#they had metallic watercolor tubes ! METALLIC !!!

[wackysach]

nothing else screams sophisticated artist like wearing a chestnut turtleneck while illustrating with a fountain pen and eating pizzarolls, amirite.

[colleendoran]

My original cover painting for the San Diego Comic Con exclusive CONAN from Titan Comics.

I'm very sorry I won't be there for the signing. Not long ago I was joking about my schedule and how I kinda wished I could cancel going to the show so I could stay home and catch up on work.

Be careful what you wish for.

Anyway, this is pen and ink with watercolor.

I use the amazing Dr. Martin's Black Star Ink and crowquill pens. This is my very favorite black ink. It is rich and deep and does not budge when you paint over it. It also gives you large areas of pure, glorious black with a minimum of streaking.

I realize a lot of people don't like inking with crowquill pens, but I find a little practice will bring outstanding results and more character in the line than you can get out of technical pens.

Pens last longer if you clean them with a sonic cleaner. I am lucky enough to have a thirty-year-old unit that is still going strong, but any modern sonic jewelry cleaner will do the same job. Add a touch of pen cleaning fluid and the gunk on your points will be gone in a few minutes.

I only use antique points that I have hoarded for many years. Some of my crowquill points are a century old. The metal and manufacture is superior to what you are likely to find today.

My paints are Daniel Smith Watercolors. I can't say enough good things about them. Superior pigment load, fantastic color and style range, glorious iridescent and semi-precious stone pigment line, archival, lightfast, superior in every way in my experience.

Not going to lead you on about these, they are expensive, but worth every penny. They last a long time and I am especially happy with my watercolor pan set which is easy for painting while I travel.

I also used them to paint the entire 64 page CHIVALRY graphic novel, and didn't even come close to running out of a single small tube of paint. A little goes a long way.

And here is the CONAN cover with trade dress.

I did this about 6 months ago and had to keep it a secret all this time. I'm a fan of Robert E. Howard, and wanted to do something in the style of Barry Windsor-Smith, and thoroughly enjoyed working on this piece.

[witchofthesouls]

I love your bayverse Isekai AU, will there be any more snippets on the shenanigans with our feral wildling prime with equally feral newsparks and politically rogue sentinel actively failing and somehow successfully courting the said feral prime while simutaneously giving the metaphorical middle finger to the council regime.

You're standing in the middle of a pale desert. The white sand ripples without wind, and it's endless without anything in sight. A stark divide between the ground and dark sky. The stars are strange. Dripping like a child's clumsy first ventures into watercolors; saturated, vibrant hues fading into weak trailing brushstrokes. With enough concentration, you parse out the shapes of the stars, outlines squirming, moving back and forth, bleeding across the night like odd-shaped marbles.

Someone calls out, and you turn to see a fluttering-

______

You wake up, and the dream fades. The remaining echoes of crying easily meld into the newsparks' wails for your attention, even under Thundercracker's crooning engines, calm field, and fuel production. They look for you, blindly reaching out, fields refusing to settle until well entangled under your own and dozing on your chest.

______

Because you and information slugs don't mix, you're learning the old-fashioned way: direct practice.

And there's nothing in this current life nor your past human one that could prepare you for Iaconi dining etiquette and their culinary practices.

Sentinel is surprisingly patient and encouraging. Star Saber, on the other hand, is demanding and pompous as usual.

A few pieces of the cutlery are familiar in a vague shape-sense, like a spoon should be a spoon, but the spoons' handles have delicate metal leaves with tiny bundles of shiny berries. One grouping is so fragile that the shells jiggled as it rose from a well-hidden compartment from the table. Another clutch isn't round but more hexagonal. A blue hexagon-like raspberry with reddish fuzz.

There's also a tool that looks like a love-child between a well-used slinky and nunchucks and a doohicky that combined a two-pronged fork with a honey dipper.

There's nothing on the table that looks remotely close to honey or a sauce to use said dipper.

You deeply yearn for the simplicity of Thundercracker's cubes and her endless supply of snacks.

Biting the bullet, you commit to a spoon, and Star Saber exudes disdain as you try to scoop out the plain tofu lookalike on your plate. It jiggles and warps the moment the utensil touches it, and the berries, every single one, fall off. The hard ones bounce off, tinking across the table and floor, and the fragile ones splatter the tofu. A contained mess of color and sound clash as discordant strings and chimes overlay and warp.

Sentinel is then right by you. "Like this," he says, and he takes your hand to pick up the fork end, guiding you to twirl the dipper right over the plain tofu block. It quivers, and there's a lovely wind-chime noise before the entire thing flows upward, carving into long, unbroken chains by following the grooves, and artfully twirling backdown into a nest.

A plate of color-splattered noodles now sits before you.

Sentinel uses the slinky, applying the nunckuck ends to his thumb and middle finger and gently bounces the slinky over the noodles. The noodles slither their way into the middle, and after a mouthful is gathered, he brings the contraption near his face, flicking off the thumb attachment and the flexible tubing and 'drinks' his food as if it's a straw itself.

A sharp, ringing hum grabs your attention, prickling over your senses at vibrates in your field. When Star Saber stops circling the rim of the wine glass, the hum dies down as well.

"You failed when we entered." You stare blankly at the Seeker, and he clicks his glossa before explaining, "The most prominent member signals the rest to sit."

"But I waited for you because you're the most experienced!" Star Saber had literally spent weeks beating it into your processor about the teacher-student dynamic: who sits, who stands, who dismisses, and many other important, little steps of social nuance.

"Yes. If this was an educational setup, but this is a formal meal, it's the established Prime that signals to everyone else to sit."

You throw all caution to wind and reach over to the turn table in the middle. Sentinel laughs as you manually spin it until you reach your target: the deconstructed savory pies basket.

Star Saber remains unamused as you take a bite of the sphere, and spices flood your senses, coating your glossa with a hearty, thick gravy. The 'wrapping is supposed to be peeled, but it's completely edible and flaky layers.

