OK, I lied. I’m going to show you my favourite Modigliani because PRETTY.
Of course, Modigliani did soooooo many reclining nudes that I can’t possibly tell you how I picked a favourite, but this is it. I know her when I see her, … Continue reading
Notice how I’m not linking to pictures of the artist’s work? That’s your job.
It’s the teacher in me, I’m afraid, although I’m sure you’ve all seen at least one Claes Oldenburg. (OK, honestly, it’s just really hard to add pictures I don’t already … Continue reading
Art owls! Huzzah!
Since I mentioned the Turrell exhibit yesterday (and, I think, misspelled his name), I thought we’d start with this one. Also, another favourite poem for you: Nobody heard him, … Continue reading
Last of the Summer Whine
OK, that title only makes sense if you watch far too many Britcoms. Still, this is indeed the last of the three drawings that happened the day I discovered that … Continue reading
No big story here. I just like picturing an otter sock hop.
Of course she has an owl skirt. Of. Course. And yes, I realize she’s not wearing socks. She’s a rebel with uncovered paws. In other news, I simply can’t decide, … Continue reading
Teehee. Poop.
It doesn’t matter how many times I sit through Antony and Cleopatra, or how well I know my Shakespeare, or, indeed, my basic nautical terms. I will never not giggle … Continue reading
RIP, my little friend.
All I have to say is that everything I dye at work right now has to be done twice because I’m working in ridiculous conditions with shitty equipment and no … Continue reading
And he has wings of blue.
As am I — in fact, as of either tomorrow or Friday, I’m dyeing wool. Yaaaaaaaaay. . . sad trombone. The thing about dyeing is, usually if I fuck up, … Continue reading
I Break for Bookmarks.
I swear I’ll decide how to finish this alphabet soon. Until then, here are some bookmarks I drew:
He’s the least feared bounty hunter in the galaxy.
Don’t sue me, George Lucas! Look, a shiny object!
Neurotic Owl 