This is about the sensation of finding some hope. He hated his life so much. Got frustrated about the life choices. This boy here is looking for some HOPE in his life.
Then the sun shines. Looking at the beauty, he refreshes himself
Part of a personal project I'm working on right now, to experiment with unfamiliar art styles and practice lettering skills by drawing animals. This one I limited myself to a 100 pixel x 100 pixel canvas.
Tried my Poscas on a sheet of toned tan paper in my sketchbook, and doodled up this cute rubber hose like bat character enjoying a nice Halloween night while being carried by 3 spooky/funny jack -0-lantern balloons.
Pyotr Ilich Tchaikovsky (1840–1893)
At 9:30, Tchaikovsky set to work—composing at the piano only after he had dealt with any proofs or his correspondence, chores that he disliked. “Before setting about the pleasant task,” his brother noted, “Pyotr Ilich always hastened to get rid of the unpleasant.”
After lunch he went for a long walk, regardless of the weather. His brother writes, “Somewhere at sometime he had discovered that a man needs a two-hour walk for his health, and his observance of this rule was pedantic and superstitious, as though if he returned five minutes early he would fall ill, and unbelievable misfortunes of some sort would ensue.”
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“Truly there would be reason to go mad were it not for music.”
― Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky
“If you do not want to write, at least spit on a piece of paper, put it in an envelope, and send it to me. You are not taking any notice of me at all. God forgive you – all I wanted was a few words from you.”
― Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
#dailyrituals #inktober #PeterTchaikovsky @masoncurrey
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.
Boru Tokushu. Rice topped with grilled ayu sweet fish ,sweeteed tempuras ,preserved yolk and a medley of ikura , minced blufin tuna , and minced salmon. At Boru BKK in Bangkok Thailand
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.
Inktober day 19.
plump / merfolk
logically, all merfolk will be nice and plump, like seals, to keep the chill of the water away.
Mixed prompts from @inktober and @andreabrownlit
A birthday card I drew for my partner not long after we first met. The dog is her Labrador, Jack looking over a slightly artistic licence version of Ystradgynlais.
I love the show Breaking Bad, and rewatch watch it a lot. I noticed the other night Saul said this to Walt and I immediately got out my iPad and started in on the letters.
