Tomes Technique

Painterly visions in digital form.

Tag: Landscape

Environments, flora, structures

  • Global Intentions

    Global Intentions

    I’ve always wanted to travel. Rather, to be someone who’s travelled. I want to see the real life of a place, as it’s meant to be enjoyed. Not with a bristle and bustle to and fro, but a gentle meander through the forest of time. One of those train rides through the countryside, but with timeless stops along the way. Maybe what I’m thinking is a Back to the Future 3 train. All my bags are packed.

    The Souvenir

    My uncle is planning a holiday to Africa to see the elephants and giraffes. He went skydiving for his 70th birthday. He’s doing all the things (while also retiring from teaching maths, checking eagle’s nests, measuring horseshoe crabs, protecting turtle nesting, and county water testing).

    Three’s Company

    It’s lighting a fire inside me. I have a long bucket list. Mostly just want to get out of this place. What’s it like to love where you live?

    The bartender doesn’t ask questions

    Your hand is close but not touching

    There’s a geography between us

    Measured in inches and intention.

    Holding Earth (Bucket List)

    I never thought I’d end up back where I started. It’s been a decade and half away, a decade and half back. Neither feels like home anymore. It’s something raising children in the county where you came from, but I remember how much I wanted to leave and can’t imagine it’s not the same now.


    Me, ya see!

    Cabin fever is taking hold once again. Claustrophobia is starting to creep up on me. I feel like all I can do is put my ear up to the glass and listen. Life is passing me by while I spectate. I think it’s a very American problem. Is it generational?

    Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re saying

    Or maybe it’s the state of the daily news cycle. Not all look at the map with glee for what once was and remains to be, but what may be gained from it. Those with business minds and daily grinds of greased wheels.

    Make America Bigger Again (MABA)

    Where would I go first? I don’t know that it matters as much as what I do when I’m there and who I’m with. Plunder through the menus with anticipation, stroll under age-old canopies, and steep in the luxury of bygone life; these are the things that make travel worthwhile and it’s always the journey.

  • Insulation

    Insulation

    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.

  • 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.

  • Cycles

    Cycles

    I’m feeling the cyclone of a new phase. This week’s transition from oppressive heat to crisply cool has me enjoying being outside during the day again. The seasons are mostly indistinguishable without this welcomed change in orbit. After an extended jeep trekking weekend, I’ve stumbled across the “Back to the Future” boxset I’ve hidden in plain sight (where all good things are hidden). Time to trade the Jeep in for a Delorean. Michael J. Fox is brilliantly believable and only Christopher Lloyd can be Doc. Hollywood, don’t ruin this with a reboot.

    1.21 Gigawatts

    There’s a place where hogs roam and deer bleat at passing bears. Below the dam, life takes over again. The next age has begun.

    Pathfinder’s Rest

    I’m feeling inspired again. This time, it’s a photographer that catches my attention. The words and work remind me of the towering bamboos, gauzy crape myrtle, and wispy wisteria at my doorstep; How it sways in the wind and dances for the sun’s light showers. As autumn descends, I cultivate ambedo—a state of mindful absorption where you surrender to the intense details of the world, embracing the simple joy of being present and engaging in activities purely for their inherent beauty.

    Go Touch Grass

    Mentally in Kyoto again. I’ve discovered a sacred pilgrimage route that combines Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples. It’s just too beautifully syncretic to ignore. I stroll through the natural network until I’m stopped plainly. Ahead, an elevated wooden pagoda above those dipping their wishing cups in the streams. Every season finds its way to the front of my imagination. I am thankful for this journey of reflection and appreciation.

    Inspired by: “Shinbutsu Reijo Junpai no Michi”, Kiyomizu-dera Temple

    Cupid’s Ascent (LoveStoned)

    Summer’s come and gone, but it doesn’t stop the beachgoers. Flocking like seagulls for their spot in the shell filled sand; strutting like peacocks in the winter’s sun. Time for the snow birds to come home.

    Pulse of Paradise

    All the over 60’s crowd settling in has me considering my next stage of life. I want to be able to be in the now, but tomorrow is knocking. I’m reminded often that I too will have grown into my mother’s face. Just don’t let me forget myself while discovering her. Dementia is an ugly disease.

    The Distance Between

    Perhaps the light at the end of the tunnel is just another birth canal. Life is an interruption of an otherwise peaceful existence. As another rotation completes, I know it’s merely the snake eating its head, the ouroboros.

  • Resonance

    Resonance

    Got another game fandom request. This time for a Witcher up against a monster. I had free rein on this one. I’m in the mood for some nitemare fuel for Halloween. There’s a quiet hum in the air, the sound of excitement. It rumbles the windows.

    Hope You Have Backup

    New request, new lyrics. I can’t help myself.

    The air is heavy with unseen things, 

    A melody the silence sings.

    A fleeting shape, a fragile trace, 

    Of something more, a hidden space.

    Lost at Sea

    Let it go… let it be… 

    Endless tide, endlessly.

    Brave, but wise; she’s grown into her mother’s face. Not simply a princess, but a rebel who welcomes the arrival of the oncoming storm. Just the knowing.

    Near, Far Wherever You Are

    I’m mentally traveling again. Running my hands over the leaves, feeling the warmth of the sun on my back. Listening to the rhythmic whispering rush of water that seems to settle the air and invite quiet contemplation. Taking in the moment like a good hug from an old friend.

    Inspired by Koshu

    Juicy Secret

    The world projects vibrations and reverberations that sing to me. I listen closely and hear its siren call.

    I chase ghosts down every block I cross
    Halfway found and halfway lost
    Every turn just brings me back to you
    Like the echo of a song I can’t undo

    Hold On

    A strange request comes in, so I’m on it. History whispering into an ear, guiding, “press the ancient button and reset humanity”. I’m feeling baroque.

    Echoes are heavy, a ghost in the sound,

    Didn’t chase shadows, I built solid ground

    Four walls echo, the tempo low.

    The past in the bass, and it won’t let go.

    Hit the Button

    I purchased a few pieces from the miniature master book series secondhand for the joy of a mini book of art. I need a Barbie da Vinci in my life. Take that, coffee table books that no one reads. You don’t fit in my palm. Flipping through one, I feel a connection to Rembrandt’s pieces inspired by Caravaggio. I find myself recreating a story within its pages. I decide to combine two masterpieces to make one singular parable, the tale of three fathers; combining Old Testament with New Testament. 

    From the fear of god to the mercy of god. 

    “This — forgiveness — is the true sacrifice I require.”

    Inspired by Rembrandt

    Mercy Stays the Hand

    It’s time for more surrealism to balance out all this seriousness. I love that one line from Pink Floyd, “We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year” and get a request for something along these lines. I have to do it. I start to think about the repercussions and imagine the fish looking in on the bowl. Floating in space, do they fret about the stars or those who inhabit them?

    Celestial Cage

    The currents are ringing, the frequency ebbing. Encapsulated in our own fragile container, a tiny drop in an endless swell.

    Flicker of memory, caught on the screen,

    Looped in a haze like a half-lit dream.

    Static is steady, the low-end drone,

    Sink in the rhythm, I’m finally grown.