New one shadowed & ready for color. Drawn with a Pilot Custom 823 FA (favorite pen at the moment) with Noodlers 41 Brown on Strathmore Mixed Media paper.
I don't just draw animal portraits! Although it seems tat way at the moment! I did one and it kind of snowballed!!! This one is part of a series of illustrations that tell the story of Hansel & Gretel.
I told my boys, "That's you, you and you." They paused for a moment, pointed at the hot dog, and asked, "Well... Who's that?" ... "That's your baby sister." -- Ink and watercolor on 5x5 Arches cold press.
The Sunbeam and the Troll. Illustration of famous Finnish song. I draw three versions of it. Top of the drawings is last and then second and first one. I try to catch idea that Sunbeam fairy is more made of light than materia. Pretty tricky to me ;)
”When sun had ended its mission,
The last Sunbeam
Was left behind her sisters for a moment.
The dusk was settling on the grounds,
A Sunbeam with golden wings
Was just about to fly before it,
But she saw a small Troll come across:
It had just risen up from his cave.
See,a Troll before the twilight
May never live on earth.
They were looking at each other
The Troll in his chest
Felt an odd flame.
He said:"You are burning my eyes,
But never in my life
have I seen something so wonderful!" It doesn't matter that your brightness will make me blind
It's easy to wander in dark.”
There’s a lot of waiting in life.
Waiting in lobbies.
Waiting on answers.
Waiting for braces to tighten, kids to grow, hearts to heal, or prayers to be answered.
I sat at the orthodontist, watching dollars tighten on tiny wires, and made this sketch. A tree. A house. A street. Color helped the moment breathe.
I remember once hearing a chess master say, “There is no waiting in chess.”
It confused me—wasn’t there always a turn to wait for?
But he explained: “There’s no waiting. Only planning. Plotting. Analyzing. You’re always thinking.”
I once repeated that to a FIDE master. He got mad.
Maybe because waiting and patience aren’t the same thing.
We can be still and deeply active inside.
We can pause without being passive.
And then there’s Lindsey’s voice in the back of my head:
“That sounds like a first-world problem.”
“Speak life.”
“Be thankful. Rejoice always.”
And she’s right.
So here’s to filling waiting time with something creative.
Something kind.
Something that turns a delay into a doorway.
A simple ink sketch of a bird at rest. Sometimes the quiet moments—watching, pausing, waiting—are the deepest teachers. This drawing is part of my exploration of what I call the Quiet Practices—small ways of living from the inside out.
If you’d like to see more of my reflections, I share them here: https://forming20.com/
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.
It has been a delight to share with my students the incredible resource of people. Over the years, I’ve had the great privilege of connecting them with inspiring individuals such as Lois Ehlert, Dave Nice, Gregory Martens, Colette Odya Smith, and—as seen in this “Behind the Professor” sketch—Dr. Gaylund Stone. There’s something powerful about the presence of someone who lives their craft with humility and depth. In moments like these, my students are reminded that more is often caught than taught.
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.
I had this bizarre dream recently that I saw some
maniac driving in circles around my neighbourhood in what looked like a Reliant Robin, ready to crash into whatever they could at any given moment… yes, my mind (awake or asleep) works in weird ways but it gives me ideas so, hurray?
Three trunks rising from one root, steady and separate yet belonging. The little bush at their base reminds me that life gathers in layers—quiet companions at the feet of giants. A simple contour line holds it all, the way a moment holds both strength and tenderness.
So much noise presses in—
screens, engines, endless chatter.
But silence is not gone;
it waits in a turned page,
in breath, in light,
in the hush between sounds.
Phew! What a fortnight it's been here. Been engaging more in my photography as of late, but the day-job's had me on 'go' mode all Easter quite frankly. Thank the maker for those moments to yourself when you can just.. well, indulge really.
The meal was my attempt to bring a little comfort into the rugged outdoors. The sketch was my reminder—to hold onto the moment, even when mosquitoes, ashes, and deflating air mattresses had other plans.
Sometimes the quickest drawings hold the deepest truths. During an after-sermon discussion about understanding the love of God, I found myself listening with one ear and drawing with the other. Frank, seated across the room, made a natural model—relaxed posture, thoughtful presence, and a face full of character.
With a pen in hand, I traced his form in a quick contour line, following the folds of his shirt, the tilt of his jaw, the stillness of his hands resting in his lap. Contour drawing asks us to see more than just the surface—it demands patience and presence, a slowing down until the line itself feels like prayer.
Frank became more than a subject; he was a reminder that the love of God is often revealed in ordinary moments and everyday people.
Imperfect Lines, Honest Presence
This sketch is not perfect—and that’s exactly why it’s alive. The bold figure, the dissolving hat, the tilted chair: all of it feels unfinished, fleeting, caught in motion. It’s what the Japanese call wabi-sabi—finding beauty in the imperfect, the impermanent, the incomplete.
But there’s something deeper here too. A quick sketch is not just what the eye records. It’s what the soul permits. To draw without fixing, without polishing, is to admit the world will not hold still for us. Life slips past. The lines break off. And yet, somehow, the essence remains.
When you sketch this way, you are not the master of the moment—you are its guest. The pencil does not carve permanence; it pays attention. The act of drawing becomes an act of being present, of honoring what is already vanishing.
So here’s a challenge: grab a pencil and sketch someone near you in sixty seconds. Do not erase. Do not perfect. Let the lines falter. When you finish, ask yourself: What truth did the imperfection reveal?
Perhaps presence itself is the real art.
The moment of death of a Christian as they leave this earthly world and travel to the afterlife. The figure is halfway between the earthly and heavenly realms. The earthly realm I painted in flat paints. The heavenly realm is bright and glorious. God is depicted in trinity, you see Father, Son and Holy Spirit as one.
