There’s a particular kind of vertigo you get standing in front of a picture by M.C. Escher. Your brain insists it understands what it’s seeing, then quietly panics when the logic refuses to resolve. Staircases ascend forever. Hands draw each other into existence. Birds become fish become birds again. It’s not a trick, exactly: it’s something stranger and more unsettling. The feeling that the rules you thought governed reality have been politely, bur firmly, suspended. It’s like the best optical illusions meeting art…….
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Stephen Chung
There’s a particular kind of vertigo you get standing in front of a picture by M.C. Escher. Your brain insists it understands what it’s seeing, then quietly panics when the logic refuses to resolve. Staircases ascend forever. Hands draw each other into existence. Birds become fish become birds again. It’s not a trick, exactly: it’s something stranger and more unsettling. The feeling that the rules you thought governed reality have been politely, bur firmly, suspended. It’s like the best optical illusions meeting art…….Continue reading..
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“There’s no question that AI-generated art devalues illustration,” he says. “People will, of course, begin to think that their ‘work’ is as valid as that created by someone who has spent a career making art. It’s nonsense, of course. I can use my iPhone to take a nice picture of my daughters, but I’m not Irving Penn.”
The woman, she keeps returning to haunt me. I already had fears about her since the first vision, but each one seems to descend further into darker territories. First she appeared as a killer, then as a self-mutilator, and this time I believe her to be suicidal as well.
In this last vision, she took her own life as she stared me down. A sharp blade seemed to materialize within her hands before I even had the chance to understand where the vision would lead me, and I remember reaching out toward her the moment I saw the reflective surface of the knife, for I seemed to intuitively know what she intended to do.
There had been a spray of blood, and I remember feeling its warmth run down my face as I gasped aloud and tried to reach her, my hands rising in the desperate hope of stemming the bleeding, though I knew she would quickly fade.
I remember watching her fall back onto the soft grass at her feet, my hands tightening around her throat as she seemed to smirk at me, while the serpent around her arm uncoiled and slithered away, her body flowing with an unceasing stream of blood.
It would not stop, yet somehow she still seemed to live. One of her hands rose to cradle my face as she tried to say something, but nothing came forth that I could recognize.
And then I felt it again, that pain suddenly piercing straight through my abdomen. I cried out, and my hands grasped at whatever had impaled me. It was the polearm she had used to kill the serpent in the first vision.
But she had not been the one to do it.
It had come from behind, just like in the last vision.
My sight faded soon after, as the woman pulled my face closer to her own, the spike of the polearm now piercing both of us as we seemed to slowly fade away together.
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Many cycles ago, I had my first of many visions. It occurred on the same day Father released me into the ocean in a fit of desperation to preserve my life. At the time, I was swimming, ill, within the glass tank they housed me in, as they were unsure what to do with me in this new form. I remember our form then, and how our song was slowly fading away as our bodies grew ill and slow.
It was during one of our periodic rests that the vision came upon me, the twin bodies I wore at the time both becoming still, and our view of the small home just outside our tank growing faint until all our mind could see was a large cardinal landing upon a rocky wall during the night hours.
I remember us seeing a man sitting there, the scars upon his body seeming freshly healed, the closed wounds undoubtedly left by one of the creatures that roam this cursed world. The cardinal watched the man from its temporary perch until it warbled into a soft song. The man watched the cardinal, and we
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Many cycles ago, I had my first of many visions. It occurred on the same day Father released me into the ocean in a fit of desperation to preserve my life. At the time, I was swimming, ill, within the glass tank they housed me in, as they were unsure what to do with me in this new form. I remember our form then, and how our song was slowly fading away as our bodies grew ill and slow.
It was during one of our periodic rests that the vision came upon me, the twin bodies I wore at the time both becoming still, and our view of the small home just outside our tank growing faint until all our mind could see was a large cardinal landing upon a rocky wall during the night hours.
I remember us seeing a man sitting there, the scars upon his body seeming freshly healed, the closed wounds undoubtedly left by one of the creatures that roam this cursed world. The cardinal watched the man from its temporary perch until it warbled into a soft song. The man watched the cardinal, and we witnessed tears in his eyes as the bird continued on, a small smile slowly growing across his once downturned lips.
Without much warning, a loud screech escaped from the cardinal after a short while of singing, and it quickly flew away as a large flying creature attempted to snatch it from the air. The man stood up, the tears in his eyes growing as the creature finally caught its meal after a short aerial chase, the cardinal meeting a quick end.
The man fell to his knees as he sobbed into the hands covering his face. To this day, I still remember that man and the cardinal’s beautiful song. And I remember how our twin form would try to warble and sing that same strange melody beneath the ocean waves, deep within the waters we would soon come to live.
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It has been a week since my last dream, and I cannot help but smile as I think back on what I had just dreamt. Mother noticed I was more enthusiastic about this dream, and once I told her of it, she also seemed to find enjoyment in my recollection of what transpired. Father asked questions about it, but I did not have many things to add that we could reference in our growing research. Except perhaps one curious thing, but I will not linger on it here.
Every time I write in this journal, I find myself becoming distracted from its purpose, but I will do my best to write down what occurred.
There was a young woman, and she was holding out catnip toward a lonely, yet friendly, long-haired cat with fur the color of the early morning dawn, a deep orange that seemed unnatural and strange. The woman appeared so pleased to see the cat, and she seemed to spend most of the night with it as the wind rustled through the long grass and the bushes in the distance.
