Thioindoxyl

Faces

2011-04-12T02:57:00.000-07:00

I should've gotten thicker frames...

The guy on the right (also pictured above) always looks like he's sleeping...

Ceramics

2011-04-10T07:47:00.000-07:00

I realize I haven't been that diligent about updating this blog, but I haven't not been making things. Please Internet, don't think I'm being lazy. ;__;

Anyway, here are some paintings of ceramic vessels.

The tea hydrant and apricot branch

The gravy holder and soup boat

les parents

2011-04-06T12:22:00.000-07:00

all around me are familiar faces

2011-01-03T16:48:00.000-08:00

Except for this guy. I had never seen him before in my life.

dead things

2011-01-03T16:41:00.000-08:00

And none is done the same..

c'est moi

2011-01-03T16:35:00.000-08:00

Follow me for I am your zombie leader. o____o

Sleeping through a snow storm

2010-12-11T07:16:00.000-08:00

at least, that's what this guy did...

more came

2010-11-21T14:00:00.000-08:00

more to come

2010-11-21T11:21:00.000-08:00

Transit

2010-11-10T11:16:00.000-08:00

Apparently he's from the mountains. I've had many meaningful conversations with him...

Wooo work and where it is done.

Luka

2010-11-02T05:06:00.000-07:00

My reflections

2010-10-31T08:36:00.000-07:00

Are protections.

Over you, over you

2010-10-17T08:44:00.000-07:00

My clothes aren't fabulous enough to come out of the closet. :(

But oil pastels can make them look gay enough.

Neighborhood #5 (Candles)

2010-10-12T10:57:00.000-07:00

light

2010-10-01T01:22:00.000-07:00

I watched the Sketchbook Clinic video from ConceptArt; I feel like it really helped. SO I worked on some lighting.

2010-09-27T12:01:00.000-07:00

My mother, posing for me at my grandmother's house. She got kind of fed up with me, hehe.

More of my mom at my grandmother's house.

Corner of my auxiliary "desk." In reality, it's dark and dismal.

JOHO! Kitty cat! I love youuuuu, kitty-pus. <3 Every time I go outside to draw he falls asleep in my lap.

They took it away before I was done those bastards! (done drinking, of course)

"I'm waiting for the guy next to her to start being interesting again."

2010-09-12T11:29:00.000-07:00

2010-09-11T10:03:00.000-07:00

Blogger, I really don't like your new image uploader. It's a pain in the ass.

Still being lazy

2010-09-09T13:21:00.000-07:00

Being lazy

2010-09-08T11:04:00.000-07:00

An addiction to hands

2010-08-18T07:25:00.000-07:00

Shut up, it's the only song that comes to mind when I draw hands or feet.

Again, it's mirrored so that is, in fact, my left hand, not my right. Please note, that is, in fact, my engagement ring. <3

Joho

2010-08-15T12:29:00.000-07:00

Sketch [8]

2010-08-12T13:27:00.000-07:00

"Do your practice; all is coming"

Sketches [7]

2010-08-10T12:33:00.000-07:00

Should do this more often UGH NEED TO IMPROVE NOW

Sri Ganesha

2010-08-07T07:15:00.000-07:00

The elephant incense holder that John gave me.

What makes the world go slow

2010-08-05T08:15:00.000-07:00

It's mirrored. Quite literally. I used a mirror.

Not packing

2010-07-03T22:19:00.001-07:00

Gonna drive me crazy... drive me mad.

So wait--I'm supposed to consolidate my life for the past 10.5 years into a single suitcase? And I have 4 days to do it? RIGHT I'M GONNA EMBROIDER SHOES.

Logan Cale

2010-05-03T14:19:00.001-07:00

*sigh* why do I watch Dark Angel? Oh right... heh <3

Inductance!

2010-05-01T15:21:00.000-07:00

What difference 1.59 years make! In September of 2008, I painted this. Anyway, I have a new tablet now and a new ambition for art sooo... naturally I'd redo something that was crap, haha.

Moose

2010-04-25T20:17:00.000-07:00

You know, they're not my favorite, but they're not that bad either. Megan's planner.

