I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one singular location (journal). Here is a successful attempt from that particular day. I'm also super lazy, which means I never go up to my actual studio and only use what's out on my computer desk.
Against the weight of a storm-dark sky, tender stems lean forward—some bending, some breaking, some still reaching.
They hold their fire at the tips, waiting to bloom, waiting to burn, waiting to belong to light.
Perhaps this is all of us:
stretching through shadows,
searching for the thin, golden line that divides earth from eternity.
I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one single journal at a time. I also have super ADHD, which means I pretty much never go up to my actual studio and usually only use what's out on my desk, because out-of-sight-out-of-mind.
I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one singular location (journal). Here is a successful attempt from that particular day. I'm also super lazy, which means I never go up to my actual studio and only use what's out on my computer desk.
I do generally put pen (or some kind of tool), to paper (or some kind of surface), every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one singular location (journal). Here is a successful attempt from that particular day.
I'm also super lazy, which means I never go up to my actual studio and only use what's out on my computer desk.
A scene from where I live.The origional photo for this is taken from within a huge wildlife reserve. I should do more plaine air work but the weather in Ireland is not that predictable.
This is no landscape you could ever stand in.
No observational drawing, no safe horizon line.
This chalk experiment is a dream unfolding in color: a golden field lit from within, a scarlet seam of fire at its edge, and a storm-heavy sky pressing down with ancient weight.
It feels like a place between worlds—where the conscious and unconscious meet, where memory and imagination blur. Some might see a battlefield, others a meadow after rain, and still others a veil between life and death. That is the beauty: the painting does not tell you what it is; it invites you to confess what you see.
Psychologists say we project ourselves onto images like these. So—what do you notice first? The light? The darkness? The burning red?
Perhaps that is not about the drawing at all, but about you.
I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one single journal at a time. I also have super ADHD, which means I pretty much never go up to my actual studio and usually only use what's out on my desk, because out-of-sight-out-of-mind.
I do generally put pen (or some kind of tool), to paper (or some kind of surface), every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one singular location (journal). Here is a successful attempt from that particular day. I'm also super lazy, which means I never go up to my actual studio and only use what's out on my computer desk. (Including the "waste" page because I often like it as much/more.)
This landscape is a finished work, and is designed to relax those who are weighed down by work.It is of an Irish Berry Field. I did it mostly from imagination, but I did use some photo reference to get the background right.
This is a reproduction study only of a very famous Monet piece. I am not selling this. I learned how to do art according to the traditional methods of studying great masterpieces. I did this in soft pastel,but the origional is done in oil I think.
Got started on the classic show again and got the urge to draw out the greatest evil that ever crossed our screens. Though with the twist of showing the Great Evil in a more desolate, ruined presentation.
What do you guys think?
