i don't do bad sauce passes
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NASA
if i look back, i am lost
AnasAbdin
taylor price
JVL
JBB: An Artblog!
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cherry valley forever
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@hawklesscorruption45
Was anyone gonna tell me Vincent Martella, voice of Phineas Flynn on the Disney Channel original show Phineas and Ferb is on some absolute king shit on his twitter or did i just have to see this amazing series of tweets myself?
There’s more just go fucking look yourself
BOY’S ON SOME REAL KING SHIT LEMME TELL YA
Jordyn Kishibe
The son of Jotaro Kujo and Rohan Kishibe, created with Heaven's Door. With his stand Starman.
sometimes u just gotta say fuck it and enjoy your embarrassing interest like you’re still living in 2012
people reblogging this being like “me watching star wars” or “me watching mcu movies” as if those aren’t some of the most popular franchises in the world. that shit isn’t cringey no matter how badly written it can be. watch supernatural or steven universe or know what the fuck homestuck is about and THEN you are allowed to reblog this post
Hehe Warriors.... 😺
Put yours in the tags.
Creation, Change and Care.
Nice 😁
Check this shit out. I love a good “make you experience the scale of Jeff Bezos’ wealth” simulation.
Wealth inequality in the United States is out of control. Here we visualize the issue in a unique way.
This is an exercise in frustration.
Honestly I got past Bezos and then to the $3 trillion of the combined ultra rich and gave up. It makes me too mad and I *already* know that billionaires shouldn’t exist. Send this to your old uncle who idolizes them though. If he, too, cannot stomach the full scrolling experience then maybe convince him they shouldn’t exist either.
I can’t. This is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen
I know 😔
And this, my friends, is why we need to eat the rich
If this doesn’t inspire guillotine dreams in ya, you’re either a fool or a billionaire.
Reblog if you actually like Carver Hawke
Stand Master: Lil Nas X
Stand: Old Town Road (localized name: Ancient Village Path)
Story Time: Get a load of what happened to me at Starbucks today.
There’s a running joke among people who know me personally that I unwittingly go out in public with a sign on my forehead stating “I Am Non-Threatening. Come Talk To Me.” Because if there’s a chance a bizarre conversation with a total stranger is going to happen, I’m typically the person it happens to.
Some context: I have been pretty darn sick this week. (It’s not Coronavirus, don’t worry.) Since the work in my queue for my day job is comprised entirely of audio narration right now, and I currently sound like a waterlogged Demi Moore, I haven’t been able to work these last couple of days. As a result, I’ve been using my down time to knock out as much of Manu’s redesign as possible. Today, to ensure I didn’t spend the day languishing in sinus misery, I medicated the crap out of myself and took Manu to the Starbucks down the block from my son’s day care.
I hit the bathroom, then picked an empty table, but as soon as I sat down with my venti Comfort Tea and started tweaking the inks on my iPad, I felt the eyes of the man next to me looking over my shoulder.
When I looked up, he had his phone out. “I’m sorry,” he said (in a thick accent I couldn’t place geographically), “I don’t want to disturb. I notice you art. You are artist!”
I tried to smile. “Yes, I’m... Well, I’m trying to be,” I croaked.
He leaned in, like he was sharing a secret.
“I am artist, too.”
He stuck out his hand.
I gently took it, grateful for the bathroom trip I just took in which I washed the scourge off of my fingers.
“Can I?” he asked, holding his phone up.
“Take a picture? Uh... sure,” I said. It’s not like he would be able to steal Manu out from under me or anything, I figured. The panel I was tweaking was magnified out to Guam.
“I am artist. Architect and Designer,” he clarified while he steadied his phone over my iPad. “I am Ilker. What is your name?”
“I’m Venessa” I said, trying to be polite. This, I thought warily, is precisely how I get myself into trouble. I’m too damn nice.
“You know, I come to America twenty years ago from Turkey...”
I put down my stylus. This was going to be a while.
“I like Turkey,” he explained. “I like the country and I like the people. But I am artist. I am not... religious man.”
I nodded.
“I told my wife I was going to go to America and she said, “what are you going to do? You don’t have job! You don’t have money! No Visa!” And I said, “I am artist and architect. I will paint and sell my paintings.
“So I come to America alone. To New York City. I sit outside, and I paint. And people, they liked my paintings. They bought them. This one for $30, that one for $50.
“One day, a man comes over to me and he say, “I like your painting. I see you are also architect.” And he gives me his number and asks me to go to meeting at his office. Because he wants to offer me a job. He starts to talk about a building contract.
“I tell him I don’t know anything about contracts. I have no Visa. I am not American citizen. But he says, “That’s okay. I will take care of everything. You will have nothing to worry about.” And this man, he gave me a job. $173,000 a year. And my wife, he gave her a job too. She was project assistant. I bring her and my two daughters over from Turkey.”
