little

A little naughty Elf I made for Christmas.

So this is my darling Dolores. She is mixed cultures, Dad is Hispanic and mom is African American. She is a very mischievous character, she is a little girl you should be concerned about. But she does a BFF, he is in the works still. But when the kids see her coming, they get real nervous.

Joseph Cornell (1903–1972) Cornell worked nights at the kitchen table, sorting and assembling materials for his boxes. It was not easy going. Some nights he felt too fatigued from his day job to concentrate on his art and would sit up reading instead, switching on the oven for warmth. In the mornings, his quarrelsome mother would scold him about the mess he’d left at the kitchen table; without a proper workroom, Cornell was forced to store his growing collection of magazine clippings and dime-store baubles out in the garage. In 1940 Cornell finally mustered the courage to quit his job and pursue his art full-time—and even then his habits changed little. He still worked nights at the kitchen table, while his mother and brother slept upstairs. In the late morning he would head downtown for breakfast at his local Bickford’s restaurant, often satisfying his sweet tooth with a Danish or a slice of pie (and lovingly cataloging these indulgences in his diary). - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #JosephCornell @masoncurrey

christmas ‘24 destination spent with my people - thankful for the few days of quality family time, endless memories made, the many many laughs, and the beautiful view we were blessed with from our airbnb! enjoy a little watercolor I did while there, a breathtaking view from the Ozarks!

Jean-Paul Sartre (1905–1980) By the 1950s, too much work on too little sleep—with too much wine and cigarettes—had left Sartre exhausted and on the verge of collapse. Rather than slow down, however, he turned to Corydrane, a mix of amphetamine and aspirin then fashionable among Parisian students, intellectuals, and artists (and legal in France until 1971, when it was declared toxic and taken off the market). The prescribed dose was one or two tablets in the morning and at noon. Sartre took twenty a day, beginning with his morning coffee and slowly chewing one pill after another as he worked. For each tablet, he could produce a page or two of his second major philosophical work, The Critique of Dialectical Reason. The biographer Annie Cohen-Solal reports, “His diet over a period of twenty-four hours included two packs of cigarettes and several pipes stuffed with black tobacco, more than a quart of alcohol—wine, beer, vodka, whisky, and so on—two hundred milligrams of amphetamines, fifteen grams of aspirin, several grams of barbiturates, plus coffee, tea, rich meals.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #jeanPaulSartre @masoncurrey

Erik Satie (1866–1925) In 1898, Satie moved from Paris’s Montmartre district to the working-class suburb of Arcueil, where he would live for the rest of his life. Most mornings, however, the composer returned to the city on foot, walking a distance of about six miles to his former neighborhood, stopping at his favorite cafés along the way. According to one observer, Satie “walked slowly, taking small steps, his umbrella held tight under his arm. When talking he would stop, bend one knee a little, adjust his pince-nez and place his fist on his hip. Then he would take off once more, with small deliberate steps.” His dress was also distinctive: the same year that he moved to Arcueil, Satie received a small inheritance, which he used to purchase a dozen identical chestnut-colored velvet suits, with the same number of matching bowler hats. Locals who saw him pass by each day soon began calling him the Velvet Gentleman. The last train back to Arcueil left at 1:00 A.M., but Satie frequently missed it. Then he would walk the several miles home, sometimes not arriving until the sun was about to rise. Nevertheless, as soon as the next morning dawned, he would set off to Paris once more. The scholar Roger Shattuck once proposed that Satie’s unique sense of musical beat, and his appreciation of “the possibility of variation within repetition,” could be traced to this “endless walking back and forth across the same landscape day after day.” Indeed, Satie was observed stopping to jot down ideas during his walks, pausing under a streetlamp if it was dark. During the war the streetlamps were often extinguished, and rumor had it that Satie’s productivity dropped as a result. - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey

A bit of fun with little wood circles. I left the "pupils" detached so you can move em around. Little animated .gif here: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DBIkDEvgVfy/

para el día 11 de Fruitecember hoy le toca a árbol para este día decidí dibujar a Applejack enfrente de un árbol lleno de manzanas para cosechar

Sketchbook #11. Since the 100heads challenge was real tiresome for me, I devised myself another challenge - "50 heads". Basically it's a "100 heads challenge", but for lazy people) The rules are simple: I had to draw 10 two-page spreads of 5 heads, no time limit, no nothing. And I decided to use different materials for each spread. Spread #1 - ballpoint pen (+ a little bit of watercolour) - NEMOPHILA.

A happy little acrylic tree.

This is just a little thing I colored, the lineart is NOT mine. I asked my friend what colors I should do for certain things and I think it came together pretty well. The shading is also done by me. I forgot to watermark this one ^^'

The story behind this is that when my little sister and I were kids, we invented a game called Blammer. You duct tape small trashcans to your back and try to slam a sock ball into your opponents basket. We used tennis rackets for defense. We used to terrorize our parents with all the running and yelling in the house. We're in our 30's now and try and play when we see each other. I call her Chicken and she calls me Ducky. Which is why we're are riding birds. One of my favorite pieces I've ever done. A birthday present for her.

A little fairy rides thr wind currents amongst the blowing leaves in this 8.5x11 fantasy pen and ink coloring book line drawing.

Initiate of the Order of the Saints of the Scrapyard. All members of the order are entitled to the scrap of the mechs they fell (with the pieces they decline to use or take with them being tithed). To join the ranks proper, an initiate must fell an enemy pilot and bring their mech to heel (often by detonating the cockpit and going from there)). Initiates are given little more than a fusion engine (that may double as a shaped charge (or a death sentence depending on their luck)), a kinetic energy recycler (and shield for it to power), a small pile of scraps to build the rest of their sled, and a book of prayers for the scrapyard saints. Most will not graduate their initiation, ending their short stint as little more than ash on the breeze.

A little digital painting based on a traditionnal sketch I did, then wanted to develop in a slightly cleaner version

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

(Gel Fineliner on A5 Paper) Words that are used by the halfhearted artist to someone who asks far too much and pays far too little!

Watercolor

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

Just a little doodle of one of my fav pokemon :)

Little Fluttershy sketch (from the "My Little Pony" show) on MS Paint to have fun and try out some digital painting techniques.

This little pine cone was missing one side and looks like it’s been eaten, revealing a repeating pattern in the centre of the cone.

A little pixie surfs down a pile of leaves that are against the trunk of a forest tree. 8.5x11 pen and ink coloring page image.

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) A sad little addiction that many people have. Just take it one day at at a time :P

(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.