Drawn using 0.03 and 0.05 fineliners, this one is for a book cover so cannot reveal the finished image yet! I do love trees, they are so fascinating to draw.
I have been working on this A3 double 'Pets in a Portrait' and I can't share the finished piece until after christmas as it will be a gift. I'm so chuffed with it, so heres some sneaky peaks that don't give too much away!
"The Tree People" finished line work. Pen = Sailor Pro Gear, EF nib. Pilot Black ink. I love this ink... if only it was waterproof. Works well with markers though.
I was lucky enough to get to illustrate a beautiful Gorilla sculpture for Paignton Zoo. He took me 18 months to complete as he was under a purpose built awning at my house. Too hot and the pens dried up, too cold and my fingers froze! He now sits at the zoo and I miss him terribly! He Was decorated using acrylic markers on a white gloss base then varnished with car varnish.
My favourite commission so far! Took me a while this one but so pleased with the finished piece. Didn't want to let her go! Drawn in black and white line using fine liners.
If it wasn't enough that Ernest Shacletons ship Endurance was crushed by the ice in Antarctika’s, some kind of weird Space Weather phenomenon appeared into the sky(drawing tip:if your drawing looks flat and dull , try to transforming it something different ).
Vine Charcoal and Oil Pastel make for a messy, smudgy experience. A certain amount of messiness can make a process feel more real and human. When things aren’t perfectly polished, it reflects a genuine effort, imperfections, and growth. In personal life, letting go of the need for everything to be tidy can promote a more authentic existence. The hat is a Stormy Chromer. It also evolved out of a mess. More on that later. Peace.
The tables were covered in white paper. Crayons, pastels, and smooth sticks waited quietly. Then came Lucy’s glittery purse—her 8-year-old hands had filled it with stones to pass along, one by one, to the strangers around the table.
We traced them. Pushed them. Held them.
Then we let the colors lead:
-Red for emotion.
-Yellow for curiosity.
-Blue for memory.
Each color came with music, with story, with space.
At the Museum of Wisconsin Art, we made marks not for meaning but for presence.
Thank you to Ann Marie and MOWA for the invitation and trust. And thank you to the participants—some new friends, some old students—for showing up and making lines that listened before they spoke.
I finally finished this piece for my Aunt. It was based on a goofy picture she sent me. I am pleased with the depth I achieved and can see improvements. I am not most experienced with portraits or anatomy/characters.
I had a rock tumbler as a child and really enjoyed it. When my youngest was a child we bought her one. She was eager to enjoy it too, but somewhere after starting on that path, we lost track and it everything inside turned into a solid mass. We tossed it and forgot about it. On a recent beach trip, I collected handfuls of rocks, as I am always likely to do, and, upon return, remembered how I loved my childhood rock tumbler. I immediately researched, ordered and eagerly anticipated its delivery. Of course, with Amazon Prime, that was only a couple day’s wait. As soon as I unboxed it I thought “what am I doing?” I have neither time, nor space for yet another hobby. I thought “what will I DO with a pile of polished, pretty rocks?” I would gather them in my hands and feel their silky smoothness. I would likely gather them in some beautiful glass bowl and…then what? I have toddler grand kids frequently at my home. They put small colorful things in their mouths and up their noses and feed them to the dogs regularly. And I don’t even have a single space to display a bog bowl of pretty rocks. So I quickly decided “I’m Returning the Rock Tumbler” and will, for NOW, stick to painting them when the mood strikes.
Lino cut print over pastel. The story goes: The bird fell in love with the whale the first time she saw him break through the ocean’s surface, sunlight dancing on his back. From high above, she sang to him, and deep below, he answered with a song as old as the tides.
She longed to dive, to join him in the rolling blue. He wished to rise, to fly beside her in the endless sky. But air and water would not trade places.
So each day, at dawn and dusk, they met at the edge of their worlds—she on the wind, he in the waves—singing a love song carried by the breeze and the tide, never together but never apart.
Another one of these tiny canvas doodles. I stenciled out the eyes and teeth and used acrylic makers to color. Then finished up with a brush pen. These are a fun challenge
Rainy days = a perfect excuse for a shedload of coffee and drawing to indulge in. :)
Occurs to me I did one with the title “Laurel Weaver” close to four years ago. Not much else connects the two beyond the title or does it? I don’t know...
Whatever the case, I fancied recycling and revisiting this idea somehow. Enjoy!
Imperfect Lines, Honest Presence
This sketch is not perfect—and that’s exactly why it’s alive. The bold figure, the dissolving hat, the tilted chair: all of it feels unfinished, fleeting, caught in motion. It’s what the Japanese call wabi-sabi—finding beauty in the imperfect, the impermanent, the incomplete.
But there’s something deeper here too. A quick sketch is not just what the eye records. It’s what the soul permits. To draw without fixing, without polishing, is to admit the world will not hold still for us. Life slips past. The lines break off. And yet, somehow, the essence remains.
When you sketch this way, you are not the master of the moment—you are its guest. The pencil does not carve permanence; it pays attention. The act of drawing becomes an act of being present, of honoring what is already vanishing.
So here’s a challenge: grab a pencil and sketch someone near you in sixty seconds. Do not erase. Do not perfect. Let the lines falter. When you finish, ask yourself: What truth did the imperfection reveal?
Perhaps presence itself is the real art.
