old

Here's a doodle of my house. (I feel like this looks a bit different than what I usually do.) This is an homage to my 100+ year old house that has had many generations live in it. The bottom section is overly curved because, in reality, the center of the house is sinking and everything rolls towards the middle. A lot of character for a little house.

The sweetheart. From Rooster's Wife by Russell Edson. An old woman had fallen in love with one of her feet. Her husband said, No you didn't. Yes I did, it was sticking out of the covers of my bed, and I said, You're a sweetheart. No you didn't, said her husband. Yes I did. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cj8GWKeOjCo/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

This is was more of an experiment as I wanted to see what black ink would like on paper with an "aged" like background. I think it came out quite nicely but I also think that the black ink might seem a bit too bold. I'm not really sure.

some of my older portrait sketches :)

This is old, but I've always liked it and want to include it here

Ink and pastel drawing

just an other random paint-up based on an old B/W photo i came across on instagram

They're actually holding hands,not first bumping.this is the first painting I made that I actually like

Inktober day 3. a Banshee. I found it interesting that they are more often old women. Since pop culture usually shows them as young ones.

I drew Zilsti and Zizavy for the first time along with the other two in early-mid 2019 when I was 17 so the original drawing is really old,its from my original sketchbook I forgot about,i'll upload a few more drawings from there soon and redraw them.I changed the designs of the other imps especially Malicia (the yellow one)her hair being tied suits her the best

These are some old drawings I had done that I wasn’t particularly proud of at the time. I decided to go ahead and post them for memories.

i actually really like this almost-Viking girl .... Coming soon to TAPAS ! https://tapas.io/series/Orki-n-friends

Painted with watercolor and the gold brush pen.

The part of us ruled by those mischievous little Angels. Selfishly cheerful. Beautifully naughty. Destructive in their creativity. Mostly lost in the rudiments of time. . . Unless you hold on tight.

The black woman of the Wittelsbach family is a ghost haunting the Schleißheimer Castle. She was a widow who killed her own children because of an misunderstanding. The man she loved told her they cannot be together because of 2 pairs of eyes. He meant his parents wouldn't agree the relationship. Horrified by her cruel act she was thrown in the dungeon and died there. To this day she still said to be roaming the castle.

This piece consist of 2 sheets, the bottom sheet is painted by my four year old daughter, on top of that is a orange paper which I cut the kitchenware out of.

Sigmund Freud (1856–1939) “I cannot imagine life without work as really comfortable,” Freud wrote to a friend in 1910. With his wife, Martha, to efficiently manage the household—she laid out Freud’s clothes, chose his handkerchiefs, and even put toothpaste on his toothbrush—the founder of psychoanalysis was able to maintain a single-minded devotion to his work throughout his long career. Freud’s long workdays were mitigated by two luxuries. First, there were his beloved cigars, which he smoked continually, going through as many as twenty a day from his mid-twenties until near the end of his life, despite several warnings from doctors and the increasingly dire health problems that dogged him throughout his later years. (When his seventeen-year-old nephew once refused a cigarette, Freud told him, From Daily rituals by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #sigmundFreud @masoncurrey

Where do I begin with this one? This is a drawing of my dad and I; the picture was taken back in 2006, a happier time, I suppose. I don't commonly think about my dad, I don't necessarily think about how much I miss him or how I wish I could see him again, so it was odd for me to sit and look through old photos. I don't really know my dad; I do, but I don't. My dad was physically part of my life for 10 years, the second half of those were not the best. Mental illness, self medicating for years, debt, heroin, arguments, threats, uncertainty. I feel like I remember the negative more because I was older, my parents couldn't hide it from me like they used to. At the same time, when he was sober and stable, life was good. Life was great, things felt complete. So here I am, 6 years since he died. I don't want to say his image is fading, but I know less of who he was than I did before. I see the good from some (the ones who praise him, who act like he was a saint), and I see the bad from others (the one who felt the pain). I suppose I no longer see my view, my memories aren't there anymore. I don't necessarily feel sad, the anger has faded, and I can't say I'm happy. Maybe I'll figure it out one day, but, for now, it is what it is.

Title: Soldier Abstract Acrylic Painting On Canvas 24 X 36 inches