Per the usual, I’m missing a different time period. Each generation has its own unique gifts, but none seem to connect with me fully. I have a fleeting recollection of a time where it all seemed so much simpler.
Debutante
It seems I’m not the only one missing an era. A request comes in for John Lennon performing “Twist and Shout” on the Ed Sullivan Show. Last week’s Yoko needs her counterbalance. I’m here to oblige the sentimental.
Hippy hippy shake
While researching for the tarot project I’m nearly finished with, I stumbled upon some old stories of the Great Depression that seem written today. Regret and longing for a better living experience, we discovered hard work didn’t always equal hard cash. Being that my son has named his Labubu “The Great Depression”, I simply must have a doodle for the era.
Cruisin’ down the street in my ‘64
The sound of a breezy trumpet and a bumping retro piano is crackling through my mind. I need to make an instrumental. Until then, I’ll doodle this homesick feeling.
Endless Tide
I’m missing a real badass. Dewy eyed? No ma’am. This queen is pensive, yet stoic. A trip down memory lane leads to lamenting for ladies across the world. Wearing my dissent shirt, I’m asked if it’s Judge Judy. There’s a poignant poetry here, I’m just not sure it’s sweet.
Notorious RBG
Valentine’s Day has popped up. Like most annual celebrations, I’m indifferent, but it beats the alternative of not bagging another year for the life meter. Romance is playing in the forest. It’s more memorable than sweets or dying plant cuttings.
Gotta catch them all
In retrospect, the grass isn’t any greener, but the thoughts provoked blooms. The simplest truth is that it’s all a corny look back; a glamorized idea. It’s a reminder that it’s all relative. It was always better to grow from the languishing than to remain exactly the same.
Seeing a new therapist. It’s been enlightening in its own gentle ways. I’m always grateful for a perspective change. I’ve never had a male therapist before and already I’m getting somewhere with the usual suspects in my melancholy mind. In the early morning, I catch a view that stops my madness completely and lets me just enjoy the dappled silence.
Canopy’s Reach
Still manically working on the tarot series. It’s been a while since I’ve had a big project and I’m excited for the experience. It’s time for the Princess of class, Audrey Hepburn to take her throne as the Moon.
Audrey Hepburn- The Moon
When it came time to do The Sun card, something snuck up on me; Inclusion isn’t ageist. Thinking back to the joys of watching her movies, Shirley Temple has made a mark not only on generations, but for generations. While the Depression raged, she was Spring amongst the endless struggle of poverty and despair. She was a beacon of childhood happiness, what could be and what innocence should be.
Shirley Temple- The Sun
World news is trying to bog down my sunlight. Listening to the Davos meeting is worse than lectures. My head hurts listening to Muskfish. My heart hurts listening to his ex-bestie. What does the Chairman of the aboard of Peace do? Graciously removing* force from the 2026 Bingo card (*for now).
If you’re not at the table (The Harvest)
Derangement is a word used often by people who don’t hear themselves. I’m consumed by the dementia. I don’t recognize the people in the room, but know I’m irritated by who they pretend to be.
The Looking Glass
Maybe this new therapist can help with the claustrophobic anxiety. This nonsense can only get more absurd from here, but I’m always looking for stable ground. In the least, an island of rationality.
I suppose hormones are saying it’s time for suggestive actions. Not a complaint, just pointing out the cycle of living repeating. I’m tempted to play with angles and perspectives, per the usual. Though this time, I can’t decide on which feels right.
Technique Studies
There’s so much said in a simple pose. A slightly titled chin, a clasp of certain fingers, those little tells of someone you use to know. Saweetie got me on my tip toes.
Muaddi Pose
My only intention is to catch attention without demanding it. There’s a fine line in art that I don’t cross between often. A humble ask, naive in its phrasing. Just don’t go too far.
Head, Shoulders, Knees, & Toes
Drunk on sketches, I decide to suss some things out. Show me the way. Give me a good reason for these rosacea pink cheeks.
Between Us
I use to enjoy wall sitting. I don’t think I could stand 5 minutes of it today. I’ll let my poor avatar stop doing squats and let her rest. She’s had a tough day at work. Smh.
Hard Day’s Nite
I can’t help thinking about fashion while I’m doodling. It’s the first thing I can recall doodling as a child; Clothing and architectural design. I’d love to doodle and make my own clothes. My sewing skills are in the closet until Halloween comes along.
