I'd like to introduce an old dear friend. This is my anxiety, depression, anger, and worst critic all in one package. He shows up alot in my doodles to criticize my work and life in general. I am a nervous wreck, which gives him his name.
1979’s The Tin Drum is one of those films I’ve been itching to see for a long time, but haven’t got round to yet for some reason. The main character in that film’s played by a guy called David Bennent. Not a household name for most, but you’ve seen Ridley Scott’s Legend, you’ll recognise him when he played Honeythorn Gump, Tom Cruise/Jack’s elfin pal.
Not sure why the idea to name this piece after D.B. occurred to me, but it did!
At the end of all this self-isolation, I have no doubt folks will be as hungry as that Dalmatian pupper I named this piece after. Hungry for some actual social interaction in our cases, that is...
April 7th is my birthday. The day has been usually a low-key affair, with exceptions here and there over the years. I spent it keeping busy and creative, as is custom most days whenever I'm not out working or socialising. Roll on 27!
Always a weirdly beautiful moment when you butcher your spelling momentarily, only to discover you’ve inadvertently found the very artwork title for you were looking for...hehehe.
The Old Devils Are At It Again. One of my favorite songs by William Elliot Whitmore. I usually draw and paint to his music along with Willie Nelson, Lucero and Ryan Bingham. It also seems appropriate for the times...
"Lang may yer lum reek (a Hogmanay greeting, implying "May you never be without fuel for your fire!", but more literally translates to "Long may your chimney smoke!")" All this I corrupted and used to inspire me here.
My husband has a chronic illness and frequently spends weeks in the hospital. I have been doodling each day while sitting with him and many of them reflect my thoughts at the time. Often appearing are desperation, hope, frustration, sarcasm, fear.
My husband has a chronic illness and frequently spends weeks in the hospital. I have been doodling each day while sitting with him and many of them reflect my thoughts at the time. Often appearing are desperation, hope, frustration, sarcasm, fear.
My husband has a chronic illness and frequently spends weeks in the hospital. I have been doodling each day while sitting with him and many of them reflect my thoughts at the time. Often appearing are desperation, hope, frustration, sarcasm, fear.
My husband has a chronic illness and frequently spends weeks in the hospital. I have been doodling each day while sitting with him and many of them reflect my thoughts at the time. Often appearing are desperation, hope, frustration, sarcasm, fear.
My husband has a chronic illness and frequently spends weeks in the hospital. I have been doodling each day while sitting with him and many of them reflect my thoughts at the time. Often appearing are desperation, hope, frustration, sarcasm, fear.
A mason jar filled with glowing fireflies casts a warm, bright light. The playful arrangement of the fireflies creates a whimsical and enchanting effect.
Mark Twain (1835–1910)
In the 1870s and ’80s, the Twain family spent their summers at Quarry Farm in New York, about two hundred miles west of their Hartford, Connecticut, home. Twain found those summers the most productive time for his literary work, especially after 1874, when the farm owners built him a small private study on the property. That same summer, Twain began writing The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. His routine was simple: he would go to the study in the morning after a hearty breakfast and stay there until dinner at about 5:00. Since he skipped lunch, and since his family would not venture near the study—they would blow a horn if they needed him—he could usually work uninterruptedly for several hours. “On hot days,” he wrote to a friend, “I spread the study wide open, anchor my papers down with brickbats, and write in the midst of the hurricane, clothed in the same thin linen we make shirts of.”
Whether or not he was working, he smoked cigars constantly. One of his closest friends, the writer William Dean Howells, recalled that after a visit from Twain, “the whole house had to be aired, for he smoked all over it from breakfast to bedtime.”
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.”
― Mark Twain
#dailyrituals #inktober #MarkTwain @masoncurrey
