#random flower effect brushes my beloved

[crow-with-a-pencil]

Painted @daunsun 's flower bois

[jimlingss]

Hi hi. Just a random idea I thought I would share in the case it might interest you. But sort of like a parallel universe or time travel thing. There's a forest/meadow on earth that is suspended in another time or world. You happened upon it by chance and meet someone there not realising that your lives can only cross in this one place.

inch-resting.....

↳ Snow White and the Park Ranger

2.4k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

Once upon a time—

“Please, let me go!”

—you were birthed as Princess of a marvelous kingdom, as fair as your mother and beloved by all who breathes. But tragedy appeared when your mother passed. Your father remarried a woman and after he, too, passed, your step-mother became Queen.

She was consumed by her jealousy and banished you from the castle.

And now, you were fleeing.

“I beg of you!”

The leaves of the Enchanted Forest crunch beneath your quick steps. A twig snaps as a cry befalls your trembling lips. You continue running, grasping fistfuls of the yellow shirt of your dress as you weave between the grandiose trees cloaking the sky with their canopy. The darkness is thick, shadows that whisper with beasts lurking amongst the wooded thicket. 

But you are far more fearful of the Huntsman trailing after you.

He brandishes a sharp knife, gripping it at his shoulder. You turn at your shoulder to find him close and you shut your eyes as you brush past another tree. Someone save me! Please!

Bring me away from this!

As if the magic of the Enchanted Forest answers your desperate pleas — suddenly there is a man standing in front of you. 

You are unable to slow your steps and you run into his firm chest. Yet, luckily, his strong arms reach out and he grasps at your shoulders, so that the two of you don’t collide or fall. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Are you alright?”

You look up at your saviour. The person who has rescued you. 

And your breath is stolen away from your lips. You wonder if this is what your mother always described to you when she used to read those bedtime stories back when the castle was still your home. You wonder if this is it: love at first sight.

The man has plump, pink lips, sheepish eyes and a sharp nose. He is without a sword, white horse or silver armor. Rather, a flat hat the colour of sand on top of his dark hair. His clothing is strange as well, a shirt of the same shade with an emblem on the sleeve — perhaps his kingdom’s crest — and his long pants are much darker. 

But still, he is your prince. 

“Are you alright?”

“There is a Huntsman chasing after me!” You turn around, still within his embrace. But as your breath catches up, there is no Huntsman. Have you lost him in the forest?

“I don’t see anyone,” your prince says.

“He must’ve gone when he saw you here.”

You turn back to your prince as he steps away from you, gazing down at your dress. 

You feel shy. Your red cape is torn from being twisted by branches and your yellow skirt is dirtied from the mud. You never expected to encounter your prince in the Enchanted Forest. You always thought you’d meet him at a ball. But this dress, although dirtied and not as beautiful as the ballgowns the Evil Queen has, it was sewn by your mother. You cherish it deeply. 

“Are you cosplaying?” he asks. “Or filming something?”

“Pardon me?” Your brows lift, unable to understand him.

Your Prince frowns. “Are you here alone?”

“Why, of course, I am. I was trying to get away.”

“You said someone was chasing you? Who?”

“I already said, it was the Huntsman.” You sigh. “Oh, goodness, I do not know why he would do such a thing, but it was quite frightening. I had no choice but to flee as quickly as possible!”

“Al-….right then.” He takes a black rectangle from his pants and you watch inquisitively as he squeezes the side. You’re startled when a noise comes from it. Yet the prince speaks into the rectangle. “Hello? Can we get a medic? We have a lost and distressed...unstable female down just off of the granular trail by the Marshall Springs, west of the river. Hello?”

You’re startled once more when he suddenly hits the rectangle with his hand. “Hello? Can anyone hear? Goddammit, why is it not working?”

You wonder if this is a magical contacting device from his kingdom. Perhaps he’s calling his knights. “Is everything alright, my prince?”

He looks up at you. “Huh?” 

“I’m quite alright,” you reassure your handsome prince as a bashful smile comes across your features. “Now that you’re here.”

He’s silent for a few beats and then he sighs, placing the rectangle to hang off the top of his pants again. “Do you know what your name is?”

“It’s Y/N.” Your lashes flutter. “May I know yours?”

“I’m Seokjin, Park Ranger of Wood Buffalo National Park.” He points to the emblem on his sleeve. You’ve never heard of such a kingdom before, but it sounds absolutely splendid.