Redshift Sentinel
I make these little doodles as a way to turn my thoughts into something that might resonate with another frequency. I’m just an antenna searching for a wavelength.
Beep Boop, I am a Robot
Aha! The pose that I was looking for has been revealed to me. A glimmer of something real. That hesitation to look away, that’s what I’m searching for.
Scarlet Fever
Like viewing a coiled snake, I don’t want to look away. That’s the attitude I hope to convey.
Old friends coming back into the mix has me missing the cats I’ve known. I should have taken more pictures when I had the chance. Their patterns are already lost to my memory. I have another pet request come in and I’m in the feels.
Feline Fine
The renewed innocence of childhood nostalgia has me going floral once again. In my mind, the cicadas fiddle and fireflies light the nite all year round. Daisies remind me of youthful days. Dusted and gleaming beneath the flapping of wings, they straighten their pose for the stars.
Who Do You Think You Are?
Living to counter the nonstop negative in the world, I’m reminded bleakly of the time at hand. From local government to the country, to the globe at large; I am disappointed and distressed. The only thing I feel is certain is that we all bleed red and enough has been spilt.
Rust revival, in the belly of the beast Workers on the picket line, rising from the east Swamp-fire gospel, justice in the fight Voices in the millions, marching through the night
contrition
And yet there’s a call of the void. A sort of solemn satisfaction in knowing the outcome and feeling the pull of the siren’s song. It’s never to become. Perhaps the light at the end of the tunnel truly is the birth canal to the next life. Reincarnation has me rethinking my perspective.
Hello, Goodbye
Sleep, perchance to dream. I went through a sleep study and will get the results this week. I use to sleep so well as a kid. I use to dream deeply. I remember waking up feeling renewed by slumber’s sweet kiss. Where the world fades and slumber takes hold. A portrait of stillness, the allure of the unseen, cradled by the earth and blooms.
Surrender
It’s been a busy week and I’m roused by backs again. The quiet beauty of curves and lines entrances, hypnotic in its energy. I don’t mind this resurrection.
Fragmented Memory
I feel rejuvenated by the arch of the spine. Backs are sexy without overt sexuality. The stories they tell are whispered in the ear with a tickle of the tongue.
Boo-Tay
Fleeting moments of reflection, stolen glances of lighthearted life, this is what I hope to capture. A regeneration of the soul, a wanderer through the darkness of the universe, finding a connection between texture and tone. Reanimating from tragedy to comedy.
With the weather being bipolar, I can’t help doodling the winter in the air, with the sun just peeking its nose out. It doesn’t snow here (“where were you for the snow of ‘2010?”), but a layer of permafrost seems appropriate. Just me and the frost are up.
6 under ground
Seclusion has me deciding to have a little fun with rendering lens flares. I’ve only done it once before and well, I just want to add a little sprucing up of color for the scene. I tend to be too dark at times, but I want to keep this one a deeply shadowed scene.
Lumina Veil
Taking a look at a photography blog, I see a pic that gets me excited. As I’m doodling, I have to know what the berries are. According to Siri, Japanese barberry seems the likely answer. Figures I’d pick the Japanese variety. I can’t escape it, Japan must be my spirit animal.
Here Comes the Sun
Claustrophobia is settling in again. My space feels so small, like I’m contorting to make it all work. The feeling of being confined is anathema to me. “If I fits, I sits”? Nope. I’m more “I’m not sugar and spice and everything nice. I’m sage and hood and wish a mufuka would”. Still, this feeling of being trapped remains.
Just nod if you can hear me (Mad World)
I’ll forever be drawn to the isolated, the dark side of the moon. It’s a place of shadows and secrets, a silent expanse reflecting a loneliness that mirrors something deep within me. These eyes, holding a subtle luminescence, seem to gaze out from that same hidden realm; a space both melancholic and profoundly beautiful. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most profound beauty lies not in brilliance, but in the quiet contemplation of what remains unseen.
Jadeite Flame
Seems like there’s so much division in this country. So much to keep us separated, “not like us”. We’re already an isolation nation. Our bodies are here, but where are we? The algorithm is making us all lonesome.
a view for two
I’m thinking about doing a series of doodles. What’s to stop me? Charging past fears of inadequacy, I’ll give bare backs a try. I’ve toyed with them once before and enjoyed the experience. Besides, what could go wrong?*
*famous last words
Sun’s Heat
I like the way a slight change in a pose can say something entirely different than before. I try to have eyes set the mood. The body harmonizes to create a verse of its own.
