W. B. Yeats (1865–1939)
A lyric poem of eighty or more lines took him about three months of hard labor.
Fortunately, Yeats was not so careful about his other writing, like the literary criticism he did to earn extra money. “One has to give something of one’s self to the devil that one may live,” he said. “I give my criticism.”- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.”
― W.B. Yeats
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I'm rather pleased with this one. Did you know that banner bearers are actually super important? In ancient battles, they stood at the front lines and used various signals to communicate the general's orders to the troops. There was an important battle between the Greeks and Persians in 480 BC. called the battle of Thermopylae. The Greeks were outrageously outnumbered. However, when a banner bearer accidentally dropped their banner, the other bearers thought it was the signal to retreat, and dropped their banners as well. The entire Persian army was routed by the significantly smaller Greek force. So technically this lady is much more important and powerful than any flashy warrior could be.
These are some OCs that Ive been working on for a while. Long story short, Maria is Zoey's widowed mother, and Zoey has cancer. Maria is struggling to keep the two of them afloat financially , especially because their health insurance sucks. Hoping to create a story that tugs the heartstrings!
This one started off bad and ended good. It was quick sketch that I wasn't really happy with. I decided to keep going and experiment. I was able to let go and draw without thinking and caring as much. I usually struggle with overthinking and perfectionism, so this one felt like a win for me.
(Gel Fineliner on A5 Paper) My opinion of the whole Inktober challenge. There's something to be said for the rebellious nature of drawing a simple cock and balls!
(Gel Fineliner on A5 Paper) A simple drawing to show how iconic zombies have become, and how they're lazily added to anything these days - Just like chips.
Anthony Trollope (1815–1882)
"All those I think who have lived as literary men,—working daily as literary labourers,—will agree with me that three hours a day will produce as much as a man ought to write.
...
"I always began my task by reading the work of the day before, an operation which would take me half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing with my ear the sound of the words and phrases.…
This division of time allowed me to produce over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, and if kept up through ten months, would have given as its results three novels of three volumes each in the year..."
From Daily rituals by Mason Currey
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This striking black and white ink drawing personifies Time as a dark entity surrounded by flying souls. A half moon hovers between two hourglasses, symbolizing the passage of time, while smoke billows from two pit fires below. The scene is grounded by skulls and bones, emphasizing the theme of mortality. The artwork is elegantly framed in a gothic style, enhancing its surreal atmosphere and dark symbolism, inviting viewers to reflect on the inevitability of time and its impact on existence.
(Gel Fineliner on A5 Paper) The second of five small drawings which are meant to show what happens when an artist gets bored of a subject. You draw something halfheartedly and think "That'll do!" XD
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
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