“Seokjin,” you murmur the name of your prince to seal it into memory.

“I’ll be able to help you. You don’t need to be scared,” he promises and you’re sure you must be dreaming. He is perfect. “Do you know how long you’ve been out here for?”

“Half a day, perhaps? I’ve been wandering the forest for quite some time.”

“What was your last memory?”

“Well, I was picking flowers and singing to the birds, but then I heard footsteps and I turned around and saw the Huntsman and started to flee. It was such a shame as I had to leave my daisies behind.”

You sigh softly, not noticing his incredulous expression and how he takes another step away from you. “Why won’t you take a seat, Miss Y/N. I’ll try my best to contact some help for you and get an assessment done.”

You’re not sure what he means but you nod, deciding to rest at a tree stump. Prince Seokjin tries to speak into his rectangle again, but there is little answer. It goes quiet as the beautiful forest sings, birds twiddling their song and the leaves rustle. 

Your prince breathes out and then he looks at you, mustering a smile.

“You must really like Snow White,” he comments passingly.

But you gasp. How does he know the nickname of what the Evil Queen calls you?

No one else knows. Could it be that he’s working for her?

You stand, careening back from him. Seokjin’s eyes widen. “Are you alright?”

“Stay back!” you shout. You can’t believe you were almost tricked!

“Miss—!”

You flee from him.

“Wait!”

You turn around, tears welling into your eyes as you look at him. You don’t notice the rippling effect in front of you, like an invisible wall only visible to the eye if close attention is paid. You don’t notice it until you step past the boundary line and Seokjin suddenly vanishes from sight.

You slow to a stop. What.

You step back and as if the world ripples, he appears again. Right on the spot you last saw him.

You step forward and he disappears. You step back and he reappears.

Seokjin’s mouth has drawn open. He’s as bewildered as you are. 

The magic of the Enchanted Forest is wondrous in ways you cannot and will not ever understand. Your mother once told you tales on how the trees are more ancient than mankind. That the fairies and elves, creatures and beasts, living inside have added to its mystic magic that have both answered pleas and punished wrongdoers when harm is done to the forest.

You are sure this is part of the Enchanted Forest’s magic too. 

When you cross a certain point of the area, Seokjin vanishes from your sight and you do from his and when he crosses, you vanish from his sight and you no longer see him as well. It’s as if it’s a doorway and this place crosses between both of your paths.

You quickly learn that Seokjin is no prince of any kingdom. He belongs to a different world entirely.

“...and they lived happily ever after. The end.” You close the storybook he’s given to you, stunned at how your entire life has been simplified in these measly drawings and short sentences. “I...have to live in a small cottage with seven small men?”

“They’re dwarves,” he says.

You look up at him. “And I’m given a poison apple by the Queen?”

“Well, you’re saved by a handsome prince who gives you true love’s kiss…?”

“This is awful!” You sob out and the book falls to the ground. “I don’t want to return!”

Seokjin is wide-eyed, not sure what to say.

“I don’t want to live in a house with, with, with—”

“Dwarves,” he finishes.

“—or be poisoned and brought to an endless sleep, waiting until a prince’s lips touches mine, so I can wake up and live in his kingdom as his!” Hopelessness makes tears well in your eyes.

You were waiting for someone to rescue you — your prince and one true love. But now that you know what will eventually happen, you’re heartbroken. You thought once you were banished from the castle, you could live a peaceful and happy life. But there was still so much waiting for you.

You never return home. Yes, you meet your true love and the Evil Queen dies. But all that misery for a happy ending? The end doesn’t justify the means. It was still frightening. You’ve been chased by the Huntsman already and that fear is enough to make you tremble now. You can’t imagine living with seven small strangers, being poisoned, and brought to a deep sleep while not knowing when you will wake up again.

“I won’t leave,” you decide, placing your foot down.

It seemed like no one could enter this place except for you and Seokjin. The Huntsman couldn’t come when he was right behind you, so you’ll be safe from the Evil Queen and her henchmen.

“What?” Seokjin looks at you, blinking.

“I’ll stay here.” 

He looks around the empty forest, appearing at a loss. His mouth opens, closes and then opens again. “I can’t in my good conscience leave a young woman to fend for herself.”

“Why not?” You tilt your head, unable to understand his concern. “I may not be able to defeat my evil step-mother and her magic, but I know the forest well enough and can still fend for myself.”

To prove it, your lips part and you start to sing. 

