Which pair would you wear?
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This fun doodle is in response to the latest weekly drawing prompt to draw a pattern, in red, with a pen. If you want to play along, sign-up on the site and a new quirky prompt will be delivered to your inbox every Monday.
Ice Dream. There’s some strange references going on in this one. If I don’t explain it won’t come together. Back in my day the Europe 72 3 record Dead live album had a crazy kid on the back cover smashing a cone on his head. Later an ice cream truck company called Weaser ripped off that art and would visit my mid Jersey neighborhood daily. Google it if you care. Flash forward to 2019. The ice cream truck that hits my neighborhood EVERY DAYS has a loud obnoxious song and no Greatful Dead connections. It drives me out of my mind so here is the result. I always try to turn my pain into gain. What a long strange explanation it’s been.
I have long been fascinated by the vision of a campfire in a dark forest and I have drawn a few versions of it with different results. This is the latest attempt
We're at the monster garden where the people were defeated,
A guard is never needed 'cause the monsters must be feeded.
I mean fed. Like I said:
Peeps are happy to be eaten 'cause it's never all that long,
Monsters do the number two and poop them back onto the lawn.
Colored in @escapemotions Rebelle
” Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul to waste ”
I have had an idea for a long time to illustrate Sympathy for the Devil from Rolling Stones.
This start from free sketching of cloud looking lines and soon i realise they look like atom bomb cloud. Original idea was more landscape version but maybe later.
55 mins
“I Never Noticed The House Was On Fire” This is a painting for an upcoming group exhibition about memories. When I was a kid I grew up in a household where my parents were functioning alcoholics. They gave me toys, put me in front of the tv, and sent me outside to play to keep me distracted from what was going on. When I look back almost all of my childhood memories revolve around these things. I became obsessed with these imaginary worlds and I learned to draw by copying my favorite cartoons and characters from children’s books. It was not until I was much older, that the truth could no longer be hidden from me. The imaginary world of cartoons and books kept me shielded from the harsh realities of home. As I grew into an adult that form of coping grew with me as I created my own imaginary places inspired by the ones I loved as a child. A healthy place to escape.
I aimed to have the water look believable while painting a jellyfish with long flowing tentacles. Drawn digitally in Rebelle 6 w/very minimal effects. This is not AI nor is any part of this AI.
"The Explorers" 14ft tall by 48ft long mural painting in Vienna, Austria alongside my friend Dead Beat Hero this past weekend. His comic book style robot characters emerging from the river into my crazy cartoon world.
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/
As we approach the end of winter, who knows where we’ll end up next? Still cautiously optimistic here...
As long as there’s stuff to inspire us all, it can’t be all that bad?
A Brief Pause at the Edge of Becoming
It seems I am always seeking a place to sit—
not just to rest the body,
but to settle the soul.
Yet even in stillness, Gary Brecka’s words whisper:
“The quickest way to old age
is the aggressive pursuit of comfort.”
So I do not stay long.
I walked until I found a picnic table
beneath a canopy of bare-limbed trees,
branches like open hands waiting for green.
The blue spruces nearby—
stoic, unchanged, whispering that some things endure.
I sketched.
Not perfectly. Not for anyone’s praise.
Just a mark to say: I was here.
Alive in this in-between.
Waiting. Listening.
Not for leaves—
but for something truer than comfort.
Thank you for joining me in this small noticing.
A moment borrowed from the rush.
A table. A tree. A thought.
A gift.
I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root.
And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty.
This is compulsory education, after all.
So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past.
“Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge.
The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence.
Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen—
my scribble’s soft insurgency.
The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn.
Columns and corners chant structure.
Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter—
their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward.
I begin to draw.
Not their tardiness, but their motion.
A shoulder. A blur of sneakers.
A tilted head chasing freedom.
Feet flickering like seconds.
Each mark a pulse.
Each smudge a breath.
My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing—
trembling gently through the mundane.
This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed.
It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation.
It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock.
I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you).
Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic.
Not for polish—
but for presence.
This is how I remember I’m still alive.
Still growing.
Still watching.
Still choosing to see.
Because sometimes mental health looks like
a piece of scrap paper,
a moving pen,
and the simple, sacred act of
marking time with wonder.
I had something bum me out a little bit today. Nobody’s fault but it is what it is. So I decided to draw this up. I’m ready for fall and fall beers! I love to sit out under the moon once the temperature drops a bit and have some marzen lagers and other fall drinks. I felt like this captured the moment perfectly. I am excited for music fest in @havertownlife havertown tomorrow. I heard @levantebrewing will be pouring at brick and brew so I’ll be there sucking back some suds. I’m glad I forced myself to learn #adobeillustrator I’ve come a long way. Since then I have been able to help other artists that don’t use Illustrator or vectors and I am pretty proud of that, because when I was in their place it always felt like a huge struggle.
The tables were covered in white paper. Crayons, pastels, and smooth sticks waited quietly. Then came Lucy’s glittery purse—her 8-year-old hands had filled it with stones to pass along, one by one, to the strangers around the table.
We traced them. Pushed them. Held them.
Then we let the colors lead:
-Red for emotion.
-Yellow for curiosity.
-Blue for memory.
Each color came with music, with story, with space.
At the Museum of Wisconsin Art, we made marks not for meaning but for presence.
Thank you to Ann Marie and MOWA for the invitation and trust. And thank you to the participants—some new friends, some old students—for showing up and making lines that listened before they spoke.
