#poster watercolor images

[lindenwalker-studios]

Hey all, it's been a minute since I last posted but I'm looking to get back at it, thanks for sticking around and keep your eyes peeled for all the stuff I've been up to since last I was logged in :)

Image Transcription:

[An arial watercolor painting of a fluffy grey petrel chick. The top text says "ILL" while the bottom text reads "I Love Lint."

End of Image Transcription:

[sillyboysinc]

more... my output is crazy recently its WILD. uhmm.... i can’t think of a title for this right now so Please humor me by listening to glorious by the breeders and pretend i choose a line from that to title this.

[wheresmypencil]

Here's my illustration for the November Mailies ! You can join the mailing list until November 1st to receive a mini print of this image next month!

Pluie de novembre / November rain 🍂 ✨ - Voilà enfin mon illustration pour les Mailies du mois de Novembre ! Vous avez jusqu'au premier novembre pour rejoindre la mailing list sur Patreon et recevoir ce petit print chez vous le mois prochain ! Materials : Poster Color paint and color pencil on watercolor paper.

[achronalart]

A PSA about art materials and longevity: If you intend your art to last, you should use archival lightfast art materials made for artists, NOT paints or markers made for hobbyists or designers (Looking at you, Copic markers). Know your materials!

Whether it’s old fashioned gouache paints or modern markers, designer’s art materials WILL fade and change or even destroy your artworks, no matter how strong or bright their colors may look at first.

An example: This is the cover of the “New Yorker” magazine dated March 12, 1938, made from a color photograph of a gouache painting by illustrator Garrett Price.

(The pale greyish splotches on the 1938 magazine cover are age spots on the paper and not part of the original artwork.

This is called "foxing" in the antiquarian book collecting world.)

This is a photo of Garrett Price's original gouache painting — in the condition it was in at a 1999 auction.

Haunting!

What happened? Over the years daylight or maybe just even time passing faded the colors of the gouache paint Price used … Because designers’ gouache paint is not a permanent artist’s material. It’s not MADE to last.

When you put the two images side by side it’s even more stark. The central woman's deep rose pink dress has faded to a barely-there ghost-beige.

The rich green cornucopia looks completely different.

Most of the blue ribbons and pink flowers are completely gone, leaving the purple parts as faint mauve ghosts hanging in the air.

Even the nice black outlines are gone. Black should be a permanent color!

The pretzels have faded to a pale doughy mass.

Gouache paints are made to be bright for ephemeral advertising art and posters. They really are not suitable for any art that is meant to last. Any artist interested in the longevity of their hard work should use archival materials such as artist’s watercolors or professional acrylic paints instead of designers' gouache or markers, no matter how attractive the colors.

And don't think that because this was from 1938 things have changed that much. They were still selling designer gouache with fugitive pigments when I was an art student and art supply stores are still selling them now. And those markers are modern.

Know your materials!

[edupunkn00b]

Flowers in My Skin

Image edited by author, original by Norbert Buduczki via Unsplash

For as long as Janus could recall, a living watercolor of sweet peas, delphiniums, and poppies had flashed and danced across his parents' skin. Their soul marks. After a childhood watching his parents' happiness, he knew he was destined to find his soulmate. His parents had told him everything about soul mates. Everything except what happens when your soulmate rejects you.

Written for @arizonas-speakeasy, for an anonymous request for a soulmate+hanahaki story featuring Janus and Logan. Rated: G (I was surprised, too) - WC: 3042 - CW: hanahaki, blood, Janus isn't doing so well at the end there. Playlist. -

Bright blue and orange flowers filled Janus' earliest memories. For as long as he could recall, a living watercolor of sweet peas, delphiniums, and poppies had flashed and danced across his parents' skin.

They weren’t actually painted on, of course. Though when Janus had turned three, he’d snuck a set of poster paints to the bathroom and tried to replicate the blooms on his own body.

It was then his parents had gently explained the flowers weren’t their own creation. They'd told him how the blossoms adorning their bodies weren't painted on but instead were their natural soul marks. The day they’d met and recognized each other, their soul marks stopped growing. Frozen as they were in that moment, the blooms became permanent parts of their bodies, just as each of them became permanent parts of each other’s hearts.

