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.
A moment suspended between departure and arrival. Interim explores transition—where movement pauses, direction is uncertain, and meaning exists in the waiting. Rendered with restraint and negative space, the piece invites reflection on the quiet spaces between what was and what will be.
I spilled a little paint on this leather scrap so I figured why not paint something on it? It’s kinda hard bringing a ‘possum to life on paper because they’re so silly and dumb in a cute sort of way, I think I managed to capture this guy’s personality alright..
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.
In this memory-driven piece, Patmore reconstructs the bathroom from his third-grade elementary school, capturing the sterile brightness, the tiled repetition, and the institutional reminder to “WASH YOUR HANDS.”
But the scene is not pristine — a leaky sink, an out-of-order stall, and a taped-up sign reveal the quiet decay behind childhood places we assume were orderly and safe.
Patmore blends nostalgia with unease, transforming a simple restroom into a study of what it means to grow up: how the lessons we learn early (“hygiene,” discipline, responsibility) stay with us even after the walls begin to crack. The small pop of blue tape emphasizes the DIY fragility of rules meant to guide us.
This piece stands at the intersection of memory and maintenance — of spaces, of bodies, and of ourselves.
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.
In “I Love Lamp,” Ty Patmore blends nostalgia, humor, and subtle unease into a surreal domestic scene where time, space, and memory feel slightly off-center. A lava lamp—softly glowing with drifting shapes—sits on a worn wooden table, acting as the sole beacon of warmth inside a room that is quietly falling apart. The wallpaper peels back to reveal fractured brick beneath, as if the structure itself is shedding its old skin.
A melting wall clock drips down the surface like time losing its grip, while a framed picture of a UFO drifting over pine trees hints that even the outside world may not be quite right. Every object bends reality just enough to make the viewer question whether this room is comforting… or unsettling.
This artwork is part of my ongoing visual diary of factory life—small, overlooked corners turned into honest moments.
“Trash Talk” sits right between humor and grit… a reminder that even the most mundane places have something to say.
