God lived on the hill above the rock-garden and there was a forbidden cart up there. At sunset he spread out like a mist over the house and the field. He could make himself quite small and creep in everywhere in order to see what one was doing and sometimes he was only a great big eye. Moreover he looked just like Grandfather.
We raised our voices in the wilderness and were continually disobedient because God so likes to forgive sinners. God forbade us to gather manna under the laburnum tree but we did all the same. Then he sent worms up from the earth to eat up the manna. But we went on being disobedient and we still raised our voices.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
I had to re-upload her the last one was so UN-proportional I couldn't stand it. But I know I need to work on hands and fingers. It's an alien that lives in a doll like body. It can manipulate the doll, moving fingers, arms and eyes. So nothing like cutting open your doll just to find an alien creature living inside. No, my aliens will not have any gender. Why don't we reproduce like worms, get split into two.
Cover for my fanfic i writing for "Batman: Zero Year" comic.
After Zero: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63498001
"I bloom, a flower fair and bright, A needed thing, for two, a light. In hearts' soft garden, breezes play, I grow in strength with each new day."
The Riddler nodded patiently, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. Amber devoted almost all her energy to keep reciting this stupid rhyme that she had composed and practiced until she turned pale from exhaustion. The remaining part of her energy was spent on NOT clutching her jacket.
"But then, a worm, with wicked bite. Gnawed at my grain and dimmed my light. A spreading blight, a change so foul. Cursed my existence, took its toll. My two companions, caught in strife. Began to gnaw and hurt their life. Absorbing poison, bit by bit. They both grew sick, they couldn't quit."
"…"
“Who am I?"
The Riddler lazily raised his eyes to the sky and just as slowly raised his hands.
"Love!"
His voice was full of theatrical reverence. He didn’t even pretended that the riddle made him ponder over it.
"To be more precise — twisted love. Am I right?"
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.
To continue the snarled up knotted theme. It's sometimes hard to separate yourself from the feelings of others. Sometimes I don't even know where I end or begin.
https://www.instagram.com/p/Ceg4Ue2p0cW/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
Beginning 18.
Rosalie went to a party dressed as a snail. She even brought her own snacks!
https://www.instagram.com/p/CPbNl01BIsB/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
For this one, I hate drawing hands so they are awful but mostly I figured out how to make things glow. Recently we had a Worm Full Moon, I layed outside and watched the moon for like a half an hour.
Inktober 2020, Day 13: "Dune". After pondering for a while, whether I should come up with something surprising, I decided to go with what for me is the obvious association, the sci-fi book. I based it on this illustration of a sandworm (https://dune.fandom.com/wiki/Sandworm?file=Dune-sandworm.jpg) by Nathan Rosario. It’s not meant to promote the now postponed new movie, but rather based on the books by Frank Herbert, which I loved as a teenager.
Brushpens and posca markers on coloured A4, this time with an acrylic underpainting (falling back on my painterly ways).
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
