"There's a North in us all, but my North can't hold me anymore." Oh man, what a day/week/month it's been. Today was the end of first semester, a bit hard to believe half the year is gone, a bit hard to believe we still have half of a year left. The past 24 hours have been nothing less than mental chaos (maybe my coach was foreshadowing all of this when he asked if I was ok last night...) Anyway, here I am, here we are. Llemette on the left (name credit to Josefina), February journal on the right.
Pasha was a beloved German Shorthaired Pointer rescue dog. He came to us a bedraggled youngster and lived to become a "grand old man." This pencil drawing was done as a tribute after he "crossed the rainbow bridge."
hello☺️✨ one day my mum and i drove around and we found a place with some old cars, busses and caravans. absolutly fell in love with them. we took some photos there and when i came home, i really wanted to draw them. so, i started drawing and it was so much fun. this drawing was inspired of one of those lovely cars we saw then. wish you a wonderful day!
Hand and drapery sketchbook drawing. This combo never gets old for me. Faber-Castell PITT pastel pencils, charcoal pencils on 9” x 12” Strathmore Toned Grey sketchbook paper.
It's an odd feeling to reexperience the old anger and frustration I thought I had overcome, but, in all reality, I've been letting it creep back in for a while now. There was a moment of fear, it's still in the back of my mind, I'm afraid to slip back into the mental place I was a couple of years back. I'd like to say I've finally realized that it's ok to be afraid, and even a bit frustrated, but it's a matter of how I handle those emotions and my own reactions that make the difference.
Old drawing that I had contributed to a charity art book for Japanese tsunami relief efforts. Feel free to follow my facebook for additional updates! http://www.facebook.com/sonialaiart
Monthly theme was "GOLD", so I thought about gold as a hedonistic symbol and meaning.
Almost religious. I imagined a society praising hedonism as their religion.
Maia, one of two current German Shepherds was born here at our house ten years ago. She is a grand old lady with a big ears, a big ruff and a sweet personality. This drawing was done from a photo reference AND her sleeping at my feet. I used Pigma Micron Pens in black and brown with a little graphite smudging to add a bit of shadow.
An article/rant/annotation to an illustration. A #Hackney bar and its flies.
This picture is not as sad and blue as it might at first seem, I promise.
It is early in the week and the pub becomes the territory of the most outspoken drinkers. Raised somewhere between Churchill and Harold MacMillan, a night such as this is time for them to spin out a yarn of nostalgic fantasy. Encouraged by the lack of a crowd and with space to fill, statements start to fly.
In the opening rounds the barman athletically hits back with factual blocks and reality-check haymakers; statistics and personal experiences are given. Two histories cross examined, one where 1982 means Thatcher and the Falklands, the other renders Reagan and the AIDS crisis. Stoicism and national pride vs mental health and realism.
In the latter rounds the barman is fatigued, swaying on the backbar, glasses begin to stack up as form begins to drop. The older men seem stronger than ever.
The barflies come in close now, they scrutinise his generations work ethic and make wild political comments on poverty, immigrants and the minimum wage.
The barman is close to sheer bloody despair, he maintains his defence and focuses on breathing while maintaining his professional stance.
But at the end of the night the barman knows HE will ring that bell, they will politely leave and they will return again in a week and maybe, just maybe there will be a change, common ground or maybe at least polite silence.
But what these interactions have given despite the salt in the eye is community and an exchange between generations, culture and class of those participating. No home is ever straight forward, no relative without their good and bad traits and in a world where we often slide into echo chambers online or in our physical environments, the pub is still a place where society is family, face to face, pint to pint. Or maybe it's just a room with alcohol on tap?
