So I am making a little animation (as part of my art training) and this is the first frame. It's to a song, so I put the words on the screen, so that's why the word is there
A week on from Artemis II coming back to Earth from the moon and only now do I do a proper lunar themed tribute to it all! It also gave me an excuse to buy another Palm Pals plush, so happy days to that :-)
In fact, she [Mummy] said after a while, we have gone into hibernation. Nobody can get in any longer and no one can get out!
I looked carefully at her and understood that we were saved. At last we were absolutely safe and protected.
This menacing snow had hidden us inside in the warm for ever and we didn't have to worry a bit about what went on there outside. I was filled with enormous relief, and I shouted, I love you I LOVE YOU, and took all the cushions and threw them at her and laughed and shouted and Mummy threw them all back and in the end we were lying on the floor just laughing.
Then we began our underground life. We walked around in our nighties and did nothing. Mummy didn't draw. We were bears with pine needles in our stomachs and anyone who dared come near our winter lair was torn to pieces. We were lavish with the wood, and threw log after log on to the fire until it roared.
Sometimes we growled. We let the dangerous world outside look after itself, it had died, it had fallen out into space. Only Mummy and I were left.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
A colorful and dynamic scene depicts a Cosmic Christmas Tree with swirling galaxies and stars against a dark background. The vibrant colors blend together to create an impression of movement and energy in space.
For some reason, I had to prove to myself that good art does indeed take time. Anyways, this is an angel character (they're not real angels, they're a fictional species of mine) in my "spacefluff" style. I think I want to name her Mosambi, because she's sweet.
A moment suspended between departure and arrival. Interim explores transition—where movement pauses, direction is uncertain, and meaning exists in the waiting. Rendered with restraint and negative space, the piece invites reflection on the quiet spaces between what was and what will be.
A solitary rowboat drifts across a muted, restless surface, unanchored and unattended. Rendered in charcoal, ink, and subtle white highlights, the vessel exists in a quiet state of motion—moving, yet going nowhere. The surrounding water is suggested through loose, rhythmic lines, emphasizing atmosphere and isolation over realism.
The boat is sharply defined against the hazy background, its dark contours and interior shadows contrasting with the soft, unsettled environment. Oars rest unevenly, implying recent human presence while reinforcing absence. The name Perditas—Latin for “lost”—is affixed to the hull, anchoring the emotional weight of the piece without explanation.
This work explores themes of solitude, uncertainty, and endurance. With no shoreline or destination in sight, Perditas becomes a reflection on drifting—physically, mentally, and emotionally—inviting the viewer to confront their own sense of direction within an undefined space.
Hey boos! this is just a little doodle of a space happy version of my oc Opal. (also currently listening to a playlist of I deserve this, I'm so crazy 4 u, and all I want is you all by rebsyyz ((not how you spell their name lol)) cause they're very deter)
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.
In this memory-driven piece, Patmore reconstructs the bathroom from his third-grade elementary school, capturing the sterile brightness, the tiled repetition, and the institutional reminder to “WASH YOUR HANDS.”
But the scene is not pristine — a leaky sink, an out-of-order stall, and a taped-up sign reveal the quiet decay behind childhood places we assume were orderly and safe.
Patmore blends nostalgia with unease, transforming a simple restroom into a study of what it means to grow up: how the lessons we learn early (“hygiene,” discipline, responsibility) stay with us even after the walls begin to crack. The small pop of blue tape emphasizes the DIY fragility of rules meant to guide us.
This piece stands at the intersection of memory and maintenance — of spaces, of bodies, and of ourselves.
In “I Love Lamp,” Ty Patmore blends nostalgia, humor, and subtle unease into a surreal domestic scene where time, space, and memory feel slightly off-center. A lava lamp—softly glowing with drifting shapes—sits on a worn wooden table, acting as the sole beacon of warmth inside a room that is quietly falling apart. The wallpaper peels back to reveal fractured brick beneath, as if the structure itself is shedding its old skin.
A melting wall clock drips down the surface like time losing its grip, while a framed picture of a UFO drifting over pine trees hints that even the outside world may not be quite right. Every object bends reality just enough to make the viewer question whether this room is comforting… or unsettling.
Hey Boos! Yes, it is true, I am a sans au fan. FOr the record I don't ship them (I ship cream ((cross and dream)) and I don't ship epic with anyone) these guys are soooo silly and they are besties (yes there are spaces missing because lasso tool and I was too lazy to fill them in)
"Industrial Timeout" presents a meticulously rendered scene of solitude and tension within a utilitarian setting. The composition is split between a vast, empty white space and a tightly constrained, detailed industrial corner. In the foreground, a single, unassuming cardboard box sits on a pallet. It is labeled "FRAGILE" and "M.P.C." (possibly a reference to 'Minimum Package Content' or a similar industrial acronym), suggesting a precious, yet standardized, cargo awaiting movement.
