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?
When I read the first book of the "Outlander"-Series by Diana Gabaldon, I was really inspired by the idea of travelling in time through places like Stonhenge. This is what it looks like in my head.
The raven familiar sat atop Florien's head making a mess of his braids. Weaving herself a new nest, she pulled a long strand free from a loooping braid her gleaming beak tucking it into a place that she deemed appropriate. She watched the snowy landscape alert to danger as she worked.
I’m 32 days into a 100 day project of little paintings to reclaim moments of creative joy with no strings attached – a daily reminder of what made me want to be an “artist” in the first place. I’m posting daily on my Instagram account @stephdillondesign
THE SHIELD from Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day by Ben Loory.
"And the remembrance of that place seems to spur him on, and suddenly he’s picking up the pace. Suddenly he’s jogging down the middle of the road, and then he breaks into a run. And then he’s running as fast as he can, and it feels like he’s about to take off. By the time the man gets to the cheap side of town, he’s never felt so good in his life. And he blows right by that dingy apartment and off into wide open space." https://www.instagram.com/p/CguFREoucBj/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
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
Kangaroos, wallabies, and emus at the zoo with my Sharon Art Studio friend. So nice to create together again! This was from November, when the SF Zoo was still open. I'm really grateful we were able to go several times before it closed again.
...initially was going to replace the spiders meal for a banana (referring to the piece #Comedian created by artist #Maurizio_Cattelan)...but just could not do it. Had some good conversation about the concept, so hope it leads to more.
Instead, it has lead me to explore some other ideas.
My new method of finding something interesting to draw - now that I'm mostly at home, like everyone else - is using StreetView. I use the app to search interesting places around the globe. This one is a sketch of somewhere near Lagos in Nigeria.
A bit of a departure from my usual style. I wanted to try something a bit messy, fast, and loose. The scene is an ancient woodland in Pembrokeshire called Tŷ Canol, an atmospheric place and full of inspiration for artworks. Pen and watercolour in Seawhite sketchbook.
Chromatography is used in chemistry to dissolve a mixture and place it into a "mobile phase," which allows the solvent to carry it and its components up the paper. It shows the layers, exposing deeper, hidden tones and colors, something only seen when a solvent of the same polarity is used. It's odd. Life feels a bit like that, and I'm seeing the colors separate for the first time. It's all there, everything that's been hidden in the inky mess for the past however many years. And now it's smeared. Bold. Clear. But blurry. What's on me and what's on you? Where do we go from here?
A Civics class arm doodle, a fitting place for a tattoo design. Today was the wrong day to wear a white long sleeve though. This weekend was interesting...good, bad, and very personal. It's currently 8th period though, and here's to the fact that I get to end my day in art.
The finished piece is 24 x 32 inches on 300lb. hot-pressed watercolor paper ~painted with watercolor and ink. There were a lot of components I wanted to incorporate in this piece. Then, the painting kept "going". It moved of its own accord in places I did not anticipate, and I kept going with it....people that I know/have known intertwined in my mind as I painted the tree branches. Overall, the painting took on so many meanings to me as it matured
Another watercolor I made from observation. This is a quiet place near my father's home, where I use to go with my friends when I was a child.
I am painting those in a 5x8 very convenient moleskin watercolor book. I previously eyeballed the dimensions of this book at 4x6 when I had no ruler to verify but I was slightly wrong. Now the info is exact. :)
In wanting to get active with my fellow doodler community, I wanted to stop in and introduce myself. My name is Dalton Stark, I live in Texas, and i'm a doodle addict, and an advocate for the possibility of anything. For me, doodling is my purest state of being human. My sketchbooks are a very sacred place for me to practice this expressive and arcane form of imagination meditation, which I'm always trying to find more excuses to spend more time in. It is to me, all about intuition, making discoveries, surprising yourself, having fun and maybe even making yourself and others smile or laugh sometimes. I look forward to being a part of this beautiful inky ecosystem with y'all, here are some very secret sketchbook spreads.
I have made my first attempt on drawing my home for the Home Sweet home competition. I am so badly on this competition, so this is my first attempt and will be replaced soon. Since I hope to come up with a true home star drawing.
I doodled on an IKEA lampshade. The bulb blew though, so I replaced it with my phone on the inside while using a colorful flashlight app. Video can be seen on my Instagram (@girlagrafi).
