Watching a thunder storm roll in over the north cascades, it was super cool standing on the edge... For a little bit it was warm and sunny, and also hailing at the same time
Everyday with Aspergers is a storm of overwhelm - some good, some bad, and some painful. This was an "intuitive" painting with tons of layers, and no preplanning (what?!). I used acrylic paints, post markers, and pencils - I think it shows the exhaustion and overstimulation really well.
Medium : Pen and Ink on Bristol Board
Size : 11" x 15"
Year completed : 1987
This rendering is part of a collection of illustrations entitled " The Army Years." This rendering remind me of a ride I took on A Army National Guard helicopter,while I was serving in the Air Force- Civil Air Patrol. We were helping them to figure out the safest, and fastest, flight paths between hospitals, for when a patient needs to be air lifted from one hospital to another.
I got to rider in one of the sides compartments of the craft, with the side door open ( of course I was strapped in to my seat ) the craft at one point flew with my side parole to the grown, as it made a couple of sharp turn, real fun ride.
I served in the Civil Air Patrol for 4 year, one of the benefits, was a lot of flying time.
I Severed in the United States Army fore 9 years, 4 years National Guard, and 4 years Regular Army. While in the military , I was a anti tank toe missile crewman, Combat Engineer , and a Field Medic. I served during The Panama War, Desert Shield/ Desert Storm, Police action in Somalia.
This picture is entitled " Support Is on The Way." because any field soldier know that helicopter are the main transport vehicle for delivering, supplies, mail, equipment, moving troops back and forth, from the rear to the battlefield.
Written by Stephen J. Vattimo
This was created in response to the question : "What is inside your head" (or something like that) Many excellent responses I viewed. Even though the prompt closed I felt inspired
They rode in silence as the sandy dunes passed them by. There was a storm brewing at the horizon. They did not know what destiny had in store for them next. All they had was themselves to rely on. They needed no one, they were independent.
One of dozens of cartoons I created the last couple of years. A little voice is telling me to get these published in a book. If the voice gets louder, it will happen. In the meantime, I'm brainstorming and filling my sketchbook.
my first *official* painting titled "Winter Solace". I painted this one of my OC when I was feeling down. We all know how it feels during the winter months... dark, gloomy, and a good portion of us suffer from seasonal depression. But sometimes, we just have to take it in and be thankful for how far we've come, and how much we have yet to experience. I painted this to remind myself and others that there's always the calm after the storm, no matter how intense your storm may be. It's okay to not be okay.
This is no landscape you could ever stand in.
No observational drawing, no safe horizon line.
This chalk experiment is a dream unfolding in color: a golden field lit from within, a scarlet seam of fire at its edge, and a storm-heavy sky pressing down with ancient weight.
It feels like a place between worlds—where the conscious and unconscious meet, where memory and imagination blur. Some might see a battlefield, others a meadow after rain, and still others a veil between life and death. That is the beauty: the painting does not tell you what it is; it invites you to confess what you see.
Psychologists say we project ourselves onto images like these. So—what do you notice first? The light? The darkness? The burning red?
Perhaps that is not about the drawing at all, but about you.
We were having a thunder storm, so I figured I’d do a sketch waiting for my markers to get here. I ended up getting carried away and inking it right away. I put a few layers of fixatif on it, and I'm hoping that'll stop the paint/ink from bleeding too much when I apply the markers.
Against the weight of a storm-dark sky, tender stems lean forward—some bending, some breaking, some still reaching.
They hold their fire at the tips, waiting to bloom, waiting to burn, waiting to belong to light.
Perhaps this is all of us:
stretching through shadows,
searching for the thin, golden line that divides earth from eternity.
