Lately this is how I have been feeling. Ever feel like like your the walking dead and feasting on the souls of others positivity. I need a cure. Part 2 coming.
this is Jax. no last name, just Jax. this artistic witch (who is sometimes called a crueler word that rhymes) doesn't have much going on in her life, other than being a full-time murder club member. at almost a thousand years, she's one of the oldest (and rudest) members, and has devoted her life to cleaning up crime scenes, and keeping Max safe.
These are 5 out of 12 images I did while processing the necessity of healing from life lessons. Heartbreak is prevalent throughout all the levels of tragedies in our lives. At times, the mourning period feels forced-- I never really want my wounds to heal because I feel they're the last of the love I carried for that "thing". The process feels like gold pouring into my gapping heart and I can only scream as it sears through my veins. It hurts to heal. It hurts that it has to happen.
The Tool Bench marks my 50th canvas—completed exactly one year to the day after I finished my very first one. This piece is a tribute to work, memory, and the quiet corners where both creativity and responsibility live.
Drawn entirely freehand, it’s built like a snapshot of a lived-in workspace: mismatched tools, worn wood, scribbled reminders, and the little personal things that actually make a place yours. The clipboard holds a “Honey-Do” list that never seems to end. The Polaroid-style sketch of my wife sits taped to the wall like a reminder of why the work matters. The shadows on the back wall match the tools lying on the bench—suggesting a moment in progress, a task paused, life happening between motions.
segments , steps, blindfolded, a difference of language between the body and something subtle , lack of movement.click -switch! the union of body and soul , the disappearance of the blindfold from the eyes and the flight between the immensely endless bright layers of fields .I am very curious about the sophisticated nature of things and phenomena: myself, people the Universe, I like to consider and feel them like a multi-layered cake, where each layer has its own history, worldview, and even its own temperature. I love to listen lectures of charismatic lovers of philosophy, design, music, human psychology and I enjoy the excitement it brings and the birth of new layers inside me. I rarely manage to silence my inner critic and for many years I have been learning how to be able to do it productively. I am still in the process though. I treat my life as a long voyage, changing directions and yes - sometimes those around me. I understand that even 24 hours a day is not enough and I definitely realize that my life today is much more colorful and interesting than when I was 20 years old.
Another class assignment. We had to draw the Farnese Hercules' gratuitously muscled torso 4 times from different angles and with different light sources. We had thirty minute time limits. I thought I was going to lose my mind. Medium: Charcoal on newsprint. Time: 30 minutes x 4.
Imperfect Lines, Honest Presence
This sketch is not perfect—and that’s exactly why it’s alive. The bold figure, the dissolving hat, the tilted chair: all of it feels unfinished, fleeting, caught in motion. It’s what the Japanese call wabi-sabi—finding beauty in the imperfect, the impermanent, the incomplete.
But there’s something deeper here too. A quick sketch is not just what the eye records. It’s what the soul permits. To draw without fixing, without polishing, is to admit the world will not hold still for us. Life slips past. The lines break off. And yet, somehow, the essence remains.
When you sketch this way, you are not the master of the moment—you are its guest. The pencil does not carve permanence; it pays attention. The act of drawing becomes an act of being present, of honoring what is already vanishing.
So here’s a challenge: grab a pencil and sketch someone near you in sixty seconds. Do not erase. Do not perfect. Let the lines falter. When you finish, ask yourself: What truth did the imperfection reveal?
Perhaps presence itself is the real art.
You know you can always count on me, friend
Like no one else, I've gotten used to the coldness of the stone
So I can be with you often
Silver rain will wash away the tears of the Dread Sky
I will rise with the sun…
I will rise with the sun…
- Valyrym.
Referring to the story "The Dragon In The Dungeon"
Some say I'm hitting the point.
So I strike again.
When the Writer dies, the World creates a seemingly imperceptible void, a void waiting to be filled, greedily begging others for revelation.
For the next One to take its place in this great spiral.
Light.
Narrow tunnel.
Echoes.
Arise.
Rest in Peace
Coyote - Of The Wilds was a talented writer, author of many fantastic stories which he never managed to finish.
He was able to convey true, deep emotion through words, through many unfinished stories. Now, through the ending of the Story.
