butterflies # ????? : two holly blues. This was a hard one and worthy of an art block
with top and bottom wings distinguishing the species, composition and pose was almost impossible. Cue two of the Holly Blues! :)
The Green hairstreak. Couldnt decided between backgrounds, after a bunch of fun with a hair extension and paint... and getting paint on the walls, floor, desk, tv screen, laptop, bed, Joey the lot
#blackcappedchickadee Facts
A bird almost universally considered “cute” thanks to its oversized round head, tiny body, and curiosity about everything, including humans. The chickadee’s black cap and bib; white cheeks; gray back, wings, and tail; and whitish underside with buffy sides are distinctive. Its habit of investigating people and everything else in its home territory, and quickness to discover bird feeders, make it one of the first birds most people learn. Want to know more check out this link https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Black-capped_Chickadee/overview
A mason jar filled with glowing fireflies casts a warm, bright light. The playful arrangement of the fireflies creates a whimsical and enchanting effect.
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.
We believe that all people are creative in their own way. Maybe if there’s no idea, we should look deeper? Even the wildest thought can be a great solution. Release the Kraken!
Looking down on the Afon Mellte from its rocky riverbank in Neath's 'Waterfall Country'. I was a little perturbed by the complexity of this scene at first, but soon got into the flow of it. I love doing these wild nature scenes. Uniball Eye Micro on 6x8" sketchbook.