Bright and bold, their coordinating marks announced to the world they had found each other. Stretched over their hands and arms, up over their torsos, the flowers twisted around their necks and up to the edges of their jaws. Grown large enough to be visible even while they were completely clothed, their soul marks also told the world they hadn’t found each other until each had been nearly twenty-seven.

But they’d managed to find each other before the flowers had wound their way up and over their faces, a loud signal to the world to be on the lookout for anyone with matching blooms.

Janus’ parents then explained how the tiny blue daisies sprinkled on his own palms were just the early hints of his full soul marks. As he grew older, the marks would grow with him and bloom over his hands and arms until the day he’d found his soulmate. Then they would happily spend the rest of their lives together.

What his parents had been too tender-hearted to explain was what sometimes happened next. What it meant if the unthinkable happened, if his soulmate rejected him. Or if he never found them at all.

His soul marks would continue to grow, up over his face and then down again over every inch of his skin.

And then…

Then his flowers would fade from sight. They would not leave his body completely, but only disappear from view as they sank deep into his skin. And into his lungs.

Hanahaki was incredibly, blessedly uncommon. Whether through the Universe’s wisdom and kindness or through their own cultural taboo against quick rejection, unrequited soulmates were rare. So rare they were often deemed a myth, with all but the most credulous disbelieving they even existed.

Janus groaned and spat another deep blue petal into the wastebasket. He didn’t feel very legendary.

And his parents had been wrong. Soul marks don’t disappear with a rejection. No.

No, instead, the color of his soul marks leeched away. Slowly, reluctantly fading as though granting one’s soulmate time to change their mind, time to return and accept their match. And their love. The change had been so gradual, Janus had been able to spend years convincing himself he’d been mistaken. That he'd only imagined the day he’d finally met his soulmate.

That he’d only imagined the day he’d been rejected.

It had been cold, bitterly cold. Only a few days out from his thirty-first birthday, Janus’ soul marks had spread across his face, his entire left eye surrounded by a bright blue morning glory. Layered under scarves and gloves and hats, the winters made it difficult for the young to happen upon their soulmates. For a long time, even, Janus would endure the elements bare-handed, insisting he hardly felt the cold.

Frostbite cured him of that youthful hubris. Foolishly, he’d been relieved when the flowers bloomed across his face, bared for all to see. It meant his soulmate’s marks were likely just as as easy to be spotted, and he spent hours walking the streets, eyes darting from person to person, searching for a familiar blue and yellow bouquet.

Thousands of tiny, icy flakes had kicked up that morning on his way to work, biting his cheeks and nose.  Janus had slipped into a bus shelter for a reprieve. He nearly walked right into the the man already huddled in the corner.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, looking up from the boot clad feet on which he’d almost tromped.

And right into a pair of gorgeous chocolate brown eyes, the right surrounded by a golden yellow dahlia. A dahlia that perfectly matched the one on Janus’ forearm.

“It’s you!” Janus laughed, reaching automatically for the man.

But the man stepped back, a frown twisting the cornflower splashed across his cheek. Janus had one just like that, too, just under his ribs.

“We’re…” Janus smiled and inched closer. He gestured between them, pointing to the flowers on his own face. Surely he’d recognize them, just as Janus had recognized his. “We’re soulmates!”

Janus’ skin tingled, his soul marks growing warm. The other man must feel it. His parents had described that, too. It was one more way the Universe told you you’d met the one. A physical signal, with each soulmate’s marks warming as they took on their permanent appearance.

What Janus had thought would be their permanent appearance, at least.

“I—But I—” The man shook his head, blinking rapidly against a sudden gale. Several yards away, a city bus eased to a stop, the hissing brake drowning out the rest of his words. But there wasn’t much ambiguity in the firm shake of his head.

He stepped closer to the approaching bus.

“Wait! Please!” Voice cracking, Janus reached for him again, but the man—his soulmate—moved further away. Already feeling the fool, he fumbled through his pockets until he found a business card. He’d first had them printed while still in graduate school. He distributed the cards to everyone who noted his growing soul marks, enlisting their help in locating his soulmate, each with varying levels of cooperation.

The front of the card bore his name and a half dozen ways to contact him. After graduating, he paid to have his alma mater's email forwarded to his new address. He'd even hired a painter to reproduce tiny versions of the flowers on his arms and chest to help with identification. The back of each card was imprinted with those renditions, cheerful splashes of blue and yellow to mask the growing desperation. The desperation he only later discovered just how justified it had been.