I've noticed that the only times I've used the full extent of my colored sharpies is when I'm doing something for Megan. She should have me draw her stuff more often.

Faulkner and skin tones

2010-04-24T13:47:00.000-07:00

Revamped my twitter layout. My rebellious love for Faulkner has inspired me to draw honey suckle flowers and color them in experimental, gradient ways.

Also, tried to do one of those really nicely realistic looking speed paintings people with significantly more skill than I sometimes do. It wasn't very speedy, but it wasn't a failure either!

I might fix up this blog soon, too. It needs it.

FBI

2010-04-09T10:42:00.001-07:00

Norman Jayden, FBI. Oh come on, you knew it was going to happen. He's just so.. -adjective-. My playthrough was in French, so even his bitching about withdrawal and rain sounded romantic and seductive. *sigh*

Mine

2010-04-08T07:13:00.000-07:00

I kind of just want to unapologetically post this and let the three people that actually follow this blog figure it out for themselves. I meant it to be deeper than just "hey, his penis is bleeding," but I may have failed so whatever. I'm satisfied with it, though I feel like the world as a whole isn't. *shrug*

URRGGGGHHHH. :(

Sketches [6.b]

2010-04-07T15:50:00.001-07:00

A little play with perspective. Getting there... slowly getting there.

Sketches [6]

2010-04-07T13:35:00.000-07:00

Max, Robin, Yak, a lotus (big. fat. JUICY. LOTUSES), and a redo of a doodle done on notes about speciation.

(Baddha) Akarna Dhanurasana

2010-03-06T19:48:00.000-08:00

Will finish soon.

2010-02-22T19:03:00.000-08:00

UGH FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK. 116 days left. FUCK.

There's no guarantees

2010-02-20T14:02:00.000-08:00

Won't you please forgive me, but you know cold blooded women make me sneeze.

This is what I see when I hear A Heady Tale. And Look Out Sunshine.

Basically, Taphrin (the girl) receives a letter from a boy she's stupidly in love with saying he's going on an adventure, essentially leaving her behind. She won't have it that way, so she runs away from her gypsy village home and finds her way to the nearest town. There, in the town pub, Maxlin (the creep) has just been left by his wife for drinking too much--but it's okay because he knows his wife has been cheating on him anyway--and decides to get drunk and start anew. When Taph inquires about the fastest way to the big city, he offers her a full ride, as he wants to get out himself.

Also, I am in love with Max's arm and shirt.

Pin-up Robin

2010-01-29T19:46:00.000-08:00

Alphonse Mucha

2010-01-19T20:15:00.000-08:00

I liked his beard...

You mean the world to me

2010-01-16T18:03:00.000-08:00

but you'll never know...

A while ago, one of my friends was telling me about a conversation she had with a psychiatrist with regards to difficulty falling asleep. The psychiatrist told her to come up with a story about people she also made up. Lately, I've had difficulty falling asleep and, in an effort to clear my head and drift off, I've been making up stories about these two. Tommy (not fishboy, the other one) and Robin. I've been making up stories about them for three years now.

It's strange, I feel like subconsciously my latent desire to be Robin is affecting my conscious decisions. Three years ago I decided Robin would do something drastic in her life, namely go to college in England... I actually forgot this until I read it in an old sketchbook.

The mind is strange. Life is strange.

Words, words, words. (II. ii. 1230)

2009-12-27T09:16:00.000-08:00

Seven hundred and three days ago, the day we met.
The countlessness of our relationship,
the breakdown of social expectation.
One hundred weeks and three days—
and we still stay up past midnight talking.
Seven hundred and three days...
maybe if numbers were words, they would mean less.

It wasn't one point five five one years of together,
it was eighteen months and eighteen days
of disconnect and momentary passion.
I have truly loved you for five hundred sixty five days
of this expanse, this fabric in time.
But, if numbers were words, and yet—

It only took three days to drown;
only point five three one percent
of the time I spent knowing you, I have spent not loving you.
Only a fraction of a hundredth,
an infinitesimal amount,
of the past eighty weeks and three days
have not been suspended in haze.
Hazed meanings and words,
words that might make numbers mean—

If numbers were words, would they mean any less than they do?
Would the kiss of five hundred one days ago
disappear in a few hours?
Can numbers make forever happen?

