Two Paths Diverged | Daily Art

may 1st

The road not taken, Robert Frost.

5.1.18| Daily Art


may 2nd

 

Violet wash.

5.2.18| Daily Art


may 5th

“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

5.3.18| Daily Art


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Doodling designs for you, coolpeppermint: blog, creative outlet, little corner of the Internet.

5.4.18| Daily Art


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Playing with colors, art therapy.

5.5.18 & 5.6.18| Daily Art

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Pursuit of Handlettering | Daily Art

Swoops, dips, presses: calligraphy’s a precarious dance between ink and brush control. Recently, I’ve been toying with watercolor calligraphy, handlettering with paint instead of ink. The past week of Daily Art pieces was spent experimenting with styles, sizes and fonts.

april 23 and 24

4.22| Daily Art

With a stiffer, thinner brush and concentrated watercolors, I’ve been able to produce cleaner and brighter texts:

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4.23 & 4.24| Daily Art

It’s had a recent resurgence in popularity over the past year, littering blogs and IG. Inspired by style, curious about the form, I got a calligraphy pen last summer, black tip marker from the local crafts store with the inspirational quote notebooks and books on minute physics.

So I took a stab–metaphorically and literally–at handlettering. The letters turned out a bit  uneven. And it was hard to get clean edges, at least on white paper. Part of it had to do with my wobbly hand, but the marker itself also wasn’t terribly ink-y, so it’d lose ink halfway. (I’d also use the marker to sketch cartoon-esque portraits)

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4.25 & 4.26 | Daily Art

I tried using watercolor brushes for both the handlettering and designs, but the text ended up looking bubbly instead of sharp, childish instead of sophisticated. This, in part, had to do with the actual brushes I was using–the brush hair wasn’t stiff enough, so it didn’t hold the paint well enough to create the crisp edges I was going for.

calligraphy

In contrast, I’ve been using a thinner, finer brush as of late, which makes a pretty huge difference. Personally, I prefer the more recent brush (first two sketches) versus the earlier ones.

april 29

4.27 & 4.28 | Daily Art

I’d like to practice more, and I was thinking of handlettering blog names on WordPress. If you’d like for me to paint your blog name/url, feel free to either contact me or comment below, with the name of your blog and your favorite color. 🙂

Sunny Skies Ahead

Here are daily art pieces from April 15th to April 22nd, in keeping with my new posting schedule.

In all frankness, the past week’s been okay–mostly a mixture of irritability and relaxation. Despite the relative lack of work, the slew of group projects made me more high-strung than usual.

Aside from that, though, I spent half the week at my best friend’s place, where we (or mostly I) lounged around, played Fortnite, chatted on the phone and slurped up noodles after noodles. We started the weekend with a roundabout trip to Chili’s, and ended it with gelati, a mixture of Italian ice and ice cream.

I’m looking ahead; it’s the final stretch. I’m anticipating sunnier days ahead, dreaming of the beach, shutting my eyes, peering over the balcony of somewhere tropical. It won’t be nearly that sunny or beachy, but the thought’s getting me through the weeks. april 16

Toying with pastel-colored paints. There’s something so dreamy and slow and beautiful about clouds.

4.15.18 | Daily Art


april 17 and 18th

West-coast cliches, like California dreaming, palm trees swaying in the wind. I’ve been fantasizing about the beach, of sprawling under the sun, marmy, sleepy, toasty.

4.16.18 | Daily Art


april 15

Sunset, and sunrise.

4.19.18 | Daily Art


april 19

A mojito, please, and here’s our ID. I had my first mojito at the Venezuelan place downtown, the one with the meat pockets so good I stashed a palmfull in my purse. The lime and mint mojito paired with it perfectly.

4.20.18 | Daily Art


april 21

It’s remarkable when somebody understands. 99.9999% of people don’t understand, can’t understand, probably won’t ever understand. And it isn’t through any fault of their own: to understand is a true feat, really, and to expect it from others is a tall damn order. Even when it comes to close friends, or family, you can’t expect another person to know entirely where you’re coming from.

