Sorry I haven’t been around to post much. I’m always really busy during the summer months. I decided to buy a set of oil paints and experiment with them. When my set arrived, it was missing a blue paint so i had to improvise on this one. The painting is still wet so there is some glare in the image. I feel like it looks good, but I am definitely lacking the skill and technique in oil paints. That is why this painting is super simple and easy subject matter. Hopefully, I can start to get a feel for the oils :)
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.
It's been a hot minute. I was taking myself too seriously until there was no fun in drawing left. So I had a break, then bought myself some chunky kids' markers and voilà!
Fisher Friends, an oil painting of a Kingfisher, is inspired by cherished childhood memories spent by the River Tyne. This piece pays homage to the joy of growing up close to nature—the serene beauty of the river, the excitement of spotting wildlife, and the rare delight of seeing a Kingfisher.
Trying to meld the moody tones of pulp noir with the playful romanticism of 1950s lifestyle illustration. Inspired by the fairground scene from the 1942 Veronica Lake classic, This Gun for Hire.
I recently discovered oil pastels and am being amazed every day at how versatile they are. While cleaning my desk this morning I found some blank ATCs (Artist trading cards, 2.5x3.5") and wondered if I could work small with such a bulky medium. Turns out, absolutely yes.
So if any of y’all have watched RuPaul sorry if I am spoiling it for you. It’s really great. I was told to make Appa from Avatar. Working on it @rayedrgn ! Okay so here it is! I traced just to get shapes then I colored it. Um I guess that’s it?
