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Ngi

Head #89 of my 100 Heads.

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Sabina Hahn Sabina Hahn
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Jane Austen

Jane Austen (1775–1817) Austen never lived alone and had little expectation of solitude in her daily life. Her final home, a cottage in the village of Chawton, England, was no exception: she lived there with her mother, her sister, a close friend, and three servants, and there was a steady stream of visitors, often unannounced. ... Austen wrote in the family sitting room, “subject to all kinds of casual interruptions,” her nephew recalled. She was careful that her occupation should not be suspected by servants, or visitors, or any persons beyond her own family party. She wrote upon small sheets of paper which could easily be put away, or covered with a piece of blotting paper. There was, between the front door and the offices, a swing door which creaked when it was opened; but she objected to having this little inconvenience remedied, because it gave her notice when anyone was coming. “Composition seems to me impossible with a head full of joints of mutton & doses of rhubarb.” From Daily rituals by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #janeAusten @masoncurrey

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Sabina Hahn Sabina Hahn
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Many faces of Tom Cruise

On the airplane, on my way home, I lifted up my head and there was a Tom Cruise on all the screens. Different movies, or the same movie, but different scenes. Absolutely unreal.

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Suzette Suzette
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Mountain Ink Doodle

This drawing was a bit difficult to finish because my kitty was determined to lay his head on anything that was remotely stealing attention away from him. Luckily I finished it when he wasn't looking. (= ♡ ฅ(=ʘⰙʘ=)

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glen glen
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Terror wrist”

New sketch for the masses. Dont forget to be a nice citizen... . ... .. cock yur head to the left, why no flip option?

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WaterproofFade-Proof WaterproofFade-Proof
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Auren Portrait

Luminary Festival - Auren Farkis (Digital Portrait I did as a colour study) Crisp reverberating strings danced through the evening. Notes twisted and echoed up through the emerald, velvet tiers of Ridgedow Gardens. Dusk’s veil had long since darkened to a diamond-encrusted black, and Clarglow was alive with activity. Footpaths were choked with revellers that formed a river of light that coursed and pulsed through the park. Will-o-whisp spots of light also glowed among the neatly trimmed hedgerows and statues. Their magic-addled voices rose up, joining in with the music of the Luminary Festival. A young man, no more than a quarter of a century old, glowed brightest of all. A soft orange radiated from his eyes, and his veins pulsed a brilliant red. He was dripping in gold and gems. Over an outfit that somehow managed to be heavily layered and revealing at the same time, he wore a sheer cape, which was heavily embroidered with blood-red crystals that refracted his own light around him in dazzling, concentrated rays. It was such a dangerous colour of magic, but his expression was soft and dreamy. Excited laughter rose up as a clustered group shot metallic confetti skyward. Gold flake drifted down and settled into his silver hair, cheeks, and shoulders. No doubt he would discover the remnants of this festival in his home weeks from now. He increased his pace, stepping off the cobbled path to overtake the group, when one of their number split from the group. The coils of her dark hair were so saturated with gold that she looked like she belonged on a pedestal next to the other statues. She intercepted him, matching his pace. She snaked a long, slender arm around his waist and pulled him closer. She pressed her lips against his neck, leaving a wake of golden kisses up to his earlobe, where she leaned closer to whisper. — “Aurie, Luv, I know that look. Don’t tell me you’re headed home. The eve has only just begun. “ Her glowing eyes Locked with Auren’s, her grip tightening, slowing the both of them to a stop, causing a temporary blockage in the flow of people. “Overdid myself Mel.. you’ll have to –” –” Come with us to the reflecting pool.” She cooed, meeting his lips in an off-center kiss, smearing his inky wine lipstick. Momentarily, he allowed himself to relax. He considered saying yes. His heart pounding, he dipped his friend backwards gracefully, resenting that he had to leave. An itch in his left arm reminded his fuzzy brain that he was in danger. Gasping softly, he gently lifted Mella upright and spun her out towards her friends, who were growing impatient. He couldn’t make out their faces in the fuzz of the evening. “I can’t, I’m sorry Mel! We’ll talk later.” Before she could protest, he danced, spinning forward in a brilliant display of speed that ended in a stumble as he met a set of steep steps that coiled sharply upwards out of the park and onto the pink brick streets overlooking Ridgedow Gardens. The glazed windows facing the street were empty and blank… their occupants elsewhere, enjoying the festival. The empty buildings were like faces, judging him for his lack of zeal. Auren wound his way through streets and side streets, his pace increasing as he grew more and more alone. Finally, he was climbing a set of steps to his own front door. Smirking at the sight of it he reached down into the front of the bodice that held together the layers of his outfit pulling free a loop of keys that were on a long chain looped around his neck. Aligning it to the keyhole he struggled with the lock, cursing softly under his breath as it initially failed to cooperate with him. In the quiet black of his foyer, he latched the door behind him and stumbled forward, tearing at the ribbon that held the gleaming cape that draped from his bare shoulders. He let it drop on a black lacquered table. He reached up to unclasp an elaborate choker and tore his single, crimson glove down from his elbow. He pressed a gilded fingernail against a band of red ink encroached upon by a spreading corruption. Marginally extending beyond the band were sinews of mismatched muscle and skin; even his hair had begun to glow red. Pulse rising, he wrenched his rings from his fingers, casting them into the ever-darkening room. Precious jewellery piled under him until only the dimmest glow from his own veins remained.. Slumping onto the steps, he tightened his grip on his arm and twisted it ninety degrees. A sharp click of crystal against porcelain met his ears. The room was enveloped in black as his final stone slid away from his arm, rendering the prosthesis inert. He slid to his side, the sounds of the party below overtaken by his own gasping breaths, panic refusing to subside alongside his magic.

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Ginger Ginger
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Mugman Halloween Comic Page 16

OH SNAP! If you're wondering about the song Timothy was singing a few pages back, it's from the "Ollie & Scoops" episode, Old Crumplecranks. It can be found here. https://youtu.be/GqoFrHoWJJM?si=zr-jqtgMtfrY1Oh6

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Josh Gee Josh Gee
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MAJOR FOREHEAD !

"Yo, he got so much Forehead, we call him FIVE HEAD !!!"

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Robert Falagrady Robert Falagrady
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Corpse head

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Sabina Hahn Sabina Hahn
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This is just to say.

Every once in awhile, this poem floats to the top of my head and I taste plums. This Is Just To Say William Carlos Williams - 1883-1963 I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold https://www.instagram.com/p/Cd8eMduOKzm/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

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Bleu Hope Bleu Hope Plus Member
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Speak-Sing For Us All, December 2019.

Thinking ahead, as you do.

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Ginger Ginger
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Mugman Halloween Comic Page 12

The chase's on.

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Maia Palomar Maia Palomar
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December

"Hold your head up, you silly girl. Look what you've done. When you find yourself in the thick of it, help yourself to a bit of what is all around you, silly girl." Frustration, frustration, and the anxiety that goes hand-in-hand with it. It's hard to let these things go.

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Charlie Haggard Charlie Haggard
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Heads or tails?

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