The young detective

2009-11-12T20:29:00.000-08:00

My (accidental) take on the thought-fiddler, Mr. Derren Brown. <3

(I have a lot of gripes about this one. His eyes aren't quite right. The contrast is all wrong. He doesn't look adorable enough. You can't tell he's really reading your mind... etc.)

Like a wave

2009-10-05T18:11:00.000-07:00

Another year, another planner cover. I like this one much, much better than last year's. My first time actually painting something for fun! And so it was--fun I mean. Perhaps I should do it more often.

Nikki and Mel

2009-08-30T15:56:00.001-07:00

Sketches [5]

2009-08-28T06:37:00.001-07:00

This is pretty much what my new sketchbook looks like.

Zea - colored pencil practice

2009-08-23T15:35:00.000-07:00

Practice with colored pencils. I don't know if I like the way it came out... I think I worked on it too long. Should have used a reference.

színes nyár

2009-08-20T18:43:00.000-07:00

Took me all day. I'm rather proud of it, to be honest.

Ode to Alphonse Maria Mucha

2009-08-20T09:02:00.000-07:00

I should have went ahead and drawn flowers around her. In the next one I will!

The scanner is in my mother's possession presently and her computer doesn't have photoshop so I didn't really get a chance to clean it up and the like.

Yakkers West at night

2009-08-11T21:27:00.001-07:00

YES! She's finished. Now if only the background and midground were a bit more realistic. One step at a time.

One year

2009-08-05T19:18:00.000-07:00

I drew a doodle similar to this in AP US sometime this March while not paying attention to the First World War. I had the song below on repeat in my head, all melancholy like. I feel like now is an appropriate time to finish it, at least partially.

----
Six days till the one year anniversary. I feel a bit broken inside. I feel like I'm not the same as I was that day; naive and emotional. It's unreasonable for me to say that I won't move on, but I don't believe I can go through the motions; not now, not without him. And even though he's changed so much from that night and I have too, I feel remnants of my dreams still reawakening that burning desire, like part of me would take him back unconditionally if only he asked.

I have come to the conclusion that I am no longer certain what is for the best--neither for me, nor for him. I think about the months, the seasons. Sweaty July nights experienced through a drained body fighting sleep. Chilled August, 2 a.m. on a dewy golf course. Frosted November, the zoo, the road, a fence... A pained and reluctant December, an ecstatic March's kitchen and fancy dress giving birth to a disappointed and distant April.

No, not all of me felt this, only a part I cannot repair. And it's the rest of me, in a gesture of saving face, which has diminished the value and importance of that part. The rest of me answers questions concerning my well being, my school, my friends, my grades... my life. The rest of me interacts, while that part stays hidden and shrinks. But nevertheless, a year later, now almost fully recovered, I find myself unable to move on and to let go. I find myself unwilling to accept my broken part as is, accept that missing piece as forever lost. I have changed because of time, because of a year. I have changed, and my parts now feel lost.

----
I just thought I would share this with you, an entry to my personal journal. Even though I can listen to the same songs I listened to then, now without crying or feeling sad or nostalgic, and even though I now only think about this every few days, as the marks imprinted by the past travel through time, I find I think about it constantly. I walk through the same places I walked through once before, and I still see how they were then through the veil of how they are now. I still feel the hole that has not yet closed.

----
What did you say?
That you only meant well, well of course you did.
What did you say?
That it's all for the best, of course it is.
What did you say?
That it's all for the best, you decided this.

Yakkers West at night - WIP

2009-07-29T20:22:00.000-07:00

My hand's gonna fall off. Will finish in the morning.

---
Edit:

Still working...

Robin - Finished

2009-07-29T07:38:00.000-07:00

Robin - WIP

2009-07-28T22:36:00.000-07:00

I NEED SLEEP.

Sketches [4]

2009-07-27T08:15:00.000-07:00

Oops, eyes are lopsided.

Aona [2]

2009-07-26T10:59:00.000-07:00

Yay! I did paint it! You know, I had to install an older version of my tablet's driver because it was acting strange? And then I spent fifteen minutes trying to have it only map monitor 1 not both. *sigh* it was worth it though.