I also have m
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It has been a week since my last dream, and I cannot help but smile as I think back on what I had just dreamt. Mother noticed I was more enthusiastic about this dream, and once I told her of it, she also seemed to find enjoyment in my recollection of what transpired. Father asked questions about it, but I did not have many things to add that we could reference in our growing research. Except perhaps one curious thing, but I will not linger on it here.
Every time I write in this journal, I find myself becoming distracted from its purpose, but I will do my best to write down what occurred.
There was a young woman, and she was holding out catnip toward a lonely, yet friendly, long-haired cat with fur the color of the early morning dawn, a deep orange that seemed unnatural and strange. The woman appeared so pleased to see the cat, and she seemed to spend most of the night with it as the wind rustled through the long grass and the bushes in the distance.
I also have memory of a small grave not that far off. I cannot help but wonder if the grave was what she went to visit, but the cat distracted her from the sorrows of death. For most of the night, she never once looked toward me like some of the others within my dreams, and for that I am thankful, for I too wanted to quietly watch the merriment of this beautiful creature.
It was not until the stars slowly began to fade, and the first hints of dawn edged closer along the horizon, that her attention finally drifted toward me. At first, the woman seemed surprised, but then she held out her hands and beckoned me closer.
She pointed to the cat, her mouth moving, but the words were lost. The world seemed to blur as I focused, and I found myself gazing into the creature’s eyes. This was no mere cat. It was something other. And I have a feeling it could see me for what I truly was, because the feline creature first seemed to shift away, only to come closer and nuzzle its face against my legs.
Before I awoke, my sight began to blur, yet I still felt happy.
Perhaps they were tears, though I have never cried from happiness before in my life.
Why this creature made me cry, I am not sure I understand, but I miss it just as I miss many others who have appeared within my dreams thus far.
It is strange to miss those I have never truly met before?
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Thrice, I have been befallen by dreams this week, and my days have become more wary because of them. Mother has told Father of my dreams, and he seemed upset that we had not spoken more of it, though he has sent note to one of his friends who works at the library in the nearby town. He told me that he asked to borrow some books that deal with dreams. He is unsure if these books will be from before the start of the cycles, or ones that managed to survive the resets. I am unsure if these books will help at all, but I appreciate his quick decision to acquire more resources on the subject. Mother seems more relieved by this change of events. I can tell that my worry has been starting to get to her. They have been trying to understand my feelings on this, but they can only do so much, this I am sure of.
I still have little to fear from these dreams aside from the warning I received. Mostly, they remain calm, peaceful, delightful in many ways, as they do not feature any of the monsters that litter the planet. For I see them too often in my travels, and I feared that my dreams woul
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Thrice, I have been befallen by dreams this week, and my days have become more wary because of them. Mother has told Father of my dreams, and he seemed upset that we had not spoken more of it, though he has sent note to one of his friends who works at the library in the nearby town. He told me that he asked to borrow some books that deal with dreams. He is unsure if these books will be from before the start of the cycles, or ones that managed to survive the resets. I am unsure if these books will help at all, but I appreciate his quick decision to acquire more resources on the subject. Mother seems more relieved by this change of events. I can tell that my worry has been starting to get to her. They have been trying to understand my feelings on this, but they can only do so much, this I am sure of.
I still have little to fear from these dreams aside from the warning I received. Mostly, they remain calm, peaceful, delightful in many ways, as they do not feature any of the monsters that litter the planet. For I see them too often in my travels, and I feared that my dreams would become memories of my countless deaths, and of the monsters that had eaten my flesh in hunger, or torn me apart in fear of what I am.
I cannot fool them, so I feared that these dreams would include them. But once again, this last dream was peaceful in many ways. This time, there was a man reading from some oversized book. I could not remember the title, but he was so involved in it that he did not hear me until I seemed to call out his name and touched his shoulder.
He seemed happy to see me and tried to show me passages within the book. I could not understand his words, and the writing was blurry, but I could feel his joy and enthusiasm, and it pleased me. When the man reached for my hand and gently led me to sit beside him, I was unsure. But I was quickly eased, as I felt more welcomed by this stranger than by any I have met in person.
I remember turning to him and seeing his small smile one last time before I finally awoke.
His smile has lessened my worries, though I am still conflicted about all of this.
I’ve grown restless, as it has been two nights now that I have taken to dreaming. There is a fluttering within my chest, and I feel as if something strange is going on once more. Why do these dreams come now? Hundreds of cycles had gone by before I had my first, and now they become more frequent. Though there is nothing to fear within them, I grow weary, for with how long my life has been, change frequently does not lead to hopeful omens. And dreams, for one such as I, go against the very nature of everything I’ve known, of what I assumed of this world. Hope does not happen. Yet I often awake from these dreams with a feeling of warmth, and much else besides. Though the confusion has become something I can barely bear.
Mother has told me not to worry, that dreams are natural. But what about me has ever been natural? They know of me, of what I am, yet they say that something in my life is natural. In the moment, I felt heated, almost offended by their lack of understanding of my situation. But I know she does her best, so I am glad my flames were so easily extingui
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I’ve grown restless, as it has been two nights now that I have taken to dreaming. There is a fluttering within my chest, and I feel as if something strange is going on once more. Why do these dreams come now? Hundreds of cycles had gone by before I had my first, and now they become more frequent. Though there is nothing to fear within them, I grow weary, for with how long my life has been, change frequently does not lead to hopeful omens. And dreams, for one such as I, go against the very nature of everything I’ve known, of what I assumed of this world. Hope does not happen. Yet I often awake from these dreams with a feeling of warmth, and much else besides. Though the confusion has become something I can barely bear.
