men

Found this quote a few days back, and it really resonated with me. The message is clear that we really shouldn't wait for the "perfect moment" or spend too much time looking for the "easy way" as neither of these options truly exist, they are in effect excuses for not getting on and doing what needs to be done. in order to achieve our goals. If we are honest with ourselves "now" is always the best time, and doing rather than thinking about doing is the way forward. This is a mixed media artwork as the drawing of the girl has been reworked in Photoshop along with the wording and torn paper effect all being digital. Many thanks for looking !

Kafka's version of Samsa, turning into an insect, hanging from the ceiling watching down. He did not mention a girl dancing, but this is what I found within the subconscious lines.

Artists from the planet Earth believe that inspiration is an inner energy that gives them ideas, mental power which strengthens the will to create a new work. We Assheads from the World of Fantasy, we know that inspiration is a living being that manages the actions of artists, states them to actions that normal man would not do. We consider the coming of inspiration - to a reasonable extent - good for creativity, but if the inspiration gets us in a firm hug and does not give up, it can have a devastating impact on the individual. In such instances, inspiration shows their other, insidious nature, about which little is spoken. Inspiration will, for example, propel artist - as the devil sinning soul - to constantly create, to eat is not thought, to be many nights sleepless, his sexual life can suffer, etc. Striking inspiration, such as a comet in the head, can, in some cases, result in a straitjacket, even death. We Assheads know that it is not wise to give advice to the artist struck by inspiration, warn him that there are still other joy and values in life. His inspiration closed his ears, he works with him as with a toy, so the artist could retaliate with aggression, considering that his personal freedom was compromised. For these and other reasons, we Assheads, marginal artists from the World of Fantasy, do not give special importance to artistic inspiration. - It's important to paint something, dance some dance, make some melody - says asshead Caci - - no matter what you create, there will always be someone stupid enough to see art in it.

This is one of my patriotic environmental posters. Protecting the environment in any way is a patriotic act because it safeguards the quality and beauty of the land we live on.

This is another one of my pro-environment posters. A lovely little bee flying around with a bouquet of all the flowers he loves.

Vector illustration of a monster girl with third eye eating a bowl of ramen. Made with iPad Pro, Apple Pencil, and Adobe Draw.

I've been gone from this site for too long, but it's because I've been making environmental posters! This one is to raise awareness against weedkillers. Glyphosate, the active ingredient in Round-Up and many others, is now considered a probable cancer-causing agent, so let's not use it! There's an equally effective recipe at the bottom of the poster.

It's always fun to come to the Art gallery of the assheads, marginal artists of the World of Fantasy. Today I have seen the picture you are looking at, it made me interesting, as more people worked on it, not considering the picture as a whole, nor the work of its predecessors. Then, out of a large cardboard box, an old man came out and came to me. There were two big holes in the box, so I realized that the guy was looking at me from the box for a while. - Do you like the picture? - he asked. His eyes, red from lack of sleep, staring at me. On the old clothes he wore on himself, there was a stain of color. - I was impressed with - I said cautiously, knowing the unpredictable nature of people who deal with art - Did you do it? His face was stretched into a smile, a few teeth that he had left, flashes from the mouth cavity. - Yes - proudly erect his chicken breast an old man - Inspiration wore me all the time! He looked at me with a look that required my other questions about the image, need to tell any story, to anyone, about his work, was in it taut like a catapult. - What inspired you? - I ask the old man, and he barely welcomed the question and said: - Last week I was visiting my friend Jergon, the King of the Dwarves. (His statement that the mighty King of the Dwarves his friend was so incredible, that it must have been true. Assheads usually have unusual life stories.) "It is well known to you that the dwarves appreciate their privacy, keep their place of residence confidential and may be ruthless if you disturb them. As a friend of Jergon, "the old man says," I have surely passed the territory of the dwarves. As I approached his home, I noticed more and more than the vicinity of his underground apartment - in the old roots - was edited by the gardening techniques of the dwarves. Dwarves worship their king and their nature makes them do something for him every day. For example, to clean the weed and planted rare plants and flowers around his house. Some day they polished the old root under which the King lives. So the environment of his house went out completely artificial, unnatural. The king is angry because he now has no privacy, his home has become like a public park, sweet hide, dear dwarves, was taken away from him. He told me. "Dear friend, if you think it's nice to be a king, you are not right. Everything has its own price." This visit inspired me to paint this work. - I nodding my head as if to understand how much potential was in that situation, so inspiration was a natural consequence. - Art freedom is expressed here - I said to the old man - maybe with the King of the Dwarves, on it, the picture was even more effective. The old asshead looked at me strictly and asked: - Did you see the King of the Dwarves? "I did not even see an ordinary dwarf," I admitted. The old man looked at me for a moment or two with a disappointed look, then he turned and entered the box. I felt a look from the box on my back as I left the gallery.

Pencil Drawing

Beautiful African goddess relaxing under a tree blooming and glowing with gifts of transformation and growth

This is a pencil sketch I did a while back around the time that I was fascinated by drawing tribal people. They have such an awesome culture which is reflected in how they dress. This image is of a woman which is part of an African culture that stretches their necks using rings.