Aona

2009-07-25T22:21:00.000-07:00

I love drawing her. I used a picture of Hyde from L'Arc~en~Ciel as reference. This realism business isn't all that difficult at all. Color to come, hopefully.

Sketches [3]

2009-07-21T13:57:00.000-07:00

True Love

2009-07-15T07:38:00.000-07:00

Here's to you, my 89,
Because when I ask you for the cosine
of pi over six, you answer to me
it is one half the square root of three
Oh how I love thee, my dear 89.

And though David G. Myers*
may make my knees weaker,
I hope one day soon he retires,
for he mistook a flask for a beaker.
But you will never lie to me, my dear 89.

No one can derive like you
I ask d of 2x comma x, you say two,
and I know it is true.
For you, every function I will define,
because you are my dear 89.

I am the only one who can appreciate
the magic you do when you integrate.
And when I work up the nerve
to ask for the area under the curve,
your answers help me pass, my dear 89.

---
*Author of Psychology, 7th ed. (2003), AKA the best textbook ever.

Sketches [2]

2009-07-10T19:33:00.000-07:00

Poses and ALAN DAVIES! <3 I just need a huntsman spider and a cake with a candle on it.

Flies away and the other...

2009-07-10T19:06:00.000-07:00

RD in watercolor.

Copies of your chart

2009-07-09T20:53:00.000-07:00

I was rummaging through my old (8th grade) sketchbooks and found some Miyavi fanart. Haha, I laughed. This is so childishly drawn and look at the proportions oh goodness, I'm glad these stay tucked away where no one can see them!

I'm always critical of my past art, in a very grateful way. "That's sucky old* me, I'm where I am now and I can show you up with this awesome thing I'm gonna draw right next to it." Also, my new pencil lead came in today. Mmm... B lead mechanical pencils.

I miss listening to Miyavi all day. Well.. this is why we fight. At least I can listen to Regina.

---
*So we say old meaning in the past, but let's face it, 17 years is more than 13 years. I'm older NOW. Therefore, "old me" = "young(er) me." Only in English can we make old = young. [don't quote me on that, maybe you can get away with it in Swazi]

Sketches

2009-06-15T17:14:00.000-07:00

Robin who doesn't seem lonely and depressed!

Henry who looks more handsome and better defined than last time.

And silliness!

Someone next door's...

2009-04-01T12:23:00.000-07:00

Fucking to one of my songs.

I'll always opt to fall down these stairs in the end...

Trains and Sewing Machines

2009-02-27T15:56:00.000-08:00

I've been playing hide and seek with a fever the past two days. I can't sleep. I wake up every few hours frantic, like I'm supposed to be elsewhere doing something important.

The reality that I am supposed to be doing important things is beside the point.

Import'nt stuff is happening, and I'm delusional beyond belief, sleep deprived and light headed. But it'll work out in the end. I will make every single detail fit.

RD if RD were human. Oh I know, RD is a boy, and RD is a fish. But RD is also just a binocular cue for depth perception. Retinal Disparity has no gender.

In the garden of your love, I'll stay awhile.
To be, to be.

The sounds I have heard in your hello....
Oh, darling. You're almost part of me.

Oh, darling. You're all I'll ever see.

I love the Moody Blues. I love Imogen Heap. I love Regina Spektor. I love everything. I love the world. I love you.

Chemicals should not be stored in plastic sandwich bags

2009-02-14T07:43:00.001-08:00

But we do it anyway.

That is definitely not a properly graduated Erlenmeyer flask, but that's okay. You shouldn't be using an Erlenmeyer to measure things. Certainly not to make solutions. They are great fun for swirling, however. The 50 mL ones make me smile. (All 50 mL flasks and beakers make me smile.)

Nothing is important

2009-01-30T18:48:00.000-08:00

i am;

a surrealist swimming
in the sea of illusions
my words are so honest.
my heart.
my only living organ; still intact.
i babble, lucid. i make sense,
i understand—
but i'm so confused.
lost in a world of perception.
it felt so good, so good to talk
like only that moment mattered
only it existed.
"but it's okay now"
"it's okay... now"
it's alright
everything
every single thing...
it's alright.
like i'm tripping; delusional but realistic
clarity weaving in and out of focus.
taunting.
but i understand—or do i?
every single thing!
...it'll be alright
cow heart and banana;
it'll be alright.
today i stand, born again
i fly like the crow

i fly so, so high.