So you can imagine my borderline astonishment when, after confiding in my best friend a personal experience, she empathized with it in a heartbeat. She relayed her own experiences, mirror images of my own, back to me. I’d had my words fall on so many deaf ears in the past, to the point that I felt like a real odd one out. To have had them fall on an understanding one, years later, was absurd and comforting. To others, it’d marked deviance, something unjustifiable. To her, it was utterly normal. I only wished we’d been friends earlier.

4.21.18 | Daily Art


WHALE

A deep-sea dive into the beauty of watercolors, of mixing and blending. The technique I used here is called wet-on-wet watercolors, where you paint an invisible watery layer, then dot it with pigment. It creates a beautiful watery effect, as with the adorable diving whale above.

4.22.18 | Daily Art

Nebulous Nebula | Daily Art

Here’s a clean compilation of daily art posts that I did between April 1st to 14th. I’m trying something new out for the month, an idea I’ve been toying with since March–instead of churning out a sketch per day, I’ll be posting a weekly post on Sunday.

april 1st

Missed deadlines. You know the way water suddenly stimulates creativity and forgotten reminders? This was one. I missed the design deadline. And it’s been on my mind.

4.1.18 | Daily Art


april 2ndd

Crooning mellow tunes, soul’s skyrocket to fame banking on the nostalgic dust-coated memories of an idyllic high school days. We’re just like that one song, young, dumb and broke, except we’re not broke, just young and dumb. 

Khalid’s been playing on repeat, from early AM origami folding to concentrated midday digital doodles to nighttime vibes.Numbers saved lest one day you chalk up the pride to come back and say hi. Tell me where your love lies, love lies.

4.2.18 | Daily Art


april 5th

If I had a spirit cartoon, it’d probably be Diane Nguyen from Bojack Horseman.

Diane’s this smart and nerdyish character who’s into writing (she’s penning Bojack’s bibliography) and third wave feminism and books. Not one for social gatherings. Freaks out when her husband throws parties and does wild gestures. Hates surprises. Is a “misunderstood intellectual.” On the stubborn side. Quiet. 

Granted, I’m not Diane Nguyen–it’s just that, of all my favorite cartoon characters, I identify with her most. I love Stewie, but I can’t identify with Stewie; Louise Belcher is great, but more adorably conniving than I could imagine; Rick Sanchez is a wild, slightly sociopathic genius, but he’s a kind of his own. Ah! Diane it is. 

4.5.18 | Daily Art


april 6th

You learn to curse on the playground. You’re doing cartwheels to synchronize to songs by the Cheetah Girls. Everyone’s got their legs and back straight, pinwheels dancing on rubber nuggets.

Meanwhile, you’re spitting shit so it rolls off your tongue, easy, and when your substitute teacher compares you to the dark-haired girl in Peanuts, you say, talk to the hand. And when your second grade best friend stares at you wide-eyed, incredulous, you laugh.

If every petal was one bad word, another angsty thought. That’s a lot of angsty thoughts.

4.6.18 | Daily Art


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Lo and behold, a watercolor watermelon.

4.7.18 | Daily Art


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There are no mountains where I live. Nor are there cherry blossoms. But this image, of flowers in bloom, nature’s puff, of tiny yellow homes by the mountainside, struck nuggets of peace in my heart.

The city, in contrast, is so loud. Angry hum of bus engines, people scuttling around, loud. Cars on concrete continually. Whirs and roars and squeals and squeaks. Chorus of ambulance sirens every. half. hour. Sounds I tune out over time. But in the morning, when I tried a solid minute of meditation, all I could hear was the din I’d learned to shut out.

Madness. I’m channeling nature instead, albeit in 2D illustrations.

4.8.18 | Daily Art


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Sometimes I’ll feel little spurts of gratitude–this time, it was for the closest people in my life. Ah! What are you grateful for?