“Wow,” I said, not fully believing the veracity of what sounded like a full-on immigration fairy tale.
“Here,” said Ilker, unlocking his phone and opening up his Facebook app. “I show you my work.” He paused and looked up at me. “I am interrupting. You don’t mind?”
At this point, I was invested. I had to see. Because whatever he was about to show me would either prove or disprove this yarn he was spinning. “Please,” I said, gesturing for him to go ahead.
He opened his photos and my jaw dropped. His work... was UNREAL.
“This is building I designed on Madison Ave.... And this one in Chelsea...”
Holy crap. I had just been to Chelsea with my sister last month on a trip to see a broadway show. I had crossed the intersection of the building he was, at this moment, telling me he designed.
He flipped through more buildings. These, he’d designed in Washington, DC. In Bethesda. In Arlington. All beautiful, streamlined, modern structures I had visited and parked my car in front of. He told me he did much of his concept work freehand. That he worked exclusively in natural media. His preferred media was pen, ink, watercolors, and chalks.
Between photos of his wife and daughters, he went on to show me photos from the RUSSIAN EXHIBITION OF HIS ARCHITECTURE ARTWORK.
Y’all, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe the talent I was sitting next to. Scattered among these gloriously rendered images of some of the most beautiful building concepts I’d ever seen were paintings of scenes in Central Park, the National Mall, and nudes from a life-drawing session he attends from time to time.
When he was done flipping through his phone, he looked at me and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind that I interrupt you. I show you all this because what you are doing is very good. And you should be encouraged. To draw is to make beauty.”
I nodded, a lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I managed. “Your work is astonishing. I don’t even know what to say. What is your name again?”
He held out his hand once more. “Ilker Kocahan,” he said. “I am getting more coffee. Can I get you one?”
I looked at my still-full venti cup. “No thank you. But here, please take my card.”
He held my dinky business card like I’d handed him a treasure and thanked me.
Then Ilker got his coffee, and left the coffee shop.
At some point in his ramblings he talked about America as a place of dreams. How he credits this country with helping him rise to the top of his field where he is now able to sell his paintings for $800-$1000 a piece now that he’s retired. My heart ached to hear him talk about that, knowing how our leadership’s positions on immigrants have taken such a dark and horrifying turn.
Imagine the buildings and museums and public places that would never have been if a business man in the park hadn’t lifted up a Turkish painter who spoke little English.
And now that painter was paying it forward on me.
I still feel pretty darn sick. I’ve still got body aches and a nose that has taken the rest of my face hostage.
But today was a really good day. And I just wanted to share it with you in case you are looking for reasons to keep drawing/painting/dancing/writing. It all counts and it is all good.
If you would like to see Ilker Kocohan’s work, please click here.
Ilker Kocahan holds a bachelor’s degree in Industrial Design with a minor in architecture from the University of Marmara, Faculty of Fine A
UPDATE TO THIS STORY! I would have posted this sooner, but quarantine has had the unexpected effect of zapping all my alone-time...
As luck would have it, I saw Ilker one last time before my area received the mandate to start social distancing. I came into the Starbucks to work on the “Simon Is On the Ground” comic while waiting to pick up my kid from day care, and there he was, happily chatting with the Starbucks manager, who gifted him with a Starbucks hat while I ordered my tea.
A week had passed since our first meeting, so I wasn’t sure he’d recognize me. Lo and behold, as I turned the corner, I caught his eye, and he waved at me. This time, I asked if I might sit with him, and he warmly offered the seat beside him.
While I settled in, he told me that his project was being delayed and that he was going to leave the area and fly home before COVID-19 could make it impossible to travel. The hat was for his wife, whose only understanding of Starbucks was that Ilker really liked the coffee.
As one might expect, we immediately fell into another conversation about art, except this time, I eagerly abandoned my work to hear him talk.
And friends, did I ever get a master class.
He pulled up a painting on his phone which he’d sold for $800. It was a life drawing in ink and watercolor of a woman in a demure gesture, barely detailed and colored in but for her rose-tinted lips and the shadow cast across her neck. He said he felt sad that he’d sold it because he really loved how it came out.
“This is no detailed like yours,” he said, comparing his painting to my panel of Simon and Baz. “Mine is simple. But in a few strokes, I can capture the life of the lady.”
He took his napkin, turned it over, and pulled a pen out of his chest pocket. “Look there,” he said, pointing to a man sitting a few tables away. He began to scribble away on the napkin, lines and lines and more lines. “You see,” he murmured as he ran his pen over the napkin, “I can, with speed, capture the man. I don’t have hours to ask him to sit. I must let go of the planning.”
