how

I'm pleased with how this turned out. I cannot wait till February when mine blooms.

I found out recently that a good friend of mine's dog passed away. I didn't know how to react so I drew this for her. Ellie was a great dog who loved people and adventures. She's not gone. She's just on a new adventure, making new friends.

I want the composition to be thoughtful but on the sad side. My skill practice was brush strokes and blending (but not overdoing the blending) as I try to figure out how I stylize as an artist. Still working in the realm of realism and proportions as I am a newbie, but wanna flex into stylization a bit more. I did this through Rebelle 5, which is absolutely amazing, IMO.

"Kids, gather around. It's time to show you who your real father is." Ink & watercolor on 5x5 Arches cold press.

Charcoal on board

It’s always good to find some drawing time on vacation. We went to some weird random small towns in Washington and a ghost town called Burke with some particularly interesting history. I had Cheers playing on my phone while I drew this but no similarity is intended. It’s a classic show but it would have been better without the distracting laugh tracks.

Rest in Power, Paul Reubens. I watched a lot of Pee-wee Herman as a young kid. As an adult, Paul Reuben's collection of erotic gay art made him interesting to me but misunderstood by many people. Any way you take him, he was funny and made many people laugh. I painted a scene from Pee-wee's Big Adventure, a classic Pee-wee movie from 1985. I love the California scenery and am happy with how the landscape turned out.

I wanted to capture an introspective feeling and show the Detroit River's expansiveness. I went with a late summer sunset vibe with lots of warm pinks and cool blues.

A handful of Brit flicks have been showing up on Disney+ lately, and one of them I watched recently had Luke Perry of all folks in it... the film in question is called ‘The Beat Beneath My Feet’ in case you’re curious. In all seriousness though, British films with American actors in them as a lead/central character will forever and always fascinate me, much like Luke Perry’s birth name did! Rest well good sir and thanks for everything.

Take it how you want. You either give everything to social media, or it takes everything from you. In the end, you are left naked and hollow. I wanted to make this a simple composition at its core. The image is more about the message. Times Square took forever to put together, I think the perspective is off just a bit. Overall, I think I did well with shading and depth. I am also improving on drawing/painting the human form. I wish I could trust in shapes and form and go a bit more abstract, but I think that will come with experience.

I'm not sure how this happened, And neither is this peep: A beach vacation for his wife That he bought on the cheap. He wanted to surprise her, So this is what he got. Turns out his wife prefers a beach With water over not.

Stickers I had printed up for art shows!

"At 6 o'clock the window squeaks and mum calls time" from Graham's Up the Tree. It must have been strange for mbpardy to see his his story interpreted through my illustrations... but page by page these characters came to life, with both of our contributions somehow adding up to something bigger.

I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root. And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty. This is compulsory education, after all. So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past. “Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge. The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence. Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen— my scribble’s soft insurgency. The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn. Columns and corners chant structure. Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter— their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward. I begin to draw. Not their tardiness, but their motion. A shoulder. A blur of sneakers. A tilted head chasing freedom. Feet flickering like seconds. Each mark a pulse. Each smudge a breath. My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing— trembling gently through the mundane. This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed. It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation. It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock. I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you). Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic. Not for polish— but for presence. This is how I remember I’m still alive. Still growing. Still watching. Still choosing to see. Because sometimes mental health looks like a piece of scrap paper, a moving pen, and the simple, sacred act of marking time with wonder.

2B pencil focusing on the eye, nose and mouth. The reflection today is a suggestion that we find what we look for, and we see what we want to see. Our family dinners include a sharing time of: 1. Who blessed you today? 2. Who did you bless today? and 3. What are you thankful for? It is suggested by some that if you focus on the abundance, you will not see so much of the lack, but if you focus on the lack, you will not be able to see the abundance so well. This was illustrated by the questions: "How many red cars did you see on the way to work this morning?" My answer was: "No Idea!" It is because I was not looking. If I was being given $100.00 for each red car I spotted, I would have certainly been looking, and maybe even getting creative with the definition of 'red'. What are you looking for? What are you finding?

Meh i dont know how to describe it.

This tired elf has been working too many hours. This is how I've been feeling with a toddler and a newborn...

How I feel before the first sip... second pic is my daughter’s coffee painting - she seems to have followed her stream of consciousness better than me

Drawn with a Sailor/Wancher Turquoise 1911L. The M nib on this pen comes to a sharp point which allows for some line variation not from flex but based on how deep the firm nib digs into the watercolor paper. The Noodlers Black ink is a little dry and that contributes to this effect.

Experimenting with my cats. Somehow this guy has one really big ear. I didn't even notice until I took his picture.