He pressed the card into his soulmate’s hand. “Call me!” Still clinging to his sleeve even as his soulmate pulled away, he'd asked, “Please?”

Asked? Begged, really. Cheeks aflame from his changing soul marks, or with shame at his undignified pleas, Janus finally released him.

With one more glance at him over his shoulder, Janus’ soulmate shook his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered and looked away. His soulmate stepped onto the bus just as the doors closed and the bus roared off down the street.

~

Relying on muscle memory to keep his footing and pay his fare one-handed, Logan squeezed the tiny rectangle in his palm as the gears in his mind spun.

Soulmate? But… He stumbled into a seat, eyes figuratively stuck on the now-creased business card in his hand. One finger at a time, he worked off his winter gloves, refusing to part with the bit of card stock. His own soul marks—and his wedding ring—flashed in the snow-bright light spilling in through the bus window.

“Isn’t it romantic?” his wife would croon, holding their hands together, their still-growing soul marks reaching out into the air around them.

And he agreed. “We never stop yearning for each other, Love.”

Their similarly colored—though never completely identical—blooms seemed to agree. as well. A riot of every imaginable shade of blues and yellows, the marks grew brighter and larger all through their time together in high school and college. Their friends deemed them lucky, a dual bounty of perennially blooming soul marks and their soulmates at their sides.

After they’d wed, Logan determined the reports of soulmates identifying their matching flowers on each others’ bodies to be exaggerative. A mere collection of obsolete fairy tales intended to enforce an old-fashioned, 'marriage-first' morality.

Though now it was far less common to abstain from sex until after marriage, and it was certainly unusual to abstain from dating at all until one had found one’s soulmate, they had waited until their wedding night. He had been Olivia’s first date, her first kiss, her first, well… everything.

And his sweet Olive had been his first love. Doubtlessly his only love.

As Logan sat on the frigid bus, the raw, desperate hope in the man's hazel eyes filled his mind. As the strange soul mark warmth lingered on his own skin, doubt crept into Logan's heart.

Over the next six years, Logan’s doubt—but not his soul marks—continued to grow. Though Logan’s remained static, Olivia’s blooms spread, meandering up over both her eyelids and through her scalp. Her back and soon her legs were covered with brilliant, pale yellow primrose and impossibly vibrant blue roses.

One night, she cut her nightly shower short and stepped out from the bathroom. A haphazardly draped towel left her standing in a puddle of soapy water. “Lo?” she whispered, voice cracking. She raised her foot to show him a brand-new soul mark, cornflower blue petals painted over the sole. “Lo, please tell me you have a flower that looks like this.”

He did not.

Tears mingling with the water streaming from her hair, he’d held her until both their sobs quieted. Gently, he’d helped her rinse the soap from her hair and body and they’d laid together one last time.

Afterwards, they’d talked through the night, devising a plan for how he could help Olive find her true soulmate. There were internet boards now, massive crowd-sourced servers and international channels where one could post and search for matching marks.

It took less than three days to find him. And, with the mandatory waiting period, only three months to finalize their divorce papers.

Logan accompanied Olive to meet her soulmate, a kind, tall fellow named Mauricio.

“They do get warm!” she whispered to Logan after she met Mauricio’s eyes. Yellow primrose were scattered across his brow, precisely the same flowers she now touched below her own collarbone. Then she ran to him, to Mauricio, to her soulmate. Her real soulmate.

After pulling Olive close with one arm, Mauricio had shaken Logan’s hand.

“She takes her coffee sweet,” Logan murmured, a catch in his throat. “Just like she is.”

Mauricio smiled, then lifted Olive’s chin, his soulmate’s chin, and nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

Logan returned home to his tiny studio packed with more books than clothes and searched his journals and files. Finally, tucked between the pages of his entries for February, 2019, he found the the little scrap of card stock. He spent over an hour examining his skin, hunting for soul marks to match the flowers on the back of the card.

He found every one.

Finally, Logan picked up the phone and dialed.

~

The first time Janus had woken in the middle of the night, choking on blue and yellow blooms, he'd stopped trying to deny the reality of his situation. Pale and shaking as he washed bloody petals from his face and neck, he’d stared at the sallow, pale skin of his reflection.