So they give it a word, and the word is...

2009-01-28T17:29:00.000-08:00

I had a wonderful yoga practice today. And I'm inexplicably happy...

I know why the skies all cry...

Om.

I figured I would fix up my phone case like I intended to all those months ago. I'm so happy, guys. I want everyone to be happy; joy should be contagious.

Om shanti shanti shanti. Peace, peace, peace.

Laments of a Span

2009-01-11T18:08:00.000-08:00

Maya NedeljkovichMaya Nedeljkovich
Maya Nedeljkovich

Another frozen sun ascends through the dense air. It casts long reflections of blocked out buildings onto the catatonic river beneath me. No sharp wind disturbs me on this winter morning. Snow laces the river banks as well as my railing, like confectioners' sugar on dark chocolate cake. Mornings like these make me see the beauty of life—of the nature only I witness. I would sigh if I could.

Yet amid this natural beauty, I see no one. Such a pristine landscape should not be marred with people. Only I stand strong, straddling this river bed, providing passage to anyone who wishes it. I am functional, I am sturdy, I am repaired when needed. My black metallic railing rusts at the seams. My cobblestone back erodes with each passing season. My infrastructure predates the roads I connect. But I am useful when people come across me.

I have seen many people come and go, but none on this morning. Perhaps the biting cold keeps them inside. Perhaps the morbid branches of withering trees which obscure the landscape with veils of scattered black deter them; I do not blame the warm blooded for their reluctance. I would stay inside too, if I could.

Nothing awaits them out here anyway, only the outer walls of old, crumbling buildings painted in browns and grays, and a river—though possessing the grandeur of a stream—with calm, yet polluted waters, that meanders through the city. People do not have to stand atop me to see it. Any spot will do. The reflected elegance is not exclusive to my back. Yet no one takes advantage of this opportunity. No one bothers to see the view.

And though the chill dives into the very core of my being and I may lament over my loneliness, I love this winter solitude. In utter selfishness, so no one else can, this moment and this pastel scenery I will steal.

Major Arcana: Card 0

2009-01-11T14:43:00.001-08:00

I stare at the ominous desk in front of me. Seventy-eight cards stare back. Amidst the blinding glare of the cold winter sun, one captures my mortified attention. Zero, the Fool. Thrown down like the rest, the Fool still floats to the surface to haunt me.

I am zero. I am the Fool, the beginning, the faith, and the folly. These cards decide my life, with their embellished borders and smooth surfaces; like my fate, slippery and meretricious. The Fool-the only word my eyes can read in the sea of possibility-shows the only qualities I see in myself. Yet nothing about me embodies the Fool. I lack spontaneity; I can't accept my choices; I don't let go of worries and fears.

I let the cards govern my life. The unconditional trust of the Fool I see in myself. "This card mocks the questioner," the spread guide should say. Below him I see, slightly buried, the card of despair; the IX of Swords. This card, shrouded by shadows, stabs at the questioner's deepest fears. I find myself fearing my future.

The rest of the cards—the Star, the Empress, the VII of Cups—become obscured by the sun. They possess too much goodness and light for me to even consider them. No, I am the Fool, the nothing, the zero. Naive and trusting, I walk myself off the cliff of indecision; push myself into the abyss of relinquished control. I pass on my responsibility to inanimate objects printed in China. They decide my life choices, not I. I submit to their will. I no longer possess any control of my life.

Yet, save for these occasional lapses in certainty, I feel no guilt for my inaction or diversion. These cards are my veil to the world; I see in them what I want to see. The frenzied delirium of blind devotion fades, and the sounds of the outside world trickle into my consciousness. But fear still lingers, fear that one day I will be responsible for my decaying future.

Floating in the Ether

2008-10-24T20:26:00.000-07:00

I never thought organic chemistry could cause such euphoria. I'm actually glad I had no clue what I was doing. I'm glad I didn't wear latex gloves. I'm glad I got negative yield.