The tables were covered in white paper. Crayons, pastels, and smooth sticks waited quietly. Then came Lucy’s glittery purse—her 8-year-old hands had filled it with stones to pass along, one by one, to the strangers around the table. We traced them. Pushed them. Held them. Then we let the colors lead: -Red for emotion. -Yellow for curiosity. -Blue for memory. Each color came with music, with story, with space. At the Museum of Wisconsin Art, we made marks not for meaning but for presence. Thank you to Ann Marie and MOWA for the invitation and trust. And thank you to the participants—some new friends, some old students—for showing up and making lines that listened before they spoke.

This quick sketch of an impressionist painting is a reminder to me of how we cannot see anything until we are taught to see it. I was enjoying the painting because of the way Tarbell captured light, when a man and his wife joined me. The man said to his wife: "This is a wonderful painting, but I wonder whose lap the baby is on.". I was shocked because I was not able to see the baby till he mentioned that there was one. I noticed that it was indeed difficult to tell whose lap it was on. It was a transformative and humbling experience.

Felt inspired by this week's drawing prompt. Went with a Star Trek scene. Earth Spacedock from the movies always leaves me in awe. Tried to show it with its doors opening so you could see there is an inside. The starship's scale and perspective are off, but that is meh.

A wonderful reflective poem from Wendell Berry entitled "How to be a poet" is a fantastic foundation for an art curriculum. The last of three stanzas reads as follows: Accept what comes from silence. Make the best you can of it. Of the little words that come out of the silence, like prayers prayed back to the one who prays, make a poem that does not disturb the silence from which it came.

Finally got round to watching Hunt For The Wilderpeople, after eons of procrastinating over doing so, and was well chuffed at how great it was! Gave me some much needed inspiration for some art as well, always a bonus. Can see what the Deadpool 2 guys saw in Julian Dennison that’s for sure, and of course Sam Neill was brilliant as well. Can’t be forgetting Taika Waititi either for directing it! Excellent job from all in my opinion :)

Been hillwalking a lot more than I used to, and it's starting to show itself in my doodles :)

I had a rock tumbler as a child and really enjoyed it. When my youngest was a child we bought her one. She was eager to enjoy it too, but somewhere after starting on that path, we lost track and it everything inside turned into a solid mass. We tossed it and forgot about it. On a recent beach trip, I collected handfuls of rocks, as I am always likely to do, and, upon return, remembered how I loved my childhood rock tumbler. I immediately researched, ordered and eagerly anticipated its delivery. Of course, with Amazon Prime, that was only a couple day’s wait. As soon as I unboxed it I thought “what am I doing?” I have neither time, nor space for yet another hobby. I thought “what will I DO with a pile of polished, pretty rocks?” I would gather them in my hands and feel their silky smoothness. I would likely gather them in some beautiful glass bowl and…then what? I have toddler grand kids frequently at my home. They put small colorful things in their mouths and up their noses and feed them to the dogs regularly. And I don’t even have a single space to display a bog bowl of pretty rocks. So I quickly decided “I’m Returning the Rock Tumbler” and will, for NOW, stick to painting them when the mood strikes.

Years ago, I sketched Gibby at work—pencil in hand, bold strokes alive with motion. I caught them from over the shoulder: just the back of their head, the soft curve of their face, and that focused arm bringing something into being. They were 9 or 10 then, already showing the spark of creativity and concentration that pointed toward who they’d become. Now in their mid-20s, Gibby is thoughtful, insightful—quick to listen, slow to speak, and wired to process the world with care. Their path has been remarkable: two degrees in 2.5 years, no debt. That didn’t happen by accident. It took grit, German immersion schooling, 16 college credits earned in high school, and testing out of 24 more once at university. That’s Gibby—quietly determined, resourceful, and steady. But their story isn’t just academic. Gibby’s always been gifted with their hands—drawn to set design, locksmithing, welding. Trades they wanted to pursue early on, and still feel pulled toward. They’re at a bike shop now. It’s not the dream, but it fits: their hands know how to build, repair, and reshape the world. There’s been frustration—maybe even anger—that we didn’t let them follow the trade route right away. I get that now. Life veers, and sometimes the path chosen isn't the one imagined. But Gibby’s resilience—their ability to adapt and press on—is what I admire most. They’ve embraced their journey with honesty, stepping into their identity as a they/them person, unafraid to define success in their own terms. That takes courage. I’m proud of them—not for a résumé, but for who they are. This old drawing isn’t just a memory—it’s a thread connecting past to present. A reminder that the creative spark, the steady hands, the deep soul I saw back then is still shining. So here’s to you, Gibby: the kid who sketched with fire and the adult who still shapes the world with quiet brilliance. Your value has never been about the path you’re on. It’s about the person you are. And I’ll be here, cheering you on—every step of the way.

Thank you Elaine for your input and expertise. You are a rich source of wisdom and possibilities in connecting art to wellness. I will let you know how this develops. -Dean Graf

As I reflect on my past experiences, I am accutely aware of how often I have spoken from opinion rather than from experience. I have made mistakes. This makes me think of the Mark Twain quote -"Good judgement comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgement." Let's go out and get some experience, shall we?