Alison Rebecca

Illustrator Story teller Enthusiastic tea drinker Owner of Still Around Illustrations LLC Contact me for portraits and commissions: [email protected]

[alisonliving]

My latest video!A day in the life and the process of my drawing

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It’s my newest video! Check it out :)

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The Artist Drives and Draws

A quick trip downtown and a portrait: Girl in Purple Any requests? Let me know in the comments! Thanks for watching! Theme music is by me Other music: Allkno...

Follow me on my journey through life as an artist

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Erik Killmonger in color . . . . . #drawing #art #inkdrawing #illustration #illustration_best #illustratorsoninstagram #drawingwhileblack #artistsofcolor #linework #erikkillmonger #artjournal #blackartistnetwork #ink #blackpanther #marvel #arttherapy #stillaround #stipple #portrait #michaelbjordan

[alisonliving]

Erik Killmonger . . . . . #drawing #art #inkdrawing #illustration #illustration_best #illustratorsoninstagram #drawingwhileblack #artistsofcolor #linework #erikkillmonger #artjournal #blackartistnetwork #ink #blackpanther #marvel #arttherapy #stillaround #stipple #portrait #michaelbjordan

[alisonliving]

Kendrick Lamar🖤 . . . . . #drawing #art #inkdrawing #illustration #illustration_best #illustratorsoninstagram #drawingwhileblack #artistsofcolor #linework #rap #artjournal #blackartistnetwork #ink #humble #weekend #arttherapy #stillaround #stipple #portrait

[alisonliving]

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Where? . . . . . #drawing #art #inkdrawing #illustration #illustration_best #illustratorsoninstagram #drawingwhileblack #artistsofcolor #linework #eyes #artjournal #blackartistnetwork #ink #dream #stipple #stillaround #looking

[alisonliving]

Nice to Meet You

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First Video!

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Harry

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Shattered

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I've been listening to The Read for years now and the time has come for me to draw @crissle with the iconic quote "Words mean things!"

[alisonliving]

We don’t know who we are until we’re uncomfortable.

This was especially true for me on a hot sticky August afternoon in 2004. We had just moved for what felt like the thousandth time. I was no stranger to travel but this was the most jarring change. Years of new places and new faces, but this town was the first to make me feel like a stranger. Everything was bleak and swampy green. The air felt like a solid mass of heat. People walked heavily, scowling and dragging the weight of their woes. Their scowls didn’t falter when they fell on me. Instead they deepened. Every place was unwelcoming. Stores I knew, stores that exist in every state, felt different here. There was not reprieve. Even the humidity felt like a weapon, a tool the town was using to weigh me down. I hated it, hated that some days I could feel myself becoming one of the slumped unhappy shadows that drifted through this unfamiliar town like a mourners through a graveyard. From that hatred blossomed a determination that saved me from that fate. Like a phoenix from its ashes my ambition was reborn from the wreckage of my loathing.

Years later the bitter glares don’t bother me anymore, and the hot wet summers feel good against my skin, but that strangeness still lingers.  I feel lit when I stare at my reflection, or when the voices of my peers melt together into the backdrop of a summer night. I feel it when the fluorescent lights above me turn everything into a yellow white blob of emails and office gossip. I don’t mind it though. Feeling like a stranger doesn’t bother me anymore

[alisonliving]

 I kept myself away from a lot of things so I wouldn’t seem like a stereotype. I never wore loose fitting clothes, I never allowed myself a bad hair day, I avoided rap music and wouldn’t even touch my purse if I was in a store. I kept my music down while I was driving, unless it was something that would remind people I wasn’t what they thought. I never wore hoodies, and I was careful about going for walks so I wouldn’t look like I was loitering. I pushed myself to perfection. I thought, “No one can attribute my flaws to my skin color if I don’t have flaws, right?”

[alisonliving]

       Sometimes I look down and get dizzy, I feel the world spin while my eyes try to focus, and everything becomes a blur. Suddenly I feel like I’m being thrown into a memory and I wonder how much of what I’m seeing is real, like a flashback in a tv show. It feels like an eternity, but thirty seconds later I’m back at my desk looking at my computer, wondering if anyone else ever feels that way. 

Of course the answer is yes. It’s easy to tell myself I’m unique, and that my perspective is unlike any other because it’s mine. But I realized years ago, maybe I could have been special, but I didn’t try hard enough. They told me I already was. So now I’m here, typing up stories that are as much yours as they are mine.

[wonderlandiful]

    I started taking art classes. A girl I met briefly as a freshman sat across from me. She was golden and beautiful, her smile was genuine and she made me feel more present. We would draw and talk about music and life and drugs. I would smile and try to act like I understood. I was intrigued. I hadn’t even smoked a cigarette yet but her bright eyes and colorful memories made me want to experience it all. I no longer had any desire to stay stifled under the shelter built around me. Things got a little easier. The sun came out more.