never

This is old (2007). I used to work at the ad agency that had the Harley-Davidson account for a number of years. I always carry around a Moleskine sketchbook and take meeting notes on one side while doodling on the page next to it. This doodle ended up being used extensively in the Harley-Davidson "Dark Custom" campaign as well as on a line of Dark Custom Motorclothes. It say's "FUCK YEAH" in it and they never noticed. :)

"Build them up High and strong so you'll never have to hurt too long Put them up 'Til they surround and there's no real you left to be found Hold it up High above no fear of hope or trust or love Close it up And hold your ground and wait unt

Never enough narwhals, is there?

“I'd never just want to do what everybody else did. I'd be contributing to the sameness of everything." - Captain Beefheart.

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

You can never have enough narwhals…

For some, the Halloween / Samhuinn vibes never truly stopped, you know?

Macro photography.

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.

Post London / Stray Kids gig reflection time… Never thought I’d be gushing about those guys through my art, but who cares? Here’s a band who knows how to put on a good show! Amazing stuff :-)

One year ago post-Beltane, I was drawing even more narwhals. As you can see? Some things never change!

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.

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.

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.

Weirdly enough, I never used to feel bothered by winter. A sign I’m “getting on a bit” as they say? I’m 32 come April, not 102 for feck’s sake! Whatever the case, roll on spring and general warmth, long overdue I have to say…

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.

Doctor Who inspired doodles!

Not quite true, that last bit…

Never complete.. really..

Jazz inspired whales for drawing no. 2 today!

Of all the things to jumpstart my inspiration for this, I never had an eye-test and a fresh set of glasses the day after the Samhuinn Fire Festival took place… but alas, here we are!

I never draw noses

A few years ago this little guy showed up. He started appearing in my doodles as encouragement. Always defending, never judging. He is the side of my brain that tells me everything is going to be OK. He builds me up, which is why I named him Buil.

Well I have my ways, but you get the point.

I’m no anti-natalist, that much is true, but a proud non-parent I am nevertheless… heheheh!

This is a commissioned project for a feisty cat whom you could never take your eyes off unless you don't mind the after math.

Mark E Smith... a writer and musician who never fails to motivate me, creatively speaking.