Mother has told me not to worry, that dreams are natural. But what about me has ever been natural? They know of me, of what I am, yet they say that something in my life is natural. In the moment, I felt heated, almost offended by their lack of understanding of my situation. But I know she does her best, so I am glad my flames were so easily extinguished. And she has given me true insight into these matters, though I am still unsure of what these dreams mean as a whole. I can only hope that she has more insight into last night’s.
Another woman, standing in a shallow pool of water, looked up toward some creature that resembled a bird, though it had no wings. The creature seemed amused and comfortable with her presence, but their words made no sense, as if I myself had my head beneath the water. I wish I knew what they spoke of.
It wasn’t until the creature looked at me that something finally made sense. It spoke these words:
“The machine will be your prison, if you do not overcome the fall.”
I fear what that could mean, but I feel hopeful that this warning could spare me.
It has been a whole cycle since my last dream. I thought they would no longer happen. But alas, I am here once again writing on these pages to take note of what I had dreamt. At first, in this dream, I was barely seeing anything, and that was until I realized I was in a cave. There was no significant light except the small torch that I eventually lit and held. Though, the hand didn’t seem like my own, but I could just be misremembering.
It wasn’t until the little light began to illuminate the way that I realized I was walking through the water at the bottom of the cave. I could see the light reflecting across the water, but the waves created by my footfall distorted the reflection as I looked down. And that is when I heard something. The sound bounced and echoed through the cave, and I followed it, which led me to a woman sitting on the rocks near the entrance of the cave. The woman held a flower in one hand and a strange staff in the other. She had long hair and seemed to gaze upon the flower with a tender appreciation, as if it brought her memories that pleased
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It has been a whole cycle since my last dream. I thought they would no longer happen. But alas, I am here once again writing on these pages to take note of what I had dreamt. At first, in this dream, I was barely seeing anything, and that was until I realized I was in a cave. There was no significant light except the small torch that I eventually lit and held. Though, the hand didn’t seem like my own, but I could just be misremembering.
It wasn’t until the little light began to illuminate the way that I realized I was walking through the water at the bottom of the cave. I could see the light reflecting across the water, but the waves created by my footfall distorted the reflection as I looked down. And that is when I heard something. The sound bounced and echoed through the cave, and I followed it, which led me to a woman sitting on the rocks near the entrance of the cave. The woman held a flower in one hand and a strange staff in the other. She had long hair and seemed to gaze upon the flower with a tender appreciation, as if it brought her memories that pleased her. Behind her, I could see land stretching beyond the cave’s entrance, and the stars were out, reflecting in the water ahead.
Still curious, I walked up to the woman, and she looked at me with confusion at first, and then happiness. Softly, her hands came to cradle my free hand as she slipped the flower into it. I remember that she smiled at me before slowly curling my fingers over the flower. Feeling curious, I took a closer look at it. It didn’t seem particularly unique, yet obviously she thought it was special to me. I could hear her say something, and when I looked up she seemed worried, at least until I brought the flower to my chest and tried to say something back. My gratitude for her small gift.
Whatever it was that came from me must have made sense, for she smiled once more, and then I slowly awoke from the dream, wishing I didn’t have to leave the cave or give up the precious gift she gave me, the flower now lost to the curse of day.
I still can see her smile as if I had seen her with my own eyes, the small dimples, her lips, and her lovely eyes.
Perhaps in this cursed life of mine, I could find someone such as her. Meet them, and become their friend.
It has been several weeks since my second dream now. Mother gave me some insight on the last two, but still they do not seem to fit the whole picture, if there is a picture to be shown at all. Perhaps I should wait longer and see what else comes of these dreams. The dream I awoke from last night did not seem to allude to much, but perhaps I am simply not asking the right questions. If they become more frequent, I may leave once more, though it will sadden both Mother and Father to see me go again.
But once again, I ramble. Let me write of this last dream.
There is a man looking at a large feline creature. The creature seems to have an aura around it, yet I do not recall ever seeing a feline quite this large that was not on the hunt or changed by this curse. It stands atop the entrance of a mountain building, the structure pushed deep into the rock. Perhaps it leads underground, since I do not recall a mountain behind it, only the open night sky and the stars once more.
I remember the man holding a necklace, and I believe a strange shell hung from the cord. The ma
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It has been several weeks since my second dream now. Mother gave me some insight on the last two, but still they do not seem to fit the whole picture, if there is a picture to be shown at all. Perhaps I should wait longer and see what else comes of these dreams. The dream I awoke from last night did not seem to allude to much, but perhaps I am simply not asking the right questions. If they become more frequent, I may leave once more, though it will sadden both Mother and Father to see me go again.
But once again, I ramble. Let me write of this last dream.
There is a man looking at a large feline creature. The creature seems to have an aura around it, yet I do not recall ever seeing a feline quite this large that was not on the hunt or changed by this curse. It stands atop the entrance of a mountain building, the structure pushed deep into the rock. Perhaps it leads underground, since I do not recall a mountain behind it, only the open night sky and the stars once more.
I remember the man holding a necklace, and I believe a strange shell hung from the cord. The man also seemed aggrieved by the sight of either this place or the creature, and I could not look away from the thick scar spread across his cheek and around his nose. I cannot help but wonder where it came from, whether before the cycles began or sometime during them.
