old

Old pond frog leaps into the splash. -Basho

Marginalias' character are starting to flesh out, even if I still don't have a story. These two are the princess (Who still doesn't have a name. Diana maybe?) a peryton and Ancelade, an atlas lion. They met when they were kid ( 9-10 for Ancelade, about fifteen for the princess). Ancelade was brought back from a war campaign by an old veteran knight who more or less adopted him and the Princess, when meeting a dirty, shivering lion cub, took him under her wing right away (quite literally, he used to fit under her wing, not anymore). (The joke, every time this episode is mentioned, is that Ancelade's adoptive father, while already having fathered children, had no idea how to care for a child and probably thought they were self cleaning). Once Ancelade properly cleaned up, the Princess discovered he was blond AND fluffy. Ten years later, she is still the only one allowed to touch his mane. Each think of the other as the brother or sister they don't have anymore. Even if everyone always ask them the same old question to which they answer in a mature and articulated way: Are you lovers?

Painted with watercolor and the gold brush pen.

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.

Bob the Drag Queen is a legendary performer and personality. She is one of my favorite people. I kept the composition simple to focus on shading and facial dimensions. I paid close attention to not lightening her skin tone and respecting her heritage but also contrasting the gold dress and blue background.

Umberto Eco (b. 1932) Eco says that he is able to be productive during the brief “interstices” in the day. He told The Paris Review’s interviewer: “This morning you rang, but then you had to wait for the elevator, and several seconds elapsed before you showed up at the door. During those seconds, waiting for you, I was thinking of this new piece I’m writing. I can work in the water closet, in the train. While swimming I produce a lot of things, especially in the sea. Less so in the bathtub, but there too.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “When men stop believing in God, it isn’t that they then believe in nothing: they believe in everything.” ― Umberto Eco #dailyrituals #inktober #UmbertoEco @masoncurrey

Planet Clowns

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

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.

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

When goldilocks visits.

Old smokey monster from Lost

brown and blue floral pattern

Inktober Day 04 - Freeze - That time when the ‘magnificent seven’ (minus Gendry who ran back to the Wall to get a message out to Daenerys) were huddled together to beat the biting cold freeze of the North...surrounded by the undead!

Old family farm with Cinnamon.

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.

Posca, fineliners and page from an old book.

An old sketch from somewhere around 2008. Done with markers, ink and posca.

goldfish daydream - digital sketch

This is my old roommate's dog, while she had an upset stomach. Don't worry! She was fine that night (after making a little mess for me to clean up). But for a couple of hours, poor thing lay on the couch looking like she'd just lost her job.

Okay, like I said, I am cruddy at drawing hands so I decided to practice, here you go!

I’m coming out of another one of those periods where I’ve drew or doodled very little (all the other projects on the go until now!), but as always I got my mojo back in the nick of time, it seems. :) Same old stuff here for now!