What are you waiting for
My lock screen background is one of my favorite older (almost a year!) doodles. One look and I want to bring it out to play too. Feeling like making this one rebellious in her cocoon.
Replying with Sign Language
There’s a playfulness in a look that I want to capture, a divide I want to enclose. It’s not waking life, it’s a dream you know.
Powder Fresh
Now for a wee change in perspective and focus of light, the body has this solo. A snarky little smirk and he’s got me.
Touch of the Rogue
Maybe a flicker of memory, maybe just some algorithm that looks familiar; a solitary moment.
Another floral mood hits. I’m fine with this. It’s soothing to the soul to think of the wonders of our universe. I’m dreaming of soft breezes wafting the delicate scent of life. It’s certainly not fall in my head, nor outside in the below average chill forming.
In the Air Tonite
Feels like the new year is getting impatient. Settle down. One holiday at a time. Stay in the moment, stop and enjoy the roses; it’s your only chance to indulge in that consciousness of life.
Blood Roses
Float amongst the beauty, don’t struggle. The jellies are in bloom and I’m just a spectator in this endless ocean.
Nebula Within
A pair of doodled hands get mistaken from afar for a raccoon, so now I have to doodle a trash baby. Little heart bandits, that’s what they are. There’s one that’s made itself a home in the bamboo forest of the yard. I’ve caught glimpses of it stealing from my thriving compost bucket. Go ahead, get you some grubs.
Night Stalker
I see an ai dress online I’d like to doodle, but dislike both the stereotype model with five feet of pure legs and the generative (buy art from real degenerates!) nature of the image. That witch needs a ride and some healthy thighs.
See how high she flies
I’m feeling tension as the week passes. The holidays feel like more stress than they ought to be. I have two thanksgiving’s to go to this year, so I won’t complain, but feel blessed. With all the color lately, I had to go a bit dark.
Cipher’s Point
I’m into balance and a sucker for a surprise in the color palette. I attribute this to Kevyn Aucoin. Makeup is shockingly similar to painting. Just a canvas waiting for inspiration. Perspective is all we need.
The Hex Girls
Of course the Aurora Borealis is hitting most of the US and I’m back to wanting color, color, color. I see a local photographer snap a gorgeous shot of the beach. Tried as I may, I couldn’t see the aurora for myself. It inspires me to doodle a picture of my own.
Magnetic Mayhem
Time and space, color and darkness, these concepts swirl in my head like the corkscrew. The murmur of a dream; the croon of a glitched reality. The digital ghosts are looped.
Corrupted Canvas
I’m one of those people who likes to push myself to do what scares me artistically. While I oil paint mountains, digitally rendering these peaks have alluded me. A friend shows me a stunning photo from Pikes Peak and I’m instantly drawn there. It’s almost sepia toned and even the sky is tepidly colored. Always one for balance, I have to even out all my colorful pieces lately. I have to practice depth in my landscapes with this one.
Above the Clouds
Some colors run deep, skin deep. I’m reminded of the soul of pigment; How color makes me feel when I interpret it. The richness and texture of tone are singing a duet, I just need to let it flow.
Chromatic Prophet
I love working with people of color. The way skin reacts differently with each shade, it’s exciting. Listening to Bob Marley and seeing his colors before me like an aura.
Luminary Soul
Dang it’s getting cold. The shades of the season are fading, but refusing to leave. A snowstorm hits half the country and I’m in awe of its power and beauty. I’m missing the easel. Maybe someday I’ll be able to sit for long enough again.
Sculpted Snow
So many fun requests come in, but I get one for an interpretation of the goddess Ananke that steals my attention. Responsible for weaving the essential, the inevitable. She has no mercy, nor will. Simply puts fate into play. I’m asked to include a grid. Not bad, but it’s not quite it. The grid needs to be more organic.
Astral Loom
She is the weaver. Between her fingers, necessity converges with compulsion. Reminds me of a certain kind of neurodivergence. My ADHD brain went a little bit overboard, but it’s well received by the one who requested it.
Cartographer’s Threads
Flourishing with prosperous color, there’s a blossom to be caught and I’ve got a mason jar in my hands. Life is staggeringly splendid to behold- blushing and smiling with refrain.