At once, the birds hop from their branches and fly over to your feet. The squirrels emerge from their homes, rabbits from their burrows and a doe peeks out from the thicket. Seokjin is startled, taking a step back at all the animals and forest creatures emerging. Perhaps if he did not truly believe you were Y/N, Princess of your kingdom, and also Snow White from his storybook, he does now.

The creatures scurry away in disappointment when you stop singing.

Seokjin appears surprised. “Your voice is lovely— but I know this place might be your….your…”

“Enchanted Forest.”

“It might be your Enchanted Forest, but it’s also the Wood Buffalo National Park. It could have bears, wolves and bison. It’s dangerous. Especially at night.” 

You look at Seokjin. Seokjin looks at you.

He ultimately sighs.

Throughout the next few days, Seokjin brings you supplies. He teaches you how to set something up called a tent and it’s absolutely wonderful to sleep in with the makeshift bed he calls a sleeping bag. He teaches you how to start a fire, brings you a chair that you can easily open up and a lantern for the night.

It starts to become a wonderful place, filled with knick-knacks such as the box that makes a fantastic drink called coffee to a bigger box that’s cold and holds in snacks he brings to you. He tells you these things can run on ‘solar power’ which is power from the sunshine. It’s magic.

Seokjin might not be a prince, but he is a kind man. 

You also learn his job is a noble one. He walks through the forest and protects the creatures and heroes that wander in it. And while you may be from vastly different worlds, if there’s one thing you both have in common, it’s how much you cherish and love nature.

“I would like it if you could possibly bring me a shield or perhaps tools of some sort. Any scrap materials that you have no need for.”

Seokjin frowns, seated next to you on the log as he roasts the sweet treat called a marshmallow. His face is warm and glowing by the light of the fire. The forest is quiet but it feels peaceful. You find it’s always peaceful when he’s by your side. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I think I’m going to train and defeat the queen.”

“What?”

You roast the white puff until it’s golden on all sides. “I’ve been thinking that while I want to stay here, I don’t know if it can hide forever. I am not truly free until the Evil Queen has been defeated and I do not want to wait until she poisons me.” Your gaze meets his. “I want to protect myself.”

For the weeks that follow, you fashion sheets of metal into shields and weapons. Seokjin brings you a bow and arrows, and shows you how to shoot. You practice without rest on apples that you collect from the tree by the boundary line. That fruit has become your one true nemesis.

The arrow spirals out and thunks straight into the middle of the apple. It smacks into the trunk of the tree.

“Nice shot!”

You set your bow down, smiling widely at Seokjin who’s been watching you fondly.

“What are you going to do after you defeat the queen?” he asks in a murmur later that evening whilst helping you prepare dinner. He’s been coming to visit you every day now, after his work he says. You’re thankful for it — his company is something you’ve grown to yearn for.

You hum pleasantly. “I don’t know. Perhaps I will return. Don’t you think a cottage would be pleasant here?”

Your face lifts to find his softened gaze. He looks away just as quickly, yet he still murmurs, “Maybe I could bring you supplies.”

The two of you shyly smile to yourselves.

Seokjin may not be a prince, but he might just be the one you love.

[nilsavatar]

Odette’s Moving Boutique [Crossover MCL - Eldarya - Howl’s Moving Castle] - CastielxNilsa

The H.Q. needed food, reserves were starting to run out and in Eldarya there was no way to support a stable, indigenous agriculture yet. To make up for the shortcomings quickly, Miiko decided to send two of his best collaborators in Our World, the heads of the Shadow Guard, Nevra, and of the Absynthe Guard, Ezarel. But in reality it was just a pretext, the real reason why she had sent them on Earth was to find Valkyon and Leiftan, mysteriously disappeared during the umpteenth refueling mission. However, something will go wrong and the circle of mushrooms will close the transition from one dimension to another sooner than expected. The two, stuck right in that world from which they had escaped long ago, will now have to find a way to go home, and to do so they’ll have to rely on a young apprentice witch and an half-vampire abberrantly against the lineage from which he descends. It won’t be easy at all, but in the Boutique ‘J’ everything is possible, even the impossible.

