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I try everything and they just don't listen to me when they're outside.

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Dumbells

Yep, sounds about right!

Out of November…

The inevitable Labubu fan art has arrived! I mean, I see so many of them here in Edinburgh and my folks (knowing full well my plushie habit) just so happened to pick one up for me as a gift en route back from their Cyprus trip. Can’t complain obviously, he’s a very good boy! :-)

Relaxed tension. Two parents at a national chess competition. Their kids squared off at the board, and so did they — one leaning back, shoe propped up, trying for calm; the other sitting stiff, watchful. The game played out in more ways than one.

The meal was my attempt to bring a little comfort into the rugged outdoors. The sketch was my reminder—to hold onto the moment, even when mosquitoes, ashes, and deflating air mattresses had other plans.

The lake was busy with light, the grasses busy with wind, but the boat sat quiet against the shore. There is a gift in this tension: to be held still while everything moves, to be carried without effort, to find rest in the very heart of motion.

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.

Imperfect Lines, Honest Presence This sketch is not perfect—and that’s exactly why it’s alive. The bold figure, the dissolving hat, the tilted chair: all of it feels unfinished, fleeting, caught in motion. It’s what the Japanese call wabi-sabi—finding beauty in the imperfect, the impermanent, the incomplete. But there’s something deeper here too. A quick sketch is not just what the eye records. It’s what the soul permits. To draw without fixing, without polishing, is to admit the world will not hold still for us. Life slips past. The lines break off. And yet, somehow, the essence remains. When you sketch this way, you are not the master of the moment—you are its guest. The pencil does not carve permanence; it pays attention. The act of drawing becomes an act of being present, of honoring what is already vanishing. So here’s a challenge: grab a pencil and sketch someone near you in sixty seconds. Do not erase. Do not perfect. Let the lines falter. When you finish, ask yourself: What truth did the imperfection reveal? Perhaps presence itself is the real art.

In real life I was thinking about my comic for this week and the creative process in general when I sneezed violently and got this idea haha

Post London / Stray Kids gig reflection time… Never thought I’d be gushing about those guys through my art, but who cares? Here’s a band who knows how to put on a good show! Amazing stuff :-)

Llama and maps themed washi tape to try out :-)

Seemed like a good name for it, that’s all I can say about it really!

This week is all about Pareidolia or seeing faces in things. Tree at my in-laws.

Went out, topped up on art supplies and foxtrotted off on an adventure with my girlfriend. Standard stuff!

Inspired by one of the bus routes I take back home from my Judo class in the evenings and how long said journey takes in terms of minutes… you’d think it was a quick trip but I assure you it’s not!

It’s Beltane! Here, have another cuttlefish and capybara pairing :-)

Lindsey's prompt: Eskimo Outfit

Had another drawing in progress I started at my art club tonight that I finished en route home… and here we are!

The warm weather in Edinburgh today got me inspired yet again! About time, winter was just too… winter, for my tastes.

They are out in force meaning spring has finally arrived here

Years ago, while digging through old journals and sketches, I stumbled across a quick, scribbled drawing of two pears. Beneath it, I'd written a raw and honest note: "Ann is pissed. I think it's because she's uncertain about me, us, life itself. She just ran into my car with the van. She says it was an accident, but she seems happier now—almost like it was cathartic. . . Like sex." At the time, I scribbled this in frustration, feeling a deep disconnect between us. Intimacy had become a confusing and distant concept in our relationship. The pears I'd sketched were rough and scratchy, charged with my chaotic feelings. Looking back, I see how emotions can drive us to strange actions, some intentional, some accidental, often leaving us oddly relieved afterward. Humans are complex, fascinating beings, navigating messy emotions and messy relationships, sometimes colliding intentionally or unintentionally, seeking relief in unexpected ways. Perhaps the pears were my subconscious pun on "pair," reflecting the awkward, confusing way Ann and I were bumping through life together—making messes, but occasionally finding strange humor and genuine catharsis in the chaos. I've learned to smile gently at the rawness of our humanity, appreciating even our scratchy sketches and emotional collisions. They're reminders that life, relationships, and our own hearts are never simple, but they're authentically human. Here's to embracing life's unexpected catharsis and finding humor in our imperfections.

Songs of wolves and sharks.