It's a performance piece with the right sounds and gestures. The wrapping would gracefully unravel, and the contents reorganize itself into a sophisticated piece of art before settling into cups to be eaten one by one.

You find it more comfortable to eat the pie in one whole go. Star Saber deeply sighs at your atrocious manners and actually snaps at Sentinel when the mech decides to follow your lead.

[epitomereally]

Celestial Navigation by @sabrecmc

18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.

An absolutely gorgeous story of learning to love yourself, even when you feel like you don't fit in & that you grew up wrong. I'm so happy to have gotten to bind this mammoth work for Sabre & as a gift exchange for @mourningmountainsbindery (who bound me this beautiful copy of Astolat's Let the River Run—JUST LOOK AT THAT COVER!).

Also to anyone who has @ed me lately (looking at u, em @powerful-owl & tacky @tackytigerfic particularly) & I've been derelict in responding, here is WHY.

This has been the longest binding project I've undertaken, both in page count and in time. My original message to Sabre was on March 16th—can't decide if I want to use the laughing or crying emoji here—and the colophon says I made the book in April 2023 (which was when I started typesetting, maybe). I had been randomly perusing dying videos on Youtube in bed on a Saturday morning, as one does, and came across a video showing how to spiral tie-dye. I IMMEDIATELY had a design premonition of the full design for this fic as a two-volume set, planted into my brain wholesale by the binding gods. I learned many new techniques throughout the process (edge painting, edge trimming/sanding, tie-dying/dyepainting, embroidery, typesetting meta from tumblr which copy-pastes with the worst goddamn formatting in the world, kill me now). Overall, alternately extremely painful & wonderful, and I'm extremely proud of this set.

Design-wise, I went whole-hog with the scifi stars theme. Endpapers are recolored versions of the star charts from the Apollo 11 mission:

Title page & chapter titles are both rips in the galaxy:

Epigraphs both star-themed:

Some more glamor shots because I'm so proud 💕

8.6 lbs // 3.8 kgs worth of books (~3000 total pages) 🥰

Celestial Navigation is also INCREDIBLY popular, and Sabre has been incredibly generous answering asks on her tumblr + writing additional one-shots in the universe. There is also a veritable volume of fanart. I was so inspired by seeing @robins-egg-bindery copy of ********, with its appendix of fanart & meta, that I promptly copied them.

fanart redacted because lots of the artists are no longer active on tumblr but just know i am ECSTATIC about the amount of art in these books

Lastly, I love how @clovenhoofbindery includes their 'Illustrator mess' with their bind posts, as a behind-the-scenes look into the wild process of designing these books. I don't actually have an Illustrator mess for this book (the chapter titles & title page pretty much came in one take), but I do have a DYING MESS. It took me sososo many tries to figure out how to get the dye to look how I imagined in my head. I ended up 'dye painting' instead of tie-dying in the end, but my inbox is always open to chat hand-dying/tie-dying/dyepainting (or what I did differently between any of these attempts). Numbers are the dying attempt.

Last process shot: I hand-dyed variegated linen thread to match the colors of the bind, which ends up being incredibly difficult to see on the finished bind, but was super fun while I was sewing!

Materials:

Body font: Kepler

Title font: Compaq 1982

Chapter number font: aliens & cows

Endpapers: recolored versions of the star chart used by Michael Collins during the Apollo 11 mission (archived at The Smithsonian)

Bookcloth: dyed using Dharma Trading Procion Fiber-Reactive Dyes

Title page and chapter headers: designed in Photoshop using the Ultimate Space brush pack by jeffrettalyn on DeviantArt

Metallic embroidery thread: Cosmo Nishikiito thread

I would dye for this embroidery thread. It is LIGHT YEARS better than the classic metallic embroidery thread from DMC: much easier to work with & much more sparkly. Literally so eye-catching; it truly doesn't translate to photos.

Paint for edges: Daniel Smith watercolor tubes in Iridescent Sunstone and Prussian Blue

Note: these are GORGEOUS watercolors. The color is so saturated and strong and beautiful BUT I don't think I'd recommend watercolors for edge painting. They went on very differently depending on the grit of the sandpaper I used for the edges + they sometimes bled into the pages + they had to be set with fixative, which then stuck the pages together.

[aviatrix-ash]

Finally had a day with very little humidity here and perfect temps this morning so I started rapidly stripping the paint off the Ultra Pup's fuselage in hopes I could finally get a coat of epoxy primer on it. But then the temperature dropped rapidly again so I opted to watercolor paint instead of the actual plane. Fabric covered metal aircraft use an epoxy paint on the frame underneath both seal the steel tubes from moisture and provide a good surface for the fabric glue to bond to. Just like any epoxy, it's sensitive to humidity and temperature changes.

[highly-opinionated-art]

I wanna share with you guys some traditional art I've been making recently- since November I've been doing this album-of-the-week thing, and a few weeks into the year I started picking out my favorite line from the album of the week and doing a little illustration for it. If you can call it that- they're just quick, rough little pictures, more experimental than polished. Some are better than others. But I have some watercolors and acrylic paints that I never used before this project, and a hell of a lot of markers and gel pens and colored pencils that need to be used, too. I've been learning a lot and getting some use out of what I have at the same time, so that's good enough for me! Here's the first quarter of 2024 done:

Albums/artists/lyrics under the cut, plus some additional commentary because why not.

(2024 part 2) (2024 part 3)

Week 1: "I wanna be what my body wants me to be" is from the song Townie, from the album bury me at makeout creek by mitski. I actually kinda hated this whole album, but Townie is a tolerable song.

Week 2: "it never hurts to give thanks to the local gods, you never know who might be hungry" is from the song Younger, from the album In League With Dragons, by the Mountain Goats. Mixed feelings about the album. Mostly just mad that I can't just put a mostly transparent blue layer over everything when I want it to look like night with watercolor the way I can with digital art.

