The Robots Begin to Accrue
(With a scissors for scale)
(Acrylic on Canvas)
I love this part of the painting process. When I decide I'm a talentless hack and there’s no way I’ll pull this one off and maybe I should burn all my paintings on the lawn like Modigliani and get drunk in the backyard cradling the garden hose like a loveable snake and crying.
I am also keenly aware that I'm ☆this☆ close to putting myself into another butt situation. The last time I worked myself into a butt-painting corner, I gathered so many fine art butt reference images, my camera roll and my psyche became overwhelmed with Rubens and Titian.
The butt in question:
Goddamnit. The above butt is not only on a canvas of the exact same size, it’s also robot-adjacent.
I’m doomed.
The Keen Edge's Clear Reflection
Sketch for the Ace of Swords.
(Pencil on Paper)
This may be the last Tarot work for the rest of this month depending on:
How quickly I can paint other things.
How well I can resist working on this.
One point in the ace's favor: I really only have to design half of it. Which I'm sure can only result in a measured and reasonable approach to intricacy.
He's Not Dead; He's Lazy
From a dream in which I had to carry the Bert around on my shoulders. He was fine, just a dick.
(Digital)
Burning Nightmare Hounds
The dream was almost entirely black and red. There were possessed wolves on my ship, and when I couldn’t kill them, I jumped from the broken loading bay into the night.
(Digital)
As far as nightmares go, this one was so basic it hardly counts. I spent most of it more afraid of my propensity for motion sickness than of demons.