                                                              1.         IN WHICH NILSA IS HIRED IN A STRANGE SHOP

   As you had always feared, you didn’t last long at the Cozy Bear Cafe. Clémence fired you at the first opportunity, at the first mistake, just to keep you away from her beloved Hyun.    She and her ridiculous jealousy, a symptom of some weird form of mid-life crisis. Jealousy so rooted and blinding that, mixed with the worrying predatory instinct of a MILF, it prevented her from noticing that you’ve never nurtured the slightest interest in the shy, selfless and friendly Korean and that, admitted otherwise, it’s had the side effect of draining her of that minimum of logic sufficient to keep in her mind that, if you wanted to, you’d have all the chances in this world in your favor, to make him fall for you. A thing that, perhaps, has already happened…    The pretext in the specific seems almost a joke, recalling it now to the memory. You were passing through the glass door of the bar with a tray overflowing with glasses and empty cups begging to be put in the dishwasher - damned high school students - but, while you were about to reach Hyun at the counter, a striped red cat darted you between your legs at light speed, making you lose your balance. You fell ruinously to the ground and, with you, the porcelains, which shattered into a thousand pieces all around. You were lucky that, leaving your ego and your butt, you didn’t get hurt.    Clémence, hearing the noise, came out of the kitchen like a madwoman, with her hair gathered in an untidy bun, her apron stained here and there with flour and jam, the sleeves of the close-fitting leopard-print blouse turned up to the elbows, and her arms raised in half air to keep the herself from getting dirty. If possible, she looked even older that way. Older and filthy than she normally was already.    Her hazel eyes, surrounded by heavy make-up, wandered all over the room, from the indifferent cat who was licking itself in a corner, to the fragments of the china scattered on the ground, to Hyun’s hands that helped you to get back on your feet, still messed-up, brushing you away some crumbs.    The complexion of her face gradually changed shades in line with her anger, from a bright pink to a glowing periwinkle, and as one nuance left room for another, her expression became more and more distorted with them. Her irises became fiery, the round, swollen and protruding orbits like those of an oranda telescope, a thousand crow’s feet branched out to the outer corners where the eyelids joined, and the mud-colored lips opened wide in an animalistic grimace.    Her reaction was immediate.    The woman’s screams reached octaves that even a lyric soprano dreamt of, and confused words blew from her vulgar mouth, like a dam smashed by water. Not a single sentence got a complete meaning, such was the haste and fury with which she was passing from one subject to another, until she reached the fateful verdict, expressing a concept that was all too simple and clear as ruthless.    “You’re fired!”.    A heavy silence fell in the room.    Hyun, after a minute of muteness, tried to defend you. In vain.    “Enough, Hyun!”, the cougar raised a hand to the height of her face, “You have already covered her too many times. This time I can’t let it go”.    “But, the cat…”.     “Take off your uniform”, she stoned, “And don’t show yourself again, not even as a customer. You are a disgrace”. With those words she crossed the room, opened the wall closet and took out a broom and a dustpan.    You took off your uniform and your cap, livid face and gritted teeth, and you gave them to the waiter, to your ex-colleague, who took them with a broken expression printed on his face, « I’m sorry … I … I … I tried to… ».    "Don’t worry,“ you interrupted him, "it’s not your fault. Indeed, it’s better this way”.    Leaving the club determined not to set foot in it again, you walked tired and distressed towards the campus. In front of the gate you met a small, thin girl, with platinum bob hair, tinged with candy pink along the tips. She’s all smiling and perky, in sharp contrast to the Gothic style of her clothes. Her smile dissolved as soon as she deciphered the gloominess on your face.    "What happened?”, Chani sked without even saying hello.    "Clémence … I lost my job,“, you sobbed after one, at appearance, infinite pause.    Immediately the girl wrapped you by the shoulders in an embrace - an unusual gesture on her part, constantly trapped by her personal soap bubble -, "Don’t beat yourself down. That crazy bitch doesn’t deserve your tears. ”    You sniffed, raising your eyes to cross those of the girl, highlighted by the black smokey-eye, her face was out of focus through the veil of tears, “What will I do now? My parents pay the university tuition, but the rent of the room is my responsibility. ”    "In this regard, I have the solution,“ she said firmly, "I’m just going to the store where I work now, my boss is looking for another part-time employee.”   “But Chani, I don’t know anything about esotericism, stones and all that stuff.”    Your friend raised a testily eyebrow, she didn’t like the term stuff at all to hear, but for your friendship’s sake she decided to let it go, “I’ll teaching you everything. And in any case the shop owner is an easygoing person, there will be no problem in forming a novice ».    "Are you sure?”.    “Of course!”, she took you by the arm, «If it doesn’t work she won’t take you, but trying doesn’t hurt».   You uttered a last nasal grunt, nodding, “We will never know if I don’t try.”   “This is the spirit!”, she exclaimed, holding out a handkerchief, “Come on, let’s go.”

