I overheard the term ‘feeding the muse’ after what felt like an age and two halves at some point this week, so I figured I’d utilise it as a source of inspiration (and corrupt it in the name of art) somehow...
White and sanguine conte pencils on toned paper. These ruins captured my drawing itch with the quality of the light filtering brilliantly through the tangled growth outside, and the open shade within. At a metaphorical level, the image is about the sense of having a laborious path set in stone for me by custom, convention, and culture, while way is wide open to the chaotic fertility of nature, should I choose to follow my own feet and heart.
Outside my drawing table window are straight and weeping birches. We lost one of the birch trucks and, tragically, a beautiful OLD Japanese maple during an ice storm a few years ago. The third trunk is still in my mind's eye.
This piece was done with watercolour crayons, crayons, fineliner, acrylic paint and a touch of posca. I was showing that love can be blind and sometimes almost arrogant and selfish, the arrow has hit the spot on the second attempt but the scars are still to be seen. Although the person playing cupid aint always an outside force. I enjoy playing with the titles and am constantly changing and thinking of what it will be called when doing the piece, but i do like my wordplay. this one was a play on horticulture and felt it all tied in to the final design :))
This is available as an a3 sized print.
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?
30 minute sketch in tinted charcoal on toned black paper. This spider lives outside my window and I have the perfect view of her catching wasps all day.
I have been seeing the moon a lot and it is always shining really bright and full. I thought I would make this as a prompt for what's outside my window. (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤ Medium is white charcoal on black paper.
Have you ever woken up from begging "I wanna pee-pee" whimpering closely to your ear? Or from a barking alarm because the birds are singing loudly outside? Yea-ah, dogs are the best alarm clocks... We're sure you'll have a woof-derful week, guys!
Casey the Puppet. This painting captures the essence of a puppet lots of older Canadians will remember. A strange genderless creature with a dog puppet companion. A puppet with an outspoken personality that I remember as a kid wondering how it got away with saying what it did. The painting has a Canadian stamp to commemorate the puppet's roots.
"I take a step outside and I breathe the air, and I slam the door, and I'm on my way. I won't lay no blame, I won't call you names. 'Cause I've made my break and I won't look back; I've turned my back on those endless games." Although I'm a bit late, May 1st was Decision Day (congrats to everyone in the class of 2021!), and I'm proud to say I'll be a Blue Demon this fall (a very sciencey one at that).
No, I can't get it out of my head, now my whole world is gone for dead. This song has been stuck in my head for a while now, kind of interesting. I apologize for the long ramble of reflection this will be, but here I go. It's been an interesting few weeks, ups and downs, odd mindsets, but here I am. I don't know, quarantine has shifted a lot of things for everyone, and I've noticed a lot of changes in myself. I jokingly say I'm becoming soft, but it's a bit true, in a good way. I'm thankful for so many people in my life, and I'm finally letting those people how much they mean to me. I know I've said this before, but gymnastics has really been getting me through, and I'm proud of all the progress I've been making recently. My coaches make my life better, they're just incredible people and I love them so much. Thank you to the person I had a whole long text conversation with tonight (you know who you are) and for always dealing with my chaotic self. And finally, I've started to accept who I am, and that's a nice feeling. There's still the dark parts, the static still consumes me from time to time, but tonight was a good night. Thank you for all the support from everyone (in and outside of this community!). I genuinely appreciate all of it
Over the course of a few months, I got to work with Good Karma For All on what you might consider a "passion project". The job consisted of freehand painting murals on every single (large) wall and hand-lettering inspirational quotes all over the inside and outside of the building.
THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN WITH FIVE COWS
From Favorite Folktales from Around the World by Jane Yolen.
One morning a little old woman got up and went to the field containing her five cows. She took from the earth a herb with five sprouts and, without breaking either root or branch, carried it home and wrapped it in a blanket and placed it on her pillow. Then she went out again and sat down to milk her cows.
Suddenly she heard tambourine bells jingle and scissors fall, on account of which noise she upset the milk. Having run home and looked, she found that the plant was uninjured. Again she issued forth to milk the cows, and again thought she heard the tambourine bells jingle and scissors fall, and once more she spilled her milk.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CnnCvkZpxW0/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
