Then everything started shrinking. Every piece of furniture became elongated and narrow and disappeared towards the ceiling. There was something crawling under the rag rugs in the hall. It was also narrow and thin and wriggled in the middle, sometimes very quickly and sometimes very slowly.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
Not sure what to say about this one. I like it. As many of you can probably see, I've been trying a more pixel-art-style technique lately. I use this program called Kleki--it's pretty cool. Also, I need a name for the grey creature.
"A dark man went on shovelling outside the door and all of a sudden I started to cry and I screamed: I'll bite him! I'll go outside and bite him!
I shouldn't do that, Mummy said. He wouldn't under-stand. She screwed the top on to the bottle of Indian ink and said: what about going home?
Yes, I said.
So we went home."
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
#dailydrawing #tovejansson
A hand-drawn illustration capturing the quiet beauty of a slow afternoon. Featuring a traditional tea set and a bursting vase of purple wildflowers against a sun-drenched window, this piece blends the "Sunday Reset" aesthetic with timeless botanical charm. Perfect for tea lovers, art collectors, and anyone looking to bring a touch of "home sanctuary" vibes to their walls.
I guess...I'm going to facebook. I hate tumblr by the way, too many spammers and idiots. I can't even enjoy it without someone trying....WAIT...I'll just make a panel about how much I hate them.
I kept my eyes on it the whole time. Now it was moving so slowly that you couldn't really see whether it was coming towards you or not. Occasionally its shape changed just slightly and its black tummy swept over the concrete floor. I could hardly breathe. I knew that I ought to run away and hide bur I just couldn't. Now it moved diagonally again towards the wall and wasn't to be seen any longer. It was in the pile of junk behind the modelling stand, it was somewhere behind the sacks of plaster and might appear again just anywhere.
It was getting dark in the studio. I knew that it was me who had let the creature out and I couldn't capture it and lock it up again.
- Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson
