@DanielleRae how loving and tender are this drawings!!! Motherhood so so beautiful!!! 
1 Like
Currently working on this 3x4 foot moth. My arms are going to fall off by the time I’m done with this. Third painting session on it.
11 Likes
That’s good. I wish I had some art skills but I am truly hopeless 
1 Like
Thank you. I’ve got a few I need to pull out and finish. I’m a self taught since about 10 years old, never tried to be pro or perfect, just paint the stress out.
I imagine it brings a sense or feeling of peace and serenity just getting stuck in to something like that for a coupe of hours. I’m quite creative in constructing things just not with things like drawing and painting etc 
1 Like
This isn’t meant to stand alone, more of a teaser from something I’m working on. Still needs editing, too. But here you go.
Ice and salt tore at Avel’s earthen coppered hair like in any other storm, but the wind could no longer truly latch on at this length. Brushing a tar-stained hand through his hair, he shooed off what water he could. The action was futile, of course, but he’d satisfied the itch. For the moment, he could almost believe yesterday had been real.
Wet planks underneath him suddenly shoved him upwards and went back down without him, racing his heart. When he finally caught the ground, right knee and ankle erupted in agony, alongside scattered shouts of surprise and alarm from crewmates rushing to assess the ship for damage. Wordlessly, Avel struggled to an upright position. Jaren was in his ear, trying to out-shout the spray, trying to get a response. Avel only nodded. It was time for Jaren to trust his own experience; he wouldn’t always have instructions to lean on, not if he was going to take over someday. Jaren left to panic elsewhere, letting Avel a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe out the pain. When that brought precisely as much relief as expected, he tracked down a fist-sized bottle of some sort of brew, hobbled to his bunk to uncork it, and waited in his thoughts for some relief. Instead, his memories haunted him.
Ilene hadn’t understood; her silent shock sent the void between them to shuddering, and her eyes melted, never to recover. She only turned her head away, to the hills, heather, and home. Her hands stayed stiffly in front of her, a thumb massaging pressured spirals upon the opposite palm. Dark chestnut hair flew heedless and rampant over soft features, but even the wind’s disrespect could not assault the outward composure she had managed to muster.
“We can still do this, together,” said Avel. Hope flashed behind her eyes at the warm grit of his voice, but quickly flickered when the words themselves caught up, with their implications.
She still could not look his direction, nor respond to his affront. “Tell me you considered what this means for Akha.”
Avel paused, lost. “I did.” Was she grasping at consolation, or passing pithy rhetoric? Guilt had made his response empty, though. Neither would the tears come.
She shook her head, and as she spoke, her voice broke. “You can’t ever make it worth it.” She was still standing tall, but tears now spilled down hot and free. She finally looked at him. “But try.”
It would be easier if she just lost it. He could have handled that. But not this. Standing there, so quiet, hands pressed together. Inwardly broken, watching him. Letting his heart shred as hers did. He stepped back to the road, not sure yet if he did so to obey, or to escape.
“You’ll try?” She was several paces behind by now, and not understood over the ignorant whine of the wind.
6 Likes
Ha haa! James, finally get to read something from you. That’s very good you know!
Looking forward to seeing more sometime my friend 
2 Likes
Thanks! It was fun to write. But tough too, two scenes is just too small a space to introduce these particular characters with! Eventually they may have a whole novel of room to play in. If my interests would just stop competing for my attention! I get somewhere with writing, and music snatches me away, then something else, and so on…
4 Likes
So much great work in here you guys! Please keep creating and posting. 
1 Like
The one full of color is the sober one?
1 Like
Yep thats clean life
1 Like
I am glad to being able to read well your work of art 
1 Like
Yeah! I know people who think its the other way around. Reminds me of my old mentality that life high is better when the truth is the other way around.
1 Like
I’m a barista and a chef at the cafe I manage. Not traditional pen/ink/film art, but it takes a lot of creativity to come up with different flavor combination ideas for lattes and other beverages and for the pastries, called, and soups and paninis from scratch.
17 Likes
Those all look amazing, I’m wanting a dessert now!
2 Likes
This is a large white radish (daikon) I drew. I’m trying to write a short story about something that makes me laugh each day in Japanese. It’s actually pretty fun!
Today I made daikon oroshi for my cold soba. It was important to find the best daikon. That is why I went to Kyoto Isetan. Kyoto Isetan has perfect, beautiful daikon at a reasonable price. It is also delicious. My soba noodles were tasty, but were even better because of the high quality daikon.
今日は冷たい蕎麦のために大根おろしを作った。最高品質の大根を見つけるのは非常に重要です。そして、京都ISETANに行きました。京都ISETANには一番美しく、完璧な大根があります。さらに、その大根は適正価格で美味しいです。そのため、蕎麦の味がとても美味しかった。
8 Likes