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ok so, I approached my local library with a proposal to donate a mural as a way to A: build portfolio/gain practical experience and B: give back to a beloved public institution. The director was very enthusiastic about it and i've been working on it since the beginning of March. Come with me as I endeavor to paint what is in all honesty an excessive amount of birds
I wanted the birds to look like they were actually in the space so first thing after doing the draft was to do a lighting study
after that I covered the walls in letters in lieu of a projector/vr headset bc i have neither of those :) Then i take a picture of the section of wall and superimpose the lineart over top of it so I can pencil in the lines
et voila
and that was a whole week on it's own so next comes the paintin' >:)
my chains are broken i am FREE. although i did have a great deal of fun with this, the barring on the wings itself took me like four days and i am READY to move on
this was a week and a half of continuous work so please excuse me for getting a little emotional in the bg 🙏
BIRD NUMBER 10!!! The Male Mallard Duck, Anas platyrhynchos
the male and female ones are gonna be posted separately bc they're taking a lot longer lol but yea! super happy i was able to capture the iridescent green of the head, i found metallic green and blue paint at a craft store that really made his head POP. it looks better in person i promise
ALSO!! As this is the 10th one, BIG announcement. The end is in sight!!!!! I plan to finish within the next 3 weeks and there will be a small dedication ceremony/ unveiling happening at the library to commemorate its completion on the 16th of May. If you live in the Western New York region and want to check it out for yourself shoot me a dm!
Also thank you everyone for your kind words and support throughout this whole process, it's been a genuine treat thinking there are potentially thousands of you out there cheering me on while I paint this 🥹
we're movin right along with bird numero 11!! The lady Mallard!! Anas platyrhyncos
the 16th is looming in the distance so i'm trying to get thru these as quickly as i can so i can have as much time for the GBH as possible. i still need to do the names next to all of them so i've got about a week and a half to finish everything which is GREAT because i have adhd and nothing gets my ass in gear like a fuckin deadline, let me tell you
power couple that they are, here's bird number 12 and 13,
the Northern Cardinals, Cardinalis cardinalis
and NOW that they are complete, ITS GO TIME, in the next five days (library's closed for mother's day 😭😭) i need to have the GBH fully rendered, the names of the birds vectored, weeded, masked, applied to the wall, and then painted, plus additional cattails throughout. I may be able to get away with just getting the GBH done in time for the unveiling and then just have the names and cattails added later, but i'm gonna really try to get it all done in time. BUT, i have a plan. Part of why i take so long on these is because i really am just figuring it out as I do it lmao. there have been many a time where i am sitting on top of the ladder googling "how to paint birds" but I think if i take the time tomorro to do all that figuring out how to approach it beforehand, this will go a lot faster. I may also recruit some of my artist friends to help with the placing of the names... hrmm we'll see.
Anyways, shout out to the librarian who tracked down exactly the thing i needed so i could figure out where to place the highlights in my birds eyes, ur the real mvp
thank you to everyone who reached out or got excited about this project, it genuinely gave me the fuel i needed to keep going. In total, the 480+ total hrs it took me to cover this wall pales in comparison to how long its expected to spend on there, hopefully imparting a sense of beauty and love for the natural world to the next generation and here's hoping i'm only getting started with these.
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The 'ingredients you can pronounce means it's healthy' line implies a world in which the kind of nutrition a person requires scales with their biology education and grasp of phonics. Which isn't true, of course, but sure would imply some interesting worldbuilding if it were
"Potassium cyanide. Arsenic trioxide. Polonium 210. Tetrachlorodibenzodioxin," I say, smugly and with full confidence, before downing the glass of wine my political rival insisted on pouring for me. Seconds later, she watches with a smirk as I collapse writhing to the ground, in the knowledge that I never could hit that "R" in "pinot noir" quite right
Context for anyone who is wondering: Lamine Yamal's parents won an UNICEF raffle for a charity photoshoot in which Barça players posed with kids, and 5 month old Lamine happened to get 20yo Messi. Which is like. Literally insane
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Hey everyone, looks like the “cat summoned for jury duty” was ai generated - even has the ai symbol at the top. Thanks for the heads up, @cannot-all-throw-inkpots . My apologies- I did not realize when I shared it.
