Tomes Technique

Painterly visions in digital form.

Tag: emotional expression

  • Awareness

    Awareness

    Perception is only part of the story being spun. I’m still stuck on being told I don’t make enough happy expressions. While the news every day brings more reasons to feel lament. To counter this, I’m imagining a time nearly forgotten. When families gathered around the fire for the warmth of stories and the comfort of music. A time that was hard, but beautiful in its simplicity. What was important was a group effort and everyone took pride in their different skills that made it all possible. I like imagining my ancestors like this.

    Seasons Past

    Halloween! I flipping love Halloween! This is the one day I look forward to every year. Put on another haunted house! I’m ecstatic about the feedback. Received a bravo and tucked the screams of adult men into my pocket. Pushing buttons is kind of my thing. Exploring the boundaries and limits of society gets me in a rabbit hole.

    Why So Serious?

    Still feeling a little batty, I think of the heroes we lift in literature only. The powers we allow to be versus the how we think they ought to be. Maybe I just want to be Cat Woman for Halloween again. I loved Michelle Pfeiffer for bringing her to life. Admiration for Tim Burton’s understanding of how to make her human.

    Unspoken Pact

    Binge watching shows from the 90’s, so of course that means I’m Star Trekkin’ across the universe. I don’t remember it being such a soap opera for nerds. Picard mentions a few times that humans have self control and therefore they don’t need locks or personal safeguards. The Federation was woke AF. I bet they all understand how birthday cake works. I know the show was considered a progressive outreach, but women are really not represented well. Androids bring current events to my mind once again. Companies can be people (Citizens United v. FEC). AI can be a paid actor. Where does humanity live?

    Synaptic Soul

    Turkey day is being planned and I’m wondering if we can ever achieve all the Federation has written. I can’t help noticing the future is scant on tech. Are the Borg merely just AI taking over, terminating humanity? Is there a virus in the code?

    The Last Supper Singularity

    Mom’s coming home. Everything returns to her arms. She’ll fix everything with a little time. We are the virus. Concentrating on the forest, the trees forming her spine and her umbrella, the copse canopy. Upon her feet, shrines built to celebrate her radiance. In her hands, life itself. I’m feeling her presence and once again, I follow her call.

    Kukunochi

    The world’s events come crashing into my head again. Mindfulness, just enjoying the state of existence, it’s a real talent. Kudos to those who have this skill. Political leaders as unmovable mountains pop into my head. Terraforming is a thing and I wouldn’t put it past the Cheeto in Charge. His friends are foaming at the mouth to remake maps.

    Mt. Bibi

    Power is a funny thing. Not funny “haha”, but funny “oof”. I’ve always seen power as something you obtain with knowledge, but my ecosystem is proving me wrong daily. I’m ruminating over how much has been lost over the centuries. I am such a Ravenclaw. My Slytherin side is disappointed.

    Read or Die the Painting

    I’m attentive to my surroundings, those who came before, and those who will come after. This is all for them, those who pass on life through their energy. May it spark the next chapter in this never ending story.

  • Climate

    Climate

    Landscape on the horizon. Or rather, it’s been politely suggested to be the compulsion of the week. Words like violence come from my uncle; I need a change of scenery to go with the change in weather. A new atmosphere. Somewhere only we know.

    Leaving the Church

    Being independently minded, I decide I want more hands and body language instead. I’m leaning towards representation and because it makes me nervous to try it out, I push myself to do it. Out of my comfort zone again, I can challenge myself.

    The Weaver

    It feels refreshing with the crisp weather greeting me at the door instead of the usual intense blanket of humidity. Sunsets are always better on a cold day.

    Golden Hour’s Embrace

    Lucky me, I get the chance to see several friends from grade school in person! I gobble up this opportunity to reconnect with core memory moments. On the way back, an image reminds me of lazy childhood days creating outfits for paper dolls. This is kind of like landscaping, in my mind.

    Whispers of Silk

    My preoccupation with emotional hands is in full force. I’ll keep practicing with intimacy. There’s a mood to be shared.

    Touch of Cold

    A complex commission comes in. Inspired by Spokane, Washington. I’m not familiar with the original sketch artist, but I’m to recreate the scene and colorize it. An excuse to roam a new city? I need none.

