This was done on a heavy day. On days like this, I like to doodle whatever is inside my head to lighten things up. My therapy. Almost everything in here means something.
Folktale Week Day1: Home. This is a folktale about the ghost of a woman who lived at Heceta Head Lighthouse Her baby died when she fell off the cliff outside their home. Tragic!
So thankful for this experience that I shared with my class today. For the last 3 spring semesters, I’ve had the opportunity to take my KCAI Cultural Safari senior sketchbook class to draw from donor cadavers. Every year I am reminded of how amazing and intricate the human body is. I am also humbled by the generosity of the donors giving their remains to train young physicians. The conversations that result from these encounters always prove to be enlightening and inspirational. These are a few of my drawings I made.
In folklore, a will-o'-the-wisp, will-o'-wisp or ignis fatuus, is an atmospheric ghost light seen by travelers at night, especially over bogs, swamps or marshes. --Wikipedia
11” x 17” Original ink and watercolor painting on Arches 140# hotpress watercolor paper.
Signed by the artist. Unframed.
The Sunbeam and the Troll. Illustration of famous Finnish song. I draw three versions of it. Top of the drawings is last and then second and first one. I try to catch idea that Sunbeam fairy is more made of light than materia. Pretty tricky to me ;)
”When sun had ended its mission,
The last Sunbeam
Was left behind her sisters for a moment.
The dusk was settling on the grounds,
A Sunbeam with golden wings
Was just about to fly before it,
But she saw a small Troll come across:
It had just risen up from his cave.
See,a Troll before the twilight
May never live on earth.
They were looking at each other
The Troll in his chest
Felt an odd flame.
He said:"You are burning my eyes,
But never in my life
have I seen something so wonderful!" It doesn't matter that your brightness will make me blind
It's easy to wander in dark.”
A horizon of chalk—black sky heavy with silence, gold earth glowing with embered breath.
Between them, a thin line of turquoise, the pause where one world ends and another begins.
It is not sky, nor sea, nor sand alone. It is the threshold—a doorway, where silence teaches and light remembers.
Stand here long enough, and you may hear it breathe.
inking and seeing for better being — https://forming20.com/
Still the same concept I've been working through for a while, but trying to dig a little deeper. I had a 1:45 min flight and I worked on this the whole time (minus turbulence).
