#never painted a portrait using acrylic

[white-bow-tie]

A self portrait over my old antidepressants recepie

[loverboydotcom]

realistically in a couple months i will look at this little acrylic mountain painting and be like wow this kinda sucks ass but i had fun and i was me and i felt connected to my best friend from my novel who is always painting little acrylic mountain scenes......tbh never liked paints as a child/teen cause art class never taught us how to actually fucking use them LOL so im also like wow i actually blended stuff in and it looks good

[jabbage]

The Secret of Sherlock Holmes bookbinding project!

I've really wanted a hard copy for a while of 'The Secret of Sherlock Holmes' play by Jeremy Paul, which was performed by Jeremy Brett and Edward Hardwicke (and is very high on my list of things to go and see if I get a time machine, because there aren't any video recordings of it.)

ANYWAY it's long out of print and very expensive to buy so I figured... I can just make one myself!

First I bound the text block. It's so slim, at a grand total of 75 pages.

I bound the cover in honey-coloured book cloth, and then set about creating a cover design.

I wanted to use the official logo of the play and this amazing publicity photo, so I went into my paint package of choice (clip studio) and tweaked the photograph until I was happy I'd got a likeness of the actors only using black and white. I think Jeremy Brett lost a little of his handsomeness, alas.

A while ago I bought a cutting machine, a Silhouette Portrait, which comes with some great software which can automatically convert an image like this into a path for the cutting machine to follow, although I usually tweak it manually too.

For example, I figured the weave on Hardwicke's tie was too intricate so I removed it.

Then I set the cutting machine to work!

For a while I tried using self-adhesive vinyl to make covers, but I found that it wasn't very hard-wearing and would start peeling off. These days I use self-adhesive vinyl to make a stencil, and then paint onto the book cloth in acrylic. The fact that the stencil is self-adhesive reduces the chances of any paint sneaking in underneath!

(The stencil is gold just because I have a lot of spare gold vinyl - it's probably not the best colour to use.)

For this project I did something I've never done before, which is doing two layered stencils, a white layer underneath, and then a black layer on top.

I kind of regret not painting all of the figures in white because if you squint you can see the line where the white stops on the final piece.

And now for the really satisfying bit - peeling of the stencil when everything has dried!

I'm really pleased with the finished book, and it's so fun to possibly have the only hardback version of this play... ever...???

[comfortless]

in my pottery class thinking abt how much i would rather be painting with König rn pleading emoji btw

lele you are in my head always.. König being artsy..? awkward, spontaneous infatuation developing over sharing portraits of each other? yes yes… 💞

There’s a new man in your class that you have never seen before, not around the rest of the community center. The perplexing titan has chosen to take up painting, of all things, and you wonder as he steps through the threshold of the door how he will ever even be able to hold a brush without the wood splintering in those massive hands.

Painting is calming, gentle most of the time. Only, he embodies that feeling of a failed brush stroke, an accidental tilt of your wrist leaving a swirl of mottled colors that would take far longer to fix than it could ever be worth. Dark, dreary and tense as he seats himself directly next to you.

His creations are dark things, abstract shapes of gray and maroon; red lightning and murky sea. Each dip of pigment glistening off of your own brush leads to softer scenes; poppies and silhouettes of sweet creatures grazing and basking beneath the amber rays of a sun hanging lofty upon the canvas. Gentle things to warm a heart where as his own are to expel something from a chest wound, infected and bursting.

He takes note of your bewildered stares, two weeks after his joining, and even makes a point to place himself at the back of the room, far enough away to keep you from seeing the quivering of his wrist as he paints a new apocalypse. A mercy or an insult, you couldn’t be certain.

When the time comes to create a portrait of one of the other participants, you approach him without thought. “We can paint each other,” you offer, voice like a bowstring. He only nods, once, and allows you into the space adjacent to him as he shifts his long limbs beneath the table in an attempt to accommodate you.

Just mercy, it was, then.

König isn’t talkative, even as you pester over details and ask him to tilt his head a certain way just to ensure you’ve picked the perfect placement for one of the rogue freckles dotting his cheek. He complies with a wide-eyes stare, one that leaves you feeling a strange mixture of curious and uncomfortable. Each time you look up, you notice that the gaze hasn’t lessened, it only proves to be more incessant and intense.

You show him his portrait; attention drawn to the eyes, each fleck of fluorescent light painted in them with the same color used for the pale white of his scars. This is one to be proud of, a certain reverence to the piece that you’ve lacked entirely in your painted fields of little white and gray blotted sheep.

His version of you is a splash of dandelion yellow, flecks of pink in a sea of black. There’s no face to be seen, but it is beautiful in its simplicity. You marvel at it, holding the canvas up to the light and your eye catches on something— buried just below the still-drying paint, a small scrawling of your name in the shimmering gray of pencil lead. You almost think you can make out the shape of a small heart somewhere in that mess of cheap acrylic, too, before the piece is gently tugged from your hands.

“It needs to dry,” he tells you, casually discarding it back onto the wooden table and examining your depiction of himself instead.

You watch as his eyes seem to light up, that weariness within them suddenly gone as his stare drifts from top to bottom of your canvas. You know that you’ve done well, with a certainty when his focus shifts back to you and a barely-there smile is tugging at his lips.

He tells you that he can not paint anything like you, and when you ask him just what that means, he only tells you that you’re just too pretty. The reality is obvious— his hands shake, but only around you. You’ve seen him nodding along to something the instructor says to him as the older man leans over the table to inspect his art, and König has only seemed stiff, unbothered.

There’s a cup of chamomile tea prepared for him the next time he enters the room and you’re nothing but demure smiles and sweet greetings as König takes the space next to you once more.

It’s just as he’s taking a sip that you decide to innocently ask: “Have you ever painted anyone nude?”

He sputters for a moment, trying to conceal the rising tide of crimson that creeps up from his cheeks to the tips of his ears as he turns away from you.

“Nein, but I would like to try.”

[monakisu]

rating oil paintings i did in high school based on their likability (to Me) ⊙▂⊙

light study 💡 - the earliest one out of all of these bcuz i technically painted it in middle school but then went back in HS to add the seagulls and boat so i could fit it into the theme of my AP art portfolio LMAOOO but still one of my favorites, which is sorta sad cuz it’s so old… 9/10

filial love - honestly didn’t care for this one very much because it was meant to just be more fodder for my AP portfolio but turns out my mom likes it a lot!! she says it reminds her of “the lion of judah ✝️” (whoever that is) so i was happy to give it to her! she displays it in her room so her fondness really carries this one’s rating: 10/10

play nice with your brother!! 🐻‍❄️ - i like this one a lot! because it’s one of the only paintings my hardass art teacher let me use neon colors on (or at least as neon as u can get with oil paint). usually he just paints over my colors to make them grayer. that guy… otherwise this one is just not very interesting. 8/10

koi pond 🎏 - PRIME EXAMPLE OF WHAT I MEAN when he paints over my stuff with gray!!! i was so excited to paint this one and added all sorts of flair that i like—pink dots as leaf highlights, super detailed colorful water—AND THEN HE JUST WENT AND SMEARED ALL MY DETAILS 💀💀💀 so i Hate this one and avoid looking at it as much as possible. 0/10 below it is a version from a diff angle that i did in an hour with shitty free acrylic verrryyy recently in college, and u can just see how i went ham on the colors right?! eugh. what could’ve been… 🪦

with heavy heart ❤️ - a pretty big old lady (18x24”). i feel obligated to like her because she won me the congressional competition for my district so i got to go to the capitol to see her framed there and briefly meet my stale white bread representative but HONESTLY all i can think about is how hideous my makeup was at the time and i get upset. 🙁 i do think this granny is very pretty though!! 7/10

