My favorite way to eliminate the often paralyzing fear of "ruining" "good" paper is to just paint on any and all junk mail that comes into my house. Higher end catalogs are great for this, they don't use slick, thin paper (and even that gets used in collage or as a desk cover for other projects) and they're already bound for you. Just add marks! Carry it with you. Scan the pages you like. Cut it up later for making other art. It's "just" junk mail, so there is literally no pressure. I have HUNDREDS of these type of things and I run across them all the time, forgotten, in some old backpack or purse or drawer and it's a treasure to look through them again, and add new marks, paints and words.
A portrait painting of a vintage dislocated puppet head. Created with mixed media including vintage storybook pages, old photographs and stamps. Pen and ink, gouache, and watercolours.
William Styron (1925–2006)
“Let’s face it, writing is hell,” Styron told The Paris Review in 1954.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“We’re all in this game together.”
― William Styron
#dailyrituals #inktober #WilliamStyron @masoncurrey
“Claire!” Elle woke up with her daughter’s name on her lips. Startled, she sat up and looked around the living room with her heart still beating loudly in her chest. A dream, she realized dazedly.
Slowly, she crossed the way to the back door. With unseeing eyes she gazed out into the garden.
She remembered waking up in the hospital six years ago and seeing her husband sitting next to her. She remembered how he took her hand into his and looked at her with eyes full of despair. He told her that the doctor thought Claire might not survive. That she might die before she was even born, die before she had a chance to look into her mum’s eyes, feel a kiss on her forehead, clench her little fist around her dad’s finger, hear them speaking to her without a belly barrier between them… It was a silent, terrible death. It was the death of someone so precious, so innocent, so tiny…
Elle took a shuddering breath.
19 years old yet I still have to do my best to become a professional artist and well...successful animator one day to release about 6 animated series!i finally made a birthday drawing for myself!and a scrumptious cake too! honestly I don't feel like Im 19 but thank goodness I had a fun time!and a delicious dinner!
I know this is simpler and a quicker piece, but this is the drawing for my August journal. I started doing these back in March, with each month's drawing being based off a song. This month is "Golden Slumbers" by the Beatles, July was "Tower of Babel" by Elton John. (The pencil sketch eye I previously posted is indeed now in my journal.)
I'm doing an opera drawing each day (MET free daily stream during Covid19 closure). Here's a pencil drawing from yesterday-: Das Rheingold (Wagner's Ring). This is the dwarf Mime in the LaPage production.
India ink on tissue paper. I had never used ink on this kind of paper before; I really liked the results! There are some folds and wrinkles on the paper that give the pattern some interesting details. The paper is also super absorbing, which plays nicely with the quantities of ink. Since it's very thin, there can easily be overlays between textures. And finally, when trying to use less ink (so that it wouldn't seep through and cause a big dot - the absorbing quality is nice, but it was also somewhat of a challenge!) I used very little ink on the lettering, causing a scratchy, dry look.
Abandoned drawing of Ellie wearing a black turtleneck. The lighting in the room was terrible and the black fabric hid a lot of the shadow detail of the folds and it frustrated me. That’s my excuse anyway… Model: Ellie.
This is based on a couple of lino cut prints, acrylic paint and gold ink. I have rediscovered my love of lino cut printing after many years and hope to do much more of it.
Dream of the Yellow Chrysanthemum from Dialogues in Paradise by Can Xue.
I was hiding behind the window aiming my air gun at a squirrel on a roof in the distance. I had been taking aim for two hours. But when I finally shot, full of confidence, the steel pellet zinged right into Old Jiang's arm. God knows why I lost my mind at the crucial moment, I was born with the impulsive personality. Immediately he jumped up and dashed into the room, shouting, "Murder! Murder!" I was totally embarrassed.
