I was lucky enough to get to illustrate a beautiful Gorilla sculpture for Paignton Zoo. He took me 18 months to complete as he was under a purpose built awning at my house. Too hot and the pens dried up, too cold and my fingers froze! He now sits at the zoo and I miss him terribly! He Was decorated using acrylic markers on a white gloss base then varnished with car varnish.
Folktale Week Day1: Home. This is a folktale about the ghost of a woman who lived at Heceta Head Lighthouse Her baby died when she fell off the cliff outside their home. Tragic!
"I really don't like to gripe,
But there's a monster in pink stripes,
And he's lifting our house up to the sky.
It's like what Mama always said,
That we would all reach such great heights,
But I suspect that's not quite what she meant."
I went on ahead to the house, crying all the way, but now it was mostly to make an impression. Daddy followed and lit a candle because all the lamps were in the theater. He showed me the pike he had caught.
It's a lovely one, I said, because one must always say something when someone catches a fish. And then it was too late to cry any more. I put on my ordinary clothes again and we had a cup of tea together.
Sculptor's daughter by Tove Jansson.
#dailydrawing #toveJansson
The house is grey, the sky and the sea are grey, and the field is grey with dew. It's four o'clock in the morning and I have saved three important hours which can be counted as extra. Or perhaps three and a half.
I have learned to tell the time, although I'm not yet quite sure about the minutes.
Sculptor's daughter by Tove Jansson.
#dailydrawing #toveJansson
Behind the Russian Church there is an abyss.
The moss and the rubbish are slippery and jagged old tins glitter at the bottom. For hundreds of years they have piled up higher and higher against a long dark-red house without windows. The red house crawls round the rock and it is very significant that it has no windows. Behind the house is the harbour, a silent harbour with no boats in it. The little wooden door in the rock below the church is always locked.
Hold your breath when you run past it, I told Poyu. Otherwise Putrefaction will come out and catch you. Poyu always has a cold. He can play the piano and holds his hands in front of him as if he were afraid of being attacked or was apologizing to someone. I always scare him and he follows me because he wants to be scared.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
A whimsical yet reflective scene blending humor and nostalgia. Ty Patmore transforms an ordinary tavern tabletop into a surreal narrative—where a whiskey bottle doubles as a rocket, a lighthouse watches over the horizon, and every object hums with quiet irony. Mixing ink and graphite with storytelling detail, this piece captures the playful spirit of escapism and the bittersweet comfort found in small rituals.
para el dia 27 de Marchusic he decidido hacerlo dedicado esta canción y esta ocasión la protagoniza la pareja de DJ gato y gatita sirena conocidos como DJ Catnip y Mercat con esta canción
Sigmund Freud (1856–1939)
“I cannot imagine life without work as really comfortable,” Freud wrote to a friend in 1910. With his wife, Martha, to efficiently manage the household—she laid out Freud’s clothes, chose his handkerchiefs, and even put toothpaste on his toothbrush—the founder of psychoanalysis was able to maintain a single-minded devotion to his work throughout his long career.
Freud’s long workdays were mitigated by two luxuries. First, there were his beloved cigars, which he smoked continually, going through as many as twenty a day from his mid-twenties until near the end of his life, despite several warnings from doctors and the increasingly dire health problems that dogged him throughout his later years. (When his seventeen-year-old nephew once refused a cigarette, Freud told him,
From Daily rituals by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #sigmundFreud @masoncurrey
Watercolor commissions I did for a wedding theme around Mediterrano and Provence, here are a fisherman on his little sail boat, and a typical house within the lavender fields in Provence