Week 3: "that we won't run, and we won't run, and we won't run" is from the song King And Lionheart, from the album My Head Is An Animal by Of Monsters And Men, which is a meh album but I love this song.

Week 4: "Make it a dirt dance floor again" is from the song Bleed It Out, from the album Minutes to Midnight by Linkin Park. GREAT album. The art looks just like poop but I swear the paint came out of the tube like that, I didn't mix it with anything or anything!

Week 5: "gotta be more to life than just try, try, try" from the song Half A Mile Away, from the album 52nd Street by Billy Joel. This was actually the first one I made, I went back and did the first 4 a little later.

Week 6: "I'm gonna keep on dancing" is from the song Pink Pony Club, from the album The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan. The album is ok, I guess? Not my favorite but this track is a really good one.

Week 7: "maybe they'll love me when I finally get out of this town" is from the song Made For This, from the album Built To Last, by Arrows in Action, which is a FANTASTIC album, like DAMN.

Week 8: "together, Wendy, we can live with the sadness, I love you with all the madness in my soul" is from the song Born To Run, by the album of the same name by Bruce Springsteen. It was really hard to get a picture of this one for some reason. Metallic gel pen might have something to do with it.

Week 9: "inside, everybody's hiding something" is from the song Slide, from the album No Angel by Dido. I LOVE Dido. I meant to add more masks in the picture, ok. I got lazy. I should have just made the other ones bigger...

Week 10: "tomorrow's just another day" is from the song Don't Cry 2020 (which was released in 2017), from the album How Will You Know If You Never Try by the band COIN. Forgettable album, but the art is of my room, but I didn't get up and walk 10 steps to get a reference, just did it from memory. The window is too small and not in the right place, and I just changed up the patterns on the blanket because I didn't feel like checking.

Week 11: "if it's ever gonna happen, it's gotta happen here I am" (which seems like it should be missing a comma, but it's like that on purpose) is from the song Shine On Me, from the album Pure Fiction by Eric Hutchinson (not his best work I fear).

Week 12: "make new symbols, make new signs" is from the title track from the album New Beginning, by Tracy Chapman. AMAZING album, I loved it. I'm completely pissed that I messed up the art, though. I thought I had it going for me. Boo.

Week 13: "I don't look important, so they're telling me to wait" is from the song WaldorfWorldwide, from Good Charlotte's self titled debut album. Self portrait of me, a teacher, being mistaken for a student at an event, which is a frequent and frustrating occurrence. This album is ok, but I think they were pretty clearly still developing at this point in their career.

[fenicenera83]

Day 4

A painting with a secret

That summer evening was starry and sultry, in the studio the large white wooden table chiseled in gold was covered with sketches, sketches, and art books. There was a completely worn-out charcoal that had left its black dust on one side of the table, a sanguine pencil had rolled against a glass tumbler containing brushes of all sizes and shapes. There were pencil shavings a little everywhere, a metal box containing watercolors, with a brush resting between the proofs of color on the metal side of it, flowers and faces preserved by time, on thick sheets, resting almost carelessly in their perfection from shining colors and delicate shades.

There were tubes of acrylic colors, a strange new passion, mixed with colorful oil paints. A palette completely covered with colors, some almost dry, gently rested next to a glass that contained a clear liquid. Other sheets, other sketches, larger and more accurate than those done in watercolor, one could see the perfect and painstaking knowledge of oil colors, like the passion and great soul that had rested those colors in harmony and grace. The sound of pencil on paper enveloped the air, skilled and quick hands worked relentlessly, eyes attentive and absorbed, lines precise and soft, the diligence of an artist's heart. Yet there was impatience in those movements, something unfulfilled and restless. After a while the pencil was left aside, the paper pushed away, Marius rested his face cruelly on his hands, and closed his eyes, apparently, Mother Art had decided she was not inclined to hold his hand today.Sighing Marius began to reseal the tubes of color; it did not happen often for him, but when these days came he felt bitter beyond words. Marius had just closed two of the oil paints when a soft knock came from the door. Marius hardly allowed anyone in his studio, it was his refuge, and much of what was there were pieces of his soul, revealed in colors and brushstrokes on the canvases. Much there was unfinished, this was because Marius could return to a painting after years, and sometimes even change it almost completely. It was not for the public it was for him, that place, for his loneliness and passion. So that delicate intrusion almost made him uneasy, considering that his mood was already somber. With his elbows resting on the table and his face turned toward the door, Marius murmured a forward, though ready to politely withdraw the invitation. It was not necessary, in fact, who else could have that audacity but his Armand? Two deep eyes scrutinized him, from the half-closed door, as soft auburn waves accompanied that movement, an eyebrow arched, Armand already sensed from Marius's expression that something had disturbed him.

