Commission Request for a clients wife who loves Flamingos and Victoriana. What can you do? Tah Dah!!!!! This was so much fun, I feel more of these coming soon....watch this space!
Doodling is what I do. It's a way to make visible the randomness that's in my head - just drawing out a concept right when it comes to mind and scribbling on whatever I can find.
Inktober2018day12-Whale. I’m using inktober to explore and improve my techniques. This time I wanted to try using more crosshatching. I’m happy with the result. Also, at first I had nothing for the whale prompt but it’s rewarding when you push through the dead space and a concept or idea comes to my head that I can be excited with.
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 ).
As a teacher, I see the full range of work ethic and value choices. Tatum works while Melanie sleeps. I do not judge because everyone is fighting a battle. I provide a safe place for students to create and breathe and sleep and be. I create a non-judgmental space that often accomodates students and adults who feel free to voice thier opinions... which can often be judgmental. We are fighting battles and we are on our own journies of self awareness. Peace.
WIP and having a blast. What could it be? The answer coming in the near future.
#doodle @shawnimals @rotofugi #ocean #mixedmedia #plushform #robot #shark #porthole #nautical #outerspace #space #fish
"The Explorers" 14ft tall by 48ft long mural painting in Vienna, Austria alongside my friend Dead Beat Hero this past weekend. His comic book style robot characters emerging from the river into my crazy cartoon world.
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.
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.
