outside

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...

A song of history and pastels.

Art therapy is good therapy.

Sequel time.

Quite often I dream up strange word combinations. The title for this one’s yet another example of such activities...

Artists from the planet Earth believe that inspiration is an inner energy that gives them ideas, mental power which strengthens the will to create a new work. We Assheads from the World of Fantasy, we know that inspiration is a living being that manages the actions of artists, states them to actions that normal man would not do. We consider the coming of inspiration - to a reasonable extent - good for creativity, but if the inspiration gets us in a firm hug and does not give up, it can have a devastating impact on the individual. In such instances, inspiration shows their other, insidious nature, about which little is spoken. Inspiration will, for example, propel artist - as the devil sinning soul - to constantly create, to eat is not thought, to be many nights sleepless, his sexual life can suffer, etc. Striking inspiration, such as a comet in the head, can, in some cases, result in a straitjacket, even death. We Assheads know that it is not wise to give advice to the artist struck by inspiration, warn him that there are still other joy and values in life. His inspiration closed his ears, he works with him as with a toy, so the artist could retaliate with aggression, considering that his personal freedom was compromised. For these and other reasons, we Assheads, marginal artists from the World of Fantasy, do not give special importance to artistic inspiration. - It's important to paint something, dance some dance, make some melody - says asshead Caci - - no matter what you create, there will always be someone stupid enough to see art in it.

I girl who is dead inside but keeps being her “happy” self on the outside

The 'arting while travelling' exercise I'm ever so fond of.

Yes, the titles will remain forever random.

It's always fun to come to the Art gallery of the assheads, marginal artists of the World of Fantasy. Today I have seen the picture you are looking at, it made me interesting, as more people worked on it, not considering the picture as a whole, nor the work of its predecessors. Then, out of a large cardboard box, an old man came out and came to me. There were two big holes in the box, so I realized that the guy was looking at me from the box for a while. - Do you like the picture? - he asked. His eyes, red from lack of sleep, staring at me. On the old clothes he wore on himself, there was a stain of color. - I was impressed with - I said cautiously, knowing the unpredictable nature of people who deal with art - Did you do it? His face was stretched into a smile, a few teeth that he had left, flashes from the mouth cavity. - Yes - proudly erect his chicken breast an old man - Inspiration wore me all the time! He looked at me with a look that required my other questions about the image, need to tell any story, to anyone, about his work, was in it taut like a catapult. - What inspired you? - I ask the old man, and he barely welcomed the question and said: - Last week I was visiting my friend Jergon, the King of the Dwarves. (His statement that the mighty King of the Dwarves his friend was so incredible, that it must have been true. Assheads usually have unusual life stories.) "It is well known to you that the dwarves appreciate their privacy, keep their place of residence confidential and may be ruthless if you disturb them. As a friend of Jergon, "the old man says," I have surely passed the territory of the dwarves. As I approached his home, I noticed more and more than the vicinity of his underground apartment - in the old roots - was edited by the gardening techniques of the dwarves. Dwarves worship their king and their nature makes them do something for him every day. For example, to clean the weed and planted rare plants and flowers around his house. Some day they polished the old root under which the King lives. So the environment of his house went out completely artificial, unnatural. The king is angry because he now has no privacy, his home has become like a public park, sweet hide, dear dwarves, was taken away from him. He told me. "Dear friend, if you think it's nice to be a king, you are not right. Everything has its own price." This visit inspired me to paint this work. - I nodding my head as if to understand how much potential was in that situation, so inspiration was a natural consequence. - Art freedom is expressed here - I said to the old man - maybe with the King of the Dwarves, on it, the picture was even more effective. The old asshead looked at me strictly and asked: - Did you see the King of the Dwarves? "I did not even see an ordinary dwarf," I admitted. The old man looked at me for a moment or two with a disappointed look, then he turned and entered the box. I felt a look from the box on my back as I left the gallery.

A 3 format, mixed technique. "My dissatisfaction with my progress in magic is growing," I said to the wizard Cirilo Bum, "I want to quickly become a wizard and not stagnate in the place." "Every creature, so the wizards, have their own way, and always travel, even if they stand in place," the old wizard answered. Then make a quick gesture by hand, a piece of paper was created in his hand. Give me the paper and say: "This is your way, the way you will have to pass before you feel the pleasure of becoming a wizard. When you get to the green path, you've almost succeeded." This paper, the picture you are watching, was a weak attempt by Cirilo Bum - one in a row - to express his artistic side. - If there is a magic spell or magic process in the picture, it would be good - I mumbled sullenly - what is this drawing at all? - The drawing contains all the answers. You have to start thinking with your head, think a lot, if you want to become a wizard - sighs Chirilo Bum - You are on one of the yellow points. The picture shows two tracks, each you need to cross. Paper, namely drawing, is a world of magic and witchcraft. The world of witchcraft, then, touches on the real, material world. I was studying the picture for a while and all I've concluded is that the green trail is not connected to another path. "There is an error here, it is impossible to reach the green path," I said to the wizard. - The only one who learns and understands the material world in which he lives is advancing in every sense - answer me the wizard Čirilo Bum - if your ground is firmly under your feet, it is easier to climb the path of witchcraft. On the other hand, too long a stay in the world of magic may end up with a fall in the unknown. I nodded because I did not get the answer I needed, so I went to the forest. "Do not forget to clean the house, my boy," Cirilo Bum told me as I left. I was in the mind other things, the formulas I found in the old books of Cyrus Bum. (Speaking of these magical formulas will lead to the appearance of five giants (Mato Bumps, Bruno Biceps, Miro Mass, Karlo Stone, and Alayas Him) in the world of Fantasy.)

