Of all the dreams I’ve had in my life, the one I had back in July of 2007 as a 14 year old seems to have stuck somewhere in my memory the longest. It involved some airy-fairy death and rebirth of the world and it all got very 2001-sy real quick.
Here’s a retelling of that story...ish.
Anthony Trollope (1815–1882)
"All those I think who have lived as literary men,—working daily as literary labourers,—will agree with me that three hours a day will produce as much as a man ought to write.
...
"I always began my task by reading the work of the day before, an operation which would take me half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing with my ear the sound of the words and phrases.…
This division of time allowed me to produce over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, and if kept up through ten months, would have given as its results three novels of three volumes each in the year..."
From Daily rituals by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #anthonyTrollope @masoncurrey
This doodle is a marker and ink drawing of a hyper stylized sun with a middle spiral and squiggles extruding from the center like a wild galactic heliocentric power hold. The sky is orange and hot Barbie pink and deep blue and very fun and colorful to look at. Check out more of my art at ArtsyDrawings.com
Once again playing with shapes, colours, marks, and loads of squiggly, smudgy ink lines. No pressure. Just trying to get back into splashing around with paint and seeing what emerges.
“Claire!” Elle woke up with her daughter’s name on her lips. Startled, she sat up and looked around the living room with her heart still beating loudly in her chest. A dream, she realized dazedly.
Slowly, she crossed the way to the back door. With unseeing eyes she gazed out into the garden.
She remembered waking up in the hospital six years ago and seeing her husband sitting next to her. She remembered how he took her hand into his and looked at her with eyes full of despair. He told her that the doctor thought Claire might not survive. That she might die before she was even born, die before she had a chance to look into her mum’s eyes, feel a kiss on her forehead, clench her little fist around her dad’s finger, hear them speaking to her without a belly barrier between them… It was a silent, terrible death. It was the death of someone so precious, so innocent, so tiny…
Elle took a shuddering breath.
The Super Bloom is still going in SoCal! On the trail are poppies, daisies, alyssum and now the mustard grass is in bloom. My process was an iPhone photo, then a drawing with color and then collage in Photoshop.
One of my favorite things about being a parent is listening to the stories my daughter makes up and really trying to encourage her imagination. She has named a bunch of the cacti which line our windowsills, while our cacti are very accustomed to their suburban lives they also like a bit of adventure, this is a group of them taking a family vacation to the desert.
We have an interesting thing with the sun here. It shines a different color every day. No one knows why this is, not even Charley. We grow the watermelons in different colors the best we can.
In the watermelon sugar
Richard Brautigan
It's easy to forget that cats are actually little ghouls...they want to hunt and kill stuff almost as much as they want to cuddle up with you when it's cold (yes, they are also heat vampires). But they are also complex and amazing little fur-suited people.
We have finished the second season of The Witcher and I was inspired to make a composition with Cirilla. I have decided to take the visuals from the game where Ciri is already a grown up and became very strong. Behind her is Geralt who looks after her. I hope you like the story as much as I do! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m6cfNkwJY6k
