sad

Timber was a recent A3 commission I was lucky enough to do. Drawn using 0.03 and 0.05 fineliners. I was sad to see this one go!

I gravitated towards the fony baobab, a real type of baobab. Sadly, all baobabs are in decline, which informed my composition. I used pastel earth tones and a lot of blacks. Digitally hand-drawn in Rebelle 6

Sad Stegosaurus.

Home Is Where The Hurt Is. Gouache on Arches watercolor paper. A painting for all those who came up with crappy home lives.

This comic came out of a conversation I’m having with a friend. We both found it fascinating that so many comedians and creatives come from broken and dark places. Robin Williams said, “I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.”

I want the composition to be thoughtful but on the sad side. My skill practice was brush strokes and blending (but not overdoing the blending) as I try to figure out how I stylize as an artist. Still working in the realm of realism and proportions as I am a newbie, but wanna flex into stylization a bit more. I did this through Rebelle 5, which is absolutely amazing, IMO.

Sad Green Elephant

Old one-part of my attempt to get published. I think it’s hilarious but sadly others do not!

Weird things, that I come up with.This is just some of the stuff, I have doodled and/or done. I really love Ancient Egyptian mythology and was testing out my gold and silver paint pen. Sadly the pens both ran out of paint. :(

Keeping it surrealistically real with more narwhals!

Micron pen and colored pencil on paper

Sketch of a flag surrounded by sadness. Featured in ART GALLERY GERMANY by Mark Fischer, WORLD OF ART & PHOTOGRAPHY and ART GALLERY CHINA by Mark Fischer.

Sherlock and Sadie wish you a belated Merry Christmas!

I used soft charcoal and a large sheet of newprint to depict this model in a life drawing class. He exuded a deep sadness and his poses seemed natural to his countenance. He was also very thin. “The bright side of the planet moves toward darkness And the cities are falling asleep, each in its hour, And for me, now as then, it is too much. There is too much world.” ― Czesław Miłosz, The Separate Notebooks

Frog Monster Consoles a Sad Cat.

Ball point pen portrait photo reference by Lee Jefries

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?

URASHIMA THE FISHERMAN From Favorite Folktales from Around the World by Jane Yolen. Then a last song burst from him as he struggled with his loss: “My love, when after a night of longing day dawns and I stand at my open door, I hear far off waves breaking on the shores of your Paradise!” If only he hadn’t opened that jeweled box, people have said since, he could have been with her again. But the clouds hid her Paradise from him and left him nothing but his grief. #dailydrawing #folktales #kidlitart #watercolor #janeyolen #sofreakingsad #tonighticanwritethesaddestlines

This old car suits in the exact same place in my neighborhood.

This doodle of a cat means to Neal more than all the artworks of the world because it is a gift from someone important to him.

This watercolour painting was inspired by another artists brilliant work (I'm afraid I don't know the name). Absolutely loved doing this piece. My mother asks why I always do sad paintings and thinks I should do more happy ones. What do you think? Comment Below

On that afternoon I'm singing for the last time. I couldn't stand living in this world again Just the expression of my feeling on that day. If you like my art you can buy this art print or other on my shop : https://www.redbubble.com/i/art-print/The-last-song-by-misahiraysa/118153540.DJUF3

Where do I begin with this one? This is a drawing of my dad and I; the picture was taken back in 2006, a happier time, I suppose. I don't commonly think about my dad, I don't necessarily think about how much I miss him or how I wish I could see him again, so it was odd for me to sit and look through old photos. I don't really know my dad; I do, but I don't. My dad was physically part of my life for 10 years, the second half of those were not the best. Mental illness, self medicating for years, debt, heroin, arguments, threats, uncertainty. I feel like I remember the negative more because I was older, my parents couldn't hide it from me like they used to. At the same time, when he was sober and stable, life was good. Life was great, things felt complete. So here I am, 6 years since he died. I don't want to say his image is fading, but I know less of who he was than I did before. I see the good from some (the ones who praise him, who act like he was a saint), and I see the bad from others (the one who felt the pain). I suppose I no longer see my view, my memories aren't there anymore. I don't necessarily feel sad, the anger has faded, and I can't say I'm happy. Maybe I'll figure it out one day, but, for now, it is what it is.

I've been a little down what with the current state of affairs. Also, it's Mermay.

This looks simple, but i spent days researching to get the buildings and clothing right. There was also a lot more layers than i planned for. This buildings are still in use, there are different shops in them now. Sadly they no longer have those colorful decorations,

Sadness