Wishing you every beautiful thing, kind soul.

Adored every word of this wonderfully written article.
It is a short ode to science as an act of caring, a reminder of the necessity and generosity of noticing and wondering, of finding the courage and humility to set aside certainty and open to the vast, living possibility of reality.

Always here if you need anything.

Keep your spirits up, things don't have to be so bad. x

Ooh, luxury dining!
"Upmarket, highly sought after area." There's more than one dumpster and if you win the nightly fist fight you get to choose!
Presumably, 'water included in the price' means 'free rain via hole in roof'. That mold could be penicillin, you never know.
They're spoiling us, really.

Yay, free pets! I'll take it.

It's bright and airy and you won't have to waste time cleaning the place, the rain will take care of that. Unrivalled convenience!

The gutter is self-cleaning too, and has genuine wheelchair access. All the benefits for free. It's still my 'forever home' plan.

And a chair, and dining table. It's an innovative and impressively versatile space. What's not to love?

'It's fully accessible!'

Read: from the cut up matress you'll have to jam onto the floor you'll be able to reach every inch of this luxury appartment.
The bathroom is the sink in the corner. Don't bang your head on it when you get up in morning! Also there a like, two flights of stairs.

How kind of the arseholes to notice you. Last time I entered a price range the result was quite literally a picture of the gutter outside a dingy unit with cracked concrete and an echo of derisive laughter. The housing industry tramples on human rights for profit, spirit crushing is just for fun.

No idea why a porcelain doll head is floating on a black ribbon, but that’s irrelevant. It still needs a little polish, then onto the socks, shoes and leaves and he’ll be ready for his date.

Layering very light glazes of pencil for the right effects.
I start off with sepia red and peridot to create shadows.
I’ll go over that with brown ochre and Venetian red to pull it all together.
This is just the first pass to map it out. I’ll do this 5-10 times until it all gets pulled together.

Medusa’s Rusted Tears and Patina Lips.

The early stages of laying down my pencil base and blocking out the topography of his face. Once that was done, I went in and added the bark fragments individually. Time-consuming? Absolutely. But totally worth it.

Your words take to me to wonderful places, always streaked with deep shadows and brilliant sunlight, and I appreciate it.

Have I mentioned that you're awesome? Definitely not enough.

You're awesome.

Painting of an obscured woman draped in a gown of leaves, sitting with her back against a tree as the leaves fall around her.

The Last Day of September.
Private commission.
2010.
Oil on canvas.
16”x20”.

Illustration of the French children’s song “Sur le pont d’Avignon”, showing the silhouettes of people dancing on a stone bridge.

Sur le pont d’Avignon
2013.
Private commission.
Watercolor and pencil on paper.
16”x20”.

Likewise!

I'll second that. Much, much love!

The world is not a cold and heavy weight But light reflecting on a conscious shore A dream that we collectively create Where thought is both the key and open door ​The mountain stands because the soul perceives A shadow mirrored in the waking eye The only truth the quiet spirit weaves Is that the spark within creates the sky

#ও☉❢☉✑
#poetry
#writing
#micropoetry
#blueskywriters
#writingcommunity

Porcelina. 2020.
Black and white edit.
Oil and pencil on toned paper.
10”x20”.
SOLD.

Just FYI, there hasn't been even a little bit of a drawdown of ice presence here in Minnesota. In fact, there's more of them and they're bringing in more equipment.

The Sovereign of Dust ​We are magnets, poles reversed, Bound by the gap we cannot bridge. What pulls us close is the same fierce thirst That drives us back to the barren ridge. ​I carved my name on the stars’ bright skin, A king of ash with a tongue of fire. Claiming the void that the eye takes in, Yet tethered still to the flesh's desire. ​The womb is narrow, the walls are thick, And truth is a blade that cuts too deep. The pulse is a steady, liquid tick, A suspended soul in ageless sleep. ​Born in the shadow, cast in the light, We reach for the sun from a cage of bone Master of all in the dead of night, Yet in the mirror, forever alone. ​

#ও☉❢☉✑
#poetry
#writing
#micropoetry
#blueskywriters
#writingcommunity

#portfoliomonday
Happy Monday, mongrels.
Some work from the past two decades.
Oil, pencil, watercolor, charcoal and pastel on paper, wood and canvas.

Janice Sung, "The Nymph with a Broken Heart."

And I can't believe how lucky I am. I can't even look at them without smiling. They mean more to me than I can ever express. You have all my love and gratitude. x

Thank you so kindly!

You are too kind, Ivy! Thank you.

I'm beyond happy that she's with you. Thank you for giving her such a wonderdful and loving home!