nest

Last work of my forest animal hides serie.

First drawing i did in my animals in nest or hide-out serie. Want to use whole spread of Moleskine reporter Notebook

I draw small serie of animals on nest or hide-out I use potentials of moleskine reporter sketchbook in whole pages spread

Second version of my animal hides serie. In the final work i change tree breed to more typical to squirrel in my country

If it wasn't enough that Ernest Shacletons ship Endurance was crushed by the ice in Antarctika’s, some kind of weird Space Weather phenomenon appeared into the sky(drawing tip:if your drawing looks flat and dull , try to transforming it something different ).

Third version of animals nest and hide-out sketches using Moleskine reporter Notebook

To be perfectly honest, the latest lockdown announcement here in Scotland was bound to influence my art in some form or another... Needless to say this is going to be one looooong winter, one that’ll have me blasting “Here Comes The Sun” by The Beatles once it ends, or at the very least stabilises.

Years ago, I sketched Gibby at work—pencil in hand, bold strokes alive with motion. I caught them from over the shoulder: just the back of their head, the soft curve of their face, and that focused arm bringing something into being. They were 9 or 10 then, already showing the spark of creativity and concentration that pointed toward who they’d become. Now in their mid-20s, Gibby is thoughtful, insightful—quick to listen, slow to speak, and wired to process the world with care. Their path has been remarkable: two degrees in 2.5 years, no debt. That didn’t happen by accident. It took grit, German immersion schooling, 16 college credits earned in high school, and testing out of 24 more once at university. That’s Gibby—quietly determined, resourceful, and steady. But their story isn’t just academic. Gibby’s always been gifted with their hands—drawn to set design, locksmithing, welding. Trades they wanted to pursue early on, and still feel pulled toward. They’re at a bike shop now. It’s not the dream, but it fits: their hands know how to build, repair, and reshape the world. There’s been frustration—maybe even anger—that we didn’t let them follow the trade route right away. I get that now. Life veers, and sometimes the path chosen isn't the one imagined. But Gibby’s resilience—their ability to adapt and press on—is what I admire most. They’ve embraced their journey with honesty, stepping into their identity as a they/them person, unafraid to define success in their own terms. That takes courage. I’m proud of them—not for a résumé, but for who they are. This old drawing isn’t just a memory—it’s a thread connecting past to present. A reminder that the creative spark, the steady hands, the deep soul I saw back then is still shining. So here’s to you, Gibby: the kid who sketched with fire and the adult who still shapes the world with quiet brilliance. Your value has never been about the path you’re on. It’s about the person you are. And I’ll be here, cheering you on—every step of the way.

My average 8-9 hour slumber in a nutshell! It's a miracle I function, quite honestly.

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.

Years ago, while digging through old journals and sketches, I stumbled across a quick, scribbled drawing of two pears. Beneath it, I'd written a raw and honest note: "Ann is pissed. I think it's because she's uncertain about me, us, life itself. She just ran into my car with the van. She says it was an accident, but she seems happier now—almost like it was cathartic. . . Like sex." At the time, I scribbled this in frustration, feeling a deep disconnect between us. Intimacy had become a confusing and distant concept in our relationship. The pears I'd sketched were rough and scratchy, charged with my chaotic feelings. Looking back, I see how emotions can drive us to strange actions, some intentional, some accidental, often leaving us oddly relieved afterward. Humans are complex, fascinating beings, navigating messy emotions and messy relationships, sometimes colliding intentionally or unintentionally, seeking relief in unexpected ways. Perhaps the pears were my subconscious pun on "pair," reflecting the awkward, confusing way Ann and I were bumping through life together—making messes, but occasionally finding strange humor and genuine catharsis in the chaos. I've learned to smile gently at the rawness of our humanity, appreciating even our scratchy sketches and emotional collisions. They're reminders that life, relationships, and our own hearts are never simple, but they're authentically human. Here's to embracing life's unexpected catharsis and finding humor in our imperfections.

I have given my students the problem of creating 100 self portraits in 20 days on 5x7 in paper. The challenge is to create something other than an image that depicts a 'dead-pan' stare. When the brain is given a problem, it goes to work immediartely to solve that problem. I have seen some wonderful solutions. This is a tall order for teens who are sensative to judgment and still developing in thier perception. It has generated wonderful discussions of self-awareness, world view, and judgment. Those who engage in the exercise in an authentic manner have only good things to say about the experience. It is not an exercise for everyone. We are on a journey. Be Bold! Be Honest! Draw what you see. Draw what you think. -Peace

I’ll be honest, 2024’s not been too bad mostly but the recent crap weather in Scotland has a lot to answer for. Cold and miserable? Sure, but it’s not exactly been winter as we know it. Roll on spring! In lighter news... happy Pokemon day :-D

A value study I did with my friend for practice. Based on a D&D picture we found online. First time using different shades of markers, so it isn't the cleanest piece when looking at it up close.

