Ink and watercolor because the sky looked like a painting today
Sketchbooks become visual journal of-sorts once you carry them with you for long enough, like vacuums that collects the teensy dust spectacles of everyday life.
My mind likes spinning up flat characters from mid-air, this one likely Marukami inspired Maybe this is what May Kasahara looked like from Wind-Up Bird Chronicles.
First digital comic. Was inspired to draw this as we skirted down the highway from the mall. Here’s a visual ode to: driving around the city to blaring music, setting suns and good vibes.
Just wanna have fu’un. Lips embodying experiences, like moving memory capsules.
On a side note: is there a scientific name for lips?
Year after year, I return to the same conclusion. And that conclusion is what pushes me to calculated impulse, almost like Freud’s trauma theory, except maybe repeating mistakes to fix the first one made.
January 10th, 11th, and 12th, 2017
It’s Tumblr-famous CamilaKila. Drew her a few years back, but in graphite. Switched it up a bit to practice digital.
This that new style / With the fresh type of flow
Still experimenting with different styles, which is why my drawings are visually all-over-the-place. This one was inspired by, ah, an artist on Instagram. Content seemed relevant as hell the day I stumbled upon his profile; I’ll leave it at that.
“You’re beautiful, but you’re empty. One couldn’t die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But in herself alone, she is more important than all the hundreds of roses, because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have sheltered behind a screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars. Because she is my rose.”
– The Little Prince
Recently bought The Animator’s Survival Kit, written by Richard Williams. People sing its praises. Excited to read it & dip my toes into le pond of animation.
Freud calls it melancholia. Whereas mourning is a conscious method of processing loss, melancholia is a pathological state of attachment to loss.
Gibberish. Lazy line drawings. The stanzas make no sense, and I’m just filling in the spaces. Pwehdiofs lkweu mnsl lsfiouw alqiuwe fsja.
Who are you and where do you go and why do you do the things you do?
Discovered a new app called Sktchy that bridges artists and selfie “models”. Did a brief sketch of a stranger.
Women’s march. Middle fingers up / Put them hands high
Shoutout to the woman giving the middle finger during the Inauguration.
Today a bird shat in my hair.
I looked up to see a horde–not flock, but horde–of birds soaring across the glittering sky. Then one pooped on my head.
January 25th, 2017
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose/By any other name would smell as sweet.
Painting with watercolors, my new favorite medium.
Sometimes I wish I could watch my brain
As it forms memories
Deciding which moments will be preserved
And which ones, quickly discarded