4.9.18 | Daily Art


april-10.jpg

A nebula of nebulous thoughts, decisions, plans–or lack thereof. Of paths less traveled, of roads well-worn.

One day, it’ll seem so obvious–an epiphany, albeit late, will hold the answer to every qualm. The next day, one naysaying opinion in the middle of design will cast long shadows of doubt.

Nebula, nebulous. In looking ahead, I can opt either to diverge, or to trudge upwards. But towards what?

4.10.18 | Daily Art


A visual attestment to the importance of brows. This is a late-night sketch of a random girl, whose face I merged graphite with digital medium. Toyed around with the brows for kicks and giggles. Same image, parallel face;
she looks (subtly) different!

4.11.18  & 4.12.18 | Daily Art


april 13

I asked my boyfriend from caption ideas. “Beauty covers beauty,” he suggested. Like: Beauty over beauty. Beauty superimposed upon beauty. Beauty of nature. Beauty of reflections.

4.13 & 4.14

Split

april 4th

Reading people. Like gleaning thin-slices. Like data points, which intuition pieces together to form a coherent, if oddly specific, understanding. A few looks, then a silent bombardment of insight.

The feisty girl in engineering with the short brown hair? She’s done hard drugs. Comes up to me, strikes up a conversation, throws in her experience with shrooms. Didn’t like them. The brunette Barbie-looking girl in class who’s only ever sounded politically neutral? Jewish, wealthy, aspires to be a Fox anchor. Canvassed for the Trump campaign, wrote about it. Interned at Fox last summer. The Caucasian man in the baggy jeans and blue hat? Patient and kind and real enough to straddle the racial line, but not without having to face shit for it.

It’s like that one quote by Roald Dahl:

“If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. And when that person has ugly thoughts every day, every week, every year, the face gets uglier and uglier until you can hardly bear to look at it.

It’s the same idea. That people’s thoughts, and experiences, are woven into the way they are, the way they present themselves, the way they act. That it’s all, quite literally, etched on their faces. You can sense it, from the way people talk, the way they walk, the way they wear their hair.

It sounds an awful lot like just judging people, but it goes beyond that. The thing is, peopleus, me, you–aren’t as opaque as we imagine. People are complex, which is to say that plots–good ones, at least–are oft filled with loopholes and conflicts and unexpected twists. But there’s always an overarching plot, a “what’s-this-about?” book summary in the Goodreads section.

When it comes to certain details about ourselves, or even lived experiences–we often broadcast much more than we’d like to admit.

4.4.18 | Daily Art

March 2018 | Daily Art

The start of March involved dodging snow storms, hurtling myself into the sky into luck and sunshine to the sound of cicadas in the backyard.

For a week, I vowed not to check my email, so I didn’t. I vowed not to touch any assignments, which I didn’t. I vowed not to work, which I didn’t. Which meant that I missed a couple o’ things… and wrote a 10 page paper the evening it was due… and was clueless for two days. It’s okay, though, having a break entirely free of responsibilities was worth it.

I know I say this every month, but I can’t believe it’s the end of March already. It’s…absurd. Time is absurd. Days are flying. Whiplash.


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I feel simultaneously restless and tired. Like a bird that likes flapping her wings, but every time she flaps too far, she flaps right back.

And we’re all little birds, flying and flapping and flapping and flying.

Soon, many of these other little birds will be flapping their wings to God-knows-where.  They’ll be too spread out for it to even matter.

I don’t see the point of flying somewhere strange, towards some foggy lull of a dream.

3.1.18 | Daily Art


Roses, sunflowers, peonies, tulips! The flowers are blooming (much to my allergies’ dismay). Smattering of blossoms, confetti of pollen, awakening from winter–

I really do love Spring, if it just weren’t for the sudden eruption of itchy eyes and runny noses. Otherwise, I welcome the sunshine and flowers and clean blue skies, breezy clichés of perfect picnic weather.