my ocean blue 🪼 - this one im not sure if i like it or only tolerate it. i just wanted to paint a super colorful coral reef!! "🐠🪸🫧" you know?? but my mom and teacher said it Needed a message for ~intrigue~ so they brainstormed together (without me) and made me add this random ass child with a VR headset smack dab in the middle… something about cyberreality? IDK i just want her ass gone so badly. i also never got around to finishing the stripes on that fish in the front but nobody calls me out on it so it's whatever 🤷‍♂️ LOL 4/10

radial self portrait 🎯 - HUGE DEVIATION IN STYLE not only bcuz this one’s gouache instead of oil but also because i got to paint without an old man (art teacher) hovering over my shoulder!!! 😸 it was my first time painting something super stylized and i realized that painting can actually be Not Agonizing!!! 😸😸 this was at my summer camp where we had to come up with a radial pattern using a compass (i hate that little pointy shit) and then combine it with our self portrait. it’s me having a headache! i painted this in a single stressful sleepless night because i have HORRIFIC time management when i’m left alone so it’s pretty sloppy. also at the time i had those blonde e-girl bangs hahaha… i still like this one a lot!! i was just SO happy i didn't have to go photorealistic AND i could use my favorite colors (mainly hot pink)!!! 10/10 😸

overall my high school painting in experience was spent beefing with my art teacher and inhaling paint fumes. sort of miserable honestly -_-

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT with artist reader and like R makes them art all the time weather it's using them as an art reference and having a bunch of doodles of them, or painting full portraits of them, or like painting pictures of their pets🪩🩷🥹🛸

ooooo I'm an artsy weirdo so here you go!!! thanks for the request ; also this is the day I figure out the ufo emoji existed

MCYT ; artsy reader

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

bro u got a whole sketchbook dedicated to doodles of him and his character versions in mc smps (dsmp, osmp, etc)

you love painting him in watercolors 🫶🫶

you made him a watercolor portrait thing with the HTBAB logo behind him, freddie & jack

he treasures the art you give him

literally frames it and hangs it on the wall or puts it on the shelves in his office

sometimes he'll take a picture of them and posts them w ur consent to show off your talent

"look what y/n made me 🫶" or "now wtf why can't I have this kind of talent?"

will chill out with you while you're drawing/painting etc

you go over to his parents house ONCE and make a family portrait + the dogs for them

that painting hangs above their fireplace, his parents look at it everyday

he does little drawing competitions with you on stream just to bond with you a bit and make you laugh

like the "we go back to school" video, the paint gets everywhere because of him LMAO

will straight up show off your sketchbooks on stream too

RANBOO

absolutely loves showing off your art and praising you for it

you've made them so much genloss fanart

you even made them a few channel banners, especially after the rebrand (and they will never change them ever again omg)

gives you a bunch of ideas for drawing

you love drawing the lanky d!ranboo and gl!ran especially w the mask and wide arrangement of wires and stuff

you made a textured painting of genloss!ranboo and it sits on one of the shelves in his office

he's obsessed with touching it and feeling the paint

its like feeling the hours of work you put into it, something just for them

also loves posing for you

they will get so extravagant and unique with it LMAO

FREDDIE BADLINU

anything you make for him is a treasure

you made a little portrait of him and his closest friends, and it hangs on his bedroom wall where he can see it constantly

shows off your art and totally praises you for it

does silly poses for you to reference

you've made him a couple screensavers and stream starting soon pages

he absolutely loves your color pallettes good god

Freddie in acrylic paint>>>>>

"guys look at what my amazing partner made me today 🫶❤️"

sends you links to Instagram shorts or whatever to little crafts/ideas if you're having artist block

he finds a notebook full of sketches and random blurbs of/about him when you get bored and shit and have nothing better to do

absolutely head over heels because the fact you spend so much time making art of/for him, omg

if you bleach-paint shirts yk damn well he's wearing whatever you made him 24/7

NIKI NIHACHU

absolutely loves your character designs for her characters, they're all so unique and different and she loves it

your designs of osmp!niki are her favorite, considering she's literally a mermaid

the art you make with all her tattoos and piercings>>> omg

either totally adorable or totally badass

"more biker! niki bc she needs to learn how to bike rn... @/nikinihachu"

"amazing as always y/n/n 🫶 maybe I will..."

loves just quietly watching you do your thing

her and watercolor paints will never not be perfect

you make a whole mural for her because you got bored...

it's an abstract kind of goth-ish mermaid kinda thing on one of her office walls, and 'nihachu' spread across it in white, kinda cursive lettering, it's amazing

always making silly little doodles of her too

ALEX QUACKITY

cant even comprehend how talented you are

he always sees you drawing him and painting him and he's like "bro go touch grass u spend too much time thinking about me"

you also made a textured painting for Tiger

it's his prized possession, he loves it to much

almost broke down and cried when you gave it to him

loves looking at all the little doodles, drawings and character designs

his favorites are the ones of him with dynamic arm poses, even if you think they're bad

he thinks it adds a lot more personality and makes him look better LMAO

he loves and appreciates that you spend so much time on something about/for him, and so often as well

he looks so good in gouche paints that's all I'm saying

and in a kinda graffiti style as well omg

FOOLISH GAMERS

absolutely adores all the art you make of him

he'll even pose so you can get references and shit LMAO

him and watercolor paints... lord

AND COLORED PENCILS

any painting you've made for him is hung up on the wall

loves seeing your character designs for his dsmp/qsmp etc characters

he also shows them off online and points out all the cool things you've added and shit

even if it's just simple doodles of him, you'll add a splash of color w a marker or highlighter and he thinks it looks so awesome

you have post it notes all over your wall thatre just doodles of him and shit

you painted his shark logo on a giant canvas for him for a YouTube video

like 59 hours later you completed it and gave it to him as a birthday gift

he doesn't shut up about it after that

literally brags about it like he's a 15yo who just got a girlfriend for the first time before all his other friends

[djarincore]

Drawings

summary: You buy Grogu art supplies.

word count: 678

tags: pure fluff, gn!reader, crayons exist in the sw universe bc i said so

a/n: part of my 500 words a day series. the letter is D for drawings!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The brand-new Nevarro marketplace was bustling with vibrant life. You swept through the crowd with Grogu in your arms, looking for things that would brighten up your new home. On your way to the florist, a smaller stall filled with art supplies caught your eye. 

After being on the run for so long, it would be nice for Grogu to get to be a child for once and do normal childlike activities. You and Din already enrolled him in the local school and the supplies would be useful as well. You looked over the many different mediums laid out on the table. 

“Do you want to try watercolors or crayons, Grogu? Or maybe acrylics?” You tapped your chin. His babble did not offer much help for your indecision, but you came to a decision soon enough. 

—

“I’m home!” You announced, balancing a bouquet of red and yellow flowers in one arm along with a bag filled to the brim with half the art supply stall and Grogu in the other. You made your way to the kitchen and set him down on his high chair. 

Din appeared from the bedroom, helmet-free, and rushed to take the overflowing flowers from you. “I could have helped you carry all this.”

“We could handle it.” You turned to Grogu, setting down the bag of art supplies in front of him. “Right, sweetheart?”

“What are these?” Din peeked inside the bag and pulled out a pan of watercolors. He inspected the box as if he’d never seen them before. You supposed being brought up under the Creed and being a bounty hunter most of his life didn’t allow time for leisurely activities like coloring. Maybe arts and crafts would be good for both boys. 

“For Grogu, figured it’d be a nice little hobby for him.” You took out the stack of papers you bought and the rest of the supplies, laying it all out on the table for Grogu to choose from. He grabbed for a silver marker, fumbling with it a bit, teething on the cap. You helped him uncap it and drew a simple circle. “See? You can draw with it.” 

When you placed the marker back in his hand, he recreated your circle, a bit lopsided and wobbly. You clapped your hands and cheered, “Perfect! Good job, bug.” 

He let out a cheerful giggle and continued dragging the marker across the page in random directions. 

Din chuckled. “He’ll be an artist in no time.”