   After a short walk, you reached the city center, passed by Leigh’s clothing boutique, continued just beyond, and then turned onto a secondary alley. There was nothing apart from the badly off sign of a small shop, hanging perpendicular to the wall by two wrought-iron rods and made of wood panels, carved to form a cadet-blue spiked shield, surrounded by lilies and golden twigs, where, at the center, a pompous peacock-green 'J’ with gold edges gave a beautiful display of itself.    "It’s the initial of the family name,“, Chani said out of the blue, reading from your doubtful expression what you were thinking - or at first you convinced yourself of this -, "But I don’t know which it is. She doesn’t want to reveal it.”   You looked in the eccentric girl direction astonished, “Don’t you know your employer surname?”.   “I only know her first name, Odette, but everyone calls her Madame.”. That said, she pushed the French door open, making the bell ring above it and held it open to let you pass.    What stood before your eyes knew of the incredible. The shop was not particularly big, indeed, it was definitely small, and seemed even smaller due to all the sundries piled up on top of one another almost at random, giving the impression that the room could explode at any moment. Yet, by giving the right attention, you could identify a certain order in the arrangement of the various objects.    To your right, a large bookcase covered the entire wall, overflowing with ancient tomes with colourful leather covers and luxurious captions.    On the left, subdivided on the shelves by colour, there were glass jars with powders and oils inside that looked precious. Some were large, others tiny; some had regular shapes, others bizarre, round or angular, as if the glassmaker master who made them was undecided on how to create them. Under each of them, attached to the wood of the shelves, there were labels, and just below, the counter skirted the entire interior of the shop to the nearest door jamb. It was made of oak, covered with a thick plate of crystal to protect the semi-precious stones exposed inside, also arranged by color and with the respective caption.    On the other side of the furniture, there was the most untidy shelf of all, the one that at first sight gave you the idea that the objects in that palce were placed on a wing and a prayer. In fact, there were ampoules, mirrors, rolls of fabric, quartz pendulums, Middle Eastern chandeliers, goose feathers and inks, baskets, small paints, post-it attached to the bulk, rolled parchments, flowers threaded between who knows how among the various articles who knows how.    That place was a unique contradiction, passing from a manic order to the most disturbing and total chaos. And yet, despite the overpowering sense that all that minute things gave to the lieu, influenced also by the surrounding dim light, the place gave you a pleasant feeling of calm and warmth, and, not to be taken for granted, even that mystical aura typical of a magicians den was palpable, just as you’d expect from an esoteric boutique.    "Madame, I brought a friend. I think she could be a good candidate for part-time job,“, Chani winked at you. You both knew that she had overplayed a bit, you are really clumsy.    You perceisted a movement beyond the counter, then you heard the noise of something heavy that is moved with difficulty by somebody, and in fact, after a few moments, a woman in her late thirties emerged from the innumerable boxes on the floor, she disponed one in particular on the wooden shelf and began to empty its contents.    Her hair was long and curly of a warm and intense coppery red, which surrounded her rosy complexion sprinkled with freckles, highlighting the lemon-yellow irises, fixed on you like those of a feline.   How old was that woman exactly?   Her face was youthful, almost childish, but there was something in her eyes, a wisdom, an awareness of the world that was anything but immature.   "She is Nilsa.”    For a moment it seemed that his pupils flickered at the sound of your name, “Nilsa”.   You stepped forward reaching out, “Nice to meet you, Ma’m”. She looked at your hand but made no move to hold it. Did she want any demonstrations about your attitude before?    Anxious, you started raving, talking in burst like you used to do in moments of panic. How could you not be agitated, you needed that job.   “I don’t have much experience as a saleswoman, I worked mostly as a waitress, but I assured you that I’ll work hard, I learn very quickly …”.    A smug smirk curved her full lips as she brought the fists to her sides, “Do you have the same schedule as Chani in the university?”   Her sudden question left you dumbfounded, “…Yes, leaving aside the elective courses.”   “Very well. Let me know the time slots you are available, so as to organize the rotation of shifts from next week onwards”, the woman turned her back, beginning to arrange the articles on the various shelves,“ At the beginning you’ll be place side by side by me or Chani, and when I think you’re ready I’ll entrust the shop to you.”. She turned abruptly to look at you waiting for something.   “Are you saying I’m hired?”, you asked after a long while, even more dazed than before, “This way? Without a one-day trial? ”   “My intuition tells me you’ll get away with it. Are you free on Saturday afternoon?”, you nodded, “Great, I’ll wait for you at 3 p.m. Be punctual”.   Your eyes lit up like two supernovas, "Thank you! Thank you very much, Madame!”.   The owner looked at the elegant white pearl dial of the watch, "There’s still a quarter of an hour left to the opening, Chani, why don’t you show her the shop?”   The girl smiled politely, “Sure”.

