Illustration by Pauline Baynes (from The Magician’s Nephew)

Colour by me.

I’ve been realising that I’ve gotten a little scared of colour. Or, I’ve been focussed on drawing/linework, and art is a little like running – you build up your muscles and then your lungs hurt, then you build up your cardio and your legs hurt – as long as you’re improving, there’s always an aspect that is feeling like it’s left behind. And with art there’s more than just muscle vs cardio, there’s line vs shape vs colour, and characters vs environments, and details vs composition.

And in order to practise colouring an environment, you need to start with a drawing. But by the time I’ve finished drawing something, I get all anxious about the colour and I want to do it properly, rather than just for practise. To solve this, I’ve decided to use other people’s drawings so I can jump right into the colouring process and /know/ that it’s not for anything so there’s no pressure and I’m free to learn.

Plus, as an extra bonus, I’m learning from cool artists about their linework.

starkravingchristian:

sylvia-morris:

the haunted mirror.

Carlie didn’t set out to own a haunted mirror.

And she didn’t really own it.

It came with the house. And it didn’t really seem like it could be moved, even if she wanted to.

The phone call had come through on Monday afternoon. Carlie didn’t even know she had a Great Aunt Petunia. It seemed like the punch line of a story. But she hadn’t changed her will in a long time, obviously, because her will still named Carlie’s decade-long dead father as the sole inheritor. And she was his sole inheritor. She looked around her tiny room in a flatshare with a girl obsessed with the tuba, and a guy she was pretty sure was stoned more often than he wasn’t. So she agreed to get on a plane to Whangarei. Well, Auckland, and a bus to Whangarei.

Keep reading

Look, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

close your eyes, step through.

In response to Maria Gaspar’s Art Assignment – Body in Place


There’s a little corner of trees (casuarinas, I think) that I walk through most days. They’re tucked between the zoo wall, a tram track and the hockey/netball centre. They don’t make a very big forest. Sometimes when I step in, if the wind is blowing gently, I close my eyes and pretend I’m in the country. I’m really glad this mini forest exists, and it often makes me happy, but sometimes that happiness is temporary and I’m left with sadness instead. 

So I overlaid two photos together, to give some sense of that tension.