side

A teapot design features colorful flowers inside. The vibrant hues of pink, yellow, and green stand out, creating a striking contrast with the blue teapot.

I had to re-upload her the last one was so UN-proportional I couldn't stand it. But I know I need to work on hands and fingers. It's an alien that lives in a doll like body. It can manipulate the doll, moving fingers, arms and eyes. So nothing like cutting open your doll just to find an alien creature living inside. No, my aliens will not have any gender. Why don't we reproduce like worms, get split into two.

For this piece I used acrylic paints and acrylic markers. My inspiration was my love of tattoo flash and traditional/neo-traditional tattoo designs. I grew up flipping through pages of tattoo flash catalogues and the art inside was a huge influence in my own art. Some of these pieces are my versions of popular designs and some are originals.

This was done from last year. I don't know if it is considered good, scary, creepy, or weird. I will let you decide.

It continues! Whatever “it” is…

The mind of the beast...well enter if you dare. I'm just of bunch of silly things inside my head, some good, some bad, some you might just question.

Memories of a book festival, part one!

This portrait of Mr. Joshua Anderson—our resident Shakespeare whisperer—was drawn by student artist Covey Garrett as part of a school-wide tribute to our teachers. Students photographed, gridded, and drew 18x24” posters of their teachers, each paired with a favorite catchphrase. Mr. Anderson’s? A classic: “Hint, hint. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.” We think the Bard would approve. "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely teachers..." (okay, we may have paraphrased a bit).

St. WIlgefortis. Patron Saint of facial hair and of people seeing a refuge from abusive husbands (and fathers). When I was doing my research into existing Patron Saints, I stumbled onto St. Wilgefortis. I thought that was a fun combination - until I read to the end. From Wikipedia: "According to the legend of her life, set in Portugal and Galicia, she was a teenage noblewoman who had been promised in marriage by her father to a Moorish king. To thwart the unwanted wedding, she had taken a vow of virginity, and prayed that she would be made repulsive. In answer to her prayers she sprouted a beard, which ended the engagement. In anger, Wilgefortis' father had her crucified." I considered giving her a knife, to fight off the unwanted husbands and vile fathers, but that would not be true to her suffering. So I included her blood instead. #dailydrawing #patronSaint

My Bitcoin wallet was compromised in a single, catastrophic transaction, resulting in the irrevocable loss of my Ethereum and Bitcoin holdings. The moment I grasped the magnitude of what had transpired, I was engulfed in a torrent of disbelief and despair. With approximately $525,000 vanished in an instant, I felt utterly adrift and uncertain about my next steps. I reached out to various Bitcoin support teams, but my efforts were met with silence, leaving me feeling abandoned in a labyrinth of confusion. I even ventured to my local police station to file a report regarding the theft, but unfortunately, the officers explained that cryptocurrency-related crimes often fall outside their jurisdiction. As I stood there, grappling with frustration and helplessness, a kind woman approached me. Sensing my distress, she handed me a note with an email address for Lee Ultimate Hacker, claiming that this recovery company could potentially help me reclaim my lost funds.I decided to reach out to Lee Ultimate Hacker using the email address she provided Leeultimatehacker@aol.com . I meticulously detailed my situation and submitted all the requisite documentation concerning my cryptocurrency holdings and the theft. To my astonishment, I received a response from Lee Ultimate Hacker within a mere 48 hours. They informed me that they had successfully traced my lost funds and identified the perpetrators responsible for the theft. This revelation was a beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak and disheartening situation. This taught me that while the world of cryptocurrency can be fraught with challenges and risks, it is indeed possible to recover lost funds if you connect with the right professionals, like those at Lee Ultimate Hacker, and adhere to the appropriate procedures. I learned the paramount importance of acting swiftly and seeking assistance from specialists who understand the intricacies of cryptocurrency recovery. Although the journey was riddled with anxiety and uncertainty, I am profoundly grateful for the support I received from Lee Ultimate Hacker. My story serves as a poignant reminder that even in the face of significant loss, there are avenues for recovery and support. I hope that by sharing this, others who find themselves in similar predicaments will realize they are not alone and that help is indeed available through dedicated services like Lee Ultimate Hacker

I introduced Wrecks awhile back as my anxiety and depression. The flip side to him is my happy, fun loving side. This little guy's job is to keep things positive and build me up. I'd like to introduce my good friend, Buil (Bill).