3.2, 3.3, and 3.4.18 | Daily Art


I was looking for some old posts earlier today and realized what a deluge of one-two-three sentence art posts I’ve been throwing up lately. Like, these tight-lipped, brief posts, which are so…sparse compared to before. I did initially start a blog to write….but it’s sort of evolved as an online outlet for whatever creative tornado hijacks over.

Has it been writer’s…block? Laziness? The need for a…break? Maybe a combination of all three.

3.5, 3.6, and 3.7.18 | Daily Art


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In the sticky hot summers of childhood, we’d return from Friday trips to frozen tubed popsicles, sprawl out under the tree and tear at them.

We’d wear our light blue shirts and jean shorts and go all sorts of places. Like the pizza buffet with the globby cinnamon buns, or nickel-arcade with the Austin Powers game, or the mall, where we’d be chaperoned by older children paying to be there (which I always found ironic…)

Chocolate sundaes–like the one above–played a less nostalgic role in my life; I think I’d only just had my first a few years ago. (And then a few days ago) I welcomed the treat anyways.

3.8.18 | Daily Art


march 9thThe view provokes a whole slew of memories. Piña coladas swimming in rum. Wild striped beach cats. Sand like velvet grains seeping through our toes, and our sleepy sleepy eyes, determined to watch the sun rise.

3.9.18 | Daily Art


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New addition to the sketchbook family! An illustration of the lovely little sketchbook my boyfriend sent me. It’s a Traveler’s journal, handles a bit of water okay (as per Amazon comments).

3.14.18 | Daily Art


march 16

Popped by the newsroom on a quiet Friday afternoon. It’s changed a lot in the past few years. It’s brighter, now. Warmer. It used to be grey and cold and clique-y. Not anymore.
For a little while, I sat on one of the couches, wary of braving the cold again.

3.16.18 | Daily Art


march 17

Last weekend I saw some friends and visited a historic prison. Crumbling historic walls, home to a stew of unsettled souls.

3.17.18 | Daily Art


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Today, I hung out with friends, and we watched an episode and a half of Altered Carbon. It’s a Netflix show about a dystopian futuristic society in which people, once deceased,  come back to life in human “sleeves.” It’s pretty intense. We cooked steak and potatoes and asparagus, a tiny “tradition” we’ve kept up with for the past few years, and paired it with wine. Here’s to wine nights with good food and good company.

3.18.19 & 3.19.18 | Daily Art


march 20

Random doodles in experimental journalism, a class I’m taking on non-fiction writing. I’d write something honest about it, except I don’t…feel much like it. But basically, these are the people who happened to be in my midst today, and so I thought to sketch them out, as I often do when I’m bored.

3.20.18 | Daily Art


face

With eyes like butterflies.

3.21.18| Daily Art


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God’s Plan – Drake

Instead of doing the work I was supposed to in the library, I watched videos of Drake’s Plan, instead. Absolutely adorable. If you haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend you do.

3.22 & 3.23| Daily Art


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I’m like, hey, what’s up, hello?

3.25 and 3.26 | Daily Art


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Vanity stumbles, sheer veneer. It’s hard to be authentic when you don’t know, exactly, what it means.

3.27.18 | Daily Art


march 28

3.28.18 | Daily Art


march 29

The streets of D.C are wider, quieter, flatter, cleaner. D.C isn’t as frantic as New York. Or as gritty as Philly. Or as schizophrenic as Austin. There’s something immaculate about D.C., instead, something steely and modern and calm.

From up here, I watch the slow scenes of the city unfold. Cars whizz by, colorful legos beneath our legs. Human beans cross the crosswalks, Beatles-style, almost in slo-mo. Lotion pink berries bloom in angry succession.

3.29.18 | Daily Art


march 30

There’s a distinct vibe to the D.C metro, clash of smells and sights and sounds. Smell of metros, musk. Row of escalators, steep. Metro-card, bendy and flappy. Gripped tightly in my palm, lest I accidentally drop it–it’s our way out, this card.

We’re encircled by large beige arches. I’m constantly reminded: we are in a giant tunnel.

3.30.18 | Daily Art