In seconds, the man across the room took shape on the napkin in a series of confident if also messy lines. It was incredible to watch.
I could instantly see what he meant. He had not produced a photorealistic version of this person on the napkin. But he had captured the man’s essence. The aura of a real person sitting contemplatively with his coffee while reading the Washington Post. I could feel the life of the drawing radiate from the paper.
(When he was done, to my horror, he crumpled up the napkin.)
I shyly mentioned that I’ve been working hard on my own gesture drawing, but had a long way to go, so he asked to see my sketchbook.
I mean... is there even a word in the English language to describe the combination of dread and embarrassment that precedes showing an art master your crap-ass sketchbook that no one sees but you? I didn’t know what to do with myself as he sat there and flipped through the pages.
Eventually, he nodded approvingly and said, “Okay! Is good. But this is sketchbook like every other.” He gestured at the page. “Where are you?”
I was lost for how to respond, but lucky for me, he’s a talkative guy seemingly incapable of awkward silences.
“The world needs to see you in the lines,” he explained. “Someone can look at my work and know, ‘that painting is from Ilker Kocahan.’ You need to draw more and more so that when people look at your drawings, they will know: this work is Venessa’s work.” Then he shrugged and said, “And who knows. I will maybe see you in two years at this Starbucks, and by then, your drawings will be truly yours.”
I’ve shared this story with some close friends who took mild offense on my behalf at his observations, but I really think it took sitting there watching him draw to understand exactly what he was talking about.
Ilker Kocahan has no imposter syndrome. He is supremely confident in every possible way where his art is concerned. The lines that flowed from his pen were fueled by his soul, not his brain. I didn’t think artists like him existed anymore until I was sitting there looking over his shoulder while he scribbled a man into existence, like it was nothing. When I asked if he plots out the perspective on his building sketches in advance, he shook his head no and doodled this on my cake pop wrapper while he rambled on about the components he likes to include in his architecture concepts:
(Don’t worry. I kept it.)
So when he talked about “finding me” in my sketches, I really think he could sense—by the light scratch of the pencil, the trace evidence on the paper of my erasing and failed attempts—my own lack of confidence, my second guessing and self-doubt. My desire to be as good as other artists instead of my desire to express myself.
And in that sense, everything he was saying about my sketchbook was correct. He urged me to get off the iPad as often as possible. To sketch with ink, which is riskier because you can’t erase it, and in that way, give myself no choice but to commit to the lines.
The conversation turned to lighter things after that. He’s apparently an extremely talented basketball player who loves hanging out with his wife and kids. His daughters are both designers. He thinks quirky viral videos are the best thing about the internet. (I agreed.) He’s weak for New York pizza.
Eventually, he bought me a refill for my tea and asked if I would meet him again in a couple of days so he could talk to me about my artwork and help me with my sketching. He even added me as a Facebook friend. When I left the Starbucks to pick up Colin, I was so excited and overwhelmed and grateful to the universe for bringing me into his acquaintance, I texted everyone in my family about it.
But as fate would have it, that night, the local government released its mandate regarding social distancing. He’s likely in Belarus right now with his wife.
I won’t lie and say I’m not devastated that I lost the chance to be his student for an afternoon. But the impression these coffee shop chats left on me was profound. I think about it all the time. For one who struggles with feeling like the artist version of Pinocchio waiting around for permission to be a real boy, it makes all the difference in the world to linger in the huge, unstoppable energy of someone who lives without an inner critic.
I hope I get to see him again after the quarantine is over. I’d love to see if I can fulfill Ilker’s prophecy and meet back at that Starbucks in two years with a different sketchbook in tow. One that I can hand over knowing without doubt or trepidation that anyone looking for me in the work need look no further than the bold stroke of my hand.
Taken the last time we chatted:
bernie sanders mindless self indulgence bitches edit
Anime & Manga
Week Ending March 30th, 2020
Boku no Hero Academia
Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba +7
JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure −1
Haikyuu!! −1
Mo Dao Zu Shi −1
19 Days +7
Naruto −2
One Piece −2
Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun −1
Sailor Moon +1
Bleach −4
Fruits Basket −2
Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! −1
Dorohedoro
Hetalia
Fullmetal Alchemist
BNA: Brand New Animal
Fullmetal Alchemist −2
Bungou Stray Dogs −1
Attack on Titan −1
The number in italics indicates how many spots a title moved up or down from the previous week. Bolded titles weren’t on the list last week.