The two of you got to work preparing dinner, leaving Grogu to continue drawing at the table. You would occasionally glance back at his artwork, seeing the new colors he was using and attempting to decipher what he was drawing. Din guessed it was a mountain and you chose a tree.

By the time you were setting the table, he’d gone through several sheets of paper, filled with various scribbles and colors. 

You plucked the marker from his hand and shook your head when he whined. “You’ll get to draw after dinner.”

Neither of you would have imagined the monster you created by giving him art supplies. He drew day and night, changing mediums and improving by the day. You and Din would sit and draw with him whenever you were free, praising each abstract doodle and painting. But, his paper supply was running thin and you were planning to take a trip to the market again. 

“Hey!” 

You poked your head into the living room to find Din crouched by the front door, running his finger across a blob of green marker colored onto the wall. As you approached, you realized it was not just a blob, but a head with two long ears sticking out. On either side of the head was another drawing that looked suspiciously like Din’s helmet and your face. 

“A family portrait?” You mused, a proud smile forming on your lips as you crouched beside the two. You picked up a red marker and uncapped it to draw a large heart around the three heads. 

“Hm,” Din hummed, “Perfect.”

[vodoriga-art]

I'm going to be asking a lot of artists I follow this question, but how did you develop your style? It SEEMS like most people find their style and stick with it forever, just making improvements and iterations. I tend to work in a lot of different styles because I enjoy doing that, though I know there are things I gravitate towards as well. But I wonder what your journey was and how you got feedback and improved while staying true to what you enjoyed?

Interesting question!

I never really think about style when making a piece, I don’t worry about making it match the rest of my portfolio, it’s just that the things that make up my style are things that come most naturally to me when I don’t think about it.

✦ TL;DR: My style is a combination of: the different mediums I use (including tablet and PS brushes), the fact I’m scatterbrained and unlikely to finish if I take too long, the aesthetics I like seeing, what feels good physically (movements that feel good to make with my arm and hand), and rhythms that feel innate and come naturally. I really believe that the things that make up your, or anyone else's style, are already within them, they just need to be brought out into view through making art.

Longer thorough answer with images below 👇

✦ I’d say that I “developed” my style by doing what feels comfortable - the shapes of my lines are I think influenced by the fact I’m “lazy” and don’t like erasing, which isn’t a problem in digital, but I used to do a lot of traditional art in ink, and not to mention etchings where I definitely can’t erase without wasting a bunch of time.

✦ My line art looks the way it does because it’s basically a cleaned up sketch, because I don’t have the patience to do both, or line art that was done without a prior sketch, just trying to make lines as good as I can on the first go knowing that any parts that end up feeling off will be painted over later. The brushes I've been using for years also play a role here.

✦ The way I paint digitally, as in colors are not often blended, and often the transitions between colors are made up of blobs of color or even something resembling hatching, stems from:

1. When I started art college, I realized I was waaaay slower than everybody else when it comes to painting, and in order to finish a full body real size portrait in time there was no way I could do it with blended shadows and realism (in high school I worked mostly in pencil, going for as much realism as possible because that's what was expected). So I started constructing planes from these blobs, only going into more detail if time allowed. The goal was to make something that can pass as finished in as little time as possible and then refine it later if possible. Sadly I don’t have much college work to scan as an example (some fruits are below). Quickly this became not just a way to finish a painting in time, but a part of what made my painting mine. I started doing it in charcoal, and in digital even when there was no time limit.

2. Digitally I used to paint with a brush with didn't always match the color on the palette, and the very slight color difference in each stroke or blob was interesting and something I started doing intentionally, and in traditional acrylic painting as well.

3. Long story short, the way I work in one medium influences the way I work in others. So it feels that choice of mediums (digital, acrylic, tempera, charcoal) leads to a style that can be reproduced in all these different mediums.

4. If I had any photos of my (unbaked, unglazed) clay works from sculpting class you could even recognize my style there as well. So we can assume that clay sculpting also influenced my 2D art as well.

Some examples of the non blended colors in different mediums (digital, acrylic, acr., tempera, digital):

✦ Obviously the things I find visually attractive and interesting - shiny or glossy surfaces, interesting pointy shapes, subtle differences in tone, dramatic lighting - will be things I reproduce and emphasize in my art consciously or subconsciously, and those will make a style across different mediums.

✦ A mostly consistent color palette is a part of style as well. I gravitate towards the colors I find pretty - grays, browns, reds, gold, pink, and shades of off-white.

✦ As for feedback, I didn't get a whole lot of it from my art profs (which is one of the reasons I dropped out), but one thing is they encouraged my choice of color palette and gloomy mood, and my messy process. My friends say the most recognizable thing about my art and what they call my signature is the little sparkle shapes I love to use. Not that other artists don’t use sparkles but when I put mine on at the end it feels like one really conscious choice that I make that makes the finished piece feel really mine ✨

✦ Another thing people noted about my art are the solid black areas I sometimes use as pure black cel shading, sometimes as kinda random blobs - I feel like line art needs to have a certain “weight” to look good, but as my lines are mostly the same weight, and often very light and sketchy, I add the black areas to compensate for that lack of weight across the piece. In my head this genuinely feels like weight, and if a piece feels too light in my head/hands, I add weight via flat black areas. I don’t know if that makes sense but it does to me and leads to a style. In pieces without lines it adds weight that's missing because of a lack of contrast or details elsewhere.

✦ And last but not least: The artists I admire and who are an inspiration have and continue to influence my style on a conscious or subconscious level. Either in regards to coloring, composition, shapes, or whatever. Leyendecker and Schaeffer are two pretty obvious ones I think. Mike Mignola and Chris Bourassa (the artist of Darkest Dunegon) also include flat black shadows and planes in their art.

All these things I feel like aren't going anywhere even as I improve, nor do they impede improvement or would hold me back if I decided to completely switch mediums or themes. They are so at the core of my craft(s) I don't think I could change or ditch them without great effort and even then it would be hard to stick to something else.

Basically I guess do what feels good and don't overthink, chances are even when you think you switch between wildly different styles there's something tying them together. At the same time, if there's an element that you really like, nothing wrong with consciously incorporating into your style(s), like I do with sparkles.

[brbarou]

Can you show us some of your old art either from a while ago or like from when you were learning

OF COURSE!!! i would love to!! i kept almost every single drawing i've ever made because i love looking back on them hdhahs

these are from 2013/2014. rare non-mlp drawings from this time literally all i was drawing were ponies but hey. i was 9/10 years old

2015, beginning of my anime era. i was 11. i mostly just used anime screenshots for direct reference but sometimes (image two) i'd draw without reference and the result would be....peculiar...

2016, 12 years old. i still copied anime screenshots but i also had this brief phase of making original art featuring these floating, world-ish women. it was pretty cool i think. first and last time i ever made non-fanart 💥

2017 was my k-pop phase so i only drew portraits of idols. i also started using a combination of watercolors and colored pencils here, which i never did before. i have about eight billion of these

and here are some of my first attempts at digital art from 2018. i was 14. i had my thumb, medibang paint on my phone and a dream.

and the rest (2019 and onward) is archived on this account. i had many more are phases (artblock for a whole year sometime in 2019, there was a time when i painted acrylics on canvas, etc) but this is the most of it

[indigobackfire]

In which Chiara reflects on a painting (and I do a bit of Menix exposition xD)

Chiara chokes in her next breath when she finally finds herself able to breathe. It's her poison right there - In oils or acrylics? Doesn't matter. Could be a proper window for all she knew -, glorious and pearly, breaking her heart in sharp-edged little pieces.

Badeea had all good intentions when she called her and other Hufflepuffs she found idly wandering the halls together to give their fair opinion and feelings on her art. She was to select a few to submit to an independent gallery of young talents in hopes of securing patrons and commissioners for the years beyond Hogwarts.

