This was part of a bigger study I'm currently in the midst of, with landscapes, water reflections and pinetrees for miles. Any and all feedback is very much appreciated.
I haven’t done much art recently. This is a little sloppy, but hopefully it’s just that i’m out of practice. I would love any tips, suggestions, or any feedback for that matter.
This is a mashup of art styles. I'm not even sure how to describe it. Started with the main mushroom that is outlined and then went crazy around it. Also experimented with water reflections a bit.
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.
Cont. to work on BnW illustrations, I wanted to focus on making the reflections have a realistic quality. I struggle with clouds, but I felt I was most refined here. My BnW's seem to have so much more life and expression than my paintings. I'd love to hear your thoughts.
To be perfectly honest, the latest lockdown announcement here in Scotland was bound to influence my art in some form or another...
Needless to say this is going to be one looooong winter, one that’ll have me blasting “Here Comes The Sun” by The Beatles once it ends, or at the very least stabilises.
A moment suspended between departure and arrival. Interim explores transition—where movement pauses, direction is uncertain, and meaning exists in the waiting. Rendered with restraint and negative space, the piece invites reflection on the quiet spaces between what was and what will be.
A solitary rowboat drifts across a muted, restless surface, unanchored and unattended. Rendered in charcoal, ink, and subtle white highlights, the vessel exists in a quiet state of motion—moving, yet going nowhere. The surrounding water is suggested through loose, rhythmic lines, emphasizing atmosphere and isolation over realism.
The boat is sharply defined against the hazy background, its dark contours and interior shadows contrasting with the soft, unsettled environment. Oars rest unevenly, implying recent human presence while reinforcing absence. The name Perditas—Latin for “lost”—is affixed to the hull, anchoring the emotional weight of the piece without explanation.
This work explores themes of solitude, uncertainty, and endurance. With no shoreline or destination in sight, Perditas becomes a reflection on drifting—physically, mentally, and emotionally—inviting the viewer to confront their own sense of direction within an undefined space.
In this drawing, I was striving to capture the spirit of contemplation and reflection, a sort of spiritual sojourn, an ancient practice of pilgrimage, focusing on subjects of transcendent nature, and exploring destinations of spiritual significance. (words taken from scholarlysojourns.com). It is a self-portrait (me as a 14-year-old boy). We had just moved from Mequon to Rhinelander. It was then that I began to romanticize the natural beauty of Mequon. But at the same time, I was falling in love with the beauty of Rhinelander. In this picture, I am walking through the countryside of Mequon. The stringed musical instruments symbolize my love for the progressive classical and folk-tinged acoustic and orchestral music that was coming out of England in the late 60s and early 70s, specifically the quieter pieces of music performed by the Moody Blues, Emerson Lake and Palmer, Yes, and Jethro Tull. A song called Reasons for Waiting by Jethro Tull is a good accompanying piece for this drawing.
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
Inktober 2020, day 11: "Disgusting". A license not to do the dishes thanks to art! :D
Although I got too carried away trying to capture the reflections to really capture the effect I was after. Also, even though I try to do a line drawing and ink it, my painterly sensibilities keep coming through. When I get a brush pen, I use it like a brush...
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.
3 yrs ago, I was living in a small studio apartment in Dubai, and my kitchen was so small but I loved cooking there. I loved keeping my kitchen organized. The doodle is a reflection of the love I had for my kitchen :)
Color Pencil over Gesture. It was a contemplative day in the art classroom. Students were drawing self portraits and I had time to join them. Our discussion was on 'Reflection'. The image we see of ourselves in the mirror is not what people see when they look at us. They see the reverse. The mole on my cheek is on the other side of my face, if you were to look at me in person. This leads to discussions of perception and reality. It can be fun and humbling. We cannot live only by sight. We must have a faith of some sort. This reminds me of the Michael Feldman Public Radio Program called: "Whad'Ya Know?" It opens with the audience shouting: "Whad'd Ya Know?" and Michael replying: "Not Much! You?". We do not know much, I think, as much as we like to pretend that we think we do.
As we approach the end of winter, who knows where we’ll end up next? Still cautiously optimistic here...
As long as there’s stuff to inspire us all, it can’t be all that bad?
This piece continues my ongoing tool series, focusing on objects shaped by use, precision, and repetition. The speed square—an essential instrument of measurement and accuracy—is rendered with attention to wear, markings, and subtle imperfections left by time and handling.
Isolated against a minimal background, the tool becomes both subject and symbol: a quiet reflection on structure, angles, and the human need to measure and make sense of the physical world. Like the others in this series, it honors everyday labor and the overlooked beauty found in functional objects.
A whimsical yet haunting reflection on the passage of time, From Time to Time imagines a fragile machine built to bend reality itself. The “Tempus Machina” stands as both invention and relic — humming with promise but tethered by a frayed cord and a warning: Watch Your Step. The cracked wall, warped floorboards, and distorted clock hint that tampering with time comes at a cost. Blending humor, nostalgia, and existential tension, Patmore’s work transforms a steampunk curiosity into a metaphor for our human impulse to repair, rewind, and relive what’s already slipping away.
Depicting a serene landscape, the mountain rises majestically with its reflection mirrored in the tranquil lake beneath. Surrounded by lush green trees and a pale sky with a passing cloud, the scene evokes a sense of peace and natural beauty. The use of bold outlines gives the image a whimsical, almost cartoonish feel.