Some positive news: There really WAS a cat summoned for jury duty back in 2010. Turns out the error was quickly corrected and the cat did NOT actually have to travel to the courthouse. But at least we can enjoy the fact that a papereork glitch did once try to give a cat jury duty XD
(Mouse requested a bedtime story about “nothing.”)
Once upon a time there was nothing, and it lived in the corner of Mouse’s room. There was space between the bed and the cupboard that was big enough for nothing else.
There wasn’t much room for nothing in Mouse’s house. Everything everywhere had something in it, and sometimes more. Everywhere that looked like it might have nothing really had something, like dust or a cornflake or a LEGO head or a shadow, and if it looked like there was nothing for even a moment, someone would come and put something there.
It was very hard to be nothing in Mouse’s house. Every corner had something in it, and if it didn’t, there was a spider living there. Everything was always some colour or another, and usually some noise. Everyone was always putting a book down on you. Or spilling Ribena on you and pretending they hadn’t. Or complaining that there was no room for anything, and shifting about all the other things, but never making room for nothing - only moving it uncomfortably about the house. “Nothing’s ever where I put it in this house,” they’d say, but complaining.
And even when they weren’t doing all that, they were always talking about nothing. Someone would always be tripping over it, and then would yell that they had tripped on nothing - there was no privacy for nothing around here - or they were saying that nothing was wrong. Even when it was quiet someone would say, “did you hear that?” And, “what was that?” And, “it must’ve been nothing.” They would poke it; and then say out loud that they had poked nothing, but never got into trouble for it!
As a result of this, nothing began to feel cross, and put-upon, and uncomfortable. It was also a bit lonely, and wondered if it wanted to be something. So it thought very hard, and was SOMETHING.
This was certainly more interesting, and everyone came and looked at it, and said Look At That Thing, and That Really is Something. They poked it, and said they had poked something, and that something was there. They said, “I can smell something,” but with more interest this time. Then they spilled Ribena on it, and something came out of the corner and ran about the house, and everyone wanted to know all about it, and why the Ribena was in Mouse’s room in the first place.
Something was interested in the attention, because it was true - it really was something. It was chased all around the house now. Everyone said, “it’s up to something.” But instead of sitting quietly, something wanted something to do.
So something followed Mouse, but at a distance, because Mouse was always tripping on something. And Mouse and Mama went out in the pushchair, and something followed them.
Mouse said, “I see something!” And Mama said, “what do you see?”
And Mouse said, “I see GEORGE.”
With that, George had to be George, and was a boy thing. He was puzzled by this, and sat in Mouse’s lap, and was pushed around in the pushchair. “What is a George?” George asked.
Mouse explained that a George was a bit like a monkey, with a tail, red, with a face, a lot of red fur, and small, and smelly. Smelly of sharks.
“I’m smelly of sharks?” George said, quite unexpectedly upset by this. “What do sharks smell like?”
(George had only just stopped being nothing, and didn’t know.)
Mouse explained how sharks (which astute grownups will remember are small BLÅHAJ stuffed toys that mice incidentally shoplifted from IKEA, across which we shall draw the veil of amnesty) smell of bedtime, and possibly Ribena.
“I don’t like that,” said George, and tried being George anyway. George went to the shop, and ran about on the floor for a bit, and everyone said, “what is THAT?” And it was George.
George said, “I want to go home,” so they went home, and went to bed with the shark.
But then George knew the end was coming, and so he said to Mouse, “this is too much. I want to go home.”
and George didn’t fit in his corner any more - because it was big enough for nothing.
So George went POP and turned back into nothing.
Mouse said, “yes,” and nodded. And Mouse talked to George anyway.
