"Whirlwind 21”, an original drawing. Micron pens on archival paper. Size: 5” x 7”. Title, signature, and date in the back of the drawing. This drawing is the 21st in a series of drawings posted over a period of 100 days. The original post date on this drawing was September 21, 2020.
“Whirlwind 1”, 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 1st in a series of drawings that were posted over a period of 100 days. The original post date on this drawing was September 1, 2020.
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 part of a beautiful moment that was created as I was painting on these mini watercolour sheets. During the journey, I painted around 5 paintings. This is the first painting I painted during my train journey. A group of girls ( students ) got excited when I showed some of my paintings. So I gifted them this. More on the way ....
I found this drawing online of something like this. I traced most of it but some was cut off so I made up what was happening. Colored and shaded myself... I am gonna do fanart soon I promise.
One of my girls with lots of patterns. The girl keeps in blue and purple and the background and sunglasses is kept in green, orange end yellow tones. I have always had a hard time using less color and this is my practice in keeping a more stringent color theme.
Another addition to the people who have static for a head. I haven't mentioned it before, but the little gray things around their neck are just to make their scars of when their heads were torn off prettier. I think I'm going to call her Emily.
Taking a break from photo editing to get creative in other areas...
Over the Beltane weekend, my girlfriend and I watched the British dub of Urusei Yatsura over on YouTube. Yes, I assure anyone not aware, such a thing exists and my word is it hilarious (but not for the easily offended! Oh and while, I'm here, may the 4th be with you :-)
A woman with flowing red hair rides a bright red heart shaped rocket surrounded by fluffy clouds in a clear blue sky. The text reads: Beware of the love bombing!
For my 5.th upcoming colouringbook, fashion and pattern colouring. This I coloured myself, just to see if it’s a good cover, but I used another illustration and less colour.
I know I have not uploaded in a while, I’ve been busy, it’s a miked media kinda, water color colored pencils. Only some of it is watered though. I did this with my friend so it was a collab.
