A beautiful snowy night is depicted here. A girl is watching the beautiful scenario from her window. Actually this is a house referenced from the Song - "Perfect" ft Ed-Sheeran.
My first art of 2021, and the first in about 7 months after feeling blocked since last year. Reference was some random photo of a house on a country lane from when I used to go for long walks in Sussex. I decided to push myself into doing some form of artwork every day. This was the result from day three.
Watercolour on A4 watercolour paper. This was so much fun to paint, and it reminds me of holidays at my grandparents' house in Greece when I was a teenager.
From our little part of the world to yours, warmest winter wishes! This piece was created 'Just For Fun' with Colored Pencils. It was so relaxing and enjoyable to doodle one house each evening!
I stumbled across this dilapidated coach house that would have once been part of the Glynhir estate while exploring the public footpaths around Llandybie. I loved the way nature had reclaimed it.
Patron Saint of Lost Keys and Small Things.
Reminded me of this poem by Elizabeth Bishop.
One Art
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
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.
Howcome ghosts only wear white sheets? A group of whimsical, colorful ghosts fills the space, Each figure is unique, featuring different patterns and hues that provide a playful and vibrant contrast. The overall effect is lively and imaginative, evoking a sense of fun and mystery.
This is the 3rd piece that I painted during my train journey. I painted this scene after missing my greeny patches on house from outside. I didn't like how this painting turned out to be. But still fine T_T
