Inktober 2020 - part I

Inktober is always a bit of a highlight in my year. I do love me a good challenge!

Last year, I did a series of short stories in comic format for the daily prompts, and this year I decided to continue with my rebellious attitude of participating, while totally disregarding the official rules, once again.

Day 1 - Prompt: Fish

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⁠I liked the idea of choosing a theme for myself again, and "inspired" by a year full of stress, worry, quarantines, lock-downs and uncertainty... I figured I wanted to travel to distant places with my art this year. Meet strange and mystical creatures, experience varied landscapes and chase that thrill of adventure with each prompt. Instead of telling a story in a comic format, I want to try to tell a story with a single image. ⁠

Day 2 - Prompt: Whisp

My parents grew up under a communist regime, where religion was not part of the culture, so they never push anything specific teaching on me. On the other hand in Lithuania – we still have very deeply rutted pagan sentiments, love for folklore and a connection to nature. So despite growing up in a more or less atheist family my childhood was full of magic, mystery, myth and wonder.⁠

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I talked to trees, flowers and bugs on a daily, I believed that the forest and lakes are full of magical creatures, I read and memorised hundreds of fairy tales and myths from our Baltic folklore, that talked of the world full of spirits, gnomes, talking animals, and sneaky tricksters luring you towards swamps at night…⁠

Day 3 - Prompt: Bulky

I do miss that magical world I lived in as a kid. And although I do not have as deep of a connection to it as I used to… Sometimes I still manage to hear them in the shimmering trees and to catch a glimpse as the light is filtered through the foliage. ⁠

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Now stories follow me in a bit of a different way. I noticed that all of my favourite media I consume, has one unifying factor - story is the main focus. Be it books, music, art, films or games. I am and always was attracted to a story.

Day 4 - Prompt: Radio

Just like an image can tell a whole story, or a book ‘paint a picture’, so can a song. Some are like movies ( eg. Big Iron by Marty Robbins) some are like great literary epics condensed into 7 minutes (eg. Straight Through the Mirror by Blind Guardian). The point I guess is that media does not matter. What matters is the story. And I guess as an atheist I struggled with finding that grand ‘meaning of life’, and the idea of perceiving my life as a story, really did help me.

Day 5 - Prompt: Knife

Maybe it comes from some need to contextualise things around me, put everything, even my own actions into a 'narrative' always was a coping mechanism for me. I was even told by my parents many times throughout my childhood, that I 'live in a fantasy' (and it was not always said with the most positive connotation – but I have to admit I was always a bit dramatic as a child).

Day 6 - Prompt: Rodent ⁠

But just like in science practise, people rely on the work of previous researchers to make new discoveries, they stand on the shoulders of all their colleagues from the past. I see stories in a similar way. They allow me to experience more in this life, gain more ‘experience’ even if it is secondary. ⁠

Day 7 - Prompt: Fancy

As I read, watch, listen, create, the stories allow me to live a thousand lives, travel to places that do not even exist, meet and loose friends, fight, die, seek and find. One could argue that all of these things are not real, and so – do not mean much. But If I am experiencing all the emotions as real, then what’s the difference?

Day 8 - Prompt