Universes

Creativity

creativity

Sunburst

The imagination is a skill tree might as well unlock them

Some of my crafts

I never put anything like this together, it plays music as well

Last thing I made

Takie coś wyszło

How do you get yourself to let the pain turn into art again?

Blocked

I need to stop tripping in these stupid stairs.

2nd day, 2nd trip.

Just thought I'd share some of my artwork Asé ✨

Chakras in alignment expression

I am a freelance artist who specialises in printmaking and watercolour.

My recent designs

Butter🧈 + Fly🪰 = Butterfly🦋

I made a small mask out of white clay. All that's left is to color it😊

Mini mask

1 for ya

My recent art work

🤸🏽‍♂️

👑

iPad doodle

New skill unlocked

Colored on stream

A stuffed duck it's on a hay bale, wearing a vest and bunny ears headband. A cart and field of sunflowers is in the backgroun

He's a work mascot. We do a fortnightly picture of him, to bring a bit of whimsy to people's lives. Here is one of his Easter photos that did not get shared at work this year!

This is Duxton

If you were forced to watch a movie for the rest of your life and you could pick it what would you pick? 🫩

Rest of your life?

For a few years been making cat puppets of my own cats and recently started selling comissions as well as other pet tribute items. Including shoes, figures, pins and felted figures!

Cat puppets!

My favorite Pokémon 💥☠️
Who is yours?

Toxicroak use Poison Jab!

Behind the scenes of left behind.

I would want to pick the meteor hammer, even if it gives almost no defense, the offense is overwhelming. Not to mention the beauty in the movements and flow of both the weapon and person

If you could learn and master 1 weapon, what would you pick?

Creativity Is Thy Name

I have pretty dangley things so I'm gonna buy some hooks tomorrow. I'll update with the finished installment.

I want something above my bed

I had a single picture and idea of a wood burning budget sauna and I made a sketch and built the rest with my mind and tools. And here it is.

Sauna

Nothing help makes my day but enjoying some time with my number art painting with a pot of tea to enjoy and some incense.

My diamond by number are hobby I enjoy

Pretty Danglies are up!

Though I haven't played video games since 1998, I dig the art nonetheless. This sour fella was inspired by Castlevania Dracula being a butt

I drew a thing

Sometimes as I wonder about the progress of my personality I reminisce about days outside the 9 to 5. When a child could design. An ugly box on a shelf became a vessel for nerdom. A radioshack when it existed could supply the circuits to create. What age do we abandon by indifference our fire to express.

The Tinkering Tick

Just picked some colors for my bed frame. How do we feel

Paint :3

This is example of what happens when I zone out home alone. Add mood music of choice effects.

What others see vs how I do

I think I like the way elves look but I like gnomes' sense of humor more.

elves or gnomes

Miała mi wyjść kratka chyba z koszyczkiem na kwiatki ale coś tu nie gra 🫣

Takie coś zrobione na terapii zajęciowej 🤭

As above, so below. As within, so without...

Here's where it gets weird. 

The Tasmanian Tiger, was an apex predator in Australia, and hunted to extinction by the late 1930s. 

I met my late wife through a personal ad that her mother actually answered... told you it gets weird! Her mother made a date with me, and told her to go.
But she read the ad before she came to see me... and changed my world for 16 years. 

As the sun came up that first morning, we were still on this high from meeting each other. Two professionals in the music biz, who had major label releases of our own. We already knew of each other, but didn’t dream this would happen. I mentioned something about my ad and she said "Tasmanian Tigers". 
I had mentioned them in my ad and she didn't know what they were.

So I showed her a flickering old movie from the late 1930s that showed the last surviving one in a zoo in Australia.
And my thought... that I was the last - how she felt as well... 

So I reprised my original ad... hoping to be that lucky again, as I believe in honoring your departed, to have the best life you can. After all, we've had practice! 

Along with my music, I'm also a romantic. The last of the true and afflicted ones. I know I am not of this world. Not here, at least. I am a Tasmanian Tiger. A thylacine, and I've searched the earth for another... and still am only as one. 

