welcome to art base alpha

Painting I created for an application to an illustration open call. They didn't ask for custom art, and there's no guarantee I'll be chosen from hundreds of applicants, but I wanted to put my best foot forward while proving I can paint a traditional scene!

These are some of my favorite woodland flowers to find in Maine, from left to right: jack in the pulpit, bunchberry, trout lily, viola, American groundnut, oxalis, trillium, and wild columbine. And a chipmunk for cuteness.

This idea came to me two years ago, and it went through multiple sketch stages before I finally found the right composition. Even so, I do not meticulously plan my paintings, and my focus was solely on the position of the core characters of Wood Bot and Comet, and the scene's perspective. Painting takes a long time which I use to think about who should be added next. You can see halfway through I stopped to make a digital collage where the woodland creatures were finally inserted. Even then, certain elements changed in the moment, like a baby possum holding the spool of thread, and a curious snake. I use white chalk directly on my painting to block in all new additions. The animals were chosen for their prominent tails; I felt they would relate best to how much a lost comet would like its tail back. ✶⋆｡𖦹°˚｡⋆

Acrylic painting, 12x18" on hand shaped aluminum. (Sold)

"Small Mercies" closes July 25 at Antler/Talon Gallery in Portland, OR, see it while you still can!

What was it that happened when Wood Bot met the comet who lost its tail? Ribbons of flame that didn't burn, a glowing thread, a startled owl, a spare handkerchief... fragments of story on the tip of our memory, while the rest lies hidden in curls of smoke. I think together we can figure out how this ends, while we work hand in (paw) to help those in need.

♡ Anka

When I was an apple ...

Oh look! I've finally been emailed a tracking update!

That's weird, what's GU...

Oh.

Far from the fizzing waves of the Susurrus Sea, deep among the chiming leaves of the Porcelain Forest, a small infestation of thunderclouds is coming between a flower and her afternoon tea. Nothing warms ones drink quite like the citrusy spice of a fallen star, or in this case, moon, and a great sigh seems to emanate from the glimmering earth as an entire forest strains upward toward the nourishing rain. Her kittybee remains undaunted with the promise of an afternoon snack (I am told the clouds taste not unlike raisins) while a local snail has no idea what is going on.