I let the lines speak for themselves through this scanned sketchbook page.
To let a grip dance on its own 〰️
A brief exchange. You and your pretty face. A smile warm enough to melt the ice cream in my hand. The sun was running low, you then followed. After a while the sky turned dim and everything turned cold. From my sketchbook. Mixed media on paper.
Tried something different. Scanned this ripped envelope with no letter. No message. Just an envelope. A cover. A ripped one. Hope you guys receive your own message out of this. 🏹✉️ Acrylic on paper envelope.
When you get too excited to rip open the mail only to find nothing. With that nothing you paint something. ✉️🎨
I often bury my left hand beneath the weight of my back when I sleep. This way I wake up with one numb hand. When I’m half awake my right hand may find my left and it’ll scare the living out of me 👋🏻🤡
The colours I tuck beneath my chest are not my own. They are hues mixed, overlapped, and tinted from experiences. Some come from moments I cherish while others resurface from memories I try hard to blend in shadows.
I got a scar on my left eyebrow. In middle school, I rammed myself into a very deep hole from a bike just to feel alive, and for the sake of rebellion. Didn’t think much about the outcome and went full dive with it. It was a moment I thought I lost an eye. Since then I saw scars, big or small, as part of an experience someone had to go through, and survived. With injury comes pain and with scars comes healing. Scars mean you’re stronger than what tried to hurt you. In my case it was myself. Remember my friends, some scars have a story, some are unwritten. Some scars you can see, but most are quite hidden. Photographed and styled by: Andhika
This portrait of me came along with a touching letter from @wastanahaikal. His works are astounding with rich colours and textures of digital media and traditional. As friends we navigate through dark waters of self discovery at times which makes us likeminded and often share same interests. . Apart from the written letter which means a lot, I’d like to share this drawing which perfectly illustrates how looking into others and capturing stories is something Haikal does best through his eyes and hands. This drawing only begins to speak of his magical craft. In this portrait, I am reminded of all the moments of having to wear the skin of appearing calm and collected to cover chaos. Above the hands, a butterfly flaps its wings along to the rhythm of dancing flames. There’s a rush, a fiery adrenaline rush. An excitement. Each flap fuels the fire, and with each spark it acts as music to the butterfly. I like this drawing very much, and it really radiates a lot to me. Thank you Haikal. You’re the best! #wastanahaikal
What goes in my mind when I think about how 2100 is 81 years away.
Every night I pray will all my might hoping they’ll all go away. “Crash..crash..crash..,” I say. With each breath the words rapidly fill my chest eager to pierce open gaps between my rib bones. I let the words linger inside for a while before rolling them out through my tongue into the dark. It all goes on and on until my eyes tire and shut. Behind closed eyelids I find myself in a different pit of black. A place where my prayers are answered. A void I wish to never wake up from. I visit my little sketchbook in the morning to remember. - Coloured pencil, graphite, ink, acrylic on paper.
Look at the lines trying to cancel each other or perhaps itself. Are we little lines?
Mud # 2 / oil on canvas 20/20”
Mud / oil on canvas 20/20” A painting to start off 2019
December sun • My colour buds felt a little dull so I decided to go out for a day to dig in shades of greens, yellows, and browns. Here’s a few shots I took including little itsy bitsy at the end. I enjoyed my time there long enough until closing hour. I was already the only one left but the lady at the desk was very nice she even let me stay a little while longer. 😄 Anyway, happy holidays everyone! #inspiration #greenhouse #greenhousehunter #orchid #plantsofig