I'm eventually gonna watch all of these 😂
Colors? 👀
AH i always struggle with giving color advice but ill try to do a brief breakdown
all my designs use pretty basic color theory, particularly analogous colors. instead of using lighter or darker shades of the same hue, move in either direction of the color wheel for more a more pleasing palette. this can be a subtle or drastic shift depending on what coloring style youre aiming for.
always start off with referencing real animal’s colors (not necessarily just cats lmao, lots of animals have natural but unique looking palettes). once youve learned to emulate reality you will have an easier time learning to stylize it.
lots of exact color choice comes intuitively with practice which is why i have such a hard time trying to describe it to people. v_v study color theory and practice making palettes and youll improve with time
some misc advice:
instead of using #fff white, use a desatured off-white. its easier on the eyes.
never use just grey or black, always at a tint of color.
dark grey or black markings usually look nicer when they have a reddish tint. (see: jayfeather design)
bright eye colors or accent colors add a great pop to designs and make them more visually interesting. try to make them distinct from the rest of the palette (this is where complementary colors come in handy)
none of these are rules and can be bent or broken however you want. palettes are a matter of personal taste :)
March 31 2020 - Happy Trans Day of Visibility!
🙋🏻♂️
Steven Universe at last joins our favorite cartoons
Goodbye Steven Universe and Crewniverse ♥ ★
Yeah and I'm bawling my eyes out 😭
#not this time bitch
Why don’t we talk about how differently they run
They’ve actually talked about that(not specifically about T'Challa and Steve), that Chris Evans has to do most if not all his own running scenes because they say his running form is really hard to replicate for a stunt double but it’s one of the things that sets Cap apart, Chris Evans particular type of physicality, and actually helps convey the “superness” I suppose of the super soldier thing.
Chris Evans had to do his own stunts because he runs like a weird idiot robot
The Cap we deserve
If I remember my biomechanics correctly, he has basically perfect running form. If you track his head movement there is ZERO up and down motion, meaning his entire energy is going to forward motion, making it 100% efficient.
Like, this is “good” vs “bad” technique:
There is still some waviness to that green line.
Chris Evans just has like….none.
Actually Chris Evans runs that way because he did ballet as a child. Most of the jumping kicks he does as Cap are based off of ballet form, as well as the way he runs and his massive upper body strength.
Ballet is a martial art they just don’t want you to know it.
He also runs with no forward lean which does not affect speed, but it’s rare
Confession: So my first DA game was DA2… my dad got it for me cause he thought it looked cool. I remember being so confused! I remember thinking… who is the Hero of Ferelden? What’s a blight? Why on earth did the king of Ferelden go all the way to Kirkwall to talk to me?? This makes no sense. Why did they give this elf unique tattoos, is he important to the story somehow? What am I missing?
And then I found DAO. And it all made sense. I wonder what it’s like for people whose first DA game was DAI? What didn’t make sense to them?
I played part of DAO and then moved to DAI and it was a bit confusing but it didn't take much from the enjoyability of the game.
#CROW NO
Crow: CROW YES!
It’s actually impossible to measure how many fucks a corvid give because there is no device sensitive enough to register such a tiny amount.
science/animal side of tumblr… explain to me the birb thing
Tail Pulling is a behavior noted in many corvids. The practical application is to create a distraction that will allow the birb to make off with the target’s food. Imagine being in the lunch room and a large fellow has a Twinkie you covet. You can’t just take it from him because he’ll defend his Twinkie. But if you thwap him on the back of his neck and then dash around to snag the Twinkie while he investigates, you stand a decent chance of enjoying spongey goodness. This is basically that in birb form.
Except corvids don’t only do this as a distraction. Sometimes they seem to just being doing it to mess with other animals/birbs. But to use my lunch room analogy, there are times you might thwap someone sneakily on the back of the neck just for amusement. Primates exhibit behavior that appears to be just be annoying other animals for amusement. Given how intelligent crows are, its not unlikely that this is a manifestation of an innate desire to just fuck with someone else for the fun of it. Such as this from the link above:
THANK YOU FOR THE BIRB KNOWLEDGE
BECAUSE IT IS FUN
This speaks to me on a molecular level.
birbs just wanna have fun
Sorry to hijack a little, but to put it bluntly, corvids are also pretty BALSY. They are more than prepared to harass other huge birds of prey which could deal them a lot of damage. There’s plenty of cases of corvids ‘riding’ other birds as well. It’s often to harass the larger bird out of the area, but as @red3blog said, they quite often (in layman’s terms) enjoy fucking shit up for fun.
‘Where the hell is the seatbelt on this thing?’
I mean they deserve a medal for having such huge bird balls imo
Literally no fucks are given by corvids. Ever.
@neurodivergent-crow
I haven’t seen this post in ages but it’s my fave corvid post.
Intelligence is rooted in how much of a dick you can knowingly be.
@raphcrow
The biggest trolls in the animal kingdom
