Friday, February 11, 2011
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Illustration Friday: Surrender
Never give up! Never surrender!
Though sometimes possibly surrendering is a better idea...
It's interesting how one line can change an entire drawing. I intended this to be a straightforward image - an abandoned old house surrendering to the sea. But one misplaced line later and suddenly the house was occupied; and a metaphor for the things we humans sometimes try to hold on to, long after we probably should have let them go.
Though sometimes possibly surrendering is a better idea...
It's interesting how one line can change an entire drawing. I intended this to be a straightforward image - an abandoned old house surrendering to the sea. But one misplaced line later and suddenly the house was occupied; and a metaphor for the things we humans sometimes try to hold on to, long after we probably should have let them go.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Illustration Friday: Dusty
The Sky Full Of Dust...
Glitter on black mount board.
Dusty, to me, will always mean the stellar dust of a nebula. I guess that means I'm not quite down to Earth... I tried out a couple of different ways of creating nebulas before settling on this one as my favourite. Here are a few more of them:
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| Chalk Nebula #1 |
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| Chalk Nebula #2 |
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| Glitter Nebula #1 |
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Thursday, January 06, 2011
Illustration Friday: Resolutions
Resolution: Do something creative every day...
(click the pic for a larger image...)
(click the pic for a larger image...)
Friday, November 14, 2008
Lest We Forget
Written for Saturday Scribes - theme: Lest We Forget
prompts: League, Hundred, Valley, Shattered
Amongst the scars of fire and shell
Where hundred upon hundred fell
Between the valley and the peak
Their voices never more to speak
A league of soldiers rent asunder
Lost to the pounding guns at plunder
Place the crosses row on row
Where shattered land no more does grow
Etch their names upon the stone
Those men who never will come home
And play the bugle calling yet -
Come to remember, lest we forget
prompts: League, Hundred, Valley, Shattered
Amongst the scars of fire and shell
Where hundred upon hundred fell
Between the valley and the peak
Their voices never more to speak
A league of soldiers rent asunder
Lost to the pounding guns at plunder
Place the crosses row on row
Where shattered land no more does grow
Etch their names upon the stone
Those men who never will come home
And play the bugle calling yet -
Come to remember, lest we forget
Saturday, October 04, 2008
James Collins, Man Of Mystery
Written for Genre Stretch on Stringing Words - genre: Mystery
Inspector James Collins circled the room
With sure measured paces he examined the gloom
Each piece of evidence the man did spy
No fleeting clue would escape his eye
Through the door to the hall was a grievous sight
And he fought for control with all of his might
Many a pretender was trying his luck
And he watched with relish as they came unstuck
Save one true nemesis, Miss Edith DeVernt
She solved crimes by wit, he used what was learnt
This investigation didn't need her kind
Flaunting around with her over-hyped mind
She would not defeat him, of this he was sure
His skills as detective would crown him victor
He examined the crime scene with fresh vigour and zeal
He was close to the truth he could practically feel
And suddenly he found it! Tucked right under the body
Where the unfortunate fellow had spilled his hot toddy
The minute final clue in the puzzle they face
He called them together and cut to the chase
"The murder was you!" he proclaimed with great gusto
And pointed his finger at poor Philip Pusto
"With a blow to the head, just above the nose.
The blood on the carpet shows how this story goes!"
The room fell to silence. Philip said "that's not right.
I killed him with poison. We two did not fight."
And Robert, who'd said the body was realistically seen
Ran from the room, a most dreadful shade of green
Then Hattie said softly, "But there shouldn't be blood"
And Mikey, her boyfriend, shakily stood
Moving to "the body" he touched the man's head
But Chris was regrettably, quite, quite dead
Then some young men panicked, and young ladies screamed
And many rued bitterly the evening had been themed
And by the time the police had arrived
Many a tall story had thus been contrived
The investigations then, began for real
And someone complained this had never been the deal
And with his fingertips inked, and his head full of strife
James Collins swore off "Mystery" parties for life!
Inspector James Collins circled the room
With sure measured paces he examined the gloom
Each piece of evidence the man did spy
No fleeting clue would escape his eye
Through the door to the hall was a grievous sight
And he fought for control with all of his might
Many a pretender was trying his luck
And he watched with relish as they came unstuck
Save one true nemesis, Miss Edith DeVernt
She solved crimes by wit, he used what was learnt
This investigation didn't need her kind
Flaunting around with her over-hyped mind
She would not defeat him, of this he was sure
His skills as detective would crown him victor
He examined the crime scene with fresh vigour and zeal
He was close to the truth he could practically feel
And suddenly he found it! Tucked right under the body
Where the unfortunate fellow had spilled his hot toddy
The minute final clue in the puzzle they face
He called them together and cut to the chase
"The murder was you!" he proclaimed with great gusto
And pointed his finger at poor Philip Pusto
"With a blow to the head, just above the nose.
The blood on the carpet shows how this story goes!"
The room fell to silence. Philip said "that's not right.
I killed him with poison. We two did not fight."
And Robert, who'd said the body was realistically seen
Ran from the room, a most dreadful shade of green
Then Hattie said softly, "But there shouldn't be blood"
And Mikey, her boyfriend, shakily stood
Moving to "the body" he touched the man's head
But Chris was regrettably, quite, quite dead
Then some young men panicked, and young ladies screamed
And many rued bitterly the evening had been themed
And by the time the police had arrived
Many a tall story had thus been contrived
The investigations then, began for real
And someone complained this had never been the deal
And with his fingertips inked, and his head full of strife
James Collins swore off "Mystery" parties for life!