Mixed media picture for the "N" page of my alphabet book: Nuthatch, Nest, Nut.

"Parts Unknown," Acrylic on Canvas, 18x24 Some actions we will never know the reason behind, and, quite honestly, we don't always need to know the answer. Anthony Bourdain committed suicide on June 8th, 2018, news that was shocking for most to hear. People continue to speculate what could have caused him to commit suicide, some feel he had more to do, to say before he died. Personally, I find there's some feeling of closure or completeness to his death. I don't know what the feeling is exactly, but it's there. It feels like he left on his own terms, decided it was time. I wouldn't consider his death as him waving a white flag to addiction and depression. He said his shows were intended to tell other's stories, tell them frankly and truthfully. It's interesting how blunt and honest he could seem to be about himself, though he kept so many layers held within. Although we'd love to have a clear cut answer, explanation, reason, what would knowing that information change?

"And I Can't Get It Out of My Head" Watercolor I feel like I may be cheating since the song I was inspired by is not so simple, but I'm pleased with the result. To be completely honest, this was the piece I needed right now. The past week has been interesting for me, I've found myself in a peculiar slump. There's not one thing I'm thinking or worrying about, it's a constant buzz of thoughts streaming through my head. Sometimes I can get the buzzing to quiet down, other times it gets overwhelmingly loud. I've always found art to be a release, it fills in the blanks when I can't figure out how to make my words work. Lately, it's been more of a challenge than usual, but I think this piece says all I've been wanting to say.

Illustrated with Ink and Ink-Pens on Paper. Urh.-Nr:1811955 Copyright

Robin’s nest with eggs ready to hatch

This piece captures the essence of country life. The detailed lines and shading bring out the rustic charm of the countryside, with a cozy home nestled amidst lush greenery.

Ethel Marjorie Butterscotch had lived a quiet life in the south side of Cobble-Wobbleton, ever since the defenestration of the eelmongers in '38

The raven familiar sat atop Florien's head making a mess of his braids. Weaving herself a new nest, she pulled a long strand free from a loooping braid her gleaming beak tucking it into a place that she deemed appropriate. She watched the snowy landscape alert to danger as she worked.

Hustle and bustle outside one of Stoke Newington's finest cafes

It's crazy to think that 6 years have already flown by since I first moved onto the Xcel gymnastics team, let alone the fact that I've spent 15 years of my life as a gymnast. Tomorrow, August 6th, 2021, marks my last day as a gymnast on the team since I'm officially a college student. I've genuinely been dreading this day, but it's not the ending I expected...in an oddly good way. I know no one expected to spend the past year in a pandemic, and I definitely didn't think gym would shift so much in the following months, but here we are. Gymnastics has taught me more than I ever imagined it could, and my coaches (especially one of them) have become two of the people I'm closest with, words can't describe how grateful I am for everything. This 'ending' doesn't feel like an end, more so a closing to this chapter. Honestly, my love for the sport has only grown, and it feels like I'm finally figuring it all out. So, although my final practice as a team member is tomorrow, my journey is not over yet. "Goodbyes are the hardest part, and this ending has been something I’ve been dreading, although I know it’s time to let go. I’d like to say this isn’t a permanent goodbye to you or the sport, it’s more of a natural conclusion. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you’ve done for me and managed to teach me in this short amount of time, I couldn’t have asked for anyone, or anything, better. Thank you most of all for helping me achieve my dreams and for helping me get to a point in which I can say I’m proud of my journey. All that’s left to say is I care about you, I love you, and take care."

Agnes helps a little squirrel gather leaves for a nest

I'll be honest, this prompt stumped me a little bit, I wasn't sure where to go with it. Here's my take on it, reflecting the 50s and 60s vibrant music scene and the Cold War shadowing it.

I've spent recent lockdown days watching far too many Youtube videos about attachment styles and honestly it makes a lot of sense. Here is a little message for my anxious preoccupied self

Fun fact about these birds, they often lay their eggs in other birds nests to be raised.