And, of course, Chiara was happy to help, she had seen a fair share of Badeea's art over the years and had always appreciated her talents, an ability not seen like it in anyone else their age, an artistic passion unmatched.

And of course, Witch in Velvet is mysterious, a painting Aspen had posed for in blood-red velvet drapes and done a good job of it with her sharp stare and ice-blue eyes. And certainly Birth of a Phoenix was to be picked, as the piece took her several weeks of watching Fawkes die and be reborn, flames moving as if real fire burned the canvas. Not to mention the mastery in detail from Dumbledore's still portrait whose eyes followed you in youthful melancholy regardless of where you stood before it.

So the piece before which Chiara stands shouldn't be anything special, not even Badeea wanted to place it there, but she felt important to include them all. A simple navy blue sky glittering with stars, accurate constellations of almost microscopic attention to detail, and on the forefront, a full sumptuous moon emanating shine so real it reflects on one's face.

And right now it's Chiara's tears reflecting said light, unable to remain unshaken, unable to look away.

She only notices Phoenix's presence when he already has his arm assuringly around her shoulders.

"Hey, it's okay."

She wipes her cheeks clean of tears even when more fall on their wake. "To think I'll never be to cherish a beautiful full moon."

"It's always so far in real life. This... this is pretty close to the real thing. Even prettier I'd say."

Perhaps romantic, she would've liked to add, looking at his ever-so-perfect profile and his thin golden curls in harmonious framing. Phoenix had always been enthralling and kind, but his heart never belonged to her, even the one time they kissed.

In fact, she's pretty certain the holder of said heart's eyes are boring holes on her back even without the need for Chiara to look. Ismelda had been walking with them when Badeea caught them, hand in hand with Phoenix. It was still a difficult sight to get used to but he wanted to acclimate both her and his friends to her presence and personality.

But even with the encouragements and evolution in friendliness, it'd be right out insane to get too friendly with him.

So she taps him on the shoulder and casually pulls herself away. "I'm quite alright now, Pheny. Thanks."

He nods, then lowers his voice as he continues. "You know you don't have to go through it alone. I know I'll never be able to solve your problems, but it might help to talk about your feelings."

"Indigo does plenty of that with me."

He smiles and nods knowingly. "Yes. But with somebody who experiences something... a little similar. Though not as frequent as yours, my transformations are never due to anything pleasant."

"Certainly not."

She dares a glance around the gallery and have her suspicions disappointingly confirmed with the side stare of dark green eyes on a starkly pale face.

She turns back to him quickly. "May I ask you something? Does she know?"

"Of my condition? Yes, of course. I wouldn't tag anyone along in ignorance of one of the core aspects of my existence. All my life it's been Indigo helping me through my moods, but I understand we'll eventually part and I have hopes of having her assistance in the future instead. I know it's a lot to ask, to expect, but I wouldn't ask if I didn't think she loved me and I know she does."

Chiara almost feels her face heat up at the exposure of his vulnerability, at the lightness with which he speaks of it. To hope someone would share the burden of being other, being dangerous and unstable. To hope for someone sturdy enough to hold her down.

"Must be nice, trusting it to someone like that. Being seen and understood. Being wanted so badly and lovingly, they're willing to go through the bad days."

He takes her hand and looks in her teary eyes. "Hey, look at me, you'll find that person. Chiara, you're a lovely girl with an unbelievably kind heart. Someone will make you braver and stronger through love."

She laughs, albeit a bit nervously. "Your words are touching and heartwarming, but please..." And tugs lightly at her hand. "People are looking."

He drops it immediately. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Oh, it's not you." She can't help glancing at Ismelda who looks away immediately. She thinks her glance to be quick, but Phoenix easily follows her path of sight.

He laughs musically and loudly, and her face burns with anticipation of his next move.

"Please!" He strides to Ismelda and pulls her into the conversation clumsily, even reluctantly she allows herself to be pulled. He wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Don't be fooled, this one wouldn't hurt a fly."

Ismelda doesn't hide her scowl nor her full face blushing. "Phoenix! You done besmirching my reputation? It's bad enough I date you of all people."

"What about dating me?"

She brushes the hair not covering her eye behind her ear. "You're the human equivalent of a buttery scone."

He grins charmingly. "At least I'm tasty, wouldn't you say?"

Chiara chuckles. "Can't argue with that."

"But not useful when one is trying to set a precedent of intimidation and respect."

"I think dating me makes you even more intimidating."

Almost reflexively Chiara finds herself nodding. "And we were just talking now."

"She knows."

"Do I?"

"Yes, you were looking."

"You looked cozy."

"Sorry, I'll make sure to look stiff and uncomfortable next time we talk."

She rolls her eyes but before she could utter a retort, Badeea approaches them to Chiara's relief.

"You guys seem to have taken a liking for this one. A candidate for the exposition?"

"I'd say so," Chiara responds.

"It's on the simpler side, for you that is," Phoenix says waving his hand, "but it's so sublime and realistic. Speaks of your sensibilities, not to mention your astronomical knowledge. This would make professor Sinistra cry with joy."

She holds her face as a smile spreads on her lips. "Ah, thanks, Phoenix. I require your poetic insight in all of the pieces, can you do it?"

"Of course."

And now, to Chiara's mortification, Badeea loops her arm around his elbow and takes him with her to look at the rest of her work.

She slowly looks in Ismelda's direction not looking her in the eyes. "Hey, I was trying to-"

Ismelda's looking at the painting. "I know."

"Oh, good."

"No, I know about your... condition."

Her eyes widen. "How do you..."

"It wasn't Phoenix, don't worry. Let's just say I know more than people think I do."

"I trust you haven't told anyone else."

"Not even he knows that I know. But I knew that he did." She turns to Chiara. "I'm not telling anyone, it'd be hypocritical of me, Phoenix being who he is. I think it's cool actually. Your type is very vicious, which is almost comical looking at you."

"Why?"

"You're frail and girly."

Chiara scoffs. "And you're certainly strong and vicious."

"I don't have to be. That's what wands are for." She balances her wand between her fingers swift and smoothly. "I respect your friendship with him and your special understanding, but I hope you don't try anything."

"And I hope you stop threatening me or I'll tell him myself."

Ismelda narrows her eyes. "Not a threat, just a warning."

"Same goes for you. You're not the only person that knows more than they should." She turns away from the painting, but before she leaves she looks at Ismeld one last time. "For the sake of my friendship with Phoenix, I hope we can be friends one day."

[stranded-ziggy]

Ziggy's Beginner Oil Painting Tips (Part 1)

Despite being far from a master oil painter, I'd like to do what I can to try and make this amazing medium easier to access for all artists in the wake of AI, NFTs and the current culture of art being seen as "content" rather than something timeless.

I'm far from a spiritual person in any sense, but there is something completely unique about holding an oil painting you created in your own hands. I've yet to be lucky enough to see any of the old master's paintings in person so all I've seen are my own but despite my inexperience there's a depth to my oil paintings that my digital art can't begin to compare with.

Disclaimer: I take a very relaxed approach to oil painting and have never sold a painting before nor do I have any intention to start selling them any time soon so if you want to create museum quality pieces this is not the guide for you.

This is a guide to help people start experimenting with oil paints and putting paint to paper/canvas.

Contents:

Paints

Gesso

Mediums

Paints

I'm primarily a portrait painter so the palletes I recommend will mostly be useful for painting people.

My favourite pallete:

Titanium white

Yellow ochre

Dusty pink (optional, I just got it for quickly mixing skin tones but burnt sienna and white will do the same; provide a base which you can then cool down/darken/hue shift as you want

Vermillion hue

Burnt sienna

Burnt umber

ultramarine blue

Basically it's the Zorn pallete with a bit of customization, but that means if you want some tips for painting with this pallete you can just search "painting with the zorn pallete" and find a lot of helpful resources.