[nemorosastudio]

As an artist I have a particular way of working and painting, particularly as I explore abstract art and feeling my paintings rather than planning them. With a daughter who has just finished the first year of her art GCSE however, I have been reminded, through her, of my love for and use of sketchbooks. It’s on odd thing really, I still use sketchbooks but not in the same way as I used to and I has been occurring to me that I’m missing out on valuable research and studies.

The more linear approach to her studies has really taken me back mentally to when I was a student and the levels of research I used to do when planning my work, soewhat lost over the years as I tend to dive straight in these days. I do miss aspects of it, however, the more ‘traditional’ fine art approach to creating study drawings and paintings for one.

It’s very easy to lose sight of this technique practice, or rather it has been for me. My work has become so focused on colour, marks and abstract shapes that I had completely forgotten how much I enjoy drawing studies and subjects, natural and floral in particular. Even within my abstract works they inspire me but I don’t seem to record those inspirations in the same way that I used to.

I was gifted a new A4 ‘studio’ sketchbook after filling my old one; this one is too large and heavy for me to take around every day with me for random sketching and play (hence the name ‘studio’ sketchbook that I use to differentiate it from my more portable ones), so I decided to try to get a little more ‘traditional’ in my usage of it. I had a wonderful time testing some of my older media as well as things I use more consistently these days and creating some studies.

SONY DSC

SONY DSC

SONY DSC

The first double page began with me testing my beloved watercolour palette on the paper to see how well it held up. The colour swatches came first and then, as I tend to do so as not to waste paint I used the next clean page to clean the last of the p[aint from my brush. I had this beautiful rainbow effect by the end of it that I decided to fill with quick studies of some of the plants and flowers from my garden. The mushrooms came later and were added as studies from photographs.

My mother brought me some sunflowers the following day and I had been itching to draw one for hours, it wasn’t until the evening, once the rest of my work for the day was done, that I had the chance to sit down and indulge in sketching one with coloured pencils, a media I rarely use these days in part because it flares my carpal tunnel syndrome but also because I enjoy the fluidity of paint more.

Considering that I hadn’t drawn like this with coloured pencils in years, I think the study came out well and it was thoroughly enjoyable. Again, I had to test the pencils out before using them to find the right colours. I think the rest of the double page spread will be filled with sunflower studies and pictures, as I have plenty of references to work with now and I just love how cheerful and happy a flower they are.

When I was a student I used to be jealous of other people’s sketchbooks, their ideas and abilities always seemed to be so much better than mine. Foolish, I know, and certainly not valid as opinions go but I think it is particularly hard not to compare yourself creatively to your peers, especially when they are sharing your workspace. I was specifically envious of the sketchbooks that were incredibly neat and tidy, full of these beautiful, technical, almost photo realistic drawings and layouts, something akin to what I see floating around instagram these days; not just in art content but the feel of people’s ‘clean’ aesthetics. I had no idea how people managed it as my own books were messy, battered, bright, smudged and covered in stray charcoal and paint. Even back then it was indicative of my art style and how my practice would progress as I grew as an artist. There is a middle ground to find, however, and I don’t want to lose sight or practice with the more technical skills I have and want to keep up with as well as the ways my intuitive practice takes me.

In short, the exercises were a reminder to use and love my sketchbooks. I am a little sad that I have so few of my old ones now to look back over and reminisce, they have been unfortunately lost to moves and life situations. I am, however, very thankful for the reminder to delve back into them as a tool for reference, research and inspiration, such a reminder can only enrich my practice in the long run.

Do you keep a sketchbook? If so, how do you implement it? Have you ever had to deal with sketchbook envy? What about other people’s sketchbooks brings it out in you?

Rediscovering A Love For��Sketchbooks As an artist I have a particular way of working and painting, particularly as I explore abstract art and feeling my paintings rather than planning them.