457. Wolf And Heart

12 February 2011, scribbler

 

 

441. This Could Be Considered A Self Portrait

February 2011.

Photoshop.

431. Gravel Road – Lomo Style

Lomo photograph, black and white 35 mm film, approximately 2009 or 2010.

Melbourne, Australia.

Taken on a LC-A+RL

430. Pensive Or Something

Scribbler, January 2011.

Scribbler

429. This Could Be Construed As Romantic

Faber-Castell pencil on paper, January 2011.

Happy Valentine’s Day?

428. Uncertain Footwear

Ballpoint pen on notepaper, January 2011.

The writing at the bottom says, “What kind of shoes would Death wear?”

427. Rhododendron Gardens

2009 or 2010. Lomo LC-A+RL photograph on black & white film, scan from the negative.

This was taken at the National Rhododendron Gardens.

426. I’m Not Entirely Sure

27 January 2011. Felt tip marker on paper.

A random scattering of thoughts that apparently maps out a possible evolutionary scenario for clouds.

425. Care Bears Piled On A Beanbag

2010, photo, Lomo LC-A+RL camera, scanned black and white film negative something or other (I have misplaced my detailed notes).

Care Bears toys, piled on a corduroy beanbag. A beautiful sight.

Lomography - more fun than photography, if you ask me!

LCA cameras

 

424. Self Portrait

20 January 2011 – photo, Nikon D90, 50 mm lens

It’s been a while since I’ve taken any photos. Armed with a mirror and camera I thought I’d have a bit of fun on a sunny summer’s day… (Australia’s summer this time has been exceptionally wet, so any sunny day is an event worth noting!)

My singlet and shorts are new, bought from Supré. The hair colour (blue-black) is new too. And the belt is super cute, I bought it from Ozmosis. The singlet says “I <3 Aus” on the front – Australia Day is coming up this week (26 January) and I don’t know about anyone else, but there’s definitely a sense that Aussies are becoming more patriotic these days. I see it as a positive. For a lot of us, we may be several generations Australian, and I see this movement as a way for young adults like me to say, yes, we acknowledge our various ancestries, but we are Aussie, this is who we are, it’s unique, it’s positive. Anyway, I’m rambling.

Taking out the trash – Reshoot (via Advanced Mattematics)

The photos in the blog post linked below are portraits of me! Just saying… Consider this a shameless plug for my husband’s wordpress blog.

I had the rare opportunity for a second day in a row to redo the same shoot as yesterday, in the same light conditions, at the same time of day, at the same place, with the same person. After spending the afternoon with my friend Will from Red Sparrow Photography (check his Facebook page, also, at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Red-Sparrow-Photography/) I wanted to have another go at taking these photos. I had a great time “talking shop” and felt … Read More

via Advanced Mattematics

Short story time: He left me

In December 2010 I posted a series of short paragraphs on a common theme on my redbubble site. Here is the three-part piece in its entirety.

I. He Left Me To Die Here – 1 of 3

[Read the original post here.]

When I finally opened my eyes, it was into the searing white heat of a desert landscape. Sun-bleached stones and striated mesas came into focus. My limbs ached and the thirst was unbearable. Spiky tussocks of grass poked my bare, burnt skin. I became aware of my prone position, face down, skin scraping on harsh, rocky soil. I was cut in places, with dried blood caked to my arms.

He had brought me here. I was sure of it.

He left me cut and bleeding, and in a ditch?

I thought he was loving. I thought he cared about me. It was a strange kind of love that did this to a girl.

Did he not know that I was already mired in self pity, in old hurts, in a wounded spirit? Was that not enough for him?

To call me into this wild place, fraught with danger, injured and left to die; how could he do that to me?

The ghostly howl of the wind as it rushed between rocky passes and through the sharp-bladed grass was broken by a soft voice. “Here, drink this,” he said, holding a flask to my mouth.

It was him. Wrapped in coarse robes. Despite the dry heat, he wore heavy, dark clothing. His feet were bare, and he must have been tough skinned to walk on the rubble and thorns.

I drank, and drank, feeling the life slowly coursing back into my broken body.

He squatted next to me in the dust and dirt, and held out his hand. I glared at him, knowing that my naked, bruised, and wounded state would steal any authority or strength from my countenance. He waited. I refused to stir. An age seemed to pass as I tried to stare him into submission, knowing it was a fruitless task, knowing he could wait forever.

“I didn’t try to kill you,” he whispered, “but I brought you here so you could stay with me and heal.”

Lies. It had to be lies. He had told me he would protect me, stay by me, always love me. Then he had disappeared and left me to die here.

“I am here now,” he said. “And I was never far from you.”

A sharp jolt of pain ran through my body. I groaned and clasped his hand. His skin was cool, his touch kind. He lifted me to my feet and wrapped me in rough robes like his own. I hurt, but I could stand, still holding his hand.

He almost smiled, and his eyes were gentle. I wanted to hate him. What was this lonely desert? The heat, the pain, the blood. The scent of unseen flowers caught in the wind’s howling rush across the land.

“Come with me,” he said. He walked ahead of me, releasing my hand. Tears began to fall. I did not want him to let go, not again. I hated him and I loved him.

He walked onwards, and I struggled to catch up. I saw his feet dig into the rocky soil as he climbed over a rise. I followed in his footprints, dented in the white earth.

“Where are you going?” I cried. My voice was weak and lost in the natural noises of the wasteland. He glanced back toward me and smiled. I struggled after him.

II. He Let Me Hold His Hand – 2 of 3

[Read the original post here.]

It was hard travelling with him. He moved so quickly and easily in the soft, shifting sands and over rough, sharp grass and rocks. Sometimes he looked back and caught my eye. Something in his glance gave me courage.

