An intuitive mix of fluid watercolor gradients and intricate fineliner patterns, wrapped up in a golden border. A little bit biological, a little bit whimsical.
Michael B Jordan Drawing Sketch by Oz Galeano
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A child stands on the boardwalk holding a helium balloon, depicting Donald Trump’s turkey neck tied to a string. The child stares up, contemplating the ugly balloon.
A bit on the rough side right now, since I'm just getting started (again) on watercolours. I've never painted this loosely before so this is a big step for me. Maybe I'll try a selfie again in a few months to see how I've progressed.
Day two of my art training! It took way too long, haha. So, anyways, this is my DnD character, Pox's, dad. I have no idea what to name him because lately, I have been very uncreative. Anyways! This guy is the god of illness and poison, and is just generally really cool. I like him, even if I don't like this drawing all too much.
A vibrant, hand-drawn sunflower illustration featuring bold marker strokes and a rhythmic, blue-sky background. This piece captures the energy of a summer day through an impressionistic lens, blending warm yellows and oranges with cool, textured blues.
In fact, she [Mummy] said after a while, we have gone into hibernation. Nobody can get in any longer and no one can get out!
I looked carefully at her and understood that we were saved. At last we were absolutely safe and protected.
This menacing snow had hidden us inside in the warm for ever and we didn't have to worry a bit about what went on there outside. I was filled with enormous relief, and I shouted, I love you I LOVE YOU, and took all the cushions and threw them at her and laughed and shouted and Mummy threw them all back and in the end we were lying on the floor just laughing.
Then we began our underground life. We walked around in our nighties and did nothing. Mummy didn't draw. We were bears with pine needles in our stomachs and anyone who dared come near our winter lair was torn to pieces. We were lavish with the wood, and threw log after log on to the fire until it roared.
Sometimes we growled. We let the dangerous world outside look after itself, it had died, it had fallen out into space. Only Mummy and I were left.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