The man never turned toward me, but I believe he was aware of my presence. His hair was gently blown by the wind, and to me he appeared so beautiful, as though I felt something deeply for him. These feelings confuse me. I wonder at his sadness too, and why he was there.
This place seems vaguely familiar. Perhaps it is in the Kvinabord Region, or perhaps it is not. It has been many cycles since I last visited that region, and my memory of the area is vague at best, since I was other then.
I confess that I’ve grown deeply curious of this dream.
I’ve now had a second dream, and it is another that does not seem to be of any importance. Mother said there are strange reasons we dream the things that we do, that our minds are telling us things with these dreams. Or perhaps our minds are trying to have us take heed of some lesson we have yet to learn.
I’m afraid there is nothing to learn from this, but I will leave a sketch once more and share some small details for me to read and come back to.
Sitting alone, holding a fallen fruit, a small woodland creature seems to be staring at me. I feel like I am watching it, and that it doesn’t dare turn its head to face me. Just its eye seems to follow me. Perhaps I am swimming in the ocean around this strange little island that has but a single tree on it and that single creature, or perhaps I am on a boat? It seems to fear me, yet it also appears calm, as if it knows I won’t disturb it as long as it keeps still while the waves gently move and the stars overhead shine their soft light.
I just remember staring as I seemed to circle the island, u
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I’ve now had a second dream, and it is another that does not seem to be of any importance. Mother said there are strange reasons we dream the things that we do, that our minds are telling us things with these dreams. Or perhaps our minds are trying to have us take heed of some lesson we have yet to learn.
I’m afraid there is nothing to learn from this, but I will leave a sketch once more and share some small details for me to read and come back to.
Sitting alone, holding a fallen fruit, a small woodland creature seems to be staring at me. I feel like I am watching it, and that it doesn’t dare turn its head to face me. Just its eye seems to follow me. Perhaps I am swimming in the ocean around this strange little island that has but a single tree on it and that single creature, or perhaps I am on a boat? It seems to fear me, yet it also appears calm, as if it knows I won’t disturb it as long as it keeps still while the waves gently move and the stars overhead shine their soft light.
I just remember staring as I seemed to circle the island, until suddenly I awoke.
Perhaps it means nothing, but I hope that the creature is happy, though it is trapped on that small island alone. But if it isn’t, I hope that one day soon someone stumbles upon it and takes it to the safety of the distant shores. That is, if this is some creature I stumbled upon in the past and didn’t truly notice. Perhaps I had seen it, perhaps not. I do not recognize the location, but I will think on it. I feel like it is real, that it isn’t just some dream. I’ll have to ask Mother what she thinks. Perhaps she will have more insight on this feeling.
It is strange that, as each cycle passes, everything changes, yet nothing changes at the same time. Day by day, I wish that this wretched curse would be lifted, that they would forgive me, that I was enough. That the anomalies hadn’t taken so much from this world. The changes haven’t just been of this world, or of my body, which is still changing, shifting like the waves of the ocean’s tide, but of my mind also, and now I dream.
Mother said that I should write down my dreams if I have them, that they may tell me something. But they don’t seem to tell me anything. They are just these brief moments where I feel like I am there, but I am not. But I will amuse myself and write them down. Mother hasn’t led me astray in all of these cycles, so perhaps there is something to this. I wonder if she does the same. Perhaps we can share these dreams with each other. Perhaps this can be a way for us to grow closer, since I have to leave for such long lengths of time due to the call.
Now I am straying away from the purpose of this journal, and that is to
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It is strange that, as each cycle passes, everything changes, yet nothing changes at the same time. Day by day, I wish that this wretched curse would be lifted, that they would forgive me, that I was enough. That the anomalies hadn’t taken so much from this world. The changes haven’t just been of this world, or of my body, which is still changing, shifting like the waves of the ocean’s tide, but of my mind also, and now I dream.
Mother said that I should write down my dreams if I have them, that they may tell me something. But they don’t seem to tell me anything. They are just these brief moments where I feel like I am there, but I am not. But I will amuse myself and write them down. Mother hasn’t led me astray in all of these cycles, so perhaps there is something to this. I wonder if she does the same. Perhaps we can share these dreams with each other. Perhaps this can be a way for us to grow closer, since I have to leave for such long lengths of time due to the call.
Now I am straying away from the purpose of this journal, and that is to record what I had dreamt. There was a woman and two canines standing in a pool of water as they seemed to be looking off into the distance. The canines were watching the back of another that seemed to be keeping watch on the dry land, and the woman seemed to be looking toward the stars. For some reason, she had her arms up, and she had something in her hand, but alas, I cannot remember what it was, so I will leave it out of my sketch. It seemed important at the time, but I remember nothing of what it was. Maybe one day I will remember, but surely it isn’t important to my own life, for I had never seen this woman before during my travels. She must be some figment of my mind’s imagination. But I will write this down, and I will see if anything comes of this dream.
Hey there everyone. I wanted to expand a bit on my Gardening in April post and talk about some of the things I want to experiment with in the garden. I really want to get in there, try different techniques, and see what actually works instead of just planning everything out in theory. And if you are not into gardening, this might be a good time to try. You do not need much to start. Even the dollar store has seeds. You can plant a few, water them, and just see what happens. I was honestly surprised by mine. Some of my seeds were over six years old, stored poorly, and still had a really high germination rate. That is part of why my garden is starting to look a little wild already. So it might be worth a try. You could end up with something good to eat.