It was totally worth it. All of it. Today I had the best psychology class I ever will. Seriously, it was so unreasonably fun.

Too bad by the time physics rolled around I felt like vomiting. That was most likely due to other reasons, though.

Cambresen Henry

2008-09-28T18:10:00.000-07:00

Harry, Phage-renowned poet, musician, activist, and eventually outlaw, in his dreamy glory. Known only to his close friends and family as Cambresen Henry, his true name. He stole Lolé's heart away one summer night with his sweet ballads and seraphic words. He fathered Tommy, and was forced to leave his only comfort.

God I want to be Henry sometimes ;__;.

Photoshop CS, it feels good to be making steamy digital love with Tabby again.

String Theory

2008-09-21T18:24:00.001-07:00

"I really wanted to start homework due the next day... but unfortunately I ended up crocheting a mushroom."

I fear I should run for my life now. RACHAEL I'M SORRY! Not only did I steal your spilt feelings visualization, I also used it as a binder cover for AP psychology. D: Oh FMS! The inside jokes and the blatant self incrimination! I just know there's someone out there that understands the potential implications and is making this face right now ":O" Haha, must be fun to be you, surprised-face-making man.

Forest Fungus

2008-09-06T18:16:00.000-07:00

Planner cover 2008-2009. Lolé and a mushroom. Not as colorful in real life.

Narwhalapotomus

2008-08-31T12:42:00.000-07:00

Don't be panic

2008-08-27T12:13:00.000-07:00

When over three years ago I saw this video, I never thought I would ever be doing this. There's something very alluring about terrible grammar done for amusement. I've watched it way too many times, and this is proof.

So that's cancer. Yes, cancer that can be happened anywhere in the body.

Oh how adorable the "number one killer disease" is. And that's a fact.

Bad Habit

2008-08-26T19:07:00.000-07:00

And you might say it's self-indulgent
And you might say it's self-destructive

I've fallen into abuse again. It distracts, it comforts, it hurts. It hurt so, so well.

Over ten hours of nothing but knitting. Pure wool. My fingers are tender and red.

But, you see, it's more productive
Than if i were to be happy

Pain is my only reason to knit. Knitting is how I take out my undue anger, my frustration.

I wait

2008-08-20T18:51:00.000-07:00

I wait. It's been well over 24 hours.
I feel myself in need.
You said you'd keep in touch.

My fingers drum on the table impatiently.
I wait.
Could something have happened?
Where the hell are you?

I wait.

You're too preoccupied now, is that it?
Though it's understandable...
I wait, growing anxious.
I'm a nervous wreck.
My neck turns at every possibility--
"Is it you?"
No, it's someone unimportant.
But still my heart beats threefold,
"it could have been you."

I start pounding my fists on the table, like a ravenous animal
like an addict in withdrawal.
I need you.
Greed creeps over me, then anger, then fear.
Abandonment.
It's been well over a day...

I wait.

I've never had to wait.
Much less this long.
Worry... despair.
I wait.

My drug of choice so quickly torn from me
and there is absolutely nothing I can do.
You're so far away, so distant
so many things could have gone wrong
so much rides on this moment yet...

I wait.

Deep breaths...
deep breaths...
Until I realize--

Frustration.
Fury.
Outrage.

I need you.
I'm going more insane with every passing second.
My insides churn
my muscles convulse.
I cannot sit still.

I fidget, biting my nails to the bone.
Tapping my foot erratically on the floor

Is this what betrayal feels like?
I take every opportunity to check
"Are you still alive?"
I wonder.
I wait.

I'm picking myself apart without you.

And all you have to do is say hello.
like you goddamn promised.

Distraction

2008-08-20T09:07:00.000-07:00

Obviously not scanned, but a photograph works fine with this. Too much to think about as of late, a distraction was quite lovely.

Asco's lament

2008-08-17T11:03:00.000-07:00

It is quite unfortunate that I have been unable to do (digital) art (and post it on here) as of late. As probably everyone who actually reads this already knows, I've switched to Ubuntu 8.04 from Windows XP, due to various technical reasons and most likely shall not go back. Though things are working their way towards being better than the times of WinXP, they are not quite there yet. There is still mucking to be done and late night depressive crying to be had.

