spread

Sketchbook spread, visual diaries. Collage, acrylics, Posca, graphic markers.

My current sketchbook is the lovingly titled "Blue Sketchbook." Feel free to enjoy its many, many pages, plus two bonus zoom-ins of favorite spreads! Let me know if you have any questions.

Sketchbook spread of a tiny island only accessible by boat.

2023, Ballpoint Pen on 5” x 8” (10” x 8” Double page spread) acid free Moleskine sketchbook paper, Adobe Photoshop. Based on a photo (by David Redfern/Getty Images) of the singer, songwriter and civil rights activist performing at the BBC Television Centre in London, January 1966. Last sketchbook piece for 2023. 2024 will be my last year on this platform - thank you all for appreciating and following my artistic progress.

The Orks, also called Greenskins, are a savage, warlike, green-skinned race of humanoids who are spread all across the Milky Way Galaxy. They share many features with Warhammer Fantasy Orcs (and were initially called "Space Orcs" to distinguish them). They are seen by their enemies (pretty much everyone else in the universe) as savage, warlike, and crude, but they are the most successful species in the whole galaxy, outnumbering possibly every other intelligent race, even Mankind (with the very plausible exception of the Tyranids).

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 11

2023, Ballpoint pens on 5” x 8” (10” x 8” Double page spread) acid free Moleskine sketchbook paper, Adobe Photoshop.

"I'm spreading wonder with one word." ~A blackout poem from a recycled page of Dealing with Blue, a YA love story.

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 4

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 13

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 19

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 7

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 23

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 14

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 25

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 10

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 20

Another drawing of Meadhbh in my sketchbook. 2023, Double Page Spread-5” x 8,” Ballpoint Pen on Moleskine Sketchbook.

2024, Ballpoint pens on 5” x 8” (10” x 8” Double page spread) acid free Moleskine sketchbook paper, Adobe Photoshop. Meadhbh with her fuzzy sweater.

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 pride myself for not being into internet drama or spreading gossip, but i do have a guilty pleasure. Mohammad agbadi is a youtuber who talks about problems with the art community, like tracing, theft, harassing and difficulties with etnic representation. Hopefully he wouldnt mind me borrowing his face to practise drawing black men... even though i heavily overworked his skin.