Squids with a spiritual side.

Patron Saint of small sorrows. A dead bee on a sidewalk, a dead plant, accidental break of a favorite cup. Small sorrows are many and everywhere. What is a patron saint you want to see? #patronSaint #dailydrawing

Sometimes, a good goodbye is also a fresh hello. As we wrapped up our "Sacred Spaces" paintings, I asked our student teacher to design a one-day project—something playful, earthy, and engaging to ease the class into her care. She brought mud. Literally. Using mud and simple stencils, students pressed images—flowers, insects, wings—onto the sidewalk behind our school. There's something timeless about making marks with the ground itself. It felt ancient and immediate at the same time. These prints won’t last long, but maybe that’s the point. A fleeting image, a shared laugh, a new hand guiding the next phase of learning. Art is about making marks. Not all of them need to be permanent.

As a lifelong Indiana resident, I never thought I would fall victim to a cryptocurrency scam especially not one that would wipe out $30,000 of my hard-earned savings. It all began when I was contacted by a woman named “Sophia” through Facebook. She claimed to be a professional crypto investment advisor based in Manhattan and came across as incredibly knowledgeable and confident. Her profile was convincing, filled with images of high-end offices, client testimonials, and even fake endorsements from celebrities, all crafted to earn my trust. At first, I had always been cautious with my money, but her pitch was persuasive. She promised a “low-risk” investment opportunity with high returns, backed by what appeared to be credible audits and consistent performance reports. I decided to test the waters by investing $200. To my surprise, I was able to withdraw the money with no issues, which made the platform seem trustworthy. Feeling more confident, I went all in. Over the next few weeks, I invested $25,000 into what I believed were Bitcoin and Ethereum transactions through her platform. The dashboard displayed constant growth. My account balance soared, and I felt thrilled watching my so-called earnings increase. It looked like the investment was paying off until things took a turn. To unlock my “profits,” I was asked to send an additional $4,800 to cover something called “gas fees.” Hesitant but eager to access my growing funds, I sent the money. Then, just like that, the platform disappeared. My account was inaccessible, Sophia stopped responding, and I was left with nothing. My savings were gone, and I felt betrayed and ashamed. Just when I thought I had lost everything, I came across HACKATHON TECH SOLUTIONS, a cyber forensics group specializing in retrieving stolen cryptocurrency. Skeptical but desperate, I contacted them. They used advanced tools like Chainalysis to trace the stolen crypto across blockchain and collaborated with international authorities and exchanges to freeze the assets. Amazingly, just last week, HACKATHON TECH SOLUTIONS recovered 100% of my lost funds. I was stunned and overjoyed. Thanks to their determination, what I thought was gone forever was returned to me. I learned a painful lesson, but I’m grateful for the second chance. Their contact details are listed below. Whatsapp:‪‪‪+31 6 47999256‬‬‬ Telegram: @hackathontechsolutions Email: hackathontechservice@mail.com

People talk about having a green thumb, maybe some people have a green heart.

Graphics on artificially aged paper Reverse side of non-woven wallpaper, ink, 50x70 cm, 2024

I was going through the ol' sketch book and found this expression and thought why not. I kinda miss my vampire boys that I created inside the beast mind...of mine. Yeah, me!

A goldfish straps on wings and takes a leap of faith that there is a better life outside of captivity.

Had a thought to revisit one of my old worlds created during the creative streak over years ago. It was a world built from the primordial creative juices in my head, put from uncountable inspirations and knowledge bases learned from who knows forever. Here is a perspective of how a world is built from the rise of some fundamental ideas. What happens if you consider a world suspended in nigh microgravity conditions, a supercharged atmospheric envelope orbiting a twin neutron star system, gravitational suspension, intense magnetic fields and radiation? A extreme and chaotic environment bordering an impossible miracle, in a constant state of freefall. Not gonna lie, worldbuilding in detail is not easy. I don't have the mental and time resources these days, to expand a world in such intricate detail. Each of the scribbles above are mostly ideas of local flora and fauna that push the limits of my science knowledge base combined with accumulated general knowledge. Some of the concepts here are bordering magical fantasy, without even getting into the residing intelligent lifeforms.