(Note: You may note there is no lamp black or Ivory black, that is because I prefer to mix burnt umber and ultramarine blue. This dries faster in my experience and also lets me cool it down or warm it up as I want.)

Budget pallete:

Titanium white

Yellow ochre

Vermillion hue

Alizarin crimson

Viridian hue

(Note: in this pallete alizarin crimson and viridian hue can be used to mix a grey/black)

Gesso

Despite my laziness in nearly all aspects of life I do like to gesso my painting surfaces even when they are pre-primed (if you are using a surface that hasn't been primed already such as paper priming is very important).

Usually I buy packs of cheap canvases for around $6 AUD so I feel as though the least I can do is add a few extra layers of gesso to them to help stop the paint from sinking right in and beginning to look dull and matte.

Honestly I don't have a brand to recommend, I have used the liquitex gesso and it's good but despite paying a lot for it I only had enough for a few canvases so for the most part I use the type you can get at craft stores for less than $10, so I say go for whatever is within your budget.

Mediums

I avoid solvents completely in my painting, sacrificing my health any more than I already do by leading the Sedentary Artist Life (tm) isn't worth it in my opinion.

I use Liquin primarily but I also enjoyed using Gamlin's solvent free fluid until I stopped being able to open the cap...

Linseed oil is probably the best medium but you will wait weeks for your painting to dry between layers verses the day, maybe 2 days you will wait using Liquin.

Brushes

There's really no reason to buy super expensive brushes, at least not for me, I paint in a way that's very loose so they don't have the longest life span. I still use brushes that have lost their shape for loose hairs and interesting textures though.

You'll note there's usually "oil painting" brushes in art supply stores, these are good for starting a painting and scrubbing paint onto the canvas when you are trying to work lean over fat (as in layers with more oil on top as they dry slower, this helps the painting to not end up looking cracked).

However, water colour paint brushes serve me well for details as well as acrylic painting brushes.

It's all up to experimentation on you, the artist's part.

As for washing your brushes, as long as you don't leave them lying around with paint on them for so long that it drys completely using a bar of soap will do, or if you can afford it buying some brush cleaner/ restorer is great, solvents like turpentine are not necessary at all.

[mxnkeydo]

so scarlet (it was maroon) ✧ sokeefe

✧ ship: Sophie x Keefe

✧ what to expect: it all went down went a book went soaring across the classroom but sophie never expects it to end the way it does. acrylic smeared on cheeks, pigment-stained clothes, and a whole keefe sencen later, maybe she never despised him as much as she thought she did.

✧ genre: romance, fluff, humor, sarcasm - enemies to lovers trope, human au, and a love triangle to torment you guys 😈

✧ word count: 1.58k

✧ warnings: mild use of swearing

✧ link to masterlist

✧ link to chapter six

✧ link to chapter eight

✧ A/N: I LOVE THIS CHAPTER SM AHHHH i hope you love it as much as i do!!!! (i know this chapter is all fluff, but be prepared for some angsty chapters ahead...MUAHAHAHAHA)

✧ taglist: @swans-chirping-in-the-distance @somerandomhuman080 @foxglove-and-foxfire-lover @carolineforbae

reblogs would be most appreciated! :)))

***

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Why the hell is your shirt so wet?”

Keefe stopped in his tracks, mentally bracing himself for an argument or a lecture. Slowly, he turned to face his father.

“It’s nothing,” he settled for, trying to escape the situation, but Cassius took one big stride closer to grip his son’s varsity jacket by the collar. Keefe whipped his head to the side; the cigarette smell coming from his mouth was too much to bear.

“Oh, but it’s something,” his father insisted. “What did you do this time, you useless delinquent?”

“I got paint on my shirt, that’s all!”

“Well. Wouldn’t expect anything better from you.” Cassius snorted. “No dinner for you tonight. Go up to your room and stay there, you hear me boy?”

Keefe’s rebellious streak suddenly emerged and he shot back, “I’m not ability challenged, you know. I can hear just fine.”

Cassius shoved him back so hard, Keefe hit the wall with an “oof”. His father only laughed cruelly and strolled the other way like he hadn’t just abused his only son–whose elbow was probably damaged from the impact. Keefe gripped his injured arm and scurried up the stairs, half in fear and half because he needed to get away from everyone. There was someone who could make him feel better, but he was too tired to call her. Plus, he was ninety-nine percent sure she wouldn’t want to be around a depressed kid who didn’t have his feelings set straight. In this state, he would most likely embarrass himself in the worst way possible. It was better for everyone if he was left alone.

Just before Keefe went to sleep, he removed the false bottom from his drawer and rummaged through. Once his fingers brushed against a spiral notebook, he pulled it out and settled in his bed, taking off his shirt to wrap it around his arm like a sling. And with a deep breath, he pressed his pencil to the paper.

Keefe let his hands completely take over, drawing curved lines and shading different sections. He drew two perfect eyes, tiny flecks surrounding the iris. He sketched her full lips, her blinding beam, the way her left eye had more lashes than the other since she always pulled on them.

When he was finished, he was left with a portrait of Sophie Elizabeth Foster staring up at him with a wide, innocent look. Keefe gripped his notebook, not able to take his eyes off her. How a girl like her had come into his life so suddenly, he didn’t know. But the universe seemed to taunt him with the fact that she would never be his.

The funny part? Keefe already belonged to her.

✧✧✧

Sophie and Keefe had just stepped into her house when her phone rang with a notification. “What now?” Sophie sighed as she pulled it out. Keefe leaned forward to see but the glare of the lights made it extremely difficult. He watched Sophie instead, as her eyes widened and her brows rose far above her hairline. 

“What happened?” Keefe dared to ask, only to be hit by the Foster frenzy Sophie was going through.

“Oh, shit! I am so sorry, Keefe, I can’t do our session today. Fitz and I have a date at four that I can’t cancel. I don’t even have time to get ready!”

Keefe wilted visibly at his ex best friend’s name. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at his watch: three thirty-six. 

“It’s fine.” At his tutee’s agitated expression, he said, “It’s fine, Foster. Really. I don’t mind.” But in his head, he thought fiercely, oh, but I do mind. I mind very much.

That very thought evaporated when Sophie shot him a grateful smile, leaving his brain blank and useless for anything other than gawking at her. “Thank you so much,” she said in one breath. “I’ll drop you off on the way, alright?” Leaving no room for an argument, she dropped her bag at the bottom of the staircase and dashed up to her room.

Silence. The ginormous gold clock hanging on the living room wall ticked mercilessly. Keefe pinned his eyes to the minute hand and watched it make its way around the circular surface.

3:37

3:38

3:39

Once that got boring, Keefe began to explore the house. It was extremely quiet, of course; Grady was probably at work, and maybe Edaline was out running errands. But even with no one present, he could still imagine the joyful memories made here: baking in the kitchen, games in the main room, happy meals in the dining area. Upon the sight of that glass table, Keefe was brought back to the time when Sophie invited him to dinner. It was ridiculously awkward, of course, but that didn’t mean he hated it entirely. In fact, it was probably his first time in ages having home-cooked food with other people; he and his father usually got takeout and ate in their separate chambers.

At this point, Keefe was near the stairs, admiring himself in the mirror hanging off one of the walls, flexing his injured elbow. And at this precise moment, Sophie chose to emerge from her bedroom. 

The soft taps of her converse jolted him out of his narcissistic trance, causing him to look up. Once he set his eyes on her, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

Unlike Biana, Sophie wasn’t much for sparkles and extravaganza, yet somehow she managed to make everything look good. Keefe ran his eyes over the simple white crop top, her denim shorts, and the pink and blue flannel she’d thrown on over it as she descended like a regal queen. Her hair was down as usual, like a graceful waterfall, but she’d braided it in a half-up half-down hairdo. She was gorgeous, she was stunning, she was beautiful, and Keefe couldn’t help but stare.

