worl

The freshness of morning withdrew in front of the warm rays of the sun. The Wizard of Cirilo Bum and I came to the High Meadow, one beautiful gazebo, where we planned to spend a day off. - Only those who work hard and get their work done, fully enjoy all the pleasure of a vacation - said the wizard Čirilo Bum. I did not answer him, my life plan was to work as little in life, for that reason, I have taught for the wizard at him. By the time we took the time to see the water that emerged from the earth, in the air she created a form of grapes and spirals of various colors that had disappeared in the unknown. The Ghosts of water had fun, trying to show each other their skills. We chose a place on the edge of the High Meadow for our accommodation, where we could watch the landscape: meadows and forests scattered to distant mountains of dark blue. Above us were an old, large yew tree as created to keep us from the strong sun and the negative energy. Below the meadow was stretched by which a dozen young dragons rode along and across, skillfully changed the direction of movement and twisted with their long bodies, they played hunting. Hidden in the crown of a large oak tree near us, pointed snake watched their game with their big green eyes, but I noticed that she quickly dropped into sleep. Then I remember that I did not do some important jobs yesterday, Čirilo Bum will definitely see it when we get home. It spoils my mood a bit, and I pulled out of the baskets a few of the dried sausages that the old wizard worked so well. Full stomach I always better mood. - There are rare opportunities to see the Big Redbeak - suddenly spoke Cirilo Bum - bird right now wants to snatch egg. I stared for a while around so Čirilo Bum says: I said Big. And indeed, I find him so big that several other creatures sought accommodation in his body. Cirilo Bum spent almost all day hovering in the crown of the old yew, napping with a satisfied look on his face. Every time I was constantly tortured by the fact that I would have to listen, a critic of the old wizard, when we come home because of my unsolved tasks. My nervousness I softened so that I ate all the food from the basket. Late in the afternoon, we went home, from the trees they began to descend some new, hitherto unseen beings in search for food or night hideout. Spirit of water was gone, but a good part of the way, perhaps from curiosity, we were followed by other inhabitants of the World of Fantasy, were to me welcome companions, I took my thoughts with them, to the house. A 3 format

I have had an ongoing project called Hybrid Mythologies. Inspired by stories and mythological creatures, tales from different traditions and parts of the world, I have been playing with emergent stories, characters and creatures that incorporate different elements. It is really a kind of spontaneous, intuitive journey and play of associations - oftentimes surprising to myself in what emerges. This year I am planning to publish an artbook entitled Hybrid Mythologies and if it all goes according to plan, it should be done some time in May. I will post process from this book.

my new work! - Here he is, he comes! - Pepe Fajgl said, pointing at the top of the hill. The environment was typical for the territory of a mortician: valleys overgrown with low grass, and with some high ground. Pepe Fajgl and I left the corpse Henri de Functa at the foot of the hills and watched the Mortician as it approaches the dead body at a uniform speed, his beautiful eyes were fixed to the deceased. "It's wonderful," I said to Pepe, - it is certainly longer than 20 meters. - The Morticians are the beings that all the inhabitants of the World of Fantasies respect and love, since they have appeared, the precious earth is no longer polluting with graves and cemeteries, number of burning corpses and then a terrible smell almost came to zero, pollution of the lake and the sea throwing the dead into the water stopped. After Mrs. Death takes life and the soul went away in the wheel of the final verdict, it remains only material, dead, a bit valuable part once alive being, the meat that becomes a problem for family and community. Mortician comes to the dead body of the late Henri, its enormous mouth silently sucked corpse, he turned, and dignity went behind the elevation, the problem was solved forever. A 3 format

"Spade - Magic Card Tournament" ♠️ ✨ Character design for a videogame idea based on a futuristic world in which there is an artificial magical card tournament held every decade. The main character, Spade wants to bring peace to her world by winning the tournament and being granted one wish.