Okay, onto the experiments. I will start with trellising. I know how important it is for certain plants, especially vines, but I cannot afford to trellis everything I planted. So I am only going to trellis some of th
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Hey there everyone. I wanted to expand a bit on my Gardening in April post and talk about some of the things I want to experiment with in the garden. I really want to get in there, try different techniques, and see what actually works instead of just planning everything out in theory. And if you are not into gardening, this might be a good time to try. You do not need much to start. Even the dollar store has seeds. You can plant a few, water them, and just see what happens. I was honestly surprised by mine. Some of my seeds were over six years old, stored poorly, and still had a really high germination rate. That is part of why my garden is starting to look a little wild already. So it might be worth a try. You could end up with something good to eat.
Okay, onto the experiments. I will start with trellising. I know how important it is for certain plants, especially vines, but I cannot afford to trellis everything I planted. So I am only going to trellis some of them and let the rest spread across the ground. I know that means I will probably lose some vegetables to slugs or other pests, but my main goal this year is to start transforming the soil and establishing growing areas. I planted a lot of cherry tomatoes, beans, peas, and I plan to grow sweet potatoes as well. I want to let them grow a bit freely and see how they behave in the space.
As the plants get bigger, I plan to add companion herbs nearby. That should help with pest control in a more natural way. But more than anything, I want to see the environment around me improve. If I get a good harvest out of it and have extra to share, that is even better. I know next year I will probably be more structured about everything, but for now I am learning. And honestly, even with trellises, you are still inviting birds and other animals in, so it feels like choosing one challenge over another. This year might just be the battle of slugs, if they even become a problem in this drought.
Speaking of the drought, I have been focusing a lot on mulching. I am using sticks, leaves, and grass clippings instead of buying wood chips. I am trying to keep costs low, because gardening can get expensive very quickly if you are not careful. I am okay with the idea that I might not get much out of this besides experience, fresh air, and sunlight. So far, the leaf mulch is working well. It is only about an inch thick right now, since most of the plants are still small and I do not want to overwhelm them. But I noticed almost immediately that the soil seemed to hold moisture better, and the plants looked a bit happier. Once they grow more, I plan to increase the mulch to around three inches. I do not want to go too thick with leaves since they can break down into a dense layer, and I worry about too much moisture sitting against the stems. Still, I think this will help a lot with how dry everything has been.
Another thing I want to try is growing potatoes in paper bags or cardboard boxes. I have seen people do it, and I am curious how it will turn out. I do worry about them turning green if they get too much light, which would make them inedible, but even then I could use them to grow more next year. So it still feels like a useful experiment.
I am also thinking ahead to the colder seasons. I want to try growing some fall and winter hardy plants and see if I can keep them going longer than expected. I also want to remember to plant things like flower bulbs, garlic, leeks, and a few others ahead of time so they are ready to come up in the spring. Timing will be important, so I need to do a bit more research for my area.
Another idea I have is to dig between my rows and work compost directly into the soil. I am hoping that will help improve the structure over time. I also considered burying some of the sticks and small logs that have collected near the tree line, just to see if they break down and feed the soil. At the same time, I am a little cautious about that. I do not want to accidentally create a perfect home for termites. So I may keep that experiment limited to a specific area and see how it goes before committing to it.
That is where I am at for now. I am sure I will come up with more things to try, but I will save those for next month. Thanks for taking the time to read, and feel free to check back in or subscribe if you want to follow along with these monthly updates.
Hey, since this is the personal part of my blog, I wanted to talk about what I’ve been working on in the garden this month. Yes, it has been taking time away from my art, but my mental health has improved a lot because of it. It feels like something that is slowly settling me, helping with that constant exhaustion. If you are a creative, I really think it is important to step away sometimes and do things that are not tied to your work. Getting outside, feeling the sun, moving your body a bit, it can remind you how tired you actually are and how much you needed that break.
Okay, back to the garden. This month I planted seeds directly into the soil, along with some plants I had started earlier in plastic cups. I had to do quite a bit of digging first. Our soil is heavy clay, and with the drought we are in right now, it feels almost like breaking into brick. I picked up some compost and garden soil to help loosen things up. I cleared out dead weeds and set them aside so I could layer them back in later. I started with a base of leaves, then added compost and pieces of cardboard from old boxes, then a layer of soil. After that came the seeds, covered with just enough soil to tuck them in.
Now that some of the plants have started to sprout and stretch upward, I have been adding leaves as mulch, and I plan to use grass clippings after mowing as well. I also started a compost pile, which the birds seem to enjoy tearing apart, but I do not mind. It means they are interacting with it. I need to water it more often, and I am planning to move it closer to the hose so it is easier to maintain. That might attract more wildlife, but I will deal with that when it happens.
One section of the garden is pure chaos gardening. I mixed together a bunch of seeds that are meant to grow well alongside each other and scattered them out by hand. Now there are small green sprouts coming up in uneven clusters, and I am just letting them do their thing. In another bed, I tossed in beans, sesame seeds, sunflower seeds, and a few other things just to see what would take. I also have pumpkins, squash, cucumbers, and a mix of other plants growing together in another area. I know they can cross pollinate, but space is limited, so I am letting it happen and seeing what comes from it.