And then Mama came and said, “who are you talking to, Mouse?”
(Mouse requested a bedtime story about “nothing.”)
Once upon a time there was nothing, and it lived in the corner of Mouse’s room. There was space between the bed and the cupboard that was big enough for nothing else.
There wasn’t much room for nothing in Mouse’s house. Everything everywhere had something in it, and sometimes more. Everywhere that looked like it might have nothing really had something, like dust or a cornflake or a LEGO head or a shadow, and if it looked like there was nothing for even a moment, someone would come and put something there.
It was very hard to be nothing in Mouse’s house. Every corner had something in it, and if it didn’t, there was a spider living there. Everything was always some colour or another, and usually some noise. Everyone was always putting a book down on you. Or spilling Ribena on you and pretending they hadn’t. Or complaining that there was no room for anything, and shifting about all the other things, but never making room for nothing - only moving it uncomfortably about the house. “Nothing’s ever where I put it in this house,” they’d say, but complaining.
And even when they weren’t doing all that, they were always talking about nothing. Someone would always be tripping over it, and then would yell that they had tripped on nothing - there was no privacy for nothing around here - or they were saying that nothing was wrong. Even when it was quiet someone would say, “did you hear that?” And, “what was that?” And, “it must’ve been nothing.” They would poke it; and then say out loud that they had poked nothing, but never got into trouble for it!
As a result of this, nothing began to feel cross, and put-upon, and uncomfortable. It was also a bit lonely, and wondered if it wanted to be something. So it thought very hard, and was SOMETHING.
This was certainly more interesting, and everyone came and looked at it, and said Look At That Thing, and That Really is Something. They poked it, and said they had poked something, and that something was there. They said, “I can smell something,” but with more interest this time. Then they spilled Ribena on it, and something came out of the corner and ran about the house, and everyone wanted to know all about it, and why the Ribena was in Mouse’s room in the first place.
Something was interested in the attention, because it was true - it really was something. It was chased all around the house now. Everyone said, “it’s up to something.” But instead of sitting quietly, something wanted something to do.
So something followed Mouse, but at a distance, because Mouse was always tripping on something. And Mouse and Mama went out in the pushchair, and something followed them.
Mouse said, “I see something!” And Mama said, “what do you see?”
And Mouse said, “I see GEORGE.”
With that, George had to be George, and was a boy thing. He was puzzled by this, and sat in Mouse’s lap, and was pushed around in the pushchair. “What is a George?” George asked.
Mouse explained that a George was a bit like a monkey, with a tail, red, with a face, a lot of red fur, and small, and smelly. Smelly of sharks.
“I’m smelly of sharks?” George said, quite unexpectedly upset by this. “What do sharks smell like?”
(George had only just stopped being nothing, and didn’t know.)
Mouse explained how sharks (which astute grownups will remember are small BLÅHAJ stuffed toys that mice incidentally shoplifted from IKEA, across which we shall draw the veil of amnesty) smell of bedtime, and possibly Ribena.
“I don’t like that,” said George, and tried being George anyway. George went to the shop, and ran about on the floor for a bit, and everyone said, “what is THAT?” And it was George.
George said, “I want to go home,” so they went home, and went to bed with the shark.
But then George knew the end was coming, and so he said to Mouse, “this is too much. I want to go home.”
and George didn’t fit in his corner any more - because it was big enough for nothing.
So George went POP and turned back into nothing.
Mouse said, “yes,” and nodded. And Mouse talked to George anyway.
And then Mama came and said, “who are you talking to, Mouse?”
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There’s a liquor store near my house that seems to be run exclusively by frat boys. They lovingly curate these bags, which I browsed today while “Oops I Did It Again” played through the store speakers. This is art to me, there is beauty everywhere for those with eyes to see it
discoholicmusic
snowghoul
titsay
tangentwithtanner
baratheonpilled
dailybridgerton
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
prguitarman
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
turnnoffyourmind