He never answered my questions, merely walked ahead. Shimmering waves of heat distorted the horizon, which became flatter as we headed into the white desert.

I had so much to ask him. Why had he brought me here, to this desolate waste? Why had he let me nearly die before restoring me? How did he move so lightly, so swiftly? How could I ever trust him to lead me when he left me for so long? How I hated him, hated with a passion. I had loved him, that was the only reason I could despise him now.

Yet, he had come for me. Late, but not too late. I saw him now, climbing a small rise. He stopped and waited for me to catch up. I reached out to touch his hand. He stood still and let me entwine our fingers together. He smiled now, as he looked across a green plateau. The silvery thread of a river wound its course through the grassy expanse. The sky here was less harsh, a pale blue, rather than glaring white.

To touch him was like touching the source of life and light. It was overwhelming, and I wanted to let go, but wanted to hold on. I was entirely torn. Who was he? Why did he bring me here? Why not someone else? Though, it seemed, there was not another soul in this strange place.

He led me down the hillside toward the river, feeling the cool grass beneath my aching feet. The wounds on my arms had healed now, leaving fine traces of scars. Still, he let me hold his hand.

I did not know if he would answer me, but he was here. For now. I would have to rest in the closeness of his presence and hope that he would remain close.

III. He Said I Could Never Be Happy In This Place – 3 of 3

[Read the original post here.]

We sat by the silver stream, watching the clouds drift across the caerulean expanse of a kind sky. It was quiet, more peaceful here.

He lay down on the ground and motioned for me to do the same. Lying on the soft grass next to each other, I listened to him breathing. Wondered what he was thinking behind his thoughtful eyes. Wondered if I should ask him what was going through his mind. I did not though, for fear of being ignored. For fear that if he did finally answer me, I would not be able to bear the truth.

For now it was enough to be here, with him. To lie side by side and take in the sky, the distant speck of a hunting raptor high on the air currents, the sound of the gentle rushing river, the sound of his breathing.

“I did not leave you to die,” he whispered. “You ran from me. So I brought you out here. Only here would you see that you could trust me.”

His tone was serious. I struggled to understand. He had never made much sense to me.

He placed his hands on my face and looked in my eyes. It was confronting to face him at such close range. He was overwhelming. Terrifying. He certainly had my attention now, alone together, lost in some wilderness.

“I can’t force you to trust me,” he said gently, “but know this: you will never be truly happy in this place.”

He let me go, then, and I repositioned myself on the riverbank. I could not ignore the fact that, for now, I was happier than I could recall in any of my memories.

=

© 2010

420. Turnip

November 2010

Some more fun! This theme was suggested by  a friend of mine when I lamented that I was stuck for ideas!

419. Pegasus!

November 2010.

Well, it’s been a while.  I haven’t had much drawing or writing time recently. Things have been chaotic, to say the least!

Here’s a little cutesy drawing I whipped up on the Gimp using my Eee PC netbook. Picture me drawing using a little touchpad thingamijig (sorry – I have no grip on the technical jargon!).

 

My RedBubble Folio Cull

I am currently going through the surprisingly emotionally painful process of going through my art and t-shirt designs on RedBubble and deleting the least viewed / least favourited / least purchased designs. Hopefully the end result will be a higher quality folio.

I warned my redbubble contacts that I would be doing an art cull, asking them to favourite any of my designs they particularly like to stop me from deleting those particular designs. You don’t have to be an artist to have a redbubble account, by the way – if you like to look at good art, I encourage you to consider signing up for an account so you can see what different artists and designers are up to!

Beauty

If I can’t be beautiful, can I at least have the capacity to create something beautiful?

All right, I know, that comment alone goes against everything I believe philosophically, rationally, sociologically, historically, spiritually and scripturally about the true definition of beauty… but sometimes, looking at beautiful photographs of beautiful women in my general forays into art/photography land leaves me feeling a little bit crushed and hollowed out. Why can’t I look like that?

418. Young Woman In The Flowers

August and September 2010 – hand drawn on paper, edited in Photoshop Elements 6 on a Wacom Bamboo Tablet.

It is with much joy that I have finally, after a long break, completed a new artwork. From beginning to end I worked for at least a month on this design, in between homework, essay writing and several nasty viruses.

The flowers in the image are inspired by examples of south-east Australian wildflowers that I found in a handbook to the Australian bush.

At the time of writing, I am selling t-shirts, postcards and greeting cards featuring this design. It can be found at my RedBubble Profile and Bubblesite Gallery.

417. Spring

30 August 2010 - Mobile Phone Photo

Flowering gum tree in a car park. The end of winter, start of spring, heralded by the arrival of pretty red gum blossoms.

416. Work in progress

Here’s a screen grab preview of an illustration I’ve been working on for about two weeks now (in between study sessions and housework). I am hoping it will lend itself to a RedBubble t-shirt-friendly design.

The original fineliner outline was scanned and I have been using a brand new drawing tablet and Photoshop to clean and colour the image. It was inspired by a book I was reading at the time detailing wildflowers commonly found in Australia.

My desktop background is from Wikipdeia Commons and depicts Alamosaurus sanjuanensis. Just in case anyone was curious.

In other news, I submitted two short stories to a writing competition today. I’ve never managed to win so far but, as a compulsive writer, I’d be foolish to miss the opportunity!

August 2010. Hand drawn fineliner, digital editing.

Happy person with house, spider, and astronomy

Felt tip marker on lined folder paper, A4, circa 2009.

Illustration by N. aged 5 years.

Maybe it’s the biased mother speaking, but I thought this was super cute!