The jarring moment when you are asked a thoughtless question. The decision to respond appropriately and proportionately that protects yourself versus answering in a manner that protects the status quo.
The friendly squish-walrus never means to squish things, but his permanently outstretched arms and difficulty slowing down once he’s gained momentum means that anything in his path is pretty much screwed. Most squish-ees forgive him easily though, because he’s just so darn nice.
This is a self-portrait. I didn't use a mirror or a picture here. This is what I look like in my own memories. It's a bit misleading, I think I am skinnier than the drawing suggests, but that doesn't feel like me. I have been overweight for years and I feel like I am too skinny at the moment. I feel like I should be curvier like in the drawing. This is about body-image, body-dysmorphia even. I do have those clothes, glasses and haircut. This work is pastel on paper (it's quite big, but I don't have a measure closeby)
I lost my momentum after being out of town all weekend and now I'm just doodling pretty faces. And I know I'm the queen of taking bad pics of them. Oh well. At least you get a peek, right? .
(...) En ese preciso momento, en el que soltaba aire y respiraba de nuevo, sus ojos fijaron la mirada de repente en un punto. Un pequeño punto de su universo que había cambiado de color. Se acercó al objeto de su curiosidad y se encontró con una pequeña flor. Una flor que no había visto nunca antes. Con un color raro que no conocía. No era del azul del cielo ni del blanco de las estrellas ni del verde que tanto conocía de las copas de los arboles. Era de un color entre el suelo y el cielo. Un morado vivo que rompía con todo lo que se encontraba a su alrededor. Una flor que hizo que todos los otros colores se volvieran pequeños en un instante a la vista de Zaya.
No se atrevió a tocarla, por miedo a hacerle daño, o a que se rompiese (...)
I painted this doll with the face of a middle aged woman. I like how distressed she looks, and the glasses complete the look. I sew on hair, but it just made her look normal so I removed it.
Everyone thinks that they love will have a happy ending, but those are the lucky ones. What about those who have their heart played just to get the pleasure fulfilled. What happens to those who kept promises but never fulfilled them, just forgot them like they meant nothing, no memories of them were made, it had nothing to do with them. This picture that I developed at this stage of a person's life shows that they don't ask for nothing beside a happy ending, sitting together and enjoying each other's company. What was the need of stealing someone's heart, use them for your own desires and then just throw it away? What did they get at the end? It was easy for them to make promises, gaining their trust, building hopes but harder for them to prove it. Day by day the pain kills them inside but to the world they are nothing more but alive and energetic, but who knows what’s happening from the inside, when they are just trying to live each day until death comes. At this moment of time no one can heal the cuts, them deceitful memories by the one who once said they will never hurt you or leave you. But I guess one day everyone does leave you, maybe today or tomorrow. She was told to forget him because he was nothing beside a memory. He wasn’t worth it. He walked away from her, but maybe she was too caught in his memories.
There's a moment in Black Panther where Michael B Jordan's character steals an African mask from a museum. When the other character with him asks why, he says "I'm just feelin' it." The mask he grabbed was VERY cool, and I kind of wanted one, too. But, short of stealing things out of museums, I guess I'll have to draw them. If you click on the image, you'll see a full spread of them.
A simple ink sketch of a bird at rest. Sometimes the quiet moments—watching, pausing, waiting—are the deepest teachers. This drawing is part of my exploration of what I call the Quiet Practices—small ways of living from the inside out.
If you’d like to see more of my reflections, I share them here: https://forming20.com/
Sometimes the quickest drawings hold the deepest truths. During an after-sermon discussion about understanding the love of God, I found myself listening with one ear and drawing with the other. Frank, seated across the room, made a natural model—relaxed posture, thoughtful presence, and a face full of character.
With a pen in hand, I traced his form in a quick contour line, following the folds of his shirt, the tilt of his jaw, the stillness of his hands resting in his lap. Contour drawing asks us to see more than just the surface—it demands patience and presence, a slowing down until the line itself feels like prayer.
Frank became more than a subject; he was a reminder that the love of God is often revealed in ordinary moments and everyday people.