Sophie looked at him through her lashes. “Keefe? Keefe! C’mon, let’s g–”

It all played out in slow motion. On the second to last step of the stairs, Sophie yelped, tripping over her own feet, arms pinwheeling in an attempt to regain balance. As she fell backward, Keefe grabbed her hand and planted his on her back, promptly preventing her from splitting her head open on the steps. 

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, Keefe thought in a blur of thrill and shock. Because in this position, with Sophie in his arms, her lips were closer than they ever had been before. In the next few seconds, their choppy breaths synchronized with one another like a harmony to a melody. For some reason, Keefe seemed to feel everything but nothing at once. It was a curious emotion, one he’d never felt prior to Sophie’s appearance in his life, but it resurfaced every time he was within a six-feet radius of her. He was one-hundred percent sure Sophie could hear the wild, hysteric beat of his heart.

She was a mess of gorgeous chaos, he could see it clearer than anything in her eyes. He looked at her fondly, savoring the moment before it ended; Keefe knew it was only for a few seconds, but to him it lasted an eternity

She has a boyfriend, an unelpful voice sang in his head. Clearing his throat, Keefe pulled her to a standing position.

“That was quite the fall, Foster,” he said to break the tense silence. A bright red color crept onto Sophie’s cheeks. “You really know how to make a dramatic entrance, don’t you?”

“I didn’t fall,” she muttered defiantly as they walked to the door, still flustered. “I just— attacked the floor.”

Keefe lifted one eyebrow. “Backwards?”

“I’m freaking talented, okay?” 

“Whatever you say, Foster,” Keefe said, grinning like a maniac. A minute passed before Sophie glanced over again and said,

“Quit smirking at me!” 

“I’m not smirking.”

“Well stop laughing at me, I’m serious!”

“I’m not laughing!” Sophie crossed her arms, frowning. Keefe could sense the irritation building up inside of her and couldn’t resist feeling somewhat proud that he was able to get a rise out of her so quickly.

“Then quit whatever it is you’re doing.”

“This is just me with a cheery disposition, a ray of sunshine in the mist of bleakness! Don’t put a cloud over my sunshine– OW!” 

Sophie was the one smirking now, her arm still outstretched from flinging her purse at his head (with a surprising amount of force that Keefe hadn’t anticipated). In her eyes was an evil glint, the one he’d seen when Ms. Clarette had forced Sophie to apologize for smacking him with that book of hers.

When she brushed her hair out of her face and strided towards her car, he swore he spotted a hint of a genuine smile on her face. Out of the blue, he wondered what ran through her head when someone said his name. Did her stomach flutter nervously like his did? Did she feel giddy too?

Of course she didn’t. She had Fitz to think about, didn’t she? She already had someone to fawn over. 

But he just couldn’t stay mad, seeing her cute pout while she struggled to open the car door before realizing she hadn’t unlocked it yet. Keefe snickered, stopping abruptly when Sophie shot him a glare that could kill.  “Just get in the fucking car, Sencen,” she said exasperatedly. Trying his best to forget his crush was going on a date with his ex best friend, Keefe gave her a mock salute.

“Aye aye, Captain.”

[silverstarfics]

@thunder-pride day 4 whoo!! I haven’t written a teenage Virgil in ages so hopefully this turned out okay. AO3 here.

Middle school was a hell the likes of which Virgil hoped he’d never have the misfortune of experiencing ever again. The other kids sniffed out difference like bloodhounds, but rather than celebrate it they used it as an excuse to torment him. He tried to keep his head down, but he also tried to be kind which had the side effect of drawing attention to him. So, it was understandable for him to dread high school. If middle school bullies had been bad enough, just how much worse would it be around fully-fledged teenagers?

Shockingly, it wasn’t that bad. People tended to forge their little groups and stuck to them, a little like the way prey animals banded together to find safety in numbers. Virgil was never going to be part of the popular crowd, but he found his people in the arts kids. They were all different in individual ways but they seemed to celebrate this diversity within their own circle.

So, after a little while, he began to drop his guard and let them in, and in doing so began to confront some of his own repressed feelings which had marked him as a target for so many years. It was a slow process, not aided by the climate in which he’d grown up. The world had entered a new era of peace and understanding after so many decades of conflict, but there were still pockets of adversity in some areas more than others and it made self-acceptance so much more terrifying. Even once he’d admitted those feelings to himself, he was still scared to search for a label.

His friends had no such fears. They were so proudly themselves that it left him stunned. They were like exotic birds with all their colourful displays, spreading messages of love and acceptance until the world had no choice but to hear them.

For the first few months of their friendship, he was a little in awe of them. He longed to have their confidence, to share that ability to be unapologetically true to his heart. The little ember of hope in his soul – the same one which still believed he’d eventually leave this place and be something more – knew that he’d eventually reach that level too; it would just take him a little bit longer.

Lunchtimes were usually spent in the art studios. Their teacher was a laid-back man who was difficult to age, always wore flamboyant suits and had an enamel pride pin on his lanyard. He welcomed them with open arms, assuring them that they were free to spend as much time in the studios as they wanted, adding with a little joking smile that they kept him feeling young. They pushed workbenches aside, spread out their various projects, unpacked their lunches and took up residence on the floor for the next forty minutes.

It was a relatively large space, yet it seemed as cosy as a tiny cottage. There was a skylight which projected sunny spotlights on summer days and provided a steady drumbeat of rain when the weather grew gloomy. Every surface was cluttered with colour and chaos. There were uniquely shaped antique lamps scattered about the place. One wall was covered in postcards from their teacher’s travels. It was a home away from home and Virgil loved it.

Mari burst through the door when he'd just started on his latest piece. His hands were smeared in charcoal which had added a strange taste to his sandwich, surrounded by quiet chatter and music from Felix’s latest playlist, occasionally interrupted by ads because none of them wanted to pay for Spotify Premium even though they could afford it.

“What time do you call this?” Annie teased, looking up from her portrait to reveal several streaks of acrylic paint across her nose.

Mari dropped her bag onto a table with a groan. “I know, I know, I’m late.” She peered over Virgil’s shoulder as she sank down to sit beside him. “Huh. Looking good, Vee.”

“Um, excuse you?” Felix tossed an eraser at Mari’s head. “We’re still waiting for an explanation. And it had better be great because you abandoned me with this lot for like a whole twenty minutes. Do you know how long that is, Mari? Nearly an entire half-hour.”

“Hey,” Virgil protested.

“Oh, not you, Virg.” Felix winked at him. “You’re a delight. No, I’m talking about our resident cryptid hunter over there.”

“Mothman is real,” a disembodied voice echoed from behind a door as Sam hunted for a new set of watercolours. “You’re just a hater.”

Felix twirled a finger around his temple.

Sam stuck their head around the door with a suspicious glare. “I know you’re making fun of me.”

“Me? Never.”

“He was,” Annie confirmed.

Felix tossed up his hands in mock offence. “Traitor. Virgil, you’re my new bestie.”

“What about me?” Mari shot him a wounded look and leant a little heavier against Virgil’s shoulder. She broke a piece off her chocolate and offered it to him. “Actually, no forget it. I’ve decided I like Virgil better than you. He lets me use him a backrest.”

“You didn’t actually give me a choice,” Virgil began to point out, then cut himself off with a fond sigh as Mari patted his head and slid another square of chocolate into his hand. He returned to his sketches as Mari finished her lunch. He was vaguely aware of their conversation, only really tuning back in when fingers slid into his hair and started braiding the longer strands. He twisted to glimpse Mari’s smile, brighter than the sun as she arched a brow and waited for protests which never came.

“Oh, cute pin.” Sam reached for Mari’s bag. “Where did you get it?”

“Etsy.” Mari moved onto a new braid. “Want me to send you a link?”

“Please.” Sam held up the pin for Virgil to see. “Look at this little guy. Pride frog! I love it.”

Virgil tried to place the colours and came up empty-handed. “Sorry, this is going to sound really dumb, but… what flag is that?”

