The keepers of our secrets...

Another little skull that kept pecking away at my own until I finally got round to drawing it. I love doing these strange little skeleton drawings every now and again. They aren't exactly what you'd call anatomically accurate but their tiny bones seem to exude personality more than flesh and feathers do. The intention was for the Blackbird to be contemplating his skeletal reflection but to me, the skeleton seems more taken aback by what it's seeing. Once I start these things, they really do take on a life of their own and the picture in my head is never quite the picture you see here, but think of that as an enhancement. I did have more ambitious plans for the design of the mirror but I really don't have the patience, I think you can have too much agonising detail in your life and smaller than life size bones in ballpoint pen is plenty for me, thanks. 

Out there in the deep...

A blue shark, in blue biro. That worked out quite nicely didn't it? I was asked to draw a shark and here he is. I don't really think he looks ferocious but I'm sure he's a swift and agile predator. 

I've recently decided that I don't draw in blue pen enough, it suits certain subjects perfectly and makes them glow with electricity (which is just what I look for in creatures of the deep). This is quite a simple sketch really but there's something about the bleak, stark page with the shark hovering there. Brings to mind The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall. I like backgrounds, setting a scene, creating shadows...but sometimes, there doesn't need to be a narrative. And am I really going to argue with this guy? 

You're the bees knees but so am I...

This grew out of a little thought I had about bees that might make ink instead of honey. I managed to locate some honeycomb grid paper and although it's cheating a bit, I really liked the idea of leaving some of the grid undrawn to show off how the paper has created the hexagons of the inkycomb. It's darker than I intended really but the bee not leaping out off the paper at you straight away is quite nice I think...and I won't be spoiling it with colour this time. To be honest, I much prefer THIS little bee.

This is how it feels to be small...

This idea (or something like it) has been rattling around the inside of my skull like a beetle in a bottle for some time now. I like the idea of drawing collections; hundreds of the-same-but-different items like you'd find in a museum. In practice I probably don't have the attention span for it, although I do really love to draw insects over and over again. Natures sparkling gems that I'd like to train to stay still on the lapel of my jacket when I go out like a pet/jewellery combo...I digress, back to the drawing: as I said, the idea was a museum collection and I was going to house them in a case with labels but when it came down to it, I couldn't bear them to be locked up or worse...So mine are alive and free but they can't read so hopefully they've put themselves into the right order (the artist cannot be held responsible for discrepancies in the name tags). They're also happy to sit while you look at them, just don't stay too long they're ready for a tea break.

Just for fun I thought I'd colour them with acrylic ink, I'll leave this open to interpretation but I know what I think...

Under a blue moon...

Last night was a blue moon, which despite a day of pretty grim weather, I managed to catch a glimpse of later in the evening. One thought led to another and before I know it, I'm making pictures of the moon again. This is a response to the previous drawing in a way, almost a dialogue with myself about day and night which is echoed in the technique. Here, I was removing lines rather than adding them, drawing out the image with masking fluid then peeling it away once the ink was added. Just a little experiment, but I like the immediacy of this style. Apart from waiting for the mask and ink to dry, producing this had a nice energy about it and some mesmerising patterns swirling in the ink and water. 

To me this feels like you're lying on the ground looking up through the branches, completely unintentional but that's the great thing about experimentation: the discovery of something unexpected. 

Masking fluid on application...spooky...

...and after it dried...

And check out the name of the ink! I'd never noticed that before...

The sun that pins the branches to the sky...

Don't be fooled by the simplicity of this, it felt like it was never going to end. I seem to have developed a ridiculously time consuming (and wholly unnecessary) technique of cross-hatching in biro to create large areas of blackness, then finding it not quite black enough and going over it with a brush pen. I know what you're thinking, why not just go straight in with the brush pen? No. It just doesn't feel black enough. And anyway, it's all about process, not product. I like the painstaking method, it's immersive. 

This is an almost literal interpretation of a scene I saw back in February or maybe March when I turned out of my street and the Sun was red and huge, burning behind the leafless trees like they were about to catch on fire. It could actually be a blood moon too depending on how you want to view it but I thought it was time our local star got a tribute (in orange and magenta acrylic ink), one last image of winter as the planet tilts into spring.

The dream again nobody understands...

This was intended as a sketch to plan out an idea, but I probably won't bother drawing it properly now, it kind of got on my nerves once I got started. I do quite like the neon exit sign though - I really thought I was on to something when I came up with that...

It was inspired by a recurring dream I started having about a year ago, although this image isn't so true to dream life..In the dream I'm in a building where every room looks identical and I can't find my way out. I come to a space where a Minotaur (of sorts) is standing behind a counter or service hatch and I tell him I can't find my way. He says nothing but points to a door and when I open it I'm outside. Then I wake up. My Minotaur isn't really like the one in the dream, whom I suspect may just be a bloke in a mask. The life of a skint artist, even my dreams are low budget.