The woods in my backyard. This has been a shit year so far, don't cha think? I get a few minutes relief by looking into the dark spaces between sunlit trees. Trying to see the forms. I'm hoping to get better at just that this summer.
I participated in an art swap challenge at Sktchy where I had to draw someone randomly assigned to me in a "space" theme. I'm so pleased with how this one turned out! Pen and watercolour, 6x4". Would love to hear what you think the story
This is a drawing I have been working on when I need to slow down and turn my brain off for a little while so it's taking quite a while to finish but I am always happy to see it progress that little bit further every time I sit down with it. This is from my A3 sketchbook, I used to stick to smaller A5 and A4 sizes but I am certainly appreciating the extra space with this drawing.
This is the 3rd of the 3 glow-in-the-dark space satellite poster series. This concept sketch was done on a digital tablet with pencil setting. Will try to up the finished version tomorrow.
My "Sketching for Animators and Illustrators" class started yesterday, which means the start of whiteboard doodlemania. #doodle #fullertoncollege #fullertoncollegeartdepartment #whiteboard #whiteboarddrawing #dryerase #perpective #sketching #marker #paris
Class demos in my "Sketching for Animators and Illustrators" class. The building in the foreground is a students sketch I xeroxed and went over with acrylics. This is about a half hour in. We also looked at brush-pen and watercolor. I'm doing a summer ver
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.
Felt inspired by this week's drawing prompt. Went with a Star Trek scene. Earth Spacedock from the movies always leaves me in awe. Tried to show it with its doors opening so you could see there is an inside. The starship's scale and perspective are off, but that is meh.
Sleep well David Bowie, and thanks for all the inspiration! Saw this comment on one of Iggy Pop’s music videos via YouTube and had to create something based around it, spelling mistakes and all...
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.
The Tool Bench marks my 50th canvas—completed exactly one year to the day after I finished my very first one. This piece is a tribute to work, memory, and the quiet corners where both creativity and responsibility live.
Drawn entirely freehand, it’s built like a snapshot of a lived-in workspace: mismatched tools, worn wood, scribbled reminders, and the little personal things that actually make a place yours. The clipboard holds a “Honey-Do” list that never seems to end. The Polaroid-style sketch of my wife sits taped to the wall like a reminder of why the work matters. The shadows on the back wall match the tools lying on the bench—suggesting a moment in progress, a task paused, life happening between motions.