“Pansexual.” Mari paused, glimpsing the flash of confusion which he tried desperately to hide before anyone could call him out on it. “It’s when you like people regardless of their gender, so you mostly fall in love with their personality.”

“Wait, there’s a word for that?” Virgil dropped his stub of charcoal and sat up so quickly that he nearly knocked his head against Mari’s. “I thought I was… I don’t know. But there’s an actual community?”

Mari looped an arm around his shoulders and planted a kiss on his temple. “Virg, honey, I am going to text you a link to a really great video which can explain all of this way better than I can.”

Felix rolled over to face him. “So, do you think this is something that might describe you?”

“Um.” Virgil ducked his head. A faint knot of relief was unravelling in his chest. “Maybe?”

It wasn’t until later that he finally got around to watching the video Mari had sent him. He curled up in a corner of the couch and plugged in his earphones. The house was relatively quiet for once with Gordon staying over at a friend’s place and Alan already asleep. He hugged a cushion to his chest and balanced his phone against his knees.

Oh.

It fit. It fit him perfectly and he wasn’t sure what to do with the warmth in his chest. He wasn’t alone. There was an entire community of people like him.

Movement flickered in his peripheral vision. He yanked an earbud out, heart pounding as though someone had walked in on him committing a crime.

“God, Johnny,” he muttered shakily. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Don’t call me Johnny,” came the predictable reply. Then, hesitantly, “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

John shifted uncomfortably, unable to make eye contact as he pointed out, “You look upset.”

“Do I?” Virgil wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and registered that his face was wet. “Oh, right. No, I’m okay. It’s happy tears, I promise. I just… I figured something out, that’s all.”

“Good for you.” John hung around for a moment longer, voice soft as he added, “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Virgil called after him. He stole a glance down at the new pan pride pin Mari had gifted him and curled his fingers around it with a smile. “I’m proud of me too.”

[torchstelechos]

i realize how nothingish this question is regards to like answerability but like how do you get.... ideas...? or. i dont really ever have any kind of bigger things i want to draw its always like small stuff.... or... idk.... i want to make things that are like.. more... i want to make stuff that like... means something makes you think something... most of my stuff is just tiny little things with nothing behind it just something to get it down but i like want to make things that are interesting to look at.... idk..... okay wait ill share a self portrait i did.

^ im really hapoy with this stuff theres color theres studf going on! an eclipse! right like its. its neat theres things theres associations being made theres questions theres something there this is the only thing ive made where i actually feel like ive expressed something that was in me and i just dont know how to do that again i want to make more things like that i want to get more out of my art than just putting stuff down thatll be forgotten the second its down i want what i make to be meaningful to me and idk how... uhhhh anyway thanks for reading thisif you do i just needed to get thoughts out or smth frustrated with this. doing this for six years and its just. ive managed like a handful of things id want to show people everything else is just things made because i just have to do this urghhh sorry about all this

Howdy! I had to take a bit to think of an answer for this question. I didn’t want to fall back on the statement everyone gets when they ask about art (practice), especially since you specified ideas rather than art appearance/style. So! Lets get into that! (gonna be kind of long oops)

First I want to say that I enjoy your self portrait, its very colourful and I LOVE colour. The choices in colour also complement each other very well, as yellow, orange, and blues go well together. Not only that, but the saturation of each colour help bounce off each other and bring it all together. Now, I assume the materials are a blue pen, and crayons? It might be markers, but the way the orange moves across the yellow makes me think of crayons. I adore it! I love crayons and haven’t been able to use them in a while, so it’s nice to see them being used. 

Now, your question, I feel needs some context from my side of things before I can properly answer it. I have been doing art for about 15 years now, and I have done multiple mediums including painting (water colour, oil, and acrylic), drawing (crayons, pens, markers, pencils, etc.), fiber arts (knitting, sewing, crocheting), baking/cooking (i think the presentation counts and how its a medium that takes combing lots of things to make a singular outcome), and a few I wont share right now. I’ve had official art classes that made me do things very specifically, one that taught me art history and how different genres of art were introduced, another on creativity and how to help flourish ideas, and some others on how to use different mediums and styles. I also watch speedpaints, animatics, and animation progress videos to learn some quick shortcuts in digital art since I was never taught officially on digital art. Including all of these, I also have done LOTS of practice in art. Having said this, lets get into some of my own thought processes. 

When I make art, the first things I tend to ask myself is “what do I want” and “what do I think would be interesting”? These aren't mutually exclusive, but they can be answered very differently depending on how I want to do something. For the Siffrin during the Mal du Pays fight piece, I actually started it by seeing a cat picture and thinking, “I want a discord reaction with Siffrin face down on the floor” which went into drawing Siffrin as the cat and then asking myself, “Wait, why is Siffrin face down?” which went into Oh! It’d be funny if it was Mal du Pays! So, doing that I decided to make it in the king's room which meant I had to draw a background. Eventually that transformed into “Okay but it doesnt look right, why?” the answer was that it didnt look like the game so I had to add some texture details and ta-da! Siffrin face down! 

But this also comes from years of practice in knowing what I want and knowing how to draw it, some of my art pieces were, “I think it would be cool if I drew a character looking down at me in front of a skyscraper” but um,, I didnt know how to draw that ;-; so I had to just let my hands kind of try and finish the piece even if I didnt like it. At that point, I realized I needed to practice the character and my style more until I COULD draw what I wanted. Which led into my drawing, a LOT of things I couldn’t and didnt like. 

As for symbolism in art, and how I got ideas for it, a lot of it comes down to knowing the character and how you want to translate your thoughts of the character into art. One of the ways I started doing this was adding flowers to the characters art, or learning what flower I considered “theirs” that way I could add hints to  it in the drawings. Some of it also came from animals, others came from art genres and their historical significance, and some come down to theories (such as colour theory in art). 

Finally, it really does come down to practice. As much as I hate to say it, a lot of the art pieces I do and share tend to lean towards “practice” or concept doodles so that I can better understand HOW I want to add it to a bigger piece. Most of my Siffrin and Loop drawings tend more to that as I need to better understand how their shapes and lines communicate to an art piece (Loop being a fucking star gets me so much) before i can add symbolism and make a bigger art piece. Even then, sometimes it doesnt work and the bigger art piece needs to be put to a back burner before i can communicate my thoughts on the characters as I wish to. 

(Here’s also a neat little trick I do, write out what you want to draw and then draw thumbnails so you can figure out the composition of the piece you want. It helps you know where something goes and how you want it to appear without keeping it in our brain for a long period of time. Some of the things I share are concept doodles but I’ve shared pictures of me doing this before! It can be annoying but trust me, it helps when you can’t figure out the draft at all.) 