Marius turned the stool toward Armand with his hands resting on his thighs and a questioning but amused look on his face, his blue eyes shining and his smile barely noticeable. Armand waited no longer entered and closed the door behind him, leaning against it. " What troubles my Master?" murmured Armand with a mischievous smile. Marius shook his head and went back to lean against the large table, staring irritably at the papers, brushes and colors scattered on the table. " If it is inspiration you lack let me help you. You could never have a more diligent model." and Armand broke away from the door with a slow but firm step toward Marius, who was smiling, " Perhaps my cherub, but it is not only inspiration that is lacking" Marius looked thoughtful, " It is as if I want to create something different, but I don't know how to find the right means to achieve my goal." murmured Marius, as if he finally understood something that had eluded him until that moment.Armand rested a hand in Marius' long blond hair, delighted by the contact, Marius seemed to be so absorbed in the half-painted sheets before him that he did not notice that contact. Armand seemed to consider what Marius was looking at, but he saw only beauty and immaculate perfection, so much ardor and care, so much intelligence and delicate dedication, so much passion and love, all that Marius was. Then he stared at the half-open tubes, the dirty brushes, the half-used canvases, and the abandoned sheets. Armand pulled Marius close to him, resting a gentle kiss in his hair, " Perhaps Master, you do not have the right means to achieve this new goal you have set for yourself?" And Armand's smile was incredibly sweet, but at the same time fearfully mischievous, " What means, my child, do you think I lack? An artist has what he needs in his paints and blank sheets and canvases, the rest is up to him to pull it out of his soul."Marius said with a smile as he stroked the hand that Armand had rested on his shoulder, " Mh, for example a canvas can be made of something else…it doesn't have to be canvas or linen…and even the blank pages of sketchpads are not all the same…are they Master?" Marius remained interdicted, although an idea was beginning to form in him as to what Armand was suggesting, " What are you suggesting little Imp?" Armand laughed, crystal clear and delightful, " You could create a secret painting, something that would remain only for a period of time, and have in it the secret of your soul, the deepest and most beloved one, and I could be your blank canvas, I would guard it for you on me, and only you and I could look at it and know that it it exists."Armand murmured each word slowly and with growing longing as he stroked with one hand the edge of the white shirt whose first three buttons Marius had left open, and with the other the long blue silk shirt he wore over his gray jeans. Marius stood up, and in a moment Armand was forced to look toward the other so as not to leave those cobalt blue eyes. A moment later, without taking his eyes off each other, Armand felt his shirt slip off, followed by everything else he had on. The kiss that followed was sweet, almost as sweet as the blood that was the pinnacle of everything for them. When the brush touched his marble skin, Armand could not hold back a sigh of pleasure and satisfaction. Marius covered Armand's skin with gentleness and perfect beauty, weaving fiery and rebellious colors, passionate and vivid, between stolen kisses and shrewd caresses, the night embraced them in that creation, and in the end Armand guarded that painted secret until it was the colors themselves that gave way, until it was that masterpiece itself that left, leaving within him, however, the intact and splendid secret of his Master's soul.

[knitasha]

NaNoWriMo: The Vividorium

I'm woefully behind on my NaNoWriMo project, but still managing to write every day. I'll be happy if I can get to 7,000 tonight.

I'm still not 100% confident in my writing to post everything on here, but here's a small chunk. It definitely feels like I'm writing in a vacuum too much - writing about what is going on instead of showing what's going on, but I haven't figured out how to fix that yet.

Constructure criticism welcome!

---

Emelia had intended to make her way to the park where the Christmas Market was set up to get a first look of the area. Although the market opened at 12pm each day, she expected the crowds would wait until the evening to descend on the stalls when the sun had gone down and the lights would twinkle light stars across the whole park.

The travel notebook tucked into her purse had a list of the vendors she was most looking forward to seeing and she had included the broad type of item each booth was expected to sell as well as specific items she’d found on each vendor’s website that she was particularly excited about for her parents, brother, and friends.

The light was red as she came up on the next corner and she looked around appreciatively at the rows of shops lining the street as she waited for the crossing line to change when her eyes came to rest on a store tucked between a cafe and a pet supply store. A brightly colored sign hung from the wall - The Vividorium - and a beautiful, half-finished replica of Starry Night sat in an easel in the window along with an array of oil paint tubes and scattering of brushes.  

Making a split second decision, Emelia turned and jogged to crossed the street other pedestrians were already walking across, abandoning her original plans. She’d just pop in for a second and then could go on her way to the market.

The room insight was uncomfortably hot after the sharp chill she’d been walking through for the past 20 minutes and she quickly pulled off her gloves and stuffed them into her purse.

“Welcome in,” floated from the back of the store, “I’ll be out in a moment.”

“No rush,” she called back, running her fingers over the covers of the sketchbooks piled high on the table just inside. 

The narrow store was lined with tall birch bookshelves. The shelves along the right side held notebooks and canvases of various sizes. She was tempted by a lime green LEUCHTTURM dot journal, but remembered her last two failed bullet journals and left it on the shelf.

Along the left shelves were cups of pens, pencils, markers, and brushes by the window. Then came the paints - acrylics, oils, gouache, and watercolors in sets and individual tubes and pans with brightly colored wrappers formed rainbows along the wall.

Emelia had picked up a tiny travel palette of watercolors when the owner of the earlier voice emerged from the back.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Oh, no, thanks. I’m just looking.”

“That’s a nice set,” the woman gestured to the palette still in Emelia’s hands, “Good if you’ve got an eye for mixing colors since there aren’t too many in there.”

“Ah, yeah, I don’t really know much about painting. I’d love to learn, but there was never enough time. But now that I’m on vacation…”

It was all the woman, whose name turned out to be Joan, needed to hear and 20 minutes later Emelia exited the art store with a not-so-small paper bag in hand filled with a 100-color watercolor palette that was surprisingly small for containing so many colors, a set of metal travel brushes, a water reservoir, a booklet of watercolor paper to practice on, and a pad of blank postcards that Joan had insisted would be good for sending paintings to her family. Emelia wasn’t so sure anything she could create at this point would be worth sending to anyone, but Joan had been more than a little intimidating in her enthusiasm and Emelia wasn’t sure she would be allowed to leave without them.

