FEDERICO FELLINI
In a 1977 interview, he described his morning routine:
I'm up at six in the morning. I walk around the house, open sindows, poke around boxes. move books from here to there. For years I've been trying to make myself a decent cup if coffee, but it's not one of my specialties. I go downstairs, outside as soon as possible. By seven I'm on the telephone.
- Daily rituals by Mason Curry.
#inktober #masonCurry #federicofellini #dailyritual
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.
This little acrylic was inspired by the autumn morning skies over Penrhos. My partner and I lived with her parents for a time while we renovated our first house. I used to hang out the 3rd floor window in the mornings to take reference shots of the skies.
Sticky-note warmup doodle ft: a burger, and octopus, a moth and its lover, an upset skateboarding pikachu, Patrick Swayze from Roadhouse, self-care, a grape loving internet duck, a soul, a kitty-rex, a misplaced turtle, and others.
My mind is on Puna so much lately. I love Hawaii...was born there and rediscovered it as an adult. I stay in Puna area when I go, in little houses I rent, or once, housesitting for a friend. This drawing was made one day when Mom and Dad and I went to Pohoiki to sketch. This little cottage and park is in the path of the flow and may already be gone. You can no longer drive there as the roads have been cut off by the lava flow. My heart goes out to all Hawaii residents dealing with this massive lava flow, and the VOG that goes with it.
There might be a few weird reflections in this as I had to take a pic of it on my screen to get a file large enough....I gave the original to a friend who lives near the park.
A 20x36 canvas A surreal shoreline unfolds beneath a weathered lighthouse, where reality bends into myth. Planes drift through muted skies, a UFO lifts a van from the cliffs, and the sea itself seems alive—its waves whispering forgotten tales. Between the moon’s watchful eye and the wreckage below, every fragment hints at a story untold, a dream caught between the tide and time.
