Drawing by Carmel Jenkin,
For No Apparent Reason, charcoal on paper, 81cm x 57cm
 feel compelled to draw an emptiness or sadness from within
Facebook Page
This piece will be available for purchase on Daily Painters February 11th.

Gustavo Peña, Swimming outside the boundaries of Castle Grayskull


The Eye of Wynwood" by Joan Tarragó

(via redefinemagazine)


all done
just completed ‘Hopeful' (acrylic on canvas, 60” x 60”)
Facebook Page

An older, framed original@painting I did a while back. Up for grabs. Watercolor on arches, matted in a 12”x15” frame. Email if you’re into it! #watercolor #tattoos #tattooflash #painting #art #illustration


The Legend of Zelda hand-drawn paper-cut outs by George Alexopoulos.

Check out his gallery of other familiar figures in the similar style.

(via papercutters)


brains and beauty by jocelyn liang

Tryckeriet, Malmö: Geme, Fatia

Yo Slop

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.

Herman Hesse  (via fernsandmoss)

(Source: whimsicalele, via fernsandmoss)

“My dear, Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness." Buk' Wild

If you dig what I dig then check out my art and see where all this inspiration leads me:

Where is Whichowo;
Portfolio site