Once again playing with my jellyfish and this silly coloring idea I’ve been using.
All line work done on paper in ballpoint pen (top), then put into the computer and altered to be more solid and digital looking. Took an old painting of mine and edited it down to one color layer and changed the hues and such of that to make the different colors here, and with some layer games and a lot of the erase tool, voila! I give you a digitally painted abstracty violin thing! I might make a series of these “abstracted objects” if I feel like it, cause I quite like this one.
“An arrow can only be shot by pulling it backward. When life is dragging you back with difficulties, it means it’s going to launch you into something great. So focus, and keep aiming.”
In a few weeks I’m getting my next tattoo. The arrow symbolizes optimism and positivity for me, as the quote above shows, and how I want to live my life with a brighter outlook than I have in the past. It’s going to be on the outside of my right forearm, I was having trouble designing it. At the top here, I’ve drawn a few ideas, and I was willing to mix and match the different parts of each of these together, I was just having way too much trouble deciding. These are pretty rough sketches mind you, the final copy I take to the artist I will probably have digitally so the measurements and lines and whatnot are perfect, but the option of keeping it rough is on the table as well.
The picture on the bottom is what I think my final decision is, but I’m still deciding if I want to use the digital copy for reference or if I want to have a rough version.
Some new variations on an older drawing of mine
Under the couch
I’m not very lyrical or
eloquent in my words.
I’ve always been just a little
too afraid to explain myself.
And no one ever cared enough
to put me back where I came from,
housed and protected,
out of reach of those who can
hurt me, even if by accident.
So now I freeze up
and my mouth skips over the tracks,
too scratched and buffed
from years of hiding, face down
under the couch.
Twenty is as proposed,
fighting jeweled vacancies
and serving four hundred,
born unto many a clever
When the sun hits the branches of the big oak tree above,
you are the glow that seeps through each leaf,
because the color is beautiful, and the light complex
and the shadows on the grass are a million pictures
painted by you for the summer to see.
And when the water’s surface wrinkles at the breeze’s touch
you are the sand at the pond’s edge, newly dampened,
where kids will mold tiny houses for their toys
and the teenage couple will leave their prints behind,
tiny foot shaped pools that will smooth over again.
When the sun beats on the lines that cover the cracks in the road,
you are the flip-flop that gets stuck in the tar
and the imprint left by the lines on the bottom of a sneaker,
a pair of converse worn by the boy with the red shorts,
the boy who watches you walk to the beach every day.