His only solace was that his had parents died before they ever noticed the fading. Now, people he passed on the street simply averted their eyes. Away from him, away from the crackled outlines of what had once been beautiful soul marks stretched across his skin like scars.

Janus was living evidence of the quiet cruelty of soulmates. Evidence no-one wanted to see.

Shortly after that, he began to work from home and, without his extra long walking commutes, had more time to pour into growing his client base. He lost more than a few with his unwillingness, his unavailability to meet in person or even over video, but a few additional hours' work each day more than compensated for the loss. And after a few years, he was able to complete all of his filings online.

It was just as well. His coughing spells worsened by the day, soon interrupting even the shortest of oral arguments. Phone calls were the next to go and he’d begun to leave his phone turned off, forwarding all calls to voicemail, with a text-to-voice recording instructing them to email their enquiries instead.

Groceries and other household necessities had proven just as simple to handle without ever needing to leave his house. A healthy 50% tip guaranteed him a semi-regular rotation of drivers ready to drop his orders at the door, day or night. He never had to speak with—or be seen by—a soul.

So when the doorbell rang in the middle of a coughing fit, Janus ignored it. With his sleep continually interrupted by yet another bloom threatening to choke him, he’d become reliant on lists and schedulers to keep track of what he was doing on any given day. Or even what day it was. He couldn’t remember if he was expecting an order. Besides, it was just as likely some over-eager proselytizer. A delivery would be left at the door.

Anyone else could take their pamphlets and shove them up their—

A particularly thorny bloom cut off his breathing and his thought.

By the time the latest flower lay wilted and bloody in the center of his wastebasket, whoever had been at the door had given up.

Good riddance.

With the room darkening around him, Janus stumbled to his bed and collapsed across the covers. He’d fallen asleep before he could even kick off his slippers.

Dawn—or a streetlight—spilled into his room when he woke. Had been woken. He blinked, listening for what had dragged him from sleep.

BANG-BANG-BANG

“Mr. Woods! Mr. Woods? Are you in there?” a voice shouted from the other side of his front door.

“Hang on!” Janus pulled himself to his feet and stood with wobbling knees. “I’m coming, I’m—” He doubled over, coughing.

BANG-BANG-BANG

“Mr. Woods?” BANG-BANG-BANG “Mr. Woods?!? Mr. Woods, we’re coming in!”

Between his coughs, Janus could just make out the squawk of a police radio. He rose and leaned against the wall in the corridor outside his bedroom, ten paces and a hundred miles from the front door. “I’m—”

Something heavy boomed against the door and his apartment shook. The frame splintered on the second hit.

Wracked by another coughing fit, Janus dropped to his knees.

By the third boom, the front door slammed open. It bounced back against the wall, caught by a hand painted with flowers he once knew so well. Deep blues and yellows, the same flowers as on his chest and thighs, another on the side of his neck, all brighter than he’d seen in years.

“Janus!”

Above him stood a man. Dark hair and glasses, bright yellow petals surrounding his eye, achingly familiar. Face pinched with worry, he crouched beside him and offered his hands.

In the man's palm lay Janus’ old business card. He’d burned the last of them last year and choked on the smoke.

Janus stroked the card. Dented and worn, cracked with crease marks but made from the same heavy woven linen, the card was certainly his. He coughed again, and the card disappeared. The man—Janus squashed down the bit of himself that wanted to whisper soulmate—reached for him, rubbing his back and murmuring something Janus couldn’t understand.

“You—you kept it?” he finally gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The man produced a cloth from an inner pocket and dabbed the soft cotton against Janus' face.

“I did, I—”

Battering ram tucked under his beefy arm, one of the cops who’d busted in his door interrupted. “Do you require an aid car, Mr. Woods?”

Janus ignored him. “You… you did this?” he asked the man, leaning more heavily on him than he should. He tried to sit up but couldn’t. Didn’t want to. Janus definitely didn’t want to think about how long it had been since someone had touched him at all.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” the man said.

The cop cleared his throat. “Mr. Sanders called for a wellness check on a 413. He was concerned his newly-found soulmate was… unwell.”

The man stroked the swirling honeysuckle scars along Janus' jaw and smiled. “I have these on my shoulder,” he murmured. The man's eyes were wet when he looked back at him.

“Mr. Woods?” the cop tried again.

