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Inktober2018day14. Clock. I love time. I hate time. It goes too fast and there’s never enough of it. If I had more of it, I would be able to post every day for inktober. I wasn't going to participate this year, but after 4 or 5 days in, I figured if I did a very simple line drawing, like I started doing with the little box chicken character I could make every remaining day, but I just couldn't stop myself from going all out on some pieces. It's like I always want to add more. So maybe it’s going to be quality not quantity for me this year. Please enjoy.

What do you do with a notebook planner that you never used and is about to expire? Doodle in its calendar squares of course.

Just some random doodling in my Moleskine. It never gets old.

Can you feel the heat? We're dancing at the party on Concrete Street! We never said that this party'd ever come to an end - the sun is setting but no fretting we can do it again!

We're at the monster garden where the people were defeated, A guard is never needed 'cause the monsters must be feeded. I mean fed. Like I said: Peeps are happy to be eaten 'cause it's never all that long, Monsters do the number two and poop them back onto the lawn. Colored in @escapemotions Rebelle

55 mins “I Never Noticed The House Was On Fire” This is a painting for an upcoming group exhibition about memories. When I was a kid I grew up in a household where my parents were functioning alcoholics. They gave me toys, put me in front of the tv, and sent me outside to play to keep me distracted from what was going on. When I look back almost all of my childhood memories revolve around these things. I became obsessed with these imaginary worlds and I learned to draw by copying my favorite cartoons and characters from children’s books. It was not until I was much older, that the truth could no longer be hidden from me. The imaginary world of cartoons and books kept me shielded from the harsh realities of home. As I grew into an adult that form of coping grew with me as I created my own imaginary places inspired by the ones I loved as a child. A healthy place to escape.

Here is a sneak peaks of my submission to the Home Sweet Home Challenge. I loved this challenge because it forced me to do something I never would have, which gave me happy surprises as I worked through it.

Did you ever have a page in your sketchbook that was so bad and so embarrassing that you tore it out and chucked it? This was one of those pages that made me cringed every time I came to it. So today I said to myself, "ENOUGH!" and ripped it out of my moleskine. But something wouldn't let me throw it in the can. Now, I'm not one of those artists that can't bring himself to throw away any of his stuff because each and every piece, good or bad holds some kind of sentimentality or sense of importance. This particular page was a result of a crappy angst filled day and stuff poured out of me. For some reason, it felt like I was throwing away some piece of my soul. There were parts that were overworked and others that were painfully too personal. So I decided to cut it up and put it back together in no particular order, however it seemed best. As I was pasting the pieces down it occurred to me that this had a comic book feel so I scanned the final and added the black borders in photoshop which I really dug. I like that it is cryptic and jumbled up like my brain can so often be. This reminded me of the awesome @johnhendrix who said something in his book, Drawing Is Magic that stuck with me. He said, "Don't worry about doing anything wrong. If you're hoping your sketchbook turns into a glossy display of only your best drawings, you are not carrying a sketchbook, you are carrying a portfolio." In other words, explore, take chances, loosen up and have fun. Try your best to go at it like an uninhibited child. In so doing, you will stretch as an artist by avoiding repetition and predictability. We all know how to do what we already know. To sum up, I created a bad page, and whether or not I was able to fix it, it expanded me. So, follow your pencil, pen, or whatever and let them take you to places you never imagined when you started. Then, maybe you will end up staring happily at the final and with childlike wonder, say, "man, where did that come from?"

Three kings stopped a walking man to ask advice about their dreams. But the man said, "Oh no please, I don't want to hear these things." "I have dreams of my own although they'll never come to pass... I just work my life away while all you rich guys sit and laugh."

Title: Never Forget. A quick piece I made today. I wanted to go abstract so the viewer can put their own meaning into the piece, but each paint stroke I made I had September 11th in mind. Digitally painted with watercolor in Rebelle 5 on a simple white canvas and sent over to PS.

I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one singular location (journal). Here is a successful attempt from that particular day. I'm also super lazy, which means I never go up to my actual studio and only use what's out on my computer desk.

Whenever I think of tags and/or labels for people, be it things like ‘gammons’ or ‘snowflakes’ et al, narrowing it down to a single person who represents that group is always running a fool’s errand in my opinion.

I never understood the power of dots and lines until I did this art! A simple change in the line from straight to curved shows projection of a hand. What a beauty!

This feels like it could be a fun kids activity page. When I started this doodle it was just the hill with the tunnel maze and a few things added in the maze area. It didn’t feel like it was going anywhere, but as I kept adding things I started to get into it and now I’m happy that I didn’t ditch it. It’s always fun when a piece surprises me. It never gets old.

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.”

I do generally put pen (or some kind of tool), to paper (or some kind of surface), every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one singular location (journal). Here is a successful attempt from that particular day. I'm also super lazy, which means I never go up to my actual studio and only use what's out on my computer desk.

Ms. Nathan was a play production teacher with flair and a big personality. She wore colorful clothing and loud socks that never matched. Her joyful, chortling laugh filled the room—or the hallway—wherever she happened to be. Staff meetings and PD days have always been strong invitations for observational drawings. Over the years, I’ve found that there are many boxes to check in a wide variety of systems. I often created my own boxes—and checked them with sketches of my colleagues. This one goes out to the colorful Ms. Nathan.

Not quite true, that last bit…

I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one single journal at a time. I also have super ADHD, which means I pretty much never go up to my actual studio and usually only use what's out on my desk, because out-of-sight-out-of-mind.

This piece is inspired by Mental Health Awareness Week that’s just left us. Belated and as cryptic as things might be (as usual) here in Bleu’s world, better late to the party than never right?

I never imagined I could capture so much emotion in an eye—especially on just my second attempt. This piece came to life through intuition more than technique. The values, the shadows, the highlights… they felt like they found their place on their own. Maybe emotion, light, and shadow have always spoken to me—I just finally listened.

I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one single journal at a time. I also have super ADHD, which means I pretty much never go up to my actual studio and usually only use what's out on my desk, because out-of-sight-out-of-mind.

I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one singular location (journal). Here is a successful attempt from that particular day. I'm also super lazy, which means I never go up to my actual studio and only use what's out on my computer desk.

I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one singular location (journal). Here is a successful attempt from that particular day. I'm also super lazy, which means I never go up to my actual studio and only use what's out on my computer desk.

"I have learned that what I have not drawn, I have never really seen." - Frederick Franck.

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.

Lino cut print over pastel. The story goes: The bird fell in love with the whale the first time she saw him break through the ocean’s surface, sunlight dancing on his back. From high above, she sang to him, and deep below, he answered with a song as old as the tides. She longed to dive, to join him in the rolling blue. He wished to rise, to fly beside her in the endless sky. But air and water would not trade places. So each day, at dawn and dusk, they met at the edge of their worlds—she on the wind, he in the waves—singing a love song carried by the breeze and the tide, never together but never apart.

I call this work Lost Koi because I painted it in the 1990s. Gave the original to a friend who was terminally ill and thought I would never see it again. Then I found it on a old computer. I had to work a lot with the image. I hope it loads.

Never complete.. really..

I take pride in experimenting with different photo exposures to bring out new dimensions in my creations. My work never feels complete, as there's always more room for exploration. I invite you to view my upcoming uploads from all angles as I bring them to life through my artistic expressions, such as dance, writing, or meditation.