Hello, my name is Just Me, and I'm a doodle addict. Oahu
I have always been an artist at heart but never seriously pursued it. I am trying to make art a regular daily practice in order to feel more fulfilled.
Workers in grocery stores take every precaution to keep themselves and others safe from the coronavirus pandemic. Art presented in pastel drawing. Special thanks to: https://www.revounts.com.au/woolworths-promo-code
Poor blobfish!
(For this series, I'm trying to hone my beginner skills by focusing on the architecture of each strange creature through reference photos, while also using it as a log for interesting animal facts.
"A happy little planet but these aliens have landed and seem to be taking people away." A watercolored fountain pen drawing in my Moleskine sketchbook.
hello☺️✨ one day my mum and i drove around and we found a place with some old cars, busses and caravans. absolutly fell in love with them. we took some photos there and when i came home, i really wanted to draw them. so, i started drawing and it was so much fun. this drawing was inspired of one of those lovely cars we saw then. wish you a wonderful day!
An article/rant/annotation to an illustration. A #Hackney bar and its flies.
This picture is not as sad and blue as it might at first seem, I promise.
It is early in the week and the pub becomes the territory of the most outspoken drinkers. Raised somewhere between Churchill and Harold MacMillan, a night such as this is time for them to spin out a yarn of nostalgic fantasy. Encouraged by the lack of a crowd and with space to fill, statements start to fly.
In the opening rounds the barman athletically hits back with factual blocks and reality-check haymakers; statistics and personal experiences are given. Two histories cross examined, one where 1982 means Thatcher and the Falklands, the other renders Reagan and the AIDS crisis. Stoicism and national pride vs mental health and realism.
In the latter rounds the barman is fatigued, swaying on the backbar, glasses begin to stack up as form begins to drop. The older men seem stronger than ever.
The barflies come in close now, they scrutinise his generations work ethic and make wild political comments on poverty, immigrants and the minimum wage.
The barman is close to sheer bloody despair, he maintains his defence and focuses on breathing while maintaining his professional stance.
But at the end of the night the barman knows HE will ring that bell, they will politely leave and they will return again in a week and maybe, just maybe there will be a change, common ground or maybe at least polite silence.
But what these interactions have given despite the salt in the eye is community and an exchange between generations, culture and class of those participating. No home is ever straight forward, no relative without their good and bad traits and in a world where we often slide into echo chambers online or in our physical environments, the pub is still a place where society is family, face to face, pint to pint. Or maybe it's just a room with alcohol on tap?