An article/rant/annotation to an illustration. A #Hackney bar and its flies. This picture is not as sad and blue as it might at first seem, I promise. It is early in the week and the pub becomes the territory of the most outspoken drinkers. Raised somewhere between Churchill and Harold MacMillan, a night such as this is time for them to spin out a yarn of nostalgic fantasy. Encouraged by the lack of a crowd and with space to fill, statements start to fly. In the opening rounds the barman athletically hits back with factual blocks and reality-check haymakers; statistics and personal experiences are given. Two histories cross examined, one where 1982 means Thatcher and the Falklands, the other renders Reagan and the AIDS crisis. Stoicism and national pride vs mental health and realism. In the latter rounds the barman is fatigued, swaying on the backbar, glasses begin to stack up as form begins to drop. The older men seem stronger than ever. The barflies come in close now, they scrutinise his generations work ethic and make wild political comments on poverty, immigrants and the minimum wage. The barman is close to sheer bloody despair, he maintains his defence and focuses on breathing while maintaining his professional stance. But at the end of the night the barman knows HE will ring that bell, they will politely leave and they will return again in a week and maybe, just maybe there will be a change, common ground or maybe at least polite silence. But what these interactions have given despite the salt in the eye is community and an exchange between generations, culture and class of those participating. No home is ever straight forward, no relative without their good and bad traits and in a world where we often slide into echo chambers online or in our physical environments, the pub is still a place where society is family, face to face, pint to pint. Or maybe it's just a room with alcohol on tap?

Plein air watercolour of arisaig on the west coast of Scotland. We holidayed there a few times. It's a very beautiful part of the world.

Lufgt Huron, also known as Huron Blackheart and the "Tyrant of Badab," was once the Chapter Master of the Astral Claws and self-claimed Imperial Governor of the world of Badab Primaris in the Maelstrom Zone of the Ultima Segmentum. But ultimately, Huron was corrupted in his ambitious pursuit of power and he tainted most of his Chapter as well, leading them into an open rebellion against the Imperium of Man, known as the Badab War, which lasted from 901-912.M41. Bound to machines which keep him alive and forever in pain, Huron is now a scarred creature of hate. His machine claw clicking, he has strode to battle time and again, followed by the daemonic Hamadrya, and each time the agony of his existence grows and the spite within him deepens.

I created this card for someone to bring to a Law of Attraction event. I drew the flowers, came up with the phrase, and then set the type. The blue background is iStock.

Just a quick warm up doodle. Nothing special.

a sort of movement in the mind of what the kid wants for a sight in his life when he was very young and appearing non frightened of the killer world.

For all the cat lovers and night owls of the world. Prints for sale @ etsy.com/shop/DrawingsByLucia.

Daily drawing of the Joe Rogan Podcast guest, Lennox Lewis; three-time world heavyweight champion, a two-time lineal champion, and remains the last heavyweight to hold the undisputed title. Pencil drawing and colored in Procreate.

This art is linked to my previous work. The protogonist has entered the other side of the world. A weird place but it seems familiar as this world is nothing but his consciousness and diary is just a portal which let him in here

Host of Gardeners World.

No one knows where it is or why it exsists, but some believe it is a realm of wonder, where magic lives and evil consumes every inch of its vast desert.

Finding one's place in the world

Sylvanas Windrunner from World of Warcraft fanart

Tyrande Whisperwind from World of Warcraft fanart

Alexstrasza from World of Warcraft fanart

Jaina Proudmoore from World of Warcraft fanart

Druid from World of Warcraft

I miss grapefruit. Doesn't it just figure? The only medicine I take and it has to have that limitation. It could be worse. Stop whining Jim. At least you made it to the World Series of doodling. Well...in my mind anyway.

Azshara from World of Warcraft fanart

Kind of a style experiment. Took the elements from my 70's sci-fi book cover homage and remixed them in a more stylized, painterly way.

Malfurion from World of Warcraft fanart

I drew these guys with a Pilot Custom 823 FA and Platinum Carbon Black ink. The FA nib has a good drawing width on watercolor paper - one of my favorites. It's a soft nib but I don't use the line variation, just some nice shock absorption with each downstroke. The Carbon Black ink is out-of-this-world good, though being pigmented I fear keeping it in too many pens.

I wanted to do crazyyyyyy...SO I DID CRAZY HATSUNE MIKU

Just a super happy little monster who has no cares in the world. At least that we know of.