[creaturebehavior]

earlier my mom asked me what i wanted for christmas and i figured i’ll use this opportunity to get some paint colors i’m low on

and after picking out a couple things i need and sending them to her (a couple different tubes of pink watercolors because i ALWAYS use up all the pinks in my watercolor palettes and i need more pink, a tube of just basic titanium white acrylic paint, a tube of basic quinacridone magenta acrylic paint, a set of metallic water colors cuz my multi color set has a few empty colors, and then a little set of smaller paintbrushes cuz i only have a couple small brushes honestly but i use small paintbrushes more than anything else) i had a moment where i was like whoa…. There are things about me. like i’m a person.

despite actually having a lot of interests, and very specific tastes and preferences in things, i also still have a wavering and unstable sense of identity and easily lose touch with who i am, and with what a personality even is.

i’m still not entirely sure what counts as a personality, but at times i have seen people say that a good way to get to know yourself is to begin to recognize your tastes, interests, perspectives, opinions, preferences, etc. and that it can even help to write these things down

i don’t usually write them down but i have been trying to become more aware of these things about myself as i discover them

what’s cool is even though i’ve been having an incredibly difficult year, i have been going through a transformative period where i am slowly being shown my shadow self, and also slowly being shown with my… nonshadow self. idk what that’s called. and i’m still in the infant phases of getting to know myself and becoming more aware of myself i guess? but i am definitely making progress, and i welcome the darkness and the lightness to be shown to me. it’s like i’ve been waiting all my life to begin to see glimpses of myself and here i am. every now and again i can see myself flickering in front of me

[theblackphoenixwritings]

Day 4

A painting with a secret

That summer evening was starry and sultry, in the studio the large white wooden table chiseled in gold was covered with sketches, sketches, and art books. There was a completely worn-out charcoal that had left its black dust on one side of the table, a sanguine pencil had rolled against a glass tumbler containing brushes of all sizes and shapes. There were pencil shavings a little everywhere, a metal box containing watercolors, with a brush resting between the proofs of color on the metal side of it, flowers and faces preserved by time, on thick sheets, resting almost carelessly in their perfection from shining colors and delicate shades.

There were tubes of acrylic colors, a strange new passion, mixed with colorful oil paints. A palette completely covered with colors, some almost dry, gently rested next to a glass that contained a clear liquid. Other sheets, other sketches, larger and more accurate than those done in watercolor, one could see the perfect and painstaking knowledge of oil colors, like the passion and great soul that had rested those colors in harmony and grace. The sound of pencil on paper enveloped the air, skilled and quick hands worked relentlessly, eyes attentive and absorbed, lines precise and soft, the diligence of an artist's heart. Yet there was impatience in those movements, something unfulfilled and restless. After a while the pencil was left aside, the paper pushed away, Marius rested his face cruelly on his hands, and closed his eyes, apparently, Mother Art had decided she was not inclined to hold his hand today.Sighing Marius began to reseal the tubes of color; it did not happen often for him, but when these days came he felt bitter beyond words. Marius had just closed two of the oil paints when a soft knock came from the door. Marius hardly allowed anyone in his studio, it was his refuge, and much of what was there were pieces of his soul, revealed in colors and brushstrokes on the canvases. Much there was unfinished, this was because Marius could return to a painting after years, and sometimes even change it almost completely. It was not for the public it was for him, that place, for his loneliness and passion. So that delicate intrusion almost made him uneasy, considering that his mood was already somber. With his elbows resting on the table and his face turned toward the door, Marius murmured a forward, though ready to politely withdraw the invitation. It was not necessary, in fact, who else could have that audacity but his Armand? Two deep eyes scrutinized him, from the half-closed door, as soft auburn waves accompanied that movement, an eyebrow arched, Armand already sensed from Marius's expression that something had disturbed him.

Marius turned the stool toward Armand with his hands resting on his thighs and a questioning but amused look on his face, his blue eyes shining and his smile barely noticeable. Armand waited no longer entered and closed the door behind him, leaning against it. " What troubles my Master?" murmured Armand with a mischievous smile. Marius shook his head and went back to lean against the large table, staring irritably at the papers, brushes and colors scattered on the table. " If it is inspiration you lack let me help you. You could never have a more diligent model." and Armand broke away from the door with a slow but firm step toward Marius, who was smiling, " Perhaps my cherub, but it is not only inspiration that is lacking" Marius looked thoughtful, " It is as if I want to create something different, but I don't know how to find the right means to achieve my goal." murmured Marius, as if he finally understood something that had eluded him until that moment.Armand rested a hand in Marius' long blond hair, delighted by the contact, Marius seemed to be so absorbed in the half-painted sheets before him that he did not notice that contact. Armand seemed to consider what Marius was looking at, but he saw only beauty and immaculate perfection, so much ardor and care, so much intelligence and delicate dedication, so much passion and love, all that Marius was. Then he stared at the half-open tubes, the dirty brushes, the half-used canvases, and the abandoned sheets. Armand pulled Marius close to him, resting a gentle kiss in his hair, " Perhaps Master, you do not have the right means to achieve this new goal you have set for yourself?" And Armand's smile was incredibly sweet, but at the same time fearfully mischievous, " What means, my child, do you think I lack? An artist has what he needs in his paints and blank sheets and canvases, the rest is up to him to pull it out of his soul."Marius said with a smile as he stroked the hand that Armand had rested on his shoulder, " Mh, for example a canvas can be made of something else…it doesn't have to be canvas or linen…and even the blank pages of sketchpads are not all the same…are they Master?" Marius remained interdicted, although an idea was beginning to form in him as to what Armand was suggesting, " What are you suggesting little Imp?" Armand laughed, crystal clear and delightful, " You could create a secret painting, something that would remain only for a period of time, and have in it the secret of your soul, the deepest and most beloved one, and I could be your blank canvas, I would guard it for you on me, and only you and I could look at it and know that it it exists."Armand murmured each word slowly and with growing longing as he stroked with one hand the edge of the white shirt whose first three buttons Marius had left open, and with the other the long blue silk shirt he wore over his gray jeans. Marius stood up, and in a moment Armand was forced to look toward the other so as not to leave those cobalt blue eyes. A moment later, without taking his eyes off each other, Armand felt his shirt slip off, followed by everything else he had on. The kiss that followed was sweet, almost as sweet as the blood that was the pinnacle of everything for them. When the brush touched his marble skin, Armand could not hold back a sigh of pleasure and satisfaction. Marius covered Armand's skin with gentleness and perfect beauty, weaving fiery and rebellious colors, passionate and vivid, between stolen kisses and shrewd caresses, the night embraced them in that creation, and in the end Armand guarded that painted secret until it was the colors themselves that gave way, until it was that masterpiece itself that left, leaving within him, however, the intact and splendid secret of his Master's soul.

