Driven by my mishearing of something Dr. David Scheel was talking about regarding the octopus Heidi he kept in his home for a yearlong period...
His documentary ‘Octopus: Making Contact’ is a lovely thing worth watching I should add!
I do browse some weird things on places like Youtube, without a doubt! Definitely in the search of inspiration 9 out of 10 times though (as you can see)...
I started a new youtube series called Paint With Frenemy. Channeling Bob Ross in short painting videos. Check it out if you like and please like an subscribe! I'lll be posting new videos every Sunday 9am eastern time. This week video I paint a happy little taco with some stop motion animation mixed into the painting process. Link here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Hfj3xBju_c
I had a rock tumbler as a child and really enjoyed it. When my youngest was a child we bought her one. She was eager to enjoy it too, but somewhere after starting on that path, we lost track and it everything inside turned into a solid mass. We tossed it and forgot about it. On a recent beach trip, I collected handfuls of rocks, as I am always likely to do, and, upon return, remembered how I loved my childhood rock tumbler. I immediately researched, ordered and eagerly anticipated its delivery. Of course, with Amazon Prime, that was only a couple day’s wait. As soon as I unboxed it I thought “what am I doing?” I have neither time, nor space for yet another hobby. I thought “what will I DO with a pile of polished, pretty rocks?” I would gather them in my hands and feel their silky smoothness. I would likely gather them in some beautiful glass bowl and…then what? I have toddler grand kids frequently at my home. They put small colorful things in their mouths and up their noses and feed them to the dogs regularly. And I don’t even have a single space to display a bog bowl of pretty rocks. So I quickly decided “I’m Returning the Rock Tumbler” and will, for NOW, stick to painting them when the mood strikes.
A quiet moment before escape.
Time is counted, tools are gathered, and the destination is already marked.
The treasure isn’t taken yet—not because it’s unknown, but because patience is part of the journey.
This feather rests as a symbol of gentle guardianship. Light enough to drift, yet preserved with intention, it speaks to protection without restraint—something watched over, not controlled. It represents care that is quiet, constant, and strong precisely because it does not weigh anything down.
The Tool Bench marks my 50th canvas—completed exactly one year to the day after I finished my very first one. This piece is a tribute to work, memory, and the quiet corners where both creativity and responsibility live.
Drawn entirely freehand, it’s built like a snapshot of a lived-in workspace: mismatched tools, worn wood, scribbled reminders, and the little personal things that actually make a place yours. The clipboard holds a “Honey-Do” list that never seems to end. The Polaroid-style sketch of my wife sits taped to the wall like a reminder of why the work matters. The shadows on the back wall match the tools lying on the bench—suggesting a moment in progress, a task paused, life happening between motions.
It has been a while since I last felt that I had a good day. Got myself together to draw, and the first thing that came into mind was to continue this character design project.
Tried a mix between shades of grey, pale blue, with a tint of purple. Overall, the practice in drawing bird anatomy is slowly getting there. But yea... This is not a Blue Jay... I might have went a little too blue.
A 20x36 canvas A surreal shoreline unfolds beneath a weathered lighthouse, where reality bends into myth. Planes drift through muted skies, a UFO lifts a van from the cliffs, and the sea itself seems alive—its waves whispering forgotten tales. Between the moon’s watchful eye and the wreckage below, every fragment hints at a story untold, a dream caught between the tide and time.