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 16

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 6

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 15

Done 2022. This is my latest artwork so far as i have 2 color pencil ARTS in the making. with lead pencil on 9x12 bristol original up for sale $45+s/h . if interested leave a comment or jungmeister4@yahoo.com. ALSO THERE IS STORY TO THIS DEVIL'S TREE AND IT IS REAL STORY. DO NOT SCARED AS YOU READING YOU WILL BE OK. This is one sinister looking tree, and according to the locals, who told us of its legends, everyone in the vicinity of Bernards Township seems to have a story about it. They say that at one time a farmer killed his entire family, then went to the tree to hang himself. According to some, numerous suicides and murders occurred around the evil arbor. Supposedly anyone who tries to cut down the tree comes to an untimely end, as it is now cursed. It is said that the souls of those killed at the spot give the tree an unnatural warmth, and even in the dead of winter no snow will fall around it. When Weird NJ visited the Devil’s Tree we noticed evidence that many attempts had been made over the years to fell the unholy oak, but all have failed. The tree stands all alone in the middle of a large field off Mountain Road. Its trunk has been severely scared by axes and chain saws, some wounds appearing to be quite old. Why no one has yet been successful in toppling the timber we cannot say for sure. Nor do we know what has become of those who have tried. One Weird NJ reader described the Devil’s Tree to us this way: There’s a big field and right near the road is the tree. It’s the only thing in the field. Supposedly it’s a portal to hell and a sentinel guards it. He drives an old black Ford or pick-up truck and will chase you down the road until a certain point. You will see headlights one second, and the next nothing – the car is just gone. Another local told us that the inherent unholiness of the Devil’s Tree is the result of the evil that men do, and should not to be blamed on the Devil. Devil’s Tree is a KKK Hangout There is a very evil truth to the mythology of the Devil’s Tree. At one time, Bernards Township was one of the central headquarters of the KKK in New Jersey – they held many demonstrations in our town and held many meetings throughout the hills. As per KKK policy, often they would lynch local African-Americans to set an example, not only to other African-Americans, but also as an example of their principles and resolve. The Devil’s Tree was more secluded in those times before the developments spread across the rural countryside like a blight. It stood in a very isolated area of woods and fields, far from the prying eyes of the police. The evil energy around the tree comes from the souls of dead men and women who were killed by this vile organization. If you look at the tree you can see the left most branch extends almost parallel to the ground. This was the hanging branch. Pretty freaky and true stuff. To freak ourselves out, sometimes my friends and I would drive down the road at night telling ghost stories. When the moon is a full red harvest moon, and the wind is blowing just right, it looks like there might be bodies hanging from the branch, slowly swaying in the breeze.” –Rob S. One of our readers reported that at times there have been bodies seen hanging from that branch, though they turned out to be merely uniformed dummies of rival high school football players hung in effigy by the local home team. The Devil’s Tree Will Break You At the time of our arrival to the Devil’s Tree, there was a six foot noose hanging from the big branch, which extends out of one side. We noticed what looked like claw marks from a person or very large animal. To get a better view, myself and a friend climbed the tree to see if any unique marks were further up. After we climbed up, we were sitting on the branch trying to remove the noose. As we sat on the branch, we began to hear noises coming from inside the tree. When these noises grew even louder, a big bang sounded and a burst of energy came from the tree sending myself and my friend flying into the air. When I crashed to the ground, I landed on my ankle, breaking it in 2 places. –Steve K. The Devil’s Tree and Heat Rock Right next to the Devil’s Tree, there is a rock. It is very warm. Some people call it Heat Rock. People say it is the gate to hell. –Elmo M. No Snow at the Devil’s Tree We went to the Devil’s Tree in December when the ground was snow-covered. However, an eight by twelve foot circle of ground around the tree was totally bone dry. Later, when we were driving home, one of our friends thought he was cool because he took a piece of bark off of the tree and had it on him in the car. We pulled the car over, yelled at him, and made him throw it out the window! –Damian The Mark of the Devil My friends and I went up to the Devil’s Tree one night and got out of the car and touched the it. Afterward we went to Applebee’s to get something to eat and everyone that was sitting at the table suddenly had all of our hands turn black! We don’t know why, but it took us two and a half hours to get the blackness off of our hands! –Melissa C. The Children of the Tree We have all heard the story of not messing with Devil’s Tree, so we were smart and didn’t mock the tree. We went right next to the tree, and put our ears next to the bark. We heard sounds of screaming and children playing. –Matt W. A Shocking Experience I went up to the Devil’s Tree this past mischief night with two of my friends (both of whom were girls). I just wanted to scare them. I told them all the stories and tall tales that went along with it. I parked the car and proceeded to get out and walk to the tree. I got within arms distance and reached out and touched it as I had many times before… it’s kind of like a ritual I have. When I placed my hand on the tree, a single strike of lightning illuminated the sky. I don’t know what caused it to happen, but when I touched the tree, the lightning struck, and when I took my hand off, the lightning disappeared. It could’ve been coincidence, or could have been paranormal proof of the legend’s truth. Either way I thought it was cool and it scares the hell out of me now. –Brian D. Don’t Pee on the Devil’s Tree! I am reminded of an incident which occurred about 8 years back, when I was in high school, concerning the Devil’s Tree. We had all heard the legend of this infamous spot and there was much talk of it around my school. One night, my friends and I decided to pay it a visit and see for ourselves how true the legends were. We headed out and came upon the tree. We all began to have very bad feelings and decided to scrap our idea of actually getting out of the car and approaching the scene. We turned around and left without incident. About a week or so later, the talk of the tree began to escalate and one of the kids in the popular crowd began saying that it was all a bunch of bullshit. A few days later, his mind would be changed forever. This guy and a carload of other rowdy types decided to go up to see the tree that weekend. On Friday night, they began their journey up the mountain to see what it was all about. A friend of mine was in that car, and his story is as follows. Apparently, after cruising back and forth several times, the kids were getting bad vibes and wanted to leave. The kid who was driving, and who was the one proclaiming in school that the story was bullshit became angry at the “wimps” for having bad feelings. He stated to his friends that he was going to prove once and for all that the story was nothing and that he wasn’t fazed by it. He pulled his car over on the side of the road, right before the bend and got out. Marching up to the tree, he began yelling challenges to the so-called spirits. Nothing happened, so to further prove his fearlessness, he pulled down his pants and urinated all over the base of the tree. Still, nothing happened. He muttered an “I told you so” and got back into the car. After starting the car, he began to drive towards the bend in the road slowly. Suddenly, without warning, the gas pedal of the car became floored and the car sped up all by itself. Surprised at what was happening, the guy was unable to control the car and it skidded out and collided into a tree. The kids in the car sustained minor injuries but the car was totaled. I showed the stories of the Devil’s Tree featured in your magazines to my sister. As I read the tales aloud she became very pale when I got the part about the headlights which follow you then go out suddenly. I asked her what was wrong and she replied, “Oh my God – I went up there about a year ago and got chased out by the same black pick-up truck. It was severely tailgating me and when we got a short distance away, the lights were just suddenly gone.” She and I have never gone back since then. I am open for commission using color pencil or lead pencil for original artwork of subject matters such as Sci-fi, Fantasy, Horror, Comics, Fanart, NSFW, Surreal art, Whimsical art, Abstract art, and Tattoo designs. Sizes range from 8.5x11, 9x12, 11x14, 11x17. The Commission rate starts from $20 and up. if interested leave a comment or jungmeister4@yahoo.com MY CALENDAR FOR SALE: https://www.artwanted.com/artist.cfm?ArtID=115637&Tab=Calendar

The completely free gift that makes us all feel better. Smile!