I had a sketch in my notepad and it was a side profile. So I thought I would try it out on my procreate. I will have the finish one uploaded...whenever.

In this sketch, I drew myself during the time I lived in Kyiv for a couple of months. It was one of those clear, sunny days when you really want to go outside - but all my friends were busy, and I was too tired of wandering around alone. So I just sat on the carpet, staring out at the balcony, watching the blue sky, the clouds... and the occasional freshwater seagull flying by

Anoia is an actual Goddess, and not a Patron Saint, but I really wanted to draw her. Anoia is the Goddess of Things That Get Stuck in Drawers, a minor goddess on the Discworld (by Terry Pratchett - and if you don't know who he is, you should read his books! You can start with Small Gods -it is a standalone in the Discworld world. Or Guards! Guards! is another good choice). When someone rattles a drawer and cries "How can it close on the damned thing but not open with it? Who bought this? Do we ever use it?", even though the person might be genuinely irritated or even exasperated, it is as praise unto Anoia. Faithful Anoians (worshippers of Anoia) purposefully rattle their drawers and complain every day. Anoia also finds objects that roll under other objects and things stuck in sofa cushions, and is considering handling stuck zippers. She eats corkscrews. Her name is clearly derived from "annoy". Anoia she was formerly the volcano goddess Lela. She mentions that she has not been in her current position long, but what constitutes a long time to a god is unclear. discworld.fandom.com/wiki/Anoia #patronSaints #terryPratchett

A spider in a bush outside my house from a photo I took as the sun was setting .

A dense cluster of geometric buildings sits beside the phrase "Offline is the New Rich" highlighting a contrast between urban and online life, and simplicity. To the right, a small house stands alone surrounded by trees and clouds.

Mark Twain (1835–1910) In the 1870s and ’80s, the Twain family spent their summers at Quarry Farm in New York, about two hundred miles west of their Hartford, Connecticut, home. Twain found those summers the most productive time for his literary work, especially after 1874, when the farm owners built him a small private study on the property. That same summer, Twain began writing The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. His routine was simple: he would go to the study in the morning after a hearty breakfast and stay there until dinner at about 5:00. Since he skipped lunch, and since his family would not venture near the study—they would blow a horn if they needed him—he could usually work uninterruptedly for several hours. “On hot days,” he wrote to a friend, “I spread the study wide open, anchor my papers down with brickbats, and write in the midst of the hurricane, clothed in the same thin linen we make shirts of.” Whether or not he was working, he smoked cigars constantly. One of his closest friends, the writer William Dean Howells, recalled that after a visit from Twain, “the whole house had to be aired, for he smoked all over it from breakfast to bedtime.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.” ― Mark Twain #dailyrituals #inktober #MarkTwain @masoncurrey

I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root. And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty. This is compulsory education, after all. So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past. “Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge. The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence. Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen— my scribble’s soft insurgency. The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn. Columns and corners chant structure. Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter— their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward. I begin to draw. Not their tardiness, but their motion. A shoulder. A blur of sneakers. A tilted head chasing freedom. Feet flickering like seconds. Each mark a pulse. Each smudge a breath. My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing— trembling gently through the mundane. This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed. It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation. It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock. I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you). Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic. Not for polish— but for presence. This is how I remember I’m still alive. Still growing. Still watching. Still choosing to see. Because sometimes mental health looks like a piece of scrap paper, a moving pen, and the simple, sacred act of marking time with wonder.

There’s a lot of waiting in life. Waiting in lobbies. Waiting on answers. Waiting for braces to tighten, kids to grow, hearts to heal, or prayers to be answered. I sat at the orthodontist, watching dollars tighten on tiny wires, and made this sketch. A tree. A house. A street. Color helped the moment breathe. I remember once hearing a chess master say, “There is no waiting in chess.” It confused me—wasn’t there always a turn to wait for? But he explained: “There’s no waiting. Only planning. Plotting. Analyzing. You’re always thinking.” I once repeated that to a FIDE master. He got mad. Maybe because waiting and patience aren’t the same thing. We can be still and deeply active inside. We can pause without being passive. And then there’s Lindsey’s voice in the back of my head: “That sounds like a first-world problem.” “Speak life.” “Be thankful. Rejoice always.” And she’s right. So here’s to filling waiting time with something creative. Something kind. Something that turns a delay into a doorway.