“Yes, yes, I—” Clinging to the man’s shirt, Janus pulled himself fully upright. It was only then he noticed the yellow and blue covering his own hand. “They’re back!” he whispered, bracing himself for a fit that didn’t come. “It can’t…” He inhaled slowly. There was a bit of tightness and the itch of a cough at the back of his throat, but no obstruction. “It can’t be that easy.”

The man shook his head, that same damning gesture from all those years ago but this time… this time he smiled.

“Maybe it can be.”

The cop’s radio crackled to life, codes pouring out too quickly for Janus to begin to decipher. After a bit of back and forth, he nodded. “If you don’t need a trip to the hospital, Mr. Woods, we’re needed elsewhere.”

“No, I…” Without being asked, the man—his soulmate—shifted next to him and brought them both up to their feet. Janus took a tentative step closer to the cop. “You—” He stumbled and his soulmate was at his side, steadying him. He looked up into those same soft brown eyes and nodded. “You can go,” he said to the cops. “Sanders and I—”

“Logan,” the man said, smiling. “You should call me Logan.”

“Hmph. Maybe.” Janus dragged his mouth into a frown only for another smile to break out when he recognized the flower decorating Logan’s left ear. “You have some explaining to do, Mr. Sanders.”

One arm circling his back, Logan squeezed the hand still clutched tight in his. “Happily… Soulmate."

[lydiahosek]

[Image ID: A traditional pen and watercolor drawing of Carla McCorkle from Gravity Falls. She stands with her back to the viewer, looking at an advertisement for StanCo. The advertisement is a large poster on a wall and features a close-up of Stan. He has shoulder-length hair and a mustache. He looks over his shoulder, winks, smiles widely, and gives a thumbs-up. Carla says, "Stan?..." /.End ID]

Sorry, another one

[fagboyfriend]

the five peices i did for one of my finals- centering around the theme of transness in the home. I’ve been really getting into the concept of domesticity, privacy and intimacy and how these are experienced in trans bodies.You may recognize the characters if you follow my work hehe ^_^

all are 22x30, watercolor, colored ink, acrylic gouache and various other things like gel pen, colored pencil, paint pen- and of course- stickers!

[Image Description:

5 traditional paintings.

The first is of a fat south asian trans man lying nude reclined on a bed inside of a van. His eyes are closed and he is somewhat falling off the bed, his head and arm draped towards the ground. Visable in the van are snacks, a record player, fastfood containers, condoms, a vibrator, and several posters on his walls.

The Second is of two characters, a fat east asian trans woman, who is nude, and a mid-size white nonbinary person, who is shirtless but wearing boxers. They sit on a bed together, smiling and surrounded by pinkish light.

The third is of a thin white transfeminine nonbinary person lying on the floor of a bathroom nude, with her legs propped up on the edge of a bathtub. They’re also making a phone call, and looking absentmindedly into a mirror that is reflecting them.

the fourth is of a chubby trans man with dark curly hair wearing a binder with his laptop propped up on his lap. You can see the rest of his bedroom, including someone watching tv in the far distance.

The fifth is of a thin white man standing in a room, looking down at a mirror that lies at his feet. You can see the rest of his room, including a teal ladder and a stained glass window in the kitchen.

All five paintings are very colorful, covered in stickers and have colorful borders.

End ID.]

[mossy-rainfrog]

hii for the spotify wrapping thing .... 24 and martin klackwood blackwood

[ID: A traditional drawing with watercolor colors showing Martin Blackwood from the back. He is standing in a hospital room with an unconscious Jon, who is hooked up to several medical devices. A chair near the foreground has a tape sitting on it, and a poster against the wall shows a scene from Jordan Peele's Nope. The scene is colored in vivid pinks and reds, except for Martin, who is entirely cool blues. Text on the image reads: "is there a word for a bad miracle?" End ID.]