Also, heres some of my REAL old art for reference when I say I’ve practiced a lot and didn’t always know how to do big art pieces ;;;;

Hope that helped answer some of my thought process on ideas and how that translates to art? I could go into more detail if you need me to discuss something further

[lacefuneral]

talking abt the drawings

ok so.

i've had chronic pain for as long as i can remember. in high school i literally walked around with a wrist brace on each hand 24/7

despite this, i really wanted to go into art. and i did. i managed to get into art school, studied for 5 years, and earned my degree.

my chronic pain was always there, but when i was on T, weirdly, it lessened. that made it easier to do studio work. with T, though, i had a lot of other medical issues, and decided to stop it in my final year.

regardless of pain, i've always had a "craft" issue. that's what professors referred to it as. it's like... you struggle to color in the lines. when you fold a paper it's crooked. when you trim a print it isn't a perfect rectangle. and anyone who has ever received a wrapped present from me will know. it's like, the messiest thing you've ever seen.

i've always had some kind of like. fine motor difficulty. and that never went way even with my training. in many cases, it resulted in lower grades. but i just kept going.

and i'm unsure if it's due to craft or something else, but i was never a strong illustrator. and that's not too uncommon for some graphic designers. illustration and graphic design are different tracks, even. a lot of us rely on shapes, typography, and patterns instead of very elaborate drawings.

the pandemic (and other circumstances) uprooted my life. instead of going right into a graphic design internship, i was jobless and stuck at home. i sank into a deep depression, and my pain worsened to the point where making art even for fun hurt my body too much.

i think the first time i bothered to try traditional art again was when i made a portrait of my ex boyfriend a couple of years ago, but then i stagnated again.

and right now, i'm in a period of my life where choosing to live each day is very, very hard. but i want to. and i want to try to make art. so i am challenging myself to draw as much as possible. i'm being mindful of my pain and stopping when i need to. and i'm trying to be kind to myself. even if the craft is bad (it will be) and if the end result is Bad Art. because making Bad Art is okay, and because i'm trying to regain muscle memory i lost years ago, and improve upon it.

this is a new medium, too. i have never worked with markers previously. my traditional 2D art was always pencils, pens, charcoal, or acrylic paint. the markers i have are very cheap, and marketed as highlighters for books, not as drawing materials. i'm taking advantage of the pastels, and challenging myself with the limited color palette.

i'm having fun so far. i was always scared of markers for some reason. maybe because "real" brush markers are expensive. maybe because markers have a reputation through bleeding through paper (which i've since learned is often a paper issue, not a marker one.) and i think the permanence, too. i can't erase a mark after i make it. but that's letting me sit with my mistakes.

[elysiumkerr]

Name: Elyse "Elysium" Kerr Occupation: (struggling) Fine Artist, part time clerk at Eden's Apple Age: 32 Sexuality: Bisexual Species: Human Hometown: Chicago, Illinois Relationship Status: Single Personality Traits: Egotistical, stubborn, temperamental, creative, disciplined, determined.

Biography (tw mental health, drug use, sexual reference, exploitational artwork):

Aspire/Aspirate

It comes to you as easily as breathing. To want, to strive. For better and higher than beneath a fridge magnet. For a while, it's sufficient. It represents the pinnacle of achievement in your parents' eyes. It's not their fault their comprehension isn't deep enough for the work you create. You're the darling of their lives, your dreams encouraged no matter how little money they might make in the long run. It doesn't matter. They have money to spare as you aspire, aspirate, asphyxiate on your ambitions.

Ephemeral/Extemporal

College is a unique challenge for you. To learn and be humble, and yet assert your own value in a sea of peers who think their dreams are the same as yours. Peers is a generous word -- you find friends, inspirations, enemies among them. But rarely do you consider someone a peer, an equal. And yet, you consider yourself below the muse that inspires you. Without it, without her, you are throwing paint into empty space and hoping the something that takes shape has any semblance of value, meaning to the world. Your aspirations, inspirations, are fleeting. You spend the better part of your school years chasing them by any means necessary. Altering your mind, your flesh, desperately tearing at the veil over your eyes to see the world the way you know it should be. Moments are ephemeral, your plans extemporal. To catch the rabbit you have to move fast, live faster.

Elysium/Asylum

In your 20s, you find breakout success for a series of portraits you created to reflect the thin line between personhood and undoing of the flesh. They are called many things -- provocative, perverted, and disturbing are among your favorites. Good. Your work isn't meant to make others comfortable. The fruits of your still life class are beyond rotted now, festering and food for the flies. Painting idealism isn't your style. You would rather expose the flesh beneath the canvas, the parts that people are too afraid to see. Your parents are proud as they are worried. They don't understand -- they never did. But all that matters is your name on the gallery window. The name beneath your name. Elysium, you sign the work. A word meaning 'a place of happiness'. It's Greek, you're pretty sure. Asphodel, for the average death, the ones who never strove for perfection. Tartarus, for the vicious. Your work is not cruel, not malicious, though undoubtedly morbid. Wouldn't the souls of the Elysian Fields want the beauty of their afterlife put to the canvas? If poets could do it on paper, why not a painter, with oil and acrylic and blood?

The Hanged Man/The Hanging Man

What if it was all a mistake? You've spent years convincing yourself of your cleverness. That your perspective is unique, worth sharing with the world. But after that first gallery show, nothing comes again. You disappear into the studio, head down, letting the ephemeral world pass by while you simply aspirate. Create. Take a drink, have a smoke, find a muse and grab them fast. Rabbit punch them if you must. (You mustn't, but you would do it if the work required it.)

Nothing.

No one wants your work. You, too, start not to want your work. The rent is too high and your parents won't pay the bills any longer. You haven't sold a painting in months, and you're fairly certain the last you sold is being masturbated to in someone's studio apartment, dingy and dust-stained. Elysium is now a prison you've constructed for yourself in the shape of your rib cage fluttering, the heart beating and pounding for something, anything, to assure you this hasn't all been a waste of time.

It certainly doesn't come in the months after you move to Port Leiry, Oregon. You've been to the Pacific Northwest before, and you know what it's like to live in a tourist trap. But you are lured out with the promise of renewed creativity, another way to sustain yourself. Who promised it? You did, hoping you could make it true somehow. But the McCormick gallery, the only real semblance of fine art you can find in this place, rejects you. The owner does it personally, too. You're not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

“I don’t sense any desire to prove yourself in these and you’re not sensing the beauty of the macabre— it feels as though you’re just doing this to shock. That’s not what my gallery is.”

You refuse to believe you're the one who misunderstands the art. He has photography of women anointed in bruises plastered to the walls of the gallery. Dark, delicate works of sketch art and oil and mixed media hung that evoke the stanch and scab of wounds picked over. Even still, demure things so far from your own style you wonder if you mistook the kind of man who ran this gallery.

So you go back to your flat, have a tantrum, a smoke, and a drink about it, and start anew. You crack the stretcher bars, unwind the canvas, and fold it into a corner. The beauty of the macabre. It has to be there somewhere -- you've perhaps got too much paint over your eyes to see it properly.

Until that night... like nature is beautiful, dark nature is darkly beautiful. You spot a creature of some kind wandering the streets of Port Leiry, the specifics of it you don't recall -- all you could witness was the emergence of something supernatural from the shadows. With a sharp glint of fangs, a life is taken in front of you and the beast disappears. You see the moonlight dancing drunk in the growing pool of blood on the pavement. And now, you understand. The purpose is not to shock, but to reveal slowly, layer by layer, another side of the world.

The gallery is the still goal, the aspiration, the obsession. You want payment, you want stability, and you want validation. But above it all, you want that place of goodness and comfort, even in death. You are building Elysium once more.

Wanted Plots / Connections

Taken Connection: The Muse Who Opened Her Eyes (Vampire/Werewolf) @lrivkin

You weren't careful. You didn't mean to. You let slip the masquerade. And now, Elysium dreams of you, their muse, the one who showed them the truth of Port Leiry. Will she recognize you when next you meet?

Buyers/Patrons for Their Art

Elysium does private commissions in addition to her personal/gallery works. She needs to make money somehow. But understand she doesn't do cheap works.

General: Friends, One Night Stands, People Who Appreciate Fine Art

Does what it says on the tin.

Taken Connection: Ex-Somebodies. They dated for a whirlwind of a year -- but they just weren't a match. Maybe it was something about the way they were both hiding behind fake names. Maybe it was something about the way Elyse wanted to scratch beneath the surface and make it bleed, while Rose wanted old wounds to heal over. Whatever happened, it didn't last. But Elyse knows the real truth of the world now, and that's something Annabelle couldn't hide from her forever. @rosexhalstead Taken Connection: The Master and Margarita. He's the devil. He's the Promethean fire and the eagle tearing out her liver. She wants nothing more than his validation -- does she admire him? worship him? hate him for impeding her artistic progress? Is he the sole reason she's making art these days? For better or worse, he's stoked a dark blaze inside of her and she's enthralled by watching herself burn. @huntercam