[elenajohansenreads]

Books I Read in 2023

#103 - Watercolor is for Everyone: Simple Lessons to Make Your Creative Practice a Daily Habit, by Kateri Ewing

Rating: 3/5 stars

I liked the purpose of this book, to use art and explore a specific medium for mindfulness and relaxation. I liked that many of the lessons included a page or two of student examples, so that I could see versions of the exercise that weren't the author's.

I sometimes did not like the overly woo-woo tone; even for a book about mindfulness it seemed simplistic and pandering. And I truly did not like the emphasis on having a million colors of paint at your disposal, which felt absurdly consumerist for a book on this subject. What do I mean? In the first lesson, which is simply gathering and preparing your materials, the author recommends getting one or more metallic paints to accent the pieces you'll be creating, but says "it's okay if you don't have any, though." And then almost every single lesson includes them! She also says it's okay to only have a limited number of colors, which I do because I'm using an old ten-color set I bought so long ago the tubes had dried up so I cut them open and mushed them into plastic bead organizers. The set includes white, black, two browns, and the rainbow from red to blue, but notably, no indigo or violet (or any version of purple) and no metallics! There was one exercise that wanted up to three different shades of the colors that represented how you were feeling that day, and yeah, I don't have any purple. This disparity between "you can work through this book with very few materials" and the lessons asking for a wide range of colors was further emphasized by the author "helpfully" including the sources of her paints in most (every?) lessons, in addition to the reference list in the back. Okay, fine, you're writing a book on watercolor, clearly you have a lot more watercolor paint than most of your readers. But advising me to use "the colors that speak to [me] most that day" is incredibly frustrating when I've only got the ten to work with, which you started the book by saying was okay.

I got less frustrated when the lessons began to include mixing guidelines and techniques; for the rest of the book, if the lesson wanted (non-metallic) colors that I didn't have, I spent extra time playing around with mixing them first, to varying degrees of success.

I did do all twenty-one lessons, and most of them produced a nice little piece of meditative art that I'm happy with. (A few were duds for one reason or another, but I made sure to ponder why I didn't like them and what "mistakes" that made them displeasing, so I can avoid them as I continued to explore the medium on my own.)

Would I recommend this book? I primarily do art as a form of journaling, so despite the flaws I see in it, I ultimately found it a useful experience, at least as a jumping-off point to keep using watercolor on my own--which is what I wanted more than the ritual meditation or the specific art style of the author. But not everyone will connect with the practice (which I made myself despite the flaws) and could bounce off without much engagement, and I certainly wouldn't blame them. I do think someone with a few dozen colors of paint will have a better experience than someone with fewer, and I think that implied investment in materials runs counter to the supposed purpose of mindfulness and relaxation (and explicit "it's okay" caveat in Lesson One)--I shouldn't need to buy so many things to do something this simple.

Bonus that's not an official part of the review:

My favorite pieces, at least from the journal spreads I've completed and photographed so far. (As I said, I did do all the lessons, but not all the pieces are in my journal yet.)

[oflgtfol]

i love framing so much i love working with my hands and not thinking anything about life. 9 hour shift passes in no time bc i cease to exist as a person while im assembling frames im just some pair of hands and eyes

Anyway i took an order today for a woman framing her grandmother’s watercolor painting this shit is from 1971!!! ive framed some old stuff before but nobodys ever given me an exact date and to my knowledge even the vague “eh its pretty old”s havent been THIS old

look at this crusty old thang. the cardboard backing is like decaying before my eyes. i guess it had once been properly attached to the frame because when i pulled it out i saw - NAILS? when theyre supposed to be stapled into the frame but no this just had nails poking out. but even then the nails werent attached to the cardboard anymore so i was just able to pop the cardboard backing out real easily. and the wire is just plain metal its not like our modern wire that has the rubber tubing around it to make tying it safer + neater. and inside the frame itself the painting had a mat over it and i guess over the DECADES of existing like that, there was like this brownish border left behind on the paper around where the old mat had been

and the worst part. the part that made me audibly say “oh man :(“ while disassembling this. was that the paper had been scotch taped to the back of its original mat. i had to pry the scotch tape off and just the glue on the tape was barely there anymore it was so old and yet even despite that it still took away some shreds off the back of the paper. luckily the shreds were small and it was the back of the paper so nothing of the actual painting itself was damaged

overall just such an old crumbly fragile piece, i think this is one if the most fragile pieces ive ever worked on so far

[fagboyfriend]

🌈✨💖♿️

[ID: A traditional watercolor painting. The painting is of two queer men meeting in a bar. The one on the left has short, wavy black hair and faint facial hair. He is relaxed, leaning in his wheelchair while holding a can. He is wearing a white tank top that falls to the side to expose his top surgery scars, and shorts. He is smiling. The man on the right is standing and smiling nervously while blushing. He has longer red hair shaved on one side, and has a feeding tube, an ostomy bag with a rainbow cover and is using glittery forearm crutches. He is wearing a black tshirt with a pink triangle and a star of david necklace. His shirt is cropped, and he has a fishnet shirt on underneath. He is wearing tight black jeans with two patches, one on either knee. one is of a spring of lavender, while the other is a green carnation. He also has a magenta bandana tied around his neck. He has two small buttons on his shirt, likely of political messages. The Bar the two are standing in is vibrant. It has a sloped exposed wood cealing, covered in fairy lights and rainbow lanterns. The floor is pink and purple checkerboard, with a purple bar with stacked glasses and bottles behind it. There is also a red loveseat with two heart covered pillows on it, and a neon sign in the shape of a heart emoji covering a rainbow flag. The entire peice is vibrantly colored, with glitter, gloss, and metalic elements. end ID.]

