I have quite a bit of traveling planned this Summer...from NYC to Copenhagen to Venice to Berlin and a few more spots. Very much looking forward to all the different colors, cities, and cultures in the coming weeks.
In the Finnish mythology killing of a bear was followed by a great feast in honour of the bear (peijaiset), where a substantial part of the celebrations consisted of convincing the bear's spirit that it had died accidentally and hadn't been murdered. Afterwards, the bear's skull was hung high upon a pine tree so its spirit could re-enter the heavens. The bones of the bear were then buried under the pine. Reference for this work is my old drawing of karhunkallopetäjä/bearskullpine in the Riisitunturi. Also practice sketch of bear skull and at last photo i took of pine.
Ice Dream. There’s some strange references going on in this one. If I don’t explain it won’t come together. Back in my day the Europe 72 3 record Dead live album had a crazy kid on the back cover smashing a cone on his head. Later an ice cream truck company called Weaser ripped off that art and would visit my mid Jersey neighborhood daily. Google it if you care. Flash forward to 2019. The ice cream truck that hits my neighborhood EVERY DAYS has a loud obnoxious song and no Greatful Dead connections. It drives me out of my mind so here is the result. I always try to turn my pain into gain. What a long strange explanation it’s been.
Doodles and notes I started at a regional NJ chapter of SCBWI conference this past weekend. Then just kept adding stuff to the page this week. I learned a lot and met some great people. Looking forward to June!
I gravitated towards the fony baobab, a real type of baobab. Sadly, all baobabs are in decline, which informed my composition. I used pastel earth tones and a lot of blacks. Digitally hand-drawn in Rebelle 6
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.
In July of 2022, Brianna Grier died falling out of a moving police car while having a mental health breakdown. Since Brianna passed, I have been heartbroken for her twins and family but also reflecting on my struggle with mental health. Mental health needs compassion and empathy, not police and punishment. The brunch strokes are purposeful, but I completed them with empathy in mind. I want to keep the composition simple but filled with meaning. The color theme represents vastness and loneliness, but also kinetic energy found in warm orange tones.
Bearskullpine
A new bigger version of my earlier drawing
In the Finnish mythology killing of a bear was followed by a great feast in honour of the bear (peijaiset), where a substantial part of the celebrations consisted of convincing the bear's spirit that it had died accidentally and hadn't been murdered. Afterwards, the bear's skull was hung high upon a pine tree so its spirit could re-enter the heavens. The bones of the bear were then buried under the pine.
He sits up in his teacup with his hands wrapped 'round a porg,
Thinking up new ways to join forces with the Borg.
To eradicate the Rebels by infecting them with spores,
And assimilate the hive mind to become one with the Force.
It's Weinerman Sam with his weiner schnitzel fam,
Putting sausages to bed like a good fam-i-ly man.
Doing ev'ry thing he can just to get them into bed,
For a restful night of sleep in a warm bun made of bread.
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.
Drawing of leaves and nuts from the Marri tree, found in the Southwest region of Western Australia. This majority of trees that surround my property are the Marri from the Myrtaceae family is endemic to this area. They grow upwards of 40 metres and are a favourite food to the protected Red-tailed Black Cockatoo.
I have been watching a lot of sci-fiction lately. Like so many others my age or younger, the weight of global warming sits on my shoulders constantly. I imagined the final trek through a wormhole as someone sees their new solar system for the first time. I enjoy the bright colors and such but wish I conveyed a more bittersweet emotion.
Often I am given to making marks on paper that reflect the objects I see coming towards me as I gaze out the front car window. I do this exercise as a passenger of course. The goal is not the end product, but the process of connecting what I see with motor control. The product is an indication of movement and energy. Give it a try!
I wanted to capture an introspective feeling and show the Detroit River's expansiveness. I went with a late summer sunset vibe with lots of warm pinks and cool blues.
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.
This piece is inspired by Mental Health Awareness Week that’s just left us.
Belated and as cryptic as things might be (as usual) here in Bleu’s world, better late to the party than never right?
