Jane Austen (1775–1817)
Austen never lived alone and had little expectation of solitude in her daily life. Her final home, a cottage in the village of Chawton, England, was no exception: she lived there with her mother, her sister, a close friend, and three servants, and there was a steady stream of visitors, often unannounced.
...
Austen wrote in the family sitting room, “subject to all kinds of casual interruptions,” her nephew recalled. She was careful that her occupation should not be suspected by servants, or visitors, or any persons beyond her own family party. She wrote upon small sheets of paper which could easily be put away, or covered with a piece of blotting paper. There was, between the front door and the offices, a swing door which creaked when it was opened; but she objected to having this little inconvenience remedied, because it gave her notice when anyone was coming.
“Composition seems to me impossible with a head full of joints of mutton & doses of rhubarb.”
From Daily rituals by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #janeAusten @masoncurrey
(Gel Fineliner on A5 paper) One of the age-old responses from dog-owners: “He won't bite you” along with “He's good with children.”
He's a dog, and like all dogs, they're bred from wolves. Given half the chance they'd revert back to their natural pack instinct. The only reason they don't is that they see you as the pack leader who regularly feeds and pampers them.
“Oh, my little darling isn't like that!” I hear you say, as if you're talking about a child. “He gives me kisses by licking my face. It's his way of saying how much he loves me.”
He licks his balls and arsehole with that tongue, so what's he really saying there?
Originally painted in watercolor on watercolor paper and then filtered digitally.
Inspired by Sara Berrenson and her book on how to Watercolor Flowers.
