Inspiration
Words & Pictures
I bite my plastic straw as I suck overly-sweet iced vanilla latte into my mouth, unreasonably nervous and hyper-caffeinated (not the best combination). I’m trying to draw the ‘50s-style stool at the counter, but my sketch looks more like a weird robot with wonky legs. I am a terrible artist, and this person is going to see right through me immediately; there’s no way they’re going to want to work with me. My leg bobs up and down, which is not helping my jittering hands or pounding heart. I shouldn’t be here–it’s Wednesday! I should be at my comic shop picking up new releases. I’m just about to get up and run for the door when the person I’m meeting walks in. I recognize them from their profile pic–they have straight, shoulder-length brown hair, round glasses, and a curvy figure. They’re wearing a green shirt under denim overalls. Their gray eyes are piercing. They spot me immediately and make a bee-line for my table and I somehow manage not to curse out loud.
By Bex Jordan3 years ago in Art
The Cat-skull Lamp. Content Warning.
Years ago - perhaps a decade ago now - I stayed home from work to recover from a cold. I still lived with my parents; dad was outside doing some kind of yard work and mom was at work. I had just gotten back in bed after making a cup of hot tea and checking on my brother when I was surprised to hear my mom come home.
By Megan Baker (Left Vocal in 2023)3 years ago in Art
The Whispering Stars
Vincent van Gogh's painting "Starry Night" has always held a magical allure. With its swirling skies and luminescent stars, it seems to beckon viewers into a dreamlike world. Tonight, we delve into this world, where stars whisper secrets and reality is as malleable as the vibrant colors on Van Gogh's canvas.
By Stevie Johnson3 years ago in Art
Beacon Of Hope
https://sites.ualberta.ca/~mhirji/water.html Anybody who has read my stories would know I have a complicated relationship with my family. I have not seen any one of them for almost four years, however not a day goes by when I don't think of them. Above is a link to my talented dad's art page. Under watercolor in the water section is a painting called Beacon of Hope. That painting speaks to me. I feel I am the one in the water, with only my head above. I feel so overwhelmed by life, overstimulation, the lack of empathy-you name it. Yet there is no denying that someone out there is looking to save me.
By Sid Aaron Hirji3 years ago in Art
The Sisters' Feast
The sisters sat upon their bench, using flowers from the garden to create garlands that would hang in the hallways and from the windows. It was a tradition and their garden never failed to amaze. It was always bountiful, blooming in the brightest colors with the richest scents.
By Katrina Thornley3 years ago in Art
B.I. Mona Lisa
“Mona, you keep moving. You will need to hold very still.” “How still, Mr. Leo?” “Still like my stargazing eyes, or my steady hand. Watch, as it intrinsically strokes and caresses the page with all these magnificent symmetrical shapes and color. Marvelous! How about it, Mona?”
By Beautiful Intelligence3 years ago in Art
Alan Arkin
Alan Arkin, a name that resonates with versatility and artistic brilliance, has captivated audiences for over six decades with his profound acting skills, directing prowess, and musical talents. Born on March 26, 1934, in Brooklyn, New York, Arkin embarked on a remarkable journey that showcases his resilience, passion, and unwavering commitment to his craft. From his humble beginnings in the theater to becoming an Oscar-winning actor, Arkin's life serves as an inspiration to aspiring artists worldwide. This biographical account delves into the profound impact Arkin has made on the entertainment industry, highlighting his achievements, challenges, and the enduring legacy he has carved for himself.
By Yamira Ureña García3 years ago in Art
To Make Money, Or To Make Happiness?
To make money, or to make happiness, that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the mundane that leads to outrageous fortune, or to take arms by pen to fill the emptiness. I felt the best way to introduce the central idea of today’s post would be with an appropriately mutilated excerpt from Shakespeare’s vault. I know I’m not the only one who’s looked at life like this. If you made it this far, that’s probably why you’re here too. Why is it so impossible to feel like you’re doing something that’s not only worthwhile, but at its most selfish, base level of existence…FUN? And why can’t you make money doing it?
By Nicky Lazos3 years ago in Art








