Illustration Friday - Toy

This is George.  I don't know when I originally got George, or who gave him to me but he's been a part of my life almost as long as I can remember.  His little French knot eyes are unraveling, most of the paint on him (like his nose and toes and fingers) is gone, his whiskers have been replaced at least once and he has a sort of well worn and grimy look to him that comes from being a kid's constant companion, the sort that can't be washed away.

George went with me to my first day of school, my first sleepover, every trip to my grandparents' and was one of the first things I picked up from my parents' house when I moved to my first apartment.  He's been soaked in tears, flown in giddy circles in my hands and knows all of my secrets.

He no longer has a place on my bed right by my face but I don't think I could ever really and truly put away childish things if it meant that I couldn't have George.  As I get older I'm trying to be less sentimental and to accumulate less things and give more away, but George will never be on that list. 

As for the actual painting, it's pretty crap.  Enough that I want to redo it when I'm a little more clear headed, and a little less full of allergens and rhinovirus.  At least enough that I don't get distracted half through erasing my pencil lines before starting the water color.

If anyone deserves actual effort, it's probably George.

Illustration Friday - Chicken

Tyrannogallus Rex, King of the Chickens.

Well, they do look like dinosaurs.

Illustration Friday - Star Gazing

Star Gazing

Playing around with watercolors again.  We'll see if the fascination lasts a little longer this time so that I have a chance to see some actual improvement before I go off mucking about with something else.  Did this while at the adoption event for the kittens so my travel watercolor set actually did some traveling.  Good times.

Speaking of kittens, I blame them entirely for me being inblognito.  It's been a tough season so far, adoptions are way down and the mortality and morbidity rate is way up.  As a result, creative (and cleaning) pursuits have been put on the back burner while things are getting sorted. We lost two of our fosters and the ability to muster up the energy for art or craft related pursuits is nearly impossible when you're feeling like a awful kitten killer.  The remaining three seem to be bouncing back and are doing reasonably well though.

Except for the epic case of ringworm.

Oh, ringworm.  How much do I hate you?  So much I can't find adequate words to express it.  The bathing.  The desperate hope that our own cats don't catch it.  The thanking every deity I can think of that I'm seemingly immune.  Our plans for replacing the manky downstairs carpet with wood flooring suddenly being moved up.  Because steam cleaning?  Is a pain.

Here's hoping things continue to improve.  Because at this point the universe is just being mean.

Illustration Friday - Caged

A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down the narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
and he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for he caged bird
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on the dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

-Maya Angelou




Note to self: when mucking about with digital art it really is worth the trouble to find your mouse.  My touchpad finger's all hurty now.

Illustration Friday - Artificial

The artificial sentiments of white lies and platitudes are an important social lubricant, I'm not denying that.  But one of my many weaknesses is that I'm not always the best at either giving them in a sincere manner or managing to take them graciously when I hear them.

Missed last week's topic entirely, things have been pretty crazy on the kitten front.  Hopefully things will be better this week.

Illustration Friday - Breakfast

I'm obviously not the healthiest person in the world.  Not pictured is NPR or one of the cable news channels playing in the background because I'm a total news junkie.

I've been putting off posting this because I don't think it's finished and just generally think it's a bit crap.  But I'm totally stumped on how I want to finish it and if I waited until I was completely satisfied with something to share it I would be consistently not sharing.  So this is me pushing myself out of my comfort zone.

I don't like it out here one bit.

Illustration Friday - Diary

I didn't start keeping a regular diary until I was in college.  Sometimes it seems like my life before that is written out on my body.

My second and third toes on both feet are crooked from my years in ballet.

The middle of my right forearm aches when it's cold and rainy since I broke it in third grade.

The two scars from the man o' war sting I got the first time I went to the beach when I was 12 have faded.  For a few months after it happened they were the same color as the man o' war's tentacles.

The long thin scar on my inner thigh just above my knee is from the sleepover I had for my fifteenth birthday.  I scratched myself with my fingernail while flailing during a tickle fight.  I never knew fingernails could be so dangerous.

Of course, now it's a collection of fine lines from kittens trying to climb up my legs.  Words I'd never thought I'd say: 'Could you pick this kitten off my butt before it tries to go any higher?'

Illustration Friday - Giant

Since I never draw anything anymore I've decided to hop on board with Illustration Friday, see if that can get my mojo going.

Sleeping in the Hands of Giants

That's Snickerdoodle, one of our foster kittens.  She was found at the dump after falling out of a couch being thrown away.  Because of being underfed she was tiny for her age so had the proportions of an older cat shrunk down to pocket sized dimensions.  Happily she recovered to be a normal looking kitten and has gone on to a loving home.

I thought that I would try watercolor for this but I forgot my almost pathological ineptitude at it.  I need to remember that if I think something will look cool in watercolor it won't with my watercolor.