The final doodle from my current sketchbook! As one door closes, another opens.

As it says on the tin! Don’t let those bastards grind you down.

The freshness of morning withdrew in front of the warm rays of the sun. The Wizard of Cirilo Bum and I came to the High Meadow, one beautiful gazebo, where we planned to spend a day off. - Only those who work hard and get their work done, fully enjoy all the pleasure of a vacation - said the wizard Čirilo Bum. I did not answer him, my life plan was to work as little in life, for that reason, I have taught for the wizard at him. By the time we took the time to see the water that emerged from the earth, in the air she created a form of grapes and spirals of various colors that had disappeared in the unknown. The Ghosts of water had fun, trying to show each other their skills. We chose a place on the edge of the High Meadow for our accommodation, where we could watch the landscape: meadows and forests scattered to distant mountains of dark blue. Above us were an old, large yew tree as created to keep us from the strong sun and the negative energy. Below the meadow was stretched by which a dozen young dragons rode along and across, skillfully changed the direction of movement and twisted with their long bodies, they played hunting. Hidden in the crown of a large oak tree near us, pointed snake watched their game with their big green eyes, but I noticed that she quickly dropped into sleep. Then I remember that I did not do some important jobs yesterday, Čirilo Bum will definitely see it when we get home. It spoils my mood a bit, and I pulled out of the baskets a few of the dried sausages that the old wizard worked so well. Full stomach I always better mood. - There are rare opportunities to see the Big Redbeak - suddenly spoke Cirilo Bum - bird right now wants to snatch egg. I stared for a while around so Čirilo Bum says: I said Big. And indeed, I find him so big that several other creatures sought accommodation in his body. Cirilo Bum spent almost all day hovering in the crown of the old yew, napping with a satisfied look on his face. Every time I was constantly tortured by the fact that I would have to listen, a critic of the old wizard, when we come home because of my unsolved tasks. My nervousness I softened so that I ate all the food from the basket. Late in the afternoon, we went home, from the trees they began to descend some new, hitherto unseen beings in search for food or night hideout. Spirit of water was gone, but a good part of the way, perhaps from curiosity, we were followed by other inhabitants of the World of Fantasy, were to me welcome companions, I took my thoughts with them, to the house. A 3 format

This is quite a ubiquitous scene, fresh garlands mainly of fragrant jasmine, marigold, rose and mango leaves, hang outside temples so the pious can buy them as offerings just as they enter.

my new work! - Here he is, he comes! - Pepe Fajgl said, pointing at the top of the hill. The environment was typical for the territory of a mortician: valleys overgrown with low grass, and with some high ground. Pepe Fajgl and I left the corpse Henri de Functa at the foot of the hills and watched the Mortician as it approaches the dead body at a uniform speed, his beautiful eyes were fixed to the deceased. "It's wonderful," I said to Pepe, - it is certainly longer than 20 meters. - The Morticians are the beings that all the inhabitants of the World of Fantasies respect and love, since they have appeared, the precious earth is no longer polluting with graves and cemeteries, number of burning corpses and then a terrible smell almost came to zero, pollution of the lake and the sea throwing the dead into the water stopped. After Mrs. Death takes life and the soul went away in the wheel of the final verdict, it remains only material, dead, a bit valuable part once alive being, the meat that becomes a problem for family and community. Mortician comes to the dead body of the late Henri, its enormous mouth silently sucked corpse, he turned, and dignity went behind the elevation, the problem was solved forever. A 3 format

Shortly after graduating in medicine doctor Illness concluded that the treatment of people does not make sense since he constantly coming new ill patients. The great desire to explore the state of the disease, he began his patients exposed to hazardous situations contagion and infection. Curious and eager for knowledge about the most serious illnesses, supported and developed the existing disease in their patients. He did not hesitate to post the wrong diagnosis, prescribing the drugs that have not been treat difficult health situation, on the contrary, they encouraged further development of the disease. After several years, he was arrested and charged with numerous deaths. Very indignant, told the court that great scientists have never been properly accepted by a society full of prejudices and petty soul.

A spot of Easter Monday improv.

Something water themed.

Hustle and bustle outside one of Stoke Newington's finest cafes

The things you hear after a few drinks can sure inspire you...

As it looks and as it sounds.

Something meaningful and hippie-like.

Quick sketch of a snowy tree outside my room.

Something belated.

outsider art

outsider art

Outsider art

Outsider art

Outsider art