24. Heartbreak Feels So Good - Fall Out Boy

thank you bestie!!! :D long time no best boy, I've missed him. Here's some post season 3 angst :)

Trying something different and more traditional art based with the spotify recs this year and I am having a whole lot of fun :3 also peep the Nope reference bc I fucking love that movie/the reference to it in this songgg

[vertigoartgore]

The Fury (Captain Britain's foe) by British artist Alan Davis (1982).

https://comics.ha.com/itm/original-comic-art/alan-davis-daredevils-10-the-fury-poster-pin-up-original-art-marvel-uk-1982-/a/7246-97099.s?ic4=GalleryView-ShortDescription-071515#

Heritage Auctions : "Alan Davis Daredevils #10 "The Fury" Poster Pin-Up Original Art (Marvel UK, 1982). This insert poster featured the villain from the Captain Britain story of this issue... "The Sound and the Fury"! Rich colors and gorgeous shadows make this a fine example of Alan Davis' work. The image was also featured as an inset image on the lower left of the issue's cover. Produced in opaque watercolor on illustration board with an image area of 12.25" x 17.5". There is a clear plastic overlay taped over the piece. Signed in the image area and in Excellent condition."

[creations-by-chaosfay]

I'm most known for my quilts, but I'm also a painter. Well, when I have paint. Currently, I have none. I do, however, have several original paintings available for purchase! My logo is only on the digital image, not on the original nor on any prints.

You can purchase these here:

You can purchase prints here:

Thank you for your support!

[dragpinkman]

I made this watercolor art for a collage I donated to a local pop-up, but feel free anyone to use this on posters, fliers, etc. I give full permission to use also for fundraising images <3

[tomoleary]

Bob Zoell Earth Magazine Original Art (Earth, 1971) Source

“New subscribers to Earth magazine in 1971 received a fine poster reproduction of this artwork, as a premium. It also appeared as a magazine centerfold. Zoell's over-sized, two-layered painting features exaggerated versions of such familiar cartoon characters as Mickey Mouse, Felix the Cat, and R. Crumb's Mr. Natural. A lesser Disney character, Bucky Bug, appears at lower right above the signature. Designed like an animation cel, with the principal images painted on a transparent overlay, and the painted background on textured watercolor stock.”

[silvershadow1711]

My paper is bigger than my scanner, so I had to scan this twice to get sharp copies of both sides.

Back when I finished The Road Not Trekked: The Ephemeral Equinox (my FE Fates Revelation rewrite), I planned for this to be... not a "cover", but kind of like a movie poster? Featuring all the "bosses" Nerr and the gang encountered in Valla, specifically to show how their designs... let's say "differed" from how they're portrayed in-game (in case you can't tell, my rewrite leans heavily into horror).

I must have spent weeks inking this behemoth (it's 9x12 inches- all my watercolor paintings are that size, while the inkwas paintings are 9x6), and scanned it for posterity... only to have to original heavily damaged by a freakish bout of humidity that hurricane season (it also damaged several electronics). So I can't paint it traditionally like I'd planned/hoped. There's always the option for digital painting, but I'm bad at digital painting and given the blurring on either side, I'd have to cobble both images together, and that would probably look horrible and... it's just so much work... and for what? That fic absolutely bombed on AO3 (it did surprisingly well on FFN, tho).

So, I guess just enjoy the body horror. It is... much worse in text form, I promise you~💖

[open-hearth-rpg]

#RPGCovers Week Ten Ryuutama (2015) Ayoko Nagamori (art) Mariko Kobayashi (book design)

Final Fantasy Tactics was the first video game rpg I played for more than an hour. I’d tried Ultima, Wizardry, even Lunar on the Sega, but none of them interested me. But FFT, that we sunk 100s of hours into. Sherri and I loved it– and we specifically tracked down a copy of the Japanese version of the soundtrack because that had a poster with images of all the classes on it. 

That pencil-sketch style endures as one of my favorites, and it makes Ryuutama sing for me.  I love the colors here– watercolor? colored pencils? ink tinting? I backed the Kickstarter just on the strength of it, kind of later checking out what the game actually was. 

It combines a simplicity of elements (the manga-like characters) with a rich complexity you can easily miss. The center circle contains our characters– they’re happy and excited to be on the road. They have a dog with a scarf. The road rises up behind them, marked by the signposts in all directions. It;s easy to miss the figure laden down with a pack coming up behind them. 

That center circle is a window, and we see elements emerging out of it (feet, staff) that gives it depth. But notice that the circle is at the center of a map— looking like old orbis terratis style cartography, with the key element in a circle and marginalia surrounding here. 

Here that ornamentation is a figure looking down holding a book and a pile of equipment below. But we also have dragons at most of the compass rose points– all looking towards the characters. They’re not threatening, instead they’re watching their progress and cheering for them to continue on.  