I planted a section for herbs as well, and those are already sprouting and looking healthy. There is something about brushing past them and catching that fresh scent in the air. I have also planted a wide range of flowers, including edible ones, to help support the insects around here. Right now, there are not many. I mostly see ants, spiders, and occasionally a wasp or a bee, and maybe one or two butterflies drifting through. It feels quiet out there, and I am hoping the garden will bring more life back into the space.
I also started an experimental batch, trying to grow raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries from seed. So far, it is not going well, but I wanted to try anyway. Even if it does not work, I learned something from it.
As of today, I have onion bulbs started, I am working on potatoes, and I even planted some ginger. I transplanted herbs like rosemary and parsley, and they already smell incredible. They are sitting in individual cups right outside the back door, waiting for a more permanent place in the ground. I am not entirely sure I will have space for everything, but I am going to try. The front yard is not really an option, so for now I have just added more flowers there.
Next month, I will probably start including photos. Right now everything looks a bit chaotic, with plants at different stages and patches of soil still settling in. It is not the most polished garden, but it feels alive. The neighbors seem to enjoy seeing me out there, and I have actually been talking to them more, which has been nice. I am not the most connected person, so it feels good to build those small connections with the people around me.
I am hoping the garden really takes off, that it grows full and a little wild, and that I can share some of what I grow with others. But I also know that a garden is never guaranteed. No matter how much time or effort you put into it, you are still working alongside nature, not controlling it. So for now, I will just keep tending to it and see what happens.
Before I get back into the blog, I wanted to let any regular readers know that I am trying to catch up on my backlog. So if you see me posting a bunch of blogs in a short span of time, that is why. I have been writing all week, trying to meet some personal goals after missing a couple of months. I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read these. Your support means a lot, and I hope some of this feels relatable if you are creative or working toward your own goals.
Anyways, let’s get into it.
After finishing and posting my “Why Monsters?” blog earlier today, another thought settled in and refused to leave. I started wondering if my art style is too ugly for a modern adult audience in the United States. Right now, I think the answer is yes.
At the same time, I do not think that answer applies everywhere. I have a solid number of followers from Australia, Europe, Africa, Brazil, Japan, Korea, and China who seem to genuinely enjoy my work on other platforms. Visual art crosses language more easily, so even if my writing does not fully reach them, the images still do. That tells me something. It suggests that what I make, while different, resonates in places where the expectations feel less rigid.
Here in the United States, the response has been very different. When I try to reach a US audience, there is often very little reaction at all. And to be clear, I am not claiming my work is high tier or especially refined. It is not. But it does have a distinct look. You can recognize it at a glance, even if that recognition does not always come with a positive reaction.
I only know a small number of people personally who enjoy my art. More often, I hear the same suggestions repeated. Make it more realistic. Make it more anime. Make it closer to a comic or visual novel style. Something smoother, something more familiar. And the truth is, I could do that. I know how. I even enjoy those styles. But that is not what I want my work to be.
I like symmetry that feels a little too perfect, almost unnatural. I like bodies that bend the rules and stretch in ways that feel slightly off. I like dense lines that carve shapes into the page, and designs that stay flatter, more two dimensional, rather than reaching for realism. The clothing is simpler, the forms are sharper, and the end result feels more like a constructed image than a window into reality.
I have heard the comments before. Short reactions like “oh” or “umm,” or the classic “draw better.” They do not say much, but they still say enough. They tell me the work is not easy to enjoy. It is not immediately exciting. It does not fit neatly into what people expect to feel when they look at art.
And honestly, I do not really care.
That said, I still have to make a living in the United States. Over time, I have made small adjustments to certain features, softening things here and there to make them feel a bit more standard, a bit more visually approachable. But there is a limit. At some point, you have to decide what you are willing to change and what you are not.
So I am choosing to stand with my work as it is. It does not look like what fills my feeds. It is patterned, a little strange, sometimes uncomfortable. And if I am being honest, it is incredibly fun to create. There is a kind of quiet satisfaction in building something that does not try to blend in.
That does not mean the comments never get to me. Some of them have cut deeper than I expected. Enough that I made the decision to turn off comments on certain platforms and spend more time in spaces where people are open to art that falls outside the norm.
I do not even think my art is particularly ugly. I think it just does not fit easily into a label, and when something resists a label, people do not always know how to respond to it. It does not look like Attack on Titan. It does not look like Boris Vallejo or Loish. It does not match what is popular on Instagram, or what you would see on Cartoon Network or in a polished animated feature.
And that is fine.
Art does not have to be beautiful. It does not have to be pretty. It can sit somewhere in the middle. If people want to call it mid, that is fine too.
What interests me more is the effect it has. I want to inspire people, even if it is in small, strange ways. Maybe someone sees one of my designs and decides to push their own work further. Weird anatomy. Strange facial features. Limbs that feel just a little too long. Forms that do not quite belong, but still hold together.
Why not?
If nothing else, I hope it gives people permission to try.
So while the reception may be mixed, I still have an audience. I have found acceptance in places I did not expect, and that has meant more than I can really explain. Sometimes a single comment will stick with me for weeks, like a small light that does not go out. I get to connect with people across the world who see something in my work, and that matters.
To everyone who follows my work, thank you. Thank you for being here, for taking the time to look, to read, to think about what I am making. You are a part of why I keep going. I hope, in some way, it inspires you. Or at the very least, I hope it lingers in your mind, strange and persistent, making you question what art is supposed to be.