A drawing of the Jules Dalou (1838-1902) sculpture. I would love to post more than one photo, but the site sometimes randomly duplicates one of my five images. 2023, Double Page Spread-5” x 8,” Ballpoint Pen on Moleskine Sketchbook.

Luminary Festival - Auren Farkis (Digital Portrait I did as a colour study) Crisp reverberating strings danced through the evening. Notes twisted and echoed up through the emerald, velvet tiers of Ridgedow Gardens. Dusk’s veil had long since darkened to a diamond-encrusted black, and Clarglow was alive with activity. Footpaths were choked with revellers that formed a river of light that coursed and pulsed through the park. Will-o-whisp spots of light also glowed among the neatly trimmed hedgerows and statues. Their magic-addled voices rose up, joining in with the music of the Luminary Festival. A young man, no more than a quarter of a century old, glowed brightest of all. A soft orange radiated from his eyes, and his veins pulsed a brilliant red. He was dripping in gold and gems. Over an outfit that somehow managed to be heavily layered and revealing at the same time, he wore a sheer cape, which was heavily embroidered with blood-red crystals that refracted his own light around him in dazzling, concentrated rays. It was such a dangerous colour of magic, but his expression was soft and dreamy. Excited laughter rose up as a clustered group shot metallic confetti skyward. Gold flake drifted down and settled into his silver hair, cheeks, and shoulders. No doubt he would discover the remnants of this festival in his home weeks from now. He increased his pace, stepping off the cobbled path to overtake the group, when one of their number split from the group. The coils of her dark hair were so saturated with gold that she looked like she belonged on a pedestal next to the other statues. She intercepted him, matching his pace. She snaked a long, slender arm around his waist and pulled him closer. She pressed her lips against his neck, leaving a wake of golden kisses up to his earlobe, where she leaned closer to whisper. — “Aurie, Luv, I know that look. Don’t tell me you’re headed home. The eve has only just begun. “ Her glowing eyes Locked with Auren’s, her grip tightening, slowing the both of them to a stop, causing a temporary blockage in the flow of people. “Overdid myself Mel.. you’ll have to –” –” Come with us to the reflecting pool.” She cooed, meeting his lips in an off-center kiss, smearing his inky wine lipstick. Momentarily, he allowed himself to relax. He considered saying yes. His heart pounding, he dipped his friend backwards gracefully, resenting that he had to leave. An itch in his left arm reminded his fuzzy brain that he was in danger. Gasping softly, he gently lifted Mella upright and spun her out towards her friends, who were growing impatient. He couldn’t make out their faces in the fuzz of the evening. “I can’t, I’m sorry Mel! We’ll talk later.” Before she could protest, he danced, spinning forward in a brilliant display of speed that ended in a stumble as he met a set of steep steps that coiled sharply upwards out of the park and onto the pink brick streets overlooking Ridgedow Gardens. The glazed windows facing the street were empty and blank… their occupants elsewhere, enjoying the festival. The empty buildings were like faces, judging him for his lack of zeal. Auren wound his way through streets and side streets, his pace increasing as he grew more and more alone. Finally, he was climbing a set of steps to his own front door. Smirking at the sight of it he reached down into the front of the bodice that held together the layers of his outfit pulling free a loop of keys that were on a long chain looped around his neck. Aligning it to the keyhole he struggled with the lock, cursing softly under his breath as it initially failed to cooperate with him. In the quiet black of his foyer, he latched the door behind him and stumbled forward, tearing at the ribbon that held the gleaming cape that draped from his bare shoulders. He let it drop on a black lacquered table. He reached up to unclasp an elaborate choker and tore his single, crimson glove down from his elbow. He pressed a gilded fingernail against a band of red ink encroached upon by a spreading corruption. Marginally extending beyond the band were sinews of mismatched muscle and skin; even his hair had begun to glow red. Pulse rising, he wrenched his rings from his fingers, casting them into the ever-darkening room. Precious jewellery piled under him until only the dimmest glow from his own veins remained.. Slumping onto the steps, he tightened his grip on his arm and twisted it ninety degrees. A sharp click of crystal against porcelain met his ears. The room was enveloped in black as his final stone slid away from his arm, rendering the prosthesis inert. He slid to his side, the sounds of the party below overtaken by his own gasping breaths, panic refusing to subside alongside his magic.

2023, Ballpoint Pen on 5.5” x 7” (11” x 7” double page spread) Midori FO Cotton Sketchbook.

Sketchbook work. Markers, watercolor, pen and coffee.