A traditional redraw of this old peice. I like their designs a lot better now and had fun playing with my new liquid watercolors.

[allclonesneedkisses]

Summary: Boba gives you a surprise.

Pairing: Boba Fett x f!ArtistReader

Word Count: 974 Rating: PG

Tags: Fluff, artistic reader, just a soft sweet moment

Masterlist

It was actually Fennec who suggested it. She’d been watching you sketch for the last hour. Bobas audience chamber was cleared out for the day, leaving her idle while the daimyo himself worked on reports from the throne. Her keen eyes had picked up the tiny frown that kept working itself across your lips as you mixed your pastels with your fingers. Noting your physical discomfort towards the chalk that clung to your skin.

“Have you tried painting?” You looked up, your hand stilling over your sketch as you focused on her.

“Why do you ask?” 

She gave a rolling shrug, her braid slipping behind her shoulder with an easy you wish you could capture in your work. “You don't seem to like the way those feel.” She gestured at your chalk pastels that were scattered across your table. As if to prove her point she picked one up and grimaced as it grated under her nail.

“And I can see why.” She set it back down and wiped the chalk dust on her pants, leaving behind a streak of yellow on her otherwise pristine clothes which she frowned at.

With a sigh you set your sketch down and began cleaning off your fingers with the rag you kept nearby. “I used to paint. A long time ago.” Fenic looked back at you even as she tried to rub the yellow chalk off. “But paint’s more expensive and it’d take up too much room.” You couldn't keep the wistfulness out of your voice which was probably what kickstarted the whole thing.

You were never sure if Fenic had taken it upon herself to bring it up to Boba or if he’d been eavesdropping on your conversation, but a few days later Boba sprung it on you.

“I have a gift for you little one.” You were just finishing up breakfast together, your mind already wandering to your day when he’d caught your eye.

You gave him a curious smile and when he offered you his worn hand you took it with a question. “What’s the occasion?” He gently pulled you from your seat, his eyes never leaving yours even as his expression softened just a hair.

“Do I need a reason to spoil you?” You ran your tongue across your teeth but it did little to stop your smile from spreading.

Boba had tucked your hand in his as he guided you through the palace. He’d refused to answer any of your questions, opting instead to question you about your latest work. It wasn't long before he paused in front of a small room adjacent to his personal quarters. You gave him a questioning look since it’d only ever been used for storage.

He gestured at the closed door with a nod of his head. “Go ahead.” 

Skeptically you palmed the door controls and stepped inside, your mouth already forming another question that never left your lips. What was once a storage room had been effortlessly turned into a studio. Blank canvases were neatly leaning against the plain adobe walls, their blank visages inviting you to deface them. An old paint flecked easel stood tall in the center of the room facing a small open window looking out over the dune sea. Beside the well loved easel stood a wobbly table that was covered in supplies. Your legs carried you closer without any instruction from your brain and you reverently ran your hands across the multitude of paints. It was a hodgepodge of mediums, from watercolor to acrylic to more obscure types. There were even a few tubes of Kashyyyk pigment and Rhodian dye, the likes of which you’d only ever seen from afar. 

But beyond the tubes and pallets of paint were the brushes. They were well used, obviously taken care of by their previous artists. Their wooden handles had been worn smooth, any lacquer had long since flaked off leaving them a natural, yet washed out brown. The metal ferrules were dull and dented, a few of them showing signs of rust yet all of them relatively clean and well maintained. Most of the brushes were rounded, their fluffy tan bristles a little uneven and soft from time. But to you they were perfect. They were reminiscent of the brushes you’d learned to paint with in school so long ago. Already broken in by a multitude of strokes, their stubborn existence a testament to their value.

You turned towards Boba with tears in your eyes to find him standing right behind you, his eyes soft and a tiny bit anxious as he waited for your response. You grinned at him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close. He cradled your form against him, his warm hands landing on your back and gripping you tightly in return.

“Thank you Boba, this is…” you trailed off, unable to voice just how much it meant to you.

Boba gave a soft chuckle, his breath tickling your neck. “The tools may be old but I felt they suited you better than an untouched set.” You huffed out a laugh, loving the fact that he knew you so well and gave him a squeeze before pulling back so you could see his face.

“I love them.” You released his neck to gently brush his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs feeling his worn skin against yours. “Thank you.” 

Boba cupped his hands around yours, engulfing them with his warm palms. “I would give you everything you desire, little one. Even the old and worn relics of the past so much like me.”

You gave a little shake of your head, a rueful gesture that always amused him. “Not old, well loved.” 

He turned one of your palms towards his lips and brushed a chaste kiss against your skin before agreeing. “Well loved indeed.”

@writer-wednesday

[meruz]

Hey I can't find this in your FAQ so sorry if it's been asked before! Your traditional art is so stunning and vibrant, would you happen to have any brand recommendations for people trying to get into painting? Maybe specific gouche paint, brushes, papers etc. Thank you so much and have a nice day!

no one has ever asked me this before because this is like the first time ive started putting traditional art on my blog! LOL umm to be honest I’m very far from pro on this front, most of my knowledge comes from a handful of classes I didn’t pay a lot of attention to and lots of youtube videos but here’s my recommendations:

Paint

A lot of my paints are winsor newton designer’s gouache because this is what my teachers made me buy when I was a freshman at art school LOL. it’s definitely kind of pricey, I think it’s like $10.99 for a tube which I was NOT a fan of as a college student and is still not my favorite thing now. But they’re overall worth the price if you really want solid, high quality opaque paints. Though I’ve heard their student grade winton paints are decent as well?

I’ve heard less good things about brands like reeves and artist loft... but I think turner is alright? m.graham is supposedly great.