I haven’t been that active here so, rather than waiting a day to post each of my new works, I’m going to just stick with my latest. And this isn’t exactly an oc, but I could draw him again in the future. I also don’t have a name for him yet, so you can write a suggestion in the comments. I drew this since I’m kinda facing a dilemma and sketching helps me clear my mind and think.

The freshness of morning withdrew in front of the warm rays of the sun. The Wizard of Cirilo Bum and I came to the High Meadow, one beautiful gazebo, where we planned to spend a day off. - Only those who work hard and get their work done, fully enjoy all the pleasure of a vacation - said the wizard Čirilo Bum. I did not answer him, my life plan was to work as little in life, for that reason, I have taught for the wizard at him. By the time we took the time to see the water that emerged from the earth, in the air she created a form of grapes and spirals of various colors that had disappeared in the unknown. The Ghosts of water had fun, trying to show each other their skills. We chose a place on the edge of the High Meadow for our accommodation, where we could watch the landscape: meadows and forests scattered to distant mountains of dark blue. Above us were an old, large yew tree as created to keep us from the strong sun and the negative energy. Below the meadow was stretched by which a dozen young dragons rode along and across, skillfully changed the direction of movement and twisted with their long bodies, they played hunting. Hidden in the crown of a large oak tree near us, pointed snake watched their game with their big green eyes, but I noticed that she quickly dropped into sleep. Then I remember that I did not do some important jobs yesterday, Čirilo Bum will definitely see it when we get home. It spoils my mood a bit, and I pulled out of the baskets a few of the dried sausages that the old wizard worked so well. Full stomach I always better mood. - There are rare opportunities to see the Big Redbeak - suddenly spoke Cirilo Bum - bird right now wants to snatch egg. I stared for a while around so Čirilo Bum says: I said Big. And indeed, I find him so big that several other creatures sought accommodation in his body. Cirilo Bum spent almost all day hovering in the crown of the old yew, napping with a satisfied look on his face. Every time I was constantly tortured by the fact that I would have to listen, a critic of the old wizard, when we come home because of my unsolved tasks. My nervousness I softened so that I ate all the food from the basket. Late in the afternoon, we went home, from the trees they began to descend some new, hitherto unseen beings in search for food or night hideout. Spirit of water was gone, but a good part of the way, perhaps from curiosity, we were followed by other inhabitants of the World of Fantasy, were to me welcome companions, I took my thoughts with them, to the house. A 3 format

Acrylic paint on 9" X 12" canvas board, done by autistic artist

Still experimenting with watercolors, I should buy decent paints (maybe Faber Castell Pans), actually the ones here are very cheap! and just don't mix well. So yeah have a look :D

Macelby is an autumn spirit & a guardian of the Harvest. Generally, his appearance indicates a good omen, although he will take up the sword when the occasion arises.

my new work! - Here he is, he comes! - Pepe Fajgl said, pointing at the top of the hill. The environment was typical for the territory of a mortician: valleys overgrown with low grass, and with some high ground. Pepe Fajgl and I left the corpse Henri de Functa at the foot of the hills and watched the Mortician as it approaches the dead body at a uniform speed, his beautiful eyes were fixed to the deceased. "It's wonderful," I said to Pepe, - it is certainly longer than 20 meters. - The Morticians are the beings that all the inhabitants of the World of Fantasies respect and love, since they have appeared, the precious earth is no longer polluting with graves and cemeteries, number of burning corpses and then a terrible smell almost came to zero, pollution of the lake and the sea throwing the dead into the water stopped. After Mrs. Death takes life and the soul went away in the wheel of the final verdict, it remains only material, dead, a bit valuable part once alive being, the meat that becomes a problem for family and community. Mortician comes to the dead body of the late Henri, its enormous mouth silently sucked corpse, he turned, and dignity went behind the elevation, the problem was solved forever. A 3 format

Last one of this series. Fun little project for the end of the week!

I'm working on a third one...Let the weird emojis and comments continue.

More experimentation

seeing a lot of robins in my garden at the moment

As part of my Woodland Critters series I decided to add a romantic painting of Mother Earth with her fella The Green Man having a loving moment...

"Spade - Magic Card Tournament" ♠️ ✨ Character design for a videogame idea based on a futuristic world in which there is an artificial magical card tournament held every decade. The main character, Spade wants to bring peace to her world by winning the tournament and being granted one wish.

As we had our litter of giant schnauzer puppies this year, I decided to document with text and mostly drawings what is happening every day.

It is a gold imortalization of a moment in a rest in the grass, and under the branches of a high urapan

Lufgt Huron, also known as Huron Blackheart and the "Tyrant of Badab," was once the Chapter Master of the Astral Claws and self-claimed Imperial Governor of the world of Badab Primaris in the Maelstrom Zone of the Ultima Segmentum. But ultimately, Huron was corrupted in his ambitious pursuit of power and he tainted most of his Chapter as well, leading them into an open rebellion against the Imperium of Man, known as the Badab War, which lasted from 901-912.M41. Bound to machines which keep him alive and forever in pain, Huron is now a scarred creature of hate. His machine claw clicking, he has strode to battle time and again, followed by the daemonic Hamadrya, and each time the agony of his existence grows and the spite within him deepens.

A ballpoint pen portrait using only red and green pens. Reference photo from Paint My Photo