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Spirit
Written for Saturday Scribes - theme: Redeeming Poetical Triads
Triad: Dust, Rust, Must
He found her
Half burried by the dust
And the dirt
Neglected
In the years of grime
Her sleek
Smooth lines
Scarred
By the rust
Beauty marred
By the hands of time
Abandoned
Lost
He knew he must
Be her salvation
Money
Burning its hole
Within his pocket
Demanding
His attention
His plans
Forgotten
Falling
In love
Rescued
She shows her colours
Decayed metal
Replaced
By vibrant red
Her skin
Repaired
Gleams once more
The white knight
With his steed now found
He makes her sing
Again
Triad: Dust, Rust, Must
He found her
Half burried by the dust
And the dirt
Neglected
In the years of grime
Her sleek
Smooth lines
Scarred
By the rust
Beauty marred
By the hands of time
Abandoned
Lost
He knew he must
Be her salvation
Money
Burning its hole
Within his pocket
Demanding
His attention
His plans
Forgotten
Falling
In love
Rescued
She shows her colours
Decayed metal
Replaced
By vibrant red
Her skin
Repaired
Gleams once more
The white knight
With his steed now found
He makes her sing
Again
Thursday, July 10, 2008
The Batman Cometh
Based on Batman, created by Bob Kane.
Gotham
Wretched
Villainous hive
Beware
Here
He comes
A man alone
A saviour
Ready
Listening
Hearing enhanced
Picking up everything
Each utterance of villainy
When silence screams
He hears
All
Watching
Ever vigilant
Knowing each detail
Seeing each depraved moment
Within a crime choked city
Though none see him
Unless he chooses
Watchful, invisible
Witness
Standing
As sentry
As a gargoyle
Guarding against the night
Cape swept out around him
Caught by the wind's cold fingers
Ready to be his wings
When he takes flight
Guardian of justice
Gotham's son
Bat
Man
One being
Strengthened by grief
Stalking the dark places
The depths of humanities soul
Footsteps blazing a trail of hope
Clearing the rot with a surgeon's skill
Bringing the corrupt to their knees
Scouring the streets of crime
Dispensing his own justice
With wordless fury
He continues
Relentless
Secret
Another life
In daylight hours
Known only to one
A faithful and loyal friend
Alfred, butler to Gotham's richest son
Keeping the secret of his master's calling
They're caught between the secrets and the lies
The young millionaire leads his double life
Pretence essential to save the city
He keeps up the act
Living the high life
The true mask -
Bruce Wayne
Playboy
Boy
Only son
Wanting of nothing
Eyes opened to pain
And a life changed forever
In the darkness of an alley
The shot that brought his parents death
Pierced also the soul of one small child
A transformation set in place like a ticking clock
Destiny lay its claim to a future saviour
In time, the child became the man
A man of skills and learning
The hero of the night
The Bat is reality
Cape and cowl
Second skin
Darkness
Gotham
Tormented city
Shrouded in pain
Made in crime's image
The rich, fattened by greed
The poor, trodden beneath their feet
Corruption treads its path upon the streets
Through the darkened heart of the tortured city
Good citizens, broken down, and cast out as prey
Men walk the dark line to avoid the same fate
They will find a greater darkness stalking them tonight
A lone man they will never see coming
A Dark Knight for the darkest nights
Saviour to all, presuming he can
Shadow of the city itself
He is become darkness
Is become night
The Batman
Cometh
Gotham
Wretched
Villainous hive
Beware
Here
He comes
A man alone
A saviour
Ready
Listening
Hearing enhanced
Picking up everything
Each utterance of villainy
When silence screams
He hears
All
Watching
Ever vigilant
Knowing each detail
Seeing each depraved moment
Within a crime choked city
Though none see him
Unless he chooses
Watchful, invisible
Witness
Standing
As sentry
As a gargoyle
Guarding against the night
Cape swept out around him
Caught by the wind's cold fingers
Ready to be his wings
When he takes flight
Guardian of justice
Gotham's son
Bat
Man
One being
Strengthened by grief
Stalking the dark places
The depths of humanities soul
Footsteps blazing a trail of hope
Clearing the rot with a surgeon's skill
Bringing the corrupt to their knees
Scouring the streets of crime
Dispensing his own justice
With wordless fury
He continues
Relentless
Secret
Another life
In daylight hours
Known only to one
A faithful and loyal friend
Alfred, butler to Gotham's richest son
Keeping the secret of his master's calling
They're caught between the secrets and the lies
The young millionaire leads his double life
Pretence essential to save the city
He keeps up the act
Living the high life
The true mask -
Bruce Wayne
Playboy
Boy
Only son
Wanting of nothing
Eyes opened to pain
And a life changed forever
In the darkness of an alley
The shot that brought his parents death
Pierced also the soul of one small child
A transformation set in place like a ticking clock
Destiny lay its claim to a future saviour
In time, the child became the man
A man of skills and learning
The hero of the night
The Bat is reality
Cape and cowl
Second skin
Darkness
Gotham
Tormented city
Shrouded in pain
Made in crime's image
The rich, fattened by greed
The poor, trodden beneath their feet
Corruption treads its path upon the streets
Through the darkened heart of the tortured city
Good citizens, broken down, and cast out as prey
Men walk the dark line to avoid the same fate
They will find a greater darkness stalking them tonight
A lone man they will never see coming
A Dark Knight for the darkest nights
Saviour to all, presuming he can
Shadow of the city itself
He is become darkness
Is become night
The Batman
Cometh
