Sakura Pigma Micron pen and DR PH Martin Radiant Concentrated Watercolors. One side was painted, then embellished with ink, scanned into Photoshop, copied, flipped and pasted to make the two sides. (Fairly large image, so I included a couple of details.) Silly but fun to do. A little "acid" and a few hours of gazing is all you need for a profound experience. Ask me how I know.
This started as a line drawing based on a photo of peonies in the garden. It’s drawn with three different pens: Micron 005, Micron 03 and Faber Castell Pitt superfine (0.3) on 11x14 Strathmore Bristol Vellum. The paper isn’t terribly tolerant of wet media, so I played around with tinting it in Photoshop because I wasn't sure how it would go. But I liked it in color enough to chance painting the drawing with the nice and bright Dr Ph Martin Hydrus watercolors. It's photographed it on my drafting table with my glasses for scale. The lamp has a daylight bulb, so I think the color (at least where the light is more prominent) is fairly true.
Practice in crosshatching and drawing skulls in black ink pen, its not perfect but we are getting there folks!
Also, special thanks to fellow doodle addict ❀Misti❀ for her awesome crosshatching tutorial, girl you are awesome!
Close to a month ago, I had found out my design was selected for the Art Stop Program, and, yes, this is mainly what I've been working on since. I've never worked on a piece this large before, 72in x 24in, and I rarely make sketches of pieces before creating the final work. It's definitely a cool feeling to look at the finished board and see how the drawing actually came to life. (The Art Stop Program selects a handful of entered designs for the artists to create on a larger board, and these boards will then be inserted into bus stop benches around Niles, IL.) I can't wait to see the bench this will be in, and I'm so lucky I got to be part of the program.
"Whirlwind 20”, an original drawing. Micron pens on archival paper. Size: 4” x 6”. Title, signature, and date in the back of the drawing. This drawing is the 20th in a series of drawings posted over a period of 100 days. The original post date on this drawing was September 20, 2020.
Alright , people, who here remembers a brilliant show by the name of Samurai Jack ? Just me ? C'mon now ! Don't be afraid ! Say it loud and proud ! Samurai Jack is A W E S O M E !
I have a lot of cats living in my neighborhood now. I want to hug them all.
Doodle made with iPad Pro, Apple Pencil, and Procreate. Tracked time: 3 hours & 55 minutes.
"Girl & Death". What started out as two separate pieces for Upfest in Bristol, slowly merged into one collaborative painting. On the left my part, on the right the artwork by Luke Gray (http://lukegray.net)
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.
This is the 5th piece that I painted during my train journey. I painted this scene after passing so many bridges, i was wondering how the people from below might see us when the train is crossing the bridge. A group of girls ( students ) got excited when I showed some of my paintings. So I gifted one of them this (●'◡'●)