These stories have contributed a lot to my life in 2020, as I wrote about in “Split Of… Personality”. Like for many others, he inspired me to create. I wrote “Split Of Fate”, deleted it, now I'm bringing it back to life, but I also have other plans - regarding the stories of Of The Wilds… but more on that later…
This was difficult to draw. Difficult without getting eyes wet.
Just a quick doodle…
Well, if I were nearby, I would place an apple on his grave.
Another little fox drawing. I loved the reference picture and wanted draw a smiling fox. Even was the first time I tried to draw the nice fure... red, orange, yellow, brown, mahogany makes the wonderful red fure which I do love.
Well, I'm joining the Tumblr exodus, which is unfortunate because that's where I post all my sketches! Oh well. Hello DoodleAddicts! This was half of a recent assignment for a figure drawing 2 class, to draw our model in high key lighting. :) Time: 30 mins x 2 Medium: Charcoal on Paper
I spilled a little paint on this leather scrap so I figured why not paint something on it? It’s kinda hard bringing a ‘possum to life on paper because they’re so silly and dumb in a cute sort of way, I think I managed to capture this guy’s personality alright..
A playful, mixed-media tribute to the aquarium life. This piece captures a slice of a fish's world, complete with a warning to "Keep Lid Closed", miniature castle, forgotten net, and a $75 price tag on a fish. It's a whimsical look at the serious business of pet fish ownership.
It's hard to escape emotions. The normal part of life is to be braver when you're depressed. It's like the trapped pigeons. Up in the clouds, longing for freedom.
One of my favorite pieces I did for Inktober a couple of years ago. The prompt was juicy. I went with an NBC Hannibal aesthetic. You would not believe how much fun I had coloring those pomegranates.
The girl was probably around 25yo but my drawing made her face and body look older. The shadows are a bit rough too. Again, I placed the drawing a bit wrong and had to leave out the feet.
A predator reduced to bone but not to silence. The body is gone, yet the motion remains — jaw open, spine curved, still moving through water that no longer needs flesh to carry it. This is not a fossil resting in sand; it is a hunter that never learned how to stop.
The ocean keeps its shape alive. Instinct outlasts life.
Some creatures don’t die — they continue.
The silver lining of this shelter in place is my daily afternoon walk to put my son down for a nap in his stroller. In our previously scheduled life, he would fall asleep on the drive home from school. These are non native eucalyptus and my beloved favorite tree, a Monterey pine, on a shady side trail of Golden Gate Park.
Relaxed tension. Two parents at a national chess competition. Their kids squared off at the board, and so did they — one leaning back, shoe propped up, trying for calm; the other sitting stiff, watchful. The game played out in more ways than one.
"Nowhere Fast" is a compelling still life that blends mundane domesticity with surreal, slightly ominous undertones. The scene is anchored by a wooden table where a spilled glass, a pack of matches, and an ashtray with a smoldering cigarette suggest a moment of interrupted pause or quiet, long-term stagnation. Dominating the foreground is an oversized, weathered cigarette carton boldly labeled "WARNING", its subtle but unsettling presence hinting at a consumption that leads nowhere.
In the background, a vintage RCA television set displays a stylized amanita mushroom, a recurring symbolic motif that adds a layer of psychedelia and altered perception to the otherwise drab setting. The earthy, muted color palette and soft lighting create a feeling of weary introspection, capturing a sense of being perpetually stuck in a cycle. The piece masterfully uses everyday objects to explore themes of vice, time, and the quiet, slow march toward an uncertain destination.
Had a thought to revisit one of my old worlds created during the creative streak over years ago. It was a world built from the primordial creative juices in my head, put from uncountable inspirations and knowledge bases learned from who knows forever.
Here is a perspective of how a world is built from the rise of some fundamental ideas. What happens if you consider a world suspended in nigh microgravity conditions, a supercharged atmospheric envelope orbiting a twin neutron star system, gravitational suspension, intense magnetic fields and radiation? A extreme and chaotic environment bordering an impossible miracle, in a constant state of freefall.
Not gonna lie, worldbuilding in detail is not easy. I don't have the mental and time resources these days, to expand a world in such intricate detail. Each of the scribbles above are mostly ideas of local flora and fauna that push the limits of my science knowledge base combined with accumulated general knowledge. Some of the concepts here are bordering magical fantasy, without even getting into the residing intelligent lifeforms.
