She was a 25 year old white 2021 Jeep Grand Cherokee L Overland, though I didn't care much about what trim she was. She felt insecure about her body type, since she was the first 3 row Grand Cherokee. She had a little sister named Wendy who was a 2022 Jeep Wagoneer. She had her freckles since she was 11.
Sometimes the quickest drawings hold the deepest truths. During an after-sermon discussion about understanding the love of God, I found myself listening with one ear and drawing with the other. Frank, seated across the room, made a natural model—relaxed posture, thoughtful presence, and a face full of character.
With a pen in hand, I traced his form in a quick contour line, following the folds of his shirt, the tilt of his jaw, the stillness of his hands resting in his lap. Contour drawing asks us to see more than just the surface—it demands patience and presence, a slowing down until the line itself feels like prayer.
Frank became more than a subject; he was a reminder that the love of God is often revealed in ordinary moments and everyday people.
Today we're digging deep into our brains to the 2000's to remember Dash and Dot, the original mascots from PBS Kids! Who else hates the new mascots Dee, Del and modern Dot? #BringBackDashAndDot
I will draw a popular teenage girl singer from the 2010's tommorow! Can you guess her name?
Imperfect Lines, Honest Presence
This sketch is not perfect—and that’s exactly why it’s alive. The bold figure, the dissolving hat, the tilted chair: all of it feels unfinished, fleeting, caught in motion. It’s what the Japanese call wabi-sabi—finding beauty in the imperfect, the impermanent, the incomplete.
But there’s something deeper here too. A quick sketch is not just what the eye records. It’s what the soul permits. To draw without fixing, without polishing, is to admit the world will not hold still for us. Life slips past. The lines break off. And yet, somehow, the essence remains.
When you sketch this way, you are not the master of the moment—you are its guest. The pencil does not carve permanence; it pays attention. The act of drawing becomes an act of being present, of honoring what is already vanishing.
So here’s a challenge: grab a pencil and sketch someone near you in sixty seconds. Do not erase. Do not perfect. Let the lines falter. When you finish, ask yourself: What truth did the imperfection reveal?
Perhaps presence itself is the real art.
Sorry, I haven't uploaded in a while, it's quite hard to keep up on here when compared to DeviantArt, but I promised I would never come back to that rude site.
