#I wish I was an artist

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

gale and astarion as tulio and miguel from the road to el dorado, if anybody cares

full animatic of “it’s tough to be a god”? fan art of the dueling scene? hello? please?

[pinkomcranger]

Saga/Casey art idea

I'm not even remotely an artist, the best thing I can draw is fire. But HEAR ME OUT Y'ALL. Imagine an underwear clad Saga straddling a naked Casey and tying his wrists up with a scarf she knitted for him because he just won't be a good boy and listen to her.

I feel like I'm fully going to write this, but an image would be even better, lbr. Currently working on like, 5 fics for Saga/Casey, and they're all smut, I'm UNWELL THEY HAVE SUCH A CHOKEHOLD ON ME SOMEBODY SEND HELP.

[leaf-boi]

Wish I was actually good at art because then I could actually visualise my OCs on paper/digitally and everything would be easier 😔😔

ALSO GUYS! Please! I need inspo to write shit! I need IDEASSSSS! I'm LOSTTTT- maybe I'll just post my A03 FengQing oneshots on here for the time being.... hmmmm

[autisticbugboy]

seeley booth

[kaplerrr]

Watch me lose my sanity over digital drawing 🌚 went from drawing ocs and practicing to slow anxiety as the drawings get worse and worse lol

[st-dorothy-minority]

I feel like the act of writing a fic is addicting. And posting it. Get that high from feeling creative and excited to share. And then when you come down from that high and you don't really have anything to show for it, the negativity hits.

But then you feel withdrawal, and so you write some more.

Rinse and repeat.

[bob-artist]

Bittern at the grocery store

[prinnay]

Fairy selfie

[lillhappycloud]

I have feelings about how these two are mirror opposites in reaction to monstrous trauma.

I have spicier stuff on my Patreon.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

[chickenhoops]

Currently obsessed with this gay pigeon couple up for adoption and I think tumblr will be obsessed with them too.

[dappermouth]

There was something you were hiding, on the night you ran away.

[selunight]

those statues in cemeteries of angels draped over headstones but it’s celeste and the headstone belongs to her mother -

[gabedraws4u]

New Old Habits

You folks are awesome, user @silentlycrazy kinda gave me this idea in a tag and I couldn't resist

Comics heavily based on @yamujiburo hanamusa's lore

I'll add these sequence on the original post

James and Meowth go to work after the bad joke

And Jessie goes to work with a smile

[getooine]

POV: you just interrupted the Skywalker twins at the space gala

Just a little post to say thank you for a 1000 followers!! I never thought that posting my little pictures on tumblr would get so much love 💕

[ameriel]

anyone know if we have catgirl tomorrow

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.