White and sanguine conte pencils on toned paper. These ruins captured my drawing itch with the quality of the light filtering brilliantly through the tangled growth outside, and the open shade within. At a metaphorical level, the image is about the sense of having a laborious path set in stone for me by custom, convention, and culture, while way is wide open to the chaotic fertility of nature, should I choose to follow my own feet and heart.
Medium: Ink on Sketch Book Paper
Size: 15” x 25”
Year: 10/04/2019
This Illustration is my Pumpkin carve design for the Great Pumpkin Carve, sponsored by The Chad’s Ford Pa. Historical Society.
I have been participating in this event since 2006.
I designed this picture to illustrate the human heart toward God.
Understanding the symbolism in the design
Human heart: A Fortress
God’s Communion with Man Kind: Irish trinity flowers, with the crown, cross, dove
God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit
The two doors: the diverse ways mankind communes with God.
The door with the thorny flower design: A religious person who live with out power. They refuse to allow God to sit on the throne in their lives.
The door with the Grape Vine design: A follower of Jesus, who summit their lives to God’s lordship.
John 15:5 New King James Version (NKJV)
5 “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing.
Stephen J. Vattimo 10/04/2019
So many saddening things happened in my beloved country. When Lombok haven’t revived from the disaster, another city was devastated by a huge earthquake and tsunami. Whenever I open the social media, there are people asking for help to find their missing family members. My heart races, hoping that they will reunite soon and alive. I can’t do anything besides praying for them. I’m also frightened to think that the disaster could happen in my city too. So, if you’re reading this, I’m asking for your prayers. May god protect us all.
Inspired by a turn of phrase my girlfriend used to describe certain ex-friends of ours who got lost to conspiracy theories and generally problematic attitudes. Needless to say they’re haunted by all kinds of ghosts, wherever these people are!
Inktober, day 2: "Wisp". Brush pens and posca markers on coloured A4. This is inspired by the wisps in Ultima rpgs that I used to play as a wee bairn. That’s where I learned the word "wisp". In fact, it’s pretty much the only association I still have. ;)
An article/rant/annotation to an illustration. A #Hackney bar and its flies.
This picture is not as sad and blue as it might at first seem, I promise.
It is early in the week and the pub becomes the territory of the most outspoken drinkers. Raised somewhere between Churchill and Harold MacMillan, a night such as this is time for them to spin out a yarn of nostalgic fantasy. Encouraged by the lack of a crowd and with space to fill, statements start to fly.
In the opening rounds the barman athletically hits back with factual blocks and reality-check haymakers; statistics and personal experiences are given. Two histories cross examined, one where 1982 means Thatcher and the Falklands, the other renders Reagan and the AIDS crisis. Stoicism and national pride vs mental health and realism.
In the latter rounds the barman is fatigued, swaying on the backbar, glasses begin to stack up as form begins to drop. The older men seem stronger than ever.
The barflies come in close now, they scrutinise his generations work ethic and make wild political comments on poverty, immigrants and the minimum wage.
The barman is close to sheer bloody despair, he maintains his defence and focuses on breathing while maintaining his professional stance.
But at the end of the night the barman knows HE will ring that bell, they will politely leave and they will return again in a week and maybe, just maybe there will be a change, common ground or maybe at least polite silence.
But what these interactions have given despite the salt in the eye is community and an exchange between generations, culture and class of those participating. No home is ever straight forward, no relative without their good and bad traits and in a world where we often slide into echo chambers online or in our physical environments, the pub is still a place where society is family, face to face, pint to pint. Or maybe it's just a room with alcohol on tap?
Overheard the title on the radio this weekend describing Radiohead songs of the In Rainbows era (you probably know the one)… And that ends my current sketchbook!
One of my Swirly Designs, illustrated with different tools such as Graphite, Aquarelle, Ink Pens and Ai & Tablet. Sometimes sheer Vectorillustration/design.
.
Urh.-Nr:1811955
.
Copyright by Carolina Matthes
Connect with Nobody Support Art:
www.instagram.com/martin_balsam
www.twitter.com/martin_balsam
www.facebook.com/needmoney4artsupplies
www.needmoney4artsupplies.myportfolio.com
It was slow work paddling but we got going We reached deep water, but that was all right because we had both nearly learned to swim. After a while we entered the sound near Red Rock.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
God lived on the hill above the rock-garden and there was a forbidden cart up there. At sunset he spread out like a mist over the house and the field. He could make himself quite small and creep in everywhere in order to see what one was doing and sometimes he was only a great big eye. Moreover he looked just like Grandfather.
We raised our voices in the wilderness and were continually disobedient because God so likes to forgive sinners. God forbade us to gather manna under the laburnum tree but we did all the same. Then he sent worms up from the earth to eat up the manna. But we went on being disobedient and we still raised our voices.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
this is the powerful mantra that I Kanaiyah Ward drew out in block letters and it states that I am rising every day. and I'm conquering my fears, too. how true! I used just a pencil and a little bit of pen. Thank You for believing, liking, and supporting me!!!!! @tigger
I kept my eyes on it the whole time. Now it was moving so slowly that you couldn't really see whether it was coming towards you or not. Occasionally its shape changed just slightly and its black tummy swept over the concrete floor. I could hardly breathe. I knew that I ought to run away and hide bur I just couldn't. Now it moved diagonally again towards the wall and wasn't to be seen any longer. It was in the pile of junk behind the modelling stand, it was somewhere behind the sacks of plaster and might appear again just anywhere.
It was getting dark in the studio. I knew that it was me who had let the creature out and I couldn't capture it and lock it up again.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