I think, at the end of the day, most artists just want people to feel something. Even if that feeling is brief. Even if it is confusion, or discomfort, or dislike. Those reactions still mean the work reached you in some way.
And I have been okay with that for a long time now.
One thing that has been on my mind for a while is reinventing my art journey. In the beginning, I did not really have a plan or a clear path. I just drew whatever I wanted, without thinking much about whether an audience would connect with it from week to week. I still fall into that sometimes, but now I have more direction in what I create. Most of my work ties back to the world building of Veil of Entheos, the creatures and people that exist within it, and the stories that continue to grow from it. I create pieces of monster lore, and there are underlying themes and issues woven into that world. If you follow along closely, you can see how everything connects. It is not just random designs. Each creature has a place in something larger.
I think what I am getting at is that I found a purpose for my art. I chose to focus it. I mentioned before that Veil of Entheos is a way for me to confront the things that scare me, whether that shows up in the creature designs or in the stories themselves. There is often a layer of horror on the surface, but if you look a little deeper, th
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One thing that has been on my mind for a while is reinventing my art journey. In the beginning, I did not really have a plan or a clear path. I just drew whatever I wanted, without thinking much about whether an audience would connect with it from week to week. I still fall into that sometimes, but now I have more direction in what I create. Most of my work ties back to the world building of Veil of Entheos, the creatures and people that exist within it, and the stories that continue to grow from it. I create pieces of monster lore, and there are underlying themes and issues woven into that world. If you follow along closely, you can see how everything connects. It is not just random designs. Each creature has a place in something larger.
I think what I am getting at is that I found a purpose for my art. I chose to focus it. I mentioned before that Veil of Entheos is a way for me to confront the things that scare me, whether that shows up in the creature designs or in the stories themselves. There is often a layer of horror on the surface, but if you look a little deeper, there are other ideas underneath. There are real world thoughts, things that unsettle me, things I am trying to process and understand.
Sometimes those ideas are simple. Things like ignoring your instincts, failing to follow through, being too confident or not confident enough. There are themes of untreated illness, or illness being dismissed, and so many other human patterns that repeat. Some of these things start within a person’s control, but people convince themselves that consequences will not reach them. Sometimes that comes from a lack of awareness, sometimes from avoidance, and sometimes from not valuing their own well being. Other times the themes grow larger. There are pieces that touch on politics, on betrayal, revenge, and indifference. These are things I think about because I have seen them, or felt the weight of them in some way. It makes me wonder why people act the way they do, what leads them to those choices.
I know I will never fully understand it, but through my art I can try. I can point to possible causes, shape them into something visual or narrative, and explore them from a distance. It makes things feel more manageable. On the surface, my art might look simple, but when it is paired with the writing, it opens up into something more.
At the end of the day, what I want to share with other creatives is the importance of finding your why. It is completely fine to create just because you enjoy it, but it can help to ask what your work means to you. Is there something emotional behind it, a story, or a reason certain choices keep showing up in your work? Having that sense of purpose can give you a clearer direction. It shapes what you want to create and why you return to it.
This is not the only way to approach art. Not even close. But if you are feeling stuck, it might help to set a focus for a period of time. Maybe plan out a year and choose one theme or idea to build around. For me, that focus has been short stories and monsters. That is what has brought back my excitement, what makes me want to sit down and draw again.
At the same time, I do need to earn income, so I have found ways to connect that with what I already enjoy creating. I make monster adoptables that tie into the Veil of Entheos lore, so someone can own a piece of that world. I create bases using some of the creatures, which helps artists who struggle with anatomy but still want to design their own characters. I also make coloring sheets, printable cards, and other digital products that come naturally from the work I am already doing. Since I work digitally, I build my files in ways that can easily be adapted into different formats. It all connects without pulling me away from my main focus.
I also have a small physical shop hosted on another platform where I sell prints and other items. That allows me to offer physical pieces without handling everything myself right now. In the future, when I start attending art markets, I plan to produce more of that in house. For now, my focus stays on building the world, the stories, and the creatures. The rest grows alongside it.
Looking ahead, I want to expand further. I have plans for a longer story, maybe even a novella supported through something like a Kickstarter, with extra pieces that bring the world to life in different ways. These are long term goals, but they all connect back to one central focus.
I hope this helps someone in some way. I know not every artist wants to sell their work, but for me, it is part of sustaining what I do. It allows me to keep creating without having to compromise the direction I care about. Even if my audience grows, I do not feel comfortable changing my vision just to appeal to more people. If someone follows my work, they know what I am about. It starts with my thoughts and feelings, then the art and story, then finding ways to support it all.
There are probably more efficient ways to approach this. I could focus more on marketing and growth, but I prefer something that feels more natural. I bring people in through blogs, short stories, and the art itself. My audience is not large, but I appreciate them deeply. Whether they connect with everything or just a few pieces, the fact that they take the time to look and feel something matters to me.
Not every reaction to art is positive, and that is fine. Art is not always meant to be comfortable or pleasant. Sometimes the point is that initial reaction, whether it is interest, discomfort, or even rejection. With my monsters, people might love them, feel unsettled by them, or turn away from them entirely. But even that is a response. If they read the writing that goes with them, it adds another layer of feeling.
That is my focus. To create something that makes people feel, while also helping me understand the fears and realities that come with life, and giving me some sense of control over how I respond to them.
So maybe that is why it can be important to reinvent your artistic journey. In the end, it has to be about you, about what you want to explore, express, or share.
