A few days ago, I could see a flock of quail, they came directly to my window, when one of them did not manage to climb with the others and crashed into my window. I quickly went to see her but she had already died.
A detailed hand-drawn ink and wash illustration featuring two majestic dogs that look like statues perched above a historic gothic cathedral. This piece captures the timeless atmosphere of old European streets, blending architectural precision with the organic soul of a loyal companion cast in stone. Perfect for fans of urban sketching, dark academia, and classical monument art.
A quiet study of restraint at altitude. Framed through an aircraft window, the world below drifts by while the interior remains still—objects worn, familiar, and waiting. Subtle distortions in perspective and muted tones emphasize the tension between motion and pause, progress and endurance. This piece captures the discipline of waiting while suspended between departure and arrival, where patience is not passive, but practiced under pressure.
Behind the Russian Church there is an abyss.
The moss and the rubbish are slippery and jagged old tins glitter at the bottom. For hundreds of years they have piled up higher and higher against a long dark-red house without windows. The red house crawls round the rock and it is very significant that it has no windows. Behind the house is the harbour, a silent harbour with no boats in it. The little wooden door in the rock below the church is always locked.
Hold your breath when you run past it, I told Poyu. Otherwise Putrefaction will come out and catch you. Poyu always has a cold. He can play the piano and holds his hands in front of him as if he were afraid of being attacked or was apologizing to someone. I always scare him and he follows me because he wants to be scared.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
in my idle time over Christmas holidays, i was inspired to make something unlike any of my other art. so i raided my recycle bin and made this fun little thing that sits between my window and the blinds.
Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971)
“I get up at about eight, do physical exercises, then work without a break from nine till one,” Stravinsky told an interviewer in 1924. Generally, three hours of composition were the most he could manage in a day, although he would do less demanding tasks—writing letters, copying scores, practicing the piano—in the afternoon.
Unless he was touring, Stravinsky worked on his compositions daily, with or without inspiration, he said. He required solitude for the task, and always closed the windows of his studio before he began: “I have never been able to compose unless sure that no one could hear me.” If he felt blocked, the composer might execute a brief headstand, which, he said, “rests the head and clears the brain.”
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
Dream of the Yellow Chrysanthemum from Dialogues in Paradise by Can Xue.
I was hiding behind the window aiming my air gun at a squirrel on a roof in the distance. I had been taking aim for two hours. But when I finally shot, full of confidence, the steel pellet zinged right into Old Jiang's arm. God knows why I lost my mind at the crucial moment, I was born with the impulsive personality. Immediately he jumped up and dashed into the room, shouting, "Murder! Murder!" I was totally embarrassed.
Bounty Hunter dude , kinda like the ones you get to see here and there in Samurai Jack. Making this for a project im working on, so, heres a window to my freaky little world ,
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!
Kierkegaard said we undersand life by looking back, but we must live life forward. On a trip to the Chicago Art Institute with a group of students, I penned the students behind me and then I penned the rapidly moving images I saw through the front window of the bus . I still do not understand life except that perhaps it is full of energy and art and love.
"At 6 o'clock the window squeaks and mum calls time" from Graham's Up the Tree. It must have been strange for mbpardy to see his his story interpreted through my illustrations... but page by page these characters came to life, with both of our contributions somehow adding up to something bigger.
Australian author mbpardy & I have a children's book coming out soon called "Graham's Up the Tree." This illustration from the book makes a good countdown to release.
The picture depicts a eye. The core theme surrounding the artwork is that there is more than what meets the eye. At first glance people don't realise the stories that people hold, but if they try it can be seen. Another reason, why I chose a eye because of the phrase 'the eye is a window to the soul', as I feel it can show what can really be said about the person.
Revisiting something untouched for a long time. The vibes have not changed, but the design concept did. The paper is very messy, because of many, many, random sketches trying to... find something. Something came to my mind suddenly, to remove nearly all the details and changed the eye design. Suddenly, everything snapped into place and the character came to life, again.
The eyes are indeed the windows to the soul, huh?
Now that I started to draw my photos, I noticed that I started taking different pictures. I am taking fewer "good" pictures - composition, color all went out the window. Instead, I am taking pictures of things that made me happy or just tickled my fancy.
A stack of blinis, made from my great-aunt's recipe. A book that I accidentally discovered that is so weird and funny. A secret compartment in the wall in a supermarket.