[globalworship]

The 'O' Antiphon Songs, Paintings, Poems

Elise Massa is a friend and part of United Adoration in the UK. https://www.facebook.com/EliseMassaMusic

She wrote,

 I thought I'd share with you a little project that I put together this year. In 2023, I engaged in a personal creative prayer practice, meditating on the O Antiphons and writing a musical response for each one. The O Antiphons are ancient refrains, typically sung at evening prayer from December 17-23. Each one is a title of Christ as found in Old Testament prophecies. My responses are more contemplative, less congregational, tapping into my singer-songwriter roots before I wrote for church congregations. This short album (<20 minutes) is just me, my instrument, and a little reverb for spice. It's available for listening and purchase through Bandcamp. https://elisemassa.bandcamp.com/album/o-antiphon-series

May Wisdom of God speak steadily in times of confusion. May the Lord draw you to his Kingdom. May the Root of Jesse anchor you to his life sustaining vine. May the Key of David release you from heavy burdens. May the Morning Star guide you to his Kingdom. May the King of the Nations bring peace to the wars outside and within. And may Emmanuel, God with us, be ever so tangible to you and those you love. 

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The O Antiphons are a series of seven verses dating from the sixth century and prayed during vespers during the last week of Advent. Each antiphon is a name of Jesus taken from Scripture, and they are the basis for the popular Advent hymn, “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.”

Here are 4 paintings from the series by Sister Ansgar Holmberg, C.S.J. that arer based on the 'O' Antiphons.

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Here are excerpts from a (2020) interview with her:

Sister Ansgar Holmberg, C.S.J., 86, didn’t paint her O Antiphon series to edify or instruct anyone. They were meant only for herself.

Ansgar (she likes to be called by her first name) has been with the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet for 67 years, and although she has spent time teaching children and offering spiritual direction, she created these seven paintings over the course of three years as a personal way to contemplate Scripture.

“I had read what other people had said, but I decided to paint them for myself, for me to understand them better. That’s one of the ways I learn,” Ansgar said.

Now the seven paintings, done in brilliant gouache (a kind of opaque watercolor), are gathered in a small book, Praying the Advent Names of God, paired with poems composed by another sister in the community, Joan Mitchell, C.S.J.

Read more at https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2020/12/22/advent-o-antiphon-paintings-239567

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Here are some of the images with poems available in the book and as posters:

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Read the artist's thoughts about these paintings and poems at https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2020/12/22/advent-o-antiphon-paintings-239567

Buy the 20-page book at https://goodgroundpress.com/product/advent-names-of-god/

Buy the posters at https://goodgroundpress.com/product/o-antiphons-posters/

[grumfield]

paint tool sai veterans rise up 🫡

have you posted/talked about your current visual art process here before or would you mind talking about it? i love learning about how other people go about their creative work

Paint tool sai blending tool STILL reigns supreme I miss it waaaah

And I haven’t really! I very much consider myself a hobbyist so I think this is the first time anyone’s asked haha But happy to ESPECIALLY since sometimes people think my temple one is ai generated (it is not!!!!!!!) I have chronic cubital tunnel so a lot of my art process is designed around allowing me to make something I like for minimal pain, which means I use a lot of techniques concept artists use—mainly A LOT of custom photoshop brushes I port into procreate.

I also employ the use of blender a lot for detailed backgrounds if I’m doing something more painterly so I can get the structure and use (royalty free!) textures and photoshop brushes to photobash a basic structure. Here’s a before and after

I mainly use procreate with occasional dips into CSP. For post processing I use photoshop, and I haven’t changed how I do this in like, maybe 9 years now.

I make duplicates of the base image and put them through multiple filters, usually posterize, watercolor, and cutout, with the original one on top, and then erase sections of the top layer to add some texture dimension in certain areas, then flatten, and do the same with other stylized layers until you like the end result. Here’s an example of some of the posterization effect, (grainy pillar) then the watercolor (blurry plants to the left)

Anyways, then I use the field blur effect in photoshop to add more dimension and give it a sense of depth and Realism which you can see here

Anyways that’s it! I also use a particle brush on basically everything I make, make it yellow/orange, set the layer to add, then Gaussian blur it to add some dreamy vibes