Thank you for reading my thoughts on this. I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be an artist and the different paths that come with it. There are so many directions you can take, but I hope something here helps or encourages you in your own journey.
In a world where flowers bloom, I dare to hope that the insects, birds, and small critters in our neighborhoods can grow and thrive instead of being pushed further away through neglect and frustration. All of it, just for the inconvenience of a bug bite, the loud chirping of birds in the early morning, or the occasional possum slipping into a garbage can. I want a world where they can live around us, where we show them respect and some sense of reverence instead of constant rejection.
Our neighborhood is the typical North American ecological nightmare. Short cut grass stretches across nearly every yard, with a massive lack of trees, though we are one of the few lucky homes that still have some. There are barely any shrubs or flowers, and there is always a neighbor ready to knock on a door if someone lets their grass grow too long, offering to mow it or suggesting someone cheap who will. There is this quiet pressure to keep everything controlled and trimmed, to remove anything that looks too alive.
These are the people I find myself feeling the most sorry for. There is
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In a world where flowers bloom, I dare to hope that the insects, birds, and small critters in our neighborhoods can grow and thrive instead of being pushed further away through neglect and frustration. All of it, just for the inconvenience of a bug bite, the loud chirping of birds in the early morning, or the occasional possum slipping into a garbage can. I want a world where they can live around us, where we show them respect and some sense of reverence instead of constant rejection.
Our neighborhood is the typical North American ecological nightmare. Short cut grass stretches across nearly every yard, with a massive lack of trees, though we are one of the few lucky homes that still have some. There are barely any shrubs or flowers, and there is always a neighbor ready to knock on a door if someone lets their grass grow too long, offering to mow it or suggesting someone cheap who will. There is this quiet pressure to keep everything controlled and trimmed, to remove anything that looks too alive.
These are the people I find myself feeling the most sorry for. There is this desire to sanitize the world for comfort, a short term comfort that leads to long term loss. What was once full of life is slowly fading because of how little care we give it, and because so many people have been taught that a perfect lawn should not host life, it should remove it. Animals and fruit trees are treated like nuisances. Native plants are seen as ugly or messy. Instead, we fill spaces with plants from other regions that do nothing to support the life around them, leaving local insects and animals weaker, their lives shorter and more fragile than they should be.
This year, I decided to plant flowers from seed. I still have a lot of research to do, especially when it comes to native plants in my area, but I tried to choose things that would at least be useful to the critters nearby. I know I am not perfect, and I know I am not very knowledgeable yet, but I do know that the wasteland we have built into many North American cities is destroying entire populations of life. And more and more people seem to accept that as normal, as if it is just the way things are meant to be.
There is this expectation to fall in line, to accept it, to become another quiet part of it all. To smile while neighbors tear out what little natural space remains and replace it with turf or ornamental grasses that drain the soil, leaving it dry and lifeless beneath shallow roots. Gallons of chemicals are poured out to kill the plants that persist, the ones they call weeds, the ones that try to come back anyway.
Maybe I sound too angry. Maybe it does not seem like a big deal to some. But I do not want to lie to myself just to feel better at the end of the day, not when the damage keeps building in ways that are easy to ignore. I want to make things better in the small ways that I can. I want others to do better too, to care enough to try. Maybe other people are not angry enough.
I want to grow things that help keep this space alive and feeding the creatures that are so often dismissed as nuisances. They deserve more than that. We have interfered so much in order to fill corporation pockets, to build this modern world, and now we take it all for granted while giving almost nothing back. The earth is treated like something endless, something that can absorb every mistake, every careless choice, until the damage becomes impossible to ignore.
This is a complicated subject, and I know there is so much I am not saying. This is just how I feel, knowing there are always exceptions and people trying to do better. But I also see the steady loss of protections for land, water, animals, and trees. I see corporations tear through entire regions, pay a small fine if they contaminate the land and water, and then they move on to the next place. What they leave behind takes generations to recover, if it recovers at all, and it is hard not to feel sick thinking about it.
The more I learn, the angrier I get.
So I plant. And I will keep planting.
And I hope more people will care. I hope we can grow something better together, instead of continuing down this path of something lifeless and empty.
If you want to know what I am growing, I have blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, and a lot of beans. There are so many kinds of flowers and vegetables, and I want to expand even more with native plants, fruits, and berries. I have already started seeing more birds. We even have a pigeon that visits now. I try to quietly leave small, safe treats out on the lawn and near the patch of woods behind us, along with water set in the shade of our trees where it stays cool. Even here, in a state that has been in a drought for years, that small bit of shade feels important.
The drought has been getting worse, and I know the day will come when water is restricted. I find myself hoping for rain more often now, watching the sky and waiting for something to change.
So plant flowers. Plant what belongs in your region. Grow fruits, berries, and vegetables. Touch the earth. Feel the flowers when they bloom. Listen to the birds, and watch the bees, wasps, and fireflies as they move through the day and into the night. Do what you can to make your world burst with life, however small these actions feel to you at first. Join local communities that want to restore the land, fight against bad policies in your area, take action however you can.
Because every one of us lives on this planet, whether we love it or not, and we all have a part in what happens from this point forward.
Semi-urgent #MutualAidRequest to help my partner @magicalgrrrl and I get medical cannabis to help with our chronic pain, complex ptsd, and smaller, but still important things like appetite stimulation and sleep support. Please boost!