I wasn't always like this, though. My life changed as I saw my mate felled by the new predators that invaded our wood. It's been four winters now and I can still remember the day as I returned to our den and the songbirds that lived above us saw me... my slow gate, my fixed stare... as they stopped singing and were uneasy. 

To this day, they stop as I come back with quarry to share with no one. They are simple creatures, but they live on their intuition... and not just their own, but the thousands of their ancestors that came before, thousands think as one... and their songs are their knowledge which is not learned... but certainly real. 

They've asked me, but they already know... and I know this... it's their way of acknowledging my hurt inside. They see me bringing back my quarry to my den... and see my eyes grow damp. They don't know what that is, and neither do I. 

They are struck by my plaintive yowl. I don't know what it is, either... I don't recognize any of what I do now... it's not something I'm even aware of... but the yowl...hoping against hope that it is answered. Knowing it won't be. All of this land is covered with the simple creatures, SO simple, yet complete... and the whole earth is covered with them... so many as their souls could fill the ocean...but would be so shallow as to scarcely wet my foot pads... 

I don't understand the dampness in my eyes and the disquiet in my heart, when I think of the times past. I never yowled. I yipped, chittered... and made quiet puffs of air to signal my mate... and I still do so, in my dreams. 

The birds told my story to the cranes... and when the cranes came back as the days warmed, they told of a world that was no longer for the thylacine... not a den, nor trace. The watering holes showed not a footpad in the mud... no bones... and the rabbits and shrews were bold... as if they had nothing to fear! And numerous... so numerous as to be diseased and festering carcasses exposed all over... so much that the carrion eaters couldn't even finish them.  

So it would appear that I am alone. And my eyes grow damp as I feel this... and the birds above our den ask me if I am sick, as my eyes are ever damp... I tell them I don't know, as I don't. I truly don't know what is wrong with me. Or this world... That soon I will grow older, stooped as the elders I saw as a kit, and slow... and my teeth will dull and fall out... and then I will lay down my last time. But now my teeth are still sharp, I can take more quarry than ten of my peers... which is why I'm still here and disquiet. I know of nothing else!

But why am I here? My coat is still sleek, my mind and body nimble, as the apex of the hunters. The birds above me paired for life, which is also our way. We are connected in that way... and one day I saw his mate fall... and it distressed me. Much as I think they must feel, now... and saw him out on their branch hopping up and down. It was strange behaviour... and his song... so different. As he did that day and even after the light. It was his way. And he didn't sleep in their nest.  He didn't sleep at all, I believe. Until one day, she arrived. His mate to this day. And I know that is what he thinks I must do. But they are simple.

 I asked him one day if he ever missed his first mate. He looked at me quizically. I tried to ask again, as the one that came before, and he said only that he had always been with his current mate. He believes this. That is his way. I envy him. They cannot conceive of this. 

And they still quiet their song as I return. And they still nuzzle as I walk out of sight, seeing my solitude, feeling complete as they are. And I walk my perimeter, And beyond. Farther every day. Making my plaintive yowl, hoping that it will be answered. And sometimes I lie down and dream... and hope that dreams are not all I will ever have. Or that i awaken and find her there again, as if THIS were the dream, as I had many times before she truly did fall... these always confused me as dreams our life before do now. For what good are dreams in a world where no Thylacine live? And what am I to become that a simple bird pities me? If I didn’t have fondness for them I would gulp them down, not to see that look again. 

Well, my day is nigh, and I must lie down in my den,  again. I push myself beyond my ability every day, and sometimes chew the hemlock leaves, so I don't lie down, but fall... to sleep without pointless dreams... lately of the coming spring and running with my mate by the waters. Yipping, chittering, and nuzzling.

Tasmanian Tiger

A Boo community for meeting other Creativity enthusiasts.

Creativity Community

Sunburst

Some of my crafts

Last thing I made

Takie coś wyszło

Blocked

2nd day, 2nd trip.

Food is a great form of art

Artsy Fartsy

Longing

Struggles in Tomodachi Life

Calm men is so attractive

Not Every Attention Means Value