Wednesday, December 2, 2015

iPad Pro + Pencil + Fifty Three

K had pre-ordered his iPad Pro. And since day 1, I have been randomly sketching on it when he is not using it.

Here are some of the those pages/sketches from Paper by 53 (fifty three). It is different from the iPhone app that I use (Brushes).
  • The things you can do are limited (It is primarily for notes). There is ink pen, pen, brush. Still exploring. So these are more like doodles rather than brush art.
  • Also, the pencil on iPad makes it a different experience. Art is much easier and much less messy. Big screen helps a lot. Don't have to zoom in all the time.

Listening to some of my favourite songs and doodling at the same time has become one of the interesting ways to use it, and is so relaxing and fun as well. Indulge me please (that is why this blog exists).

We don't need no thought control

Practising different ideas. Love the large space. Still a WIP

And Robots. Different shapes and sizes.

A twist. Will make the proper one, with Friday, I'm in love.




Monday, November 9, 2015

Spring Colors




Imaginary fruit



" Beauty serves merely as a guide to birds and beasts , in order that the fruit may be devoured and the manured seeds disseminated. Several plants habitually produce two kinds of flowers: one kind open and colored so as to attract insects; the other closed, destitute of nectar, and never visited by insects. Hence we may conclude that, if insects had not been developed on the face of earth, our plants would not have been decked with beautiful flowers but would have produced only such poor flowers as we see on fir, oak, nut and ash trees, on grasses, spinach, docks and nettles, which are all fertilized through the agency of wind."
 --Charles Darwin, 'Utilatarian Doctrine, how far true: Beauty, how acquired', The Origin of Species.


Sunday, August 16, 2015

Midwinter spring is its own season







"Suspended in time, between pole and tropic.

When the short day is brightest, with frost and fire,

The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches,

In windless cold that is the heart's heat,

Reflecting in a watery mirror

A glare that is blindness in the early afternoon.

And glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier,

Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but pentecostal fire

In the dark time of the year. Between melting and freezing

The soul's sap quivers"