I intended to do quick little spot illustrations for Inktober this year, but nooooooo! Now Jimmy is drowning in digital ink and lots of doodle details. This was way too much fun to go simple. I also included the original sketch this time.
Inktober2018day14. Clock. I love time. I hate time. It goes too fast and there’s never enough of it. If I had more of it, I would be able to post every day for inktober. I wasn't going to participate this year, but after 4 or 5 days in, I figured if I did a very simple line drawing, like I started doing with the little box chicken character I could make every remaining day, but I just couldn't stop myself from going all out on some pieces. It's like I always want to add more. So maybe it’s going to be quality not quantity for me this year. Please enjoy.
My first drawing in the new Rebelle 7 by Escape Motions. Go wild with the new metallic paint or turn it down low for a subtle sheen that adds interest to simple paintings.
In July of 2022, Brianna Grier died falling out of a moving police car while having a mental health breakdown. Since Brianna passed, I have been heartbroken for her twins and family but also reflecting on my struggle with mental health. Mental health needs compassion and empathy, not police and punishment. The brunch strokes are purposeful, but I completed them with empathy in mind. I want to keep the composition simple but filled with meaning. The color theme represents vastness and loneliness, but also kinetic energy found in warm orange tones.
So, I really wasn't going to participate in inktober this year because of time constraints. But I saw some simple line art stuff from others that looked fun. I'll see how far I can make it this year.
Title: Never Forget. A quick piece I made today. I wanted to go abstract so the viewer can put their own meaning into the piece, but each paint stroke I made I had September 11th in mind. Digitally painted with watercolor in Rebelle 5 on a simple white canvas and sent over to PS.
I never understood the power of dots and lines until I did this art! A simple change in the line from straight to curved shows projection of a hand. What a beauty!
Take it how you want. You either give everything to social media, or it takes everything from you. In the end, you are left naked and hollow. I wanted to make this a simple composition at its core. The image is more about the message.
Times Square took forever to put together, I think the perspective is off just a bit. Overall, I think I did well with shading and depth. I am also improving on drawing/painting the human form. I wish I could trust in shapes and form and go a bit more abstract, but I think that will come with experience.
A simple ink sketch of a bird at rest. Sometimes the quiet moments—watching, pausing, waiting—are the deepest teachers. This drawing is part of my exploration of what I call the Quiet Practices—small ways of living from the inside out.
If you’d like to see more of my reflections, I share them here: https://forming20.com/
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.
My first attempt at a concertina birthday card. While simple to make, it can be a bit fiddly and getting the proportions and placement of objects right for each layer is important so that everything can be seen once the layers are overlapped. It reminds me of printing processes, where each layer is gradually added. It was quite an enjoyable process.
This is a simple watercolor and pen drawing of a witch hazel tree in winter bloom with an owl perched on top. I love the witch hazel shrub and am thinking of creating a picture book showcasing the plant throughout the seasons.
Someone close to me is homesick for Brazil so I painted and printed this for them. I wanted the comp to be simple and its intentions obvious. I had fun with the hills and atmospheric perspective. This is not AI nor is any part of this AI.
Three trunks rising from one root, steady and separate yet belonging. The little bush at their base reminds me that life gathers in layers—quiet companions at the feet of giants. A simple contour line holds it all, the way a moment holds both strength and tenderness.
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.
Bob the Drag Queen is a legendary performer and personality. She is one of my favorite people. I kept the composition simple to focus on shading and facial dimensions. I paid close attention to not lightening her skin tone and respecting her heritage but also contrasting the gold dress and blue background.
