While reading Don Quijote a few years ago, I drew sketches like this one for each chapter. Check out all 128 illustrations at www.yagmourian.com/gaston/projects/drawnquijote/
Featuring handmade art by Washington state artist, Tonya Doughty. If you would like this design on an item not listed in my shop, please don't hesitate to ask if it's possible! Just contact me.
Omens and Superstitions.
In Japan there is a superstition that if a cup or glass containing medicine for a sick person is accidentally upset, then it is an omen of that person's speedy recovery.
From "A DICTIONARY OF OMENS AND SUPERSTITIONS" by Philippa Waring
Magnolias are spring harbingers in our garden, as well as our annual ornamental cherry display. Star magnolias are over, tulip magnolias are in full swing, and the occasional Southern magnolia is starting. Perhaps I should have done this with a gouache paint, but I used colored pencils. Oh well. Outlined after with various sizes of Pigma Micron pens.
Our garden: www.edgewoodgarden.com
Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971)
“I get up at about eight, do physical exercises, then work without a break from nine till one,” Stravinsky told an interviewer in 1924. Generally, three hours of composition were the most he could manage in a day, although he would do less demanding tasks—writing letters, copying scores, practicing the piano—in the afternoon.
Unless he was touring, Stravinsky worked on his compositions daily, with or without inspiration, he said. He required solitude for the task, and always closed the windows of his studio before he began: “I have never been able to compose unless sure that no one could hear me.” If he felt blocked, the composer might execute a brief headstand, which, he said, “rests the head and clears the brain.”
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
The jarring moment when you are asked a thoughtless question. The decision to respond appropriately and proportionately that protects yourself versus answering in a manner that protects the status quo.
I'm always crossing the woods in the winter (safe from ticks) to discover happenings--animal movement, tree life and so on. Came upon this scene just recently, two trees that fell together during a wind event.
Meet Dr. Lorna Breen. She was in the trenches of the front line inside the New York hot zone during the first wave of the pandemic. She saw the massive influx of patients she knew she could not save (29,000 deaths reported in April, 2020). She contracted the virus and after recuperating, went straight back to work. A week and a half later, the hospital sent her home. Her family intervened to bring her back home to Charlottesville, Virginia. During her visit with her family, she seemed “detached.” She passed away April 26, 2020 at the UVA University Hospital in Charlottesville from self-inflicted wounds.
"She tried to do her job, and it killed her… Make sure she’s praised as a hero. Because she was, she’s a casualty just as much as anyone else who has died."
—Dr. Philip C. Breen, Father
I suppose this was just a tester/practice piece? My first actual still life from observation and my first time actually using charcoal (yes, I've never truly used charcoal before. Charcoal and pastels are two things I avoid. Their looseness and freeness scare me, considering how rigid I can be). Not sure how to feel about this one. I'm my worst critic, and I've known that for a long time now. There's a lot of practice and progress to be made, but it turned out half-way decent.
My idea was to make a textile pattern for fabric printing. Drawn on paper with a micron pen .005, colored with pens then put into Photoshop for some color manipulation, blurring of lines and pattern arrangement.
(Gel fineliner on A5 paper) A weird piece of dark art for the second day of the Inktober challenge. I've not bothered with the prompt words, much preferring to go "vanilla" with it.
