My latest illustration created for an illustration technique demo video. Oil drawing transfer technique. Watercolor resists the oil drawing on the paper. Sometimes oil and water do mix.
Oils on canvass. This is Charlie. He's the parrot owned by the supermarket where my husband used to work. The owner of the shop brought him in to keep him from getting bored and pulling his feathers out. He has a large cage at the entrance which he often escapes from, and can be found hopping from trolley to trolley on the handles, to amuse himself. He's usually found by a staff member who brings him back. A real character lol
Newest work! Alcohol inks for the sky, oil pastels for O'Neill himself :). A2 canvas - biggest I've done in a while! This was a present for the boyf, who is a massive Stargate fanboy!
This was a requested painting that is sold . There were a couple special requests that i’m still working on so as of right now, this painting isn’t finished.
I did this mostly from the imagination.The perspective is a bit off,but I still like it. Its of a peat bog in Ireland. A peat bog is similare to a marsh except the mud or soil solidifys, and then it can be cut for fuel.
I tried out some oil marker art and ‘neonified’ a portrait as a gift for my brother. It was a really fun new project, and definitely adding Posca markers to my art bag soon!
Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday’s, everyone!
Got a drawing prompt that was redscale and toilet paper. Whatelse do you do but a monster. Seriously, other then dark and disturbing where do you go with that?
Things have been so busy of late and my output has greatly reduced. However, I have returned to oil painting. I revisited this piece I started last year and put in a few more hours to finish it. The scene was from a few summers ago when I visited Pen Arthur forest for the first time. The piece takes me right back to that day when the late summer afternoon sunlight struggled to penetrate the canopy.
My vision of the character ‘Smaug’ from J.R.R. Tolkien’s ‘The Hobbit’.
Pencil sketch, coloured digitally on IbisPaint X.
Here is a passage from The Hobbit describing Smaug’s appearance: “There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were low in slumber. Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail, and about him on all sides stretching away across the unseen floors, lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light. Smaug lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on one side, so that the hobbit could see his underparts and his long pale belly crusted with gems and fragments of gold from his long lying on his costly bed.”
I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root.
And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty.
This is compulsory education, after all.
So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past.
“Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge.
The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence.
Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen—
my scribble’s soft insurgency.
The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn.
Columns and corners chant structure.
Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter—
their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward.
I begin to draw.
Not their tardiness, but their motion.
A shoulder. A blur of sneakers.
A tilted head chasing freedom.
Feet flickering like seconds.
Each mark a pulse.
Each smudge a breath.
My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing—
trembling gently through the mundane.
This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed.
It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation.
It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock.
I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you).
Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic.
Not for polish—
but for presence.
This is how I remember I’m still alive.
Still growing.
Still watching.
Still choosing to see.
Because sometimes mental health looks like
a piece of scrap paper,
a moving pen,
and the simple, sacred act of
marking time with wonder.
This is a reproduction study only of a very famous Monet piece. I am not selling this. I learned how to do art according to the traditional methods of studying great masterpieces. I did this in soft pastel,but the origional is done in oil I think.
