The forest nearby is full of baby banksias growing in poor gravelly/sandy soil which they do better in. The little one was growing on the edge of a gravel road.
Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1864-1901)
Toulouse-Lautrec drank constantly and slept little. After a long night of drawing and binge-drinking, he would often wake early to print lithographs, then head to a café for lunch and several glasses of wine. Returning to his studio, he would take a nap to sleep off the wine, then paint until the late afternoon, when it was time for aperitifs.
(One of his inventions was the Maiden Blush, a combination of absinthe, mandarin, bitters, red wine, and champagne. He wanted the sensation, he said, of “a peacock’s tail in the mouth.”)
From Daily rituals by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #henriToulouseLautrec @masoncurrey
This striking black and white ink drawing personifies Time as a dark entity surrounded by flying souls. A half moon hovers between two hourglasses, symbolizing the passage of time, while smoke billows from two pit fires below. The scene is grounded by skulls and bones, emphasizing the theme of mortality. The artwork is elegantly framed in a gothic style, enhancing its surreal atmosphere and dark symbolism, inviting viewers to reflect on the inevitability of time and its impact on existence.
This poignant black and white pencil and ink drawing captures the essence of a dark, broken man with sand slipping through his fingers, symbolizing the passage of time and lost hopes. A hole in his chest reveals his heart, while beside him stands a similarly broken woman. In the foreground, withered flowers and a shattered hourglass accentuate the theme of decay and loss. The background features a forgotten playground, representing the loss of innocence, and a swirling vortex with lightning in the sky that engulfs the man's illusion of reality. This artwork speaks to the emotional turmoil and fragility of the human experience.
Jane Austen (1775–1817)
Austen never lived alone and had little expectation of solitude in her daily life. Her final home, a cottage in the village of Chawton, England, was no exception: she lived there with her mother, her sister, a close friend, and three servants, and there was a steady stream of visitors, often unannounced.
...
Austen wrote in the family sitting room, “subject to all kinds of casual interruptions,” her nephew recalled. She was careful that her occupation should not be suspected by servants, or visitors, or any persons beyond her own family party. She wrote upon small sheets of paper which could easily be put away, or covered with a piece of blotting paper. There was, between the front door and the offices, a swing door which creaked when it was opened; but she objected to having this little inconvenience remedied, because it gave her notice when anyone was coming.
“Composition seems to me impossible with a head full of joints of mutton & doses of rhubarb.”
From Daily rituals by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #janeAusten @masoncurrey
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827)
Beethoven rose at dawn and wasted little time getting down to work. His breakfast was coffee, which he prepared himself with great care—he determined that there should be sixty beans per cup, and he often counted them out one by one for a precise dose.
From Daily Rituals : How Artists Work by Mason Currey.
#dailydrawing #dailyritual #beethoven #coffee #inktober @masoncurrey
(Gel Fineliner on A5 Paper) “Wait...Did you just call me Phil? I'm a multi-dimensional higher being, you ignorant little tit! You don't just call someone like me PHIL! I was about to share the fruits of my knowledge with your species, ushering in a new age which would have been a significant step in human evolution, but now you can all PISS RIGHT OFF! You humans deserve to wipe yourselves out!” (It is widely believed that humanity constantly subdues itself with lazy misunderstandings like this.)
There are only a few lovely large pine trees near my home in the Southwest of Western Australia. This little sprig was found on a walk where there was only the one pine tree in amongst the other trees.
A stylish woman pedals her way through town on a vintage cargo bike, flaunting her sleek black beret and boots. Her loyal passengers, a fabulously fluffy poodle and a dapper little bulldog sporting a pink scarf.
The poodle, clearly the queen of the ride.
(Gel Fineliner on A5 paper) One of the age-old responses from dog-owners: “He won't bite you” along with “He's good with children.”
He's a dog, and like all dogs, they're bred from wolves. Given half the chance they'd revert back to their natural pack instinct. The only reason they don't is that they see you as the pack leader who regularly feeds and pampers them.
“Oh, my little darling isn't like that!” I hear you say, as if you're talking about a child. “He gives me kisses by licking my face. It's his way of saying how much he loves me.”
He licks his balls and arsehole with that tongue, so what's he really saying there?
My new painting captures the chaotic yet heartwarming scene of a determined father I spotted cycling through the morning rush. He's juggling a lot—quite literally—with a baby strapped to his chest and a little girl perched in the bike's front basket.
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#20 Cartoon Doodles - I have been in the mood to draw simple cartoons characters lately. Of course I don’t like to copy the original artist’s style. I prefer to change it up a little. Half of this was drawn on magma(dot)com, the other half was drawn in ibis paint (iPad pro). No Ai garbage used!
![[MS Paint Sketch] Fluttershy](/images/uploads/square/65557_shadowl_1728907836.8082.jpg)