    “Some landmarks mark geography; others mark the heart.
    Bridges, especially, carry more than traffic—they carry memory.
    They span generations, echo footsteps long gone, and hold the silence of shared moments.
    This painting is a tribute to the landmarks that do not simply define a place,
    but preserve the emotions etched into time.
    May it remind us that memory lives not just in locations,
    but in the moments that crossed them, suspended between then and now.”

    Suspended Between Then and Now

    There’s this guru in the county one over from my uncle that’s caught my attention. I’m struggling in the web. Who is this man who asks for everything from his followers? Some of which were lost in the woods while trying to leave.

    Chicken House

    The smell of misty fog in the morning hovering unhurriedly through the pines soothes my soul. I’m reminded again to be the tiger that sniffs the rose. I am weak to nature’s touch. My environment has its hold on me.

    Morning’s Glory

    I’m hit with Nirvana everywhere these days. I wonder how Kurt would have felt about that. Perhaps it was better to burn out than fade away, but the jury is still out. Can we just go back to the 90’s for a day? A day trip.

    Smells Like Little Earthquakes

    I am quietly reminded how none of the women in my doodles seem particularly happy to my uncle. Challenge accepted.

    Pet

    This may be my last practice of hands for a minute. My desire to render an emotional experience hasn’t faded, only my desire to make hands do the talking.

    Bound in Stillness

    The road behind holds only the haunted vapor of the city. Ahead are unfamiliar roads to travel. For now, I take solace in the sights and sounds surrounding this nothing town.

    Baez Road

    There’s a stillness in the spirit now that November has hit. The holidays will be upon us, as it does every year, without care to my circumstances. I’ll take these few weeks before the chaotic winter arrives as the eye of the hurricane. The conditions outside beckon.

  • Down with the Sickness

    Down with the Sickness

    I’ve come down with some kind of infection and I’m having nitemares again; a lovely combination of delirium and cold sweats. On some levels, I really think they’re wrong about time healing the mental wound. It’s only more jarring when it comes around again.

    The Weight of Silence

    Time helps to blur the edges, but is that really healing? I’ve grown from my experiences, but that’s not the same either. In my weakened state, I contemplate god again. I’m looking forward to the transition of this energy.

    Corvus

    I’m wishing for simple things again, but I’m also still feeling handsy. How much information do we gain with hands that goes beyond demographics and how does that translate?

    Veiled Promise

    There’s a static in the air again. This year’s haunted house is just days away. The promise of grown men screaming and jumping lifts my spirits. This must be what masculinity feels like.

    Holding on to what is dead

    I keep coming back to Japan. It’s a theme I quite enjoy. The grass is greener on the other side. The possibilities are infinite.

    WinterMint

    Romanticizing a bit, I suppose, but I’ve been obsessed with Japan and social sciences since childhood. Those early influences of culture were shockingly exciting for my young eyes. Anime changed my life.

    Wet Embrace

    Coming out of the contagious haze, there’s a stillness that is to be enjoyed; a kind of clarity felt after a hallucinogenic experience that somehow seems therapeutic.

  • Cheeky (Bonus Edition)

    Cheeky (Bonus Edition)

    I’m feeling boldly randy with this month’s cycle. What started as attempts to practice hands (Curses! Why are they all sausages?!) has become something else. Not to be plain, I want to play with how to express emotion with the hands. I’m always looking for something I’ve never tried. Just to add some extra difficulty, I decide to work on musculature alongside the difficulty of meat fingers.

    Hold Me Now

    Maybe it was bound to happen. Muscles, hands, and mood…  “Percussion. Strings. Winds. Words.”

    Fixation

    I have no bias. I’m a lover of loving love.

    The Kiss

    Or maybe I am bias in the way that I like to explore boundaries. Could it be a defense mechanism or an anxious need for validation? Perhaps it’s just way to deal with boredom.

    Get Over Here

    I’m always working out for ways to play with perspective. Not simply angles, I’m playing with the mind’s interpretation.

    Crimson and Clover

    I’ve got a bee in my bonnet. I might have a thing for mouths. Maybe it’s because I’m mighty mouthy. Blame the southerner in me.

    Remnants of a Dream

    Somewhere I read that Hugh Hefner likes to use the hint of a man being present to create a scene. I’m pondering if it’s to let the male viewer insert themselves into the role. For my doodles, it’s a caught glance, a knowing that remains unspoken.

    Throuple

    I’m in on the secret. I know the handshake and they just put on my jam.

    Sexual Tension

    It’s a smut phase and I’m not sorry about it.