I like to study painting on canvas, which almost my works are executed using acrylic paint and drawing with charcoal for sketches. I will be more than happy to share with me your experience and also to give me some advice to my works.
Malik straining to keep the twisting pose. Decided to leave this one as a slightly rough red Bic pen sketch for now. There’s something to be said about the energy found in the work-up drawing.
somewhat abandoned short comic thingy ... it was supposed to go like : Orki and Chubbs find things (similar to Fallout 4), Chubbs finds Captain Super Guy or whatever and he's in mint condition and it gives plus 3 to all primary stats , but yeah , something like that
I loved this design! I been re-watching Samurai Jack, in backwards order from season 4 to 1 . they needed to use this design more, but alas, they are only in one episode, but here we are, enjoy! I highly recommend to anyone and everyone, it is one of the greatest animated masterpieces of American cartoons!
Alright , people, who here remembers a brilliant show by the name of Samurai Jack ? Just me ? C'mon now ! Don't be afraid ! Say it loud and proud ! Samurai Jack is A W E S O M E !
Where do I begin with this one? This is a drawing of my dad and I; the picture was taken back in 2006, a happier time, I suppose. I don't commonly think about my dad, I don't necessarily think about how much I miss him or how I wish I could see him again, so it was odd for me to sit and look through old photos. I don't really know my dad; I do, but I don't. My dad was physically part of my life for 10 years, the second half of those were not the best. Mental illness, self medicating for years, debt, heroin, arguments, threats, uncertainty. I feel like I remember the negative more because I was older, my parents couldn't hide it from me like they used to. At the same time, when he was sober and stable, life was good. Life was great, things felt complete. So here I am, 6 years since he died. I don't want to say his image is fading, but I know less of who he was than I did before. I see the good from some (the ones who praise him, who act like he was a saint), and I see the bad from others (the one who felt the pain). I suppose I no longer see my view, my memories aren't there anymore. I don't necessarily feel sad, the anger has faded, and I can't say I'm happy. Maybe I'll figure it out one day, but, for now, it is what it is.