Tiny ink dots, in my wine, make it taste like ink. . . never mind.
Although he is feeling a little scattered lately. Ba-dum-ching. Seriously, brace yourselves — there’s a slew of art history-related owls a-comin’, because I am on a leetle bit of a … Continue reading
I know his leg is going the wrong direction, but that’s how his knees bend.
Saturday, take two: the actual post. Or possibly the bloodening.
Greta: because what paper dolls really need is more wigs. For those who care, these were done entirely with watercolour and gouache, except for the pen outlines. Sorry the … Continue reading
In which Neurotic Owl pursues the arts, and the arts pursue someone else.
. . . and finds out he’s 6 months too late. Aww. Still, who doesn’t love Wales in February? Just kidding, I’d love Wales anytime. Anyone want to send me … Continue reading
And the first SCAer to critique his authenticity will make him cry. Or get the shiv, whatever.
In fact, this is heavily based on a gorgeous piece a friend of mine recently made for her husband. I should have gotten a copy of the picture from her, … Continue reading
This seemed like a Sunday kind of thing. (See? I know what day it is!)
. . . and was never heard from again. For decades he wandered lost, subsisting on Swedish meatballs and lingonberry soda, praying for a Sherpa to show him the way … Continue reading