Therefore, I'm quite upset to inform everyone, art is not on its way. School, unfortunately, is on its way. Or it's on someone's way, but I'm not sure whose. However, I might be posting some writing soon, I hope. Maybe when the scanner starts working there will also be some sketches and doodles and all things traditional and lovely and not amazing and photoshoppy. Until then, no art no longer...

When my ambitious little self makes things amazing again, I promise there will be photoshop works from the unstable clutches of WINE. I promise you there will be ladies with digitally smooth skin, I promise that one day, perhaps not as far off as it may seem, I will deliver!

But you know... that will take a while. *sob*

EDIT: There are no drivers for CanoScan 4400F for Ubuntu, or any other distro for that matter. Fuck. :(

Tabby

2008-08-05T15:58:00.001-07:00

I wanted originally do a portrait of something else, but I couldn't find any good reference pictures and for this I blame Grant for always seeming to get in the way. Then I started listening to Regina Spektor and for some reason looked up her picture. And at this point I really did want to draw her, but I decided against it. Instead, I drew Tabby!

I did copy/reference Regina Spektor's pose on the cover of Begin to Hope, but this definitely is not Regina. This is Tabby, the personification of my Wacom Intuos 3 tablet. See the logo on her cap? Yup, she's a Wacom alright.

I wish scanning colored pencil didn't make it look so incredibly grainy. I thought it was pretty smooth on paper. :(

EDIT: When I start doing Tabby stuff, I can't stop doing Tabby stuff. Here's a sketch!

Henna

2008-07-29T20:07:00.001-07:00

Is amazingly good fun. I think I'll buy some for myself eventually. So pictures of our herbal shenanigans!

I know, those are totally Indigo patterns, but I've been doing more of those than Indian henna patterns lately so it was all I could think of. Despite all the Indian henna books and patterns that were lying around.

To be completely truthful, I think I was over confident going in and I didn't give my full effort because of it. Also, I'm really glad I didn't see much of everyone else's artwork (save our table's), I probably would have been way intimidated.

I also have a Barfcat on my arm, but I can't quite take a picture of it easily. Icee makes the best vomiting kitty cats, and this the world must see.

EDIT: After sleeping on it for a few hours (6-ish to be approximate), the henna set in better, I guess, and is now much darker. Barfcat, unfortunately, did not get darker. Also, more light flooded into the world, making my skin show it's true paleness. At least there's good contrast now.

P.S.-- I hate my camera. Out of the 16 photos I took trying to fully capture the newfound intensity of the henna, this was the ONLY one that wasn't entirely too blurry. My camera fails 15/16ths of the time. ;__;

If you're lonely...

2008-07-29T13:37:00.001-07:00

Well it's a big, big city and it's always the same; can never be too pretty, tell me your name. Is it out of line if I was to be bold and say, "Would you be mine"?

That's right, it's Robin. "Why Maya?" you may ask, "Why do you draw Robin, the melancholic, aloof girl who always longs for something just out of her reach?"

To this I must say, "Because I identify with Robin, I did create her after all." And when I'm lonely, Robin tells me I'm not the only one. How amazing is my mind to comfort itself? Good job self.
It's raining really hard, I don't think that helps. The latter is older, but you know. It still... exists.

So, if you're lonely, why'd you say you're not lonely. Oh you're a silly girl...

Cambresen Tommy Robertio

2008-07-28T18:31:00.000-07:00

Yes, it most certainly is Tommy. I've decided that Phage names go like this: paternal surname, given name, maternal surname. Therefore his mother's full name would be Robertio Lole, as they can opt to not include one of the surnames.

He looks sad, but when does he not? He also looks very girly, which is not very fitting for a boy (who seems to always wear a dress... oops).

Done with charcoal for stress relief.

Musings of Sapro

2008-07-28T16:42:00.001-07:00

The sleeping hours of my internal soul have finally ended. The raging hand of an artist shall flow free upon paper. And you shall see it.

Let the ArtBlaggory begin!