Tomes Technique

Painterly visions in digital form.

Tag: personal reflection

  • 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.

  • Color Bloom

    Color Bloom

    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.

  • 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.

  • 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.