I was fortunate enough to to take my sketchbook class to observe medical students dissect donor cadavers. These donors gave there bodies to science to further our knowledge of the human anatomy and to train our future doctors. We worked alongside the med students and anatomy fellows. It was a humbling and fascinating experience.
Queen inspired by the nicotiana alata flower (which is called Night's Queen in Romanian) and the Greater Death Shead Hawkmoth which feeds with the flowers nectar.
Just finished the excellent EXPLORING Kourse (Sketchbook Skool), I had to set my own agenda. I am trying to get used to using watercolors. I like it when they don't fill the page entirely. Here is an archerfish trying to catch an insect by spitting at it,
This is the the Icelandic parliament house in Reykjavik Iceland.
Usually I don´t draw houses, I am more into faces, but have always wanted to draw houses though and enjoy watching them. This house has always been one of my favourite.
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.
When Rebelle 3 by Escape Motions came out I wanted to create something that really shows off its power. I normally draw in fountain pen first, but this was created entirely from scratch in Rebelle 3.
Digital art tends to be cold and impersonal, but Rebelle's watercolor simulation looks & feels like real paint... and you can undo! That's critical for illustration work, as clients often request changes... But even for personal work- it means an artist can achieve a watercolor look without being at the mercy of the medium. So the result is more true to his or her vision.
I've been absent from the site for months, due to working on a book. But now that I have a bit of spare time, I've been dabbling in watercolours, something I haven't done in years. A bit rough to start but I'm enjoying it.
A hand-drawn illustration capturing the quiet beauty of a slow afternoon. Featuring a traditional tea set and a bursting vase of purple wildflowers against a sun-drenched window, this piece blends the "Sunday Reset" aesthetic with timeless botanical charm. Perfect for tea lovers, art collectors, and anyone looking to bring a touch of "home sanctuary" vibes to their walls.
It got cold very quickly and the fog was there, moving thickly around us, shutting us in on all sides. The smooth swell rolled out of the fog, crawled under the raft with a swallowing movement and rolled back into the fog the other side.
....
Albert picked it up by the neck and looked at it, and it began to screech and flap one wing.
Let it go! I shouted. Everything looked so terrifying with the fog and the black water and the bird creeping around and screaming that I was beside myself and said: give it to me, I'll hold it in my lap, we must make it well again.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