I also bought a set of holbein acryla gouache when it was discounted on amazon a while ago and have found it very solid. One thing you have to know about acryla gouache is that it uses a binder more like acrylic paint (hence the name acryla). Paints are made out of pigment + binder and most gouache is essentially watercolor but with extra pigment/chalk to make it opaque - the binder is water soluble so these paints can be reactivated with water. Acryla gouache is NOT water soluble when dry and it dries pretty fast so it’s overall less flexible. But other than that you can pretty much treat it like any other gouache and I find they keep a little better too, less likely to get gunky or stiff.

All paint brands have a handful of starter packs which are slightly discounted but if you want to build your own starting palette I’d say get a warm and cool tint of all the primaries, get a lot of white (working with gouache somehow involves a lot of mixing with white lol), and get a brown, maybe like burnt sienna or raw umber for underpaintings. No need to get a black, mixing darks builds character, looks better, and having one out of the tube can become a crutch. If you find a white watercolor paint tube that’s cheaper you can buy that instead of a gouache white. Again, they have pretty much the same make-up. And white paints are generally opaque enough that the composition between gouache/watercolor shouldn’t matter too much.

I’ve never used a block tray of gouache. Like those paints that come in little blocks in a tray? I know there's a bunch out there but I’ve never used them and I don’t know anyone else who does so I have no opinion on them.

Brushes

I’ve been kind of exploring this myself. I recently bought a cheap set of flat brushes off amazon LOL and I like them a lot?

Theyre probably not The Best or anything but I found flat brushes suit gouache plein air painting really well because its suits the kind of color blocking shapes I want to make. Also these had the right handle length to fit in my painting bag. That’s like the main reason I chose them tbh.

Honestly a lot of my art supplies philosophy is “give it a whirl with whatever you have lying around and when it feels like you're missing something specific keep an eye out for when that stuff goes on sale”

Paper

GOTTA BE HONEST I’m using cheapo paper. Because I’m making these paintings half for study and half to give my parents something to hang in the living room.

You can actually see some of them curling in on themselves here lol. If you’ve seen the sketchbook I’m holding in any of my pics of paintings it’s one of the canson mixed media books.

and its FINE... I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it lol.. I like that the texture is very fine but it doesn’t hold a lot of water and definitely distorts. Also I keep ripping off the surface with painters tape but that might just be on me. Oh buy artist tape. Just because its so satisfying to have clean edges.

I’m using painters tape instead of artist tape because I found it in the basement but if youre buying supplies buy artist tape because it’ll be kinder to your paper. 

SPEAKING OF PAPER.

I guess anything heavyweight for watercolor/mixed media will be fine? some people like a lot of texture but if you’re painting small you might want to avoid it and pick hot press over cold press. Honestly I feel like a lot of this is going to depend on what your specific needs are.. how big do you want the paper to be.. do you want a sketchbook or would you rather carry around loose paper... etc. Maybe go to an art store and touch all their paper. I feel like its easier to understand sizes and texture when you’re seeing it physically.

When I go on a trip, I normally bring a softcover heavyweight stillman & birn sketchbook because I tend to obliterate metal spiral books in my bag LOL. Also I don’t rip any pages out of my travel sketchbooks so I don’t need perforation or anything. Also they go on sale a lot in the art store I go to haha. I havent used gouache extensively in it but it takes inkwash/maker pretty well.

On the higher end, I personally haven’t used it that much but my friends who do traditional illustration professionally swear by arches watercolor paper. It comes in lots of different sizes.

Whatever you use, if you really want it to lie flat you’re gonna want to soak and stretch it on a board but I don’t bother with that because I am lazy.

Palette

You didn’t ask about palette but I’m taking the opportunity to be a shill because I personally use a sta-wet palette and I LOVE it.

One of the biggest frustrations about gouache for me was how quickly it dries after it leaves the tube. And even if you can reawaken it with water its not quite the same? and consistency is SO important when it comes to applying gouache so I don’t want to be over-watering my paint.. ugh. Anyways, I don’t have to worry about that with the sta-wet palette and really its been a game changer for me. sta-wet is a brand name but there are a bunch of other wet palettes not by masterson that I’m sure are just as good. I mean, it’s just a box with a sponge basically, that can’t be hard to replicate.

The only thing - and I personally have not had this issue but I have friends who have - is that if you leave it wet for too long it could grow mold? or a mouldy smell? Just wash your palette with soap and don’t leave it for weeks on end and it should be fine.

If you’re not feeling a palette that’s always moist, the best palette I used in school was a simple glass palette. you can buy one I guess but it’s so easy to DIY, I think the way we did it in school is getting a piece of glass and mdf from the hardware store cut the same size and then duct taped them together on the sides so it wouldn’t be sharp.

costs like nothing.

what else...get a palette knife if you like to mix paints? and like to save paints... mixing with the brush means you lose paint in your brush in the mixing process so a knife is a good way to maximize that process. I don’t use it much but sometime if I have to mix a lot of one color I’ll pull it out of my bag.

I don’t know anything about easels, I sit on the dirty ground like a gremlin when I paint.

Ok yeah that’s all the supplies tips I have. hope some of it was helpful! always try to save money with art supplies, I think. Especially if you’re just starting out - it’s less stressful to use cheap supplies too lol. Good luck! Happy painting!

[fromthedust]

This painter is organized!  Most painters I know just leave them piled on a tray or tabletop in the studio. My mom (a watercolorist) keeps hers in a shoebox as she has never had a dedicated studio space. As a sculptor I rarely paint 2D, so I keep my tube acrylics (and a few oils) in a divided plastic tacklebox, with my jars of acrylic in another undivided plastic tool box. 

My grandfather — who painted plein-air — used Windsor & Newton cake watercolors in porcelain ‘half-pan’ trays (I think they are packed in plastic half-pan trays now) fitted into japanned metal folding cases. I have them packed away somewhere, all except for this tiny little 5½” 12-color one he hardly ever used — complete with built-in water bottle, water reservoir, and four short brushes. The watercolor cakes are built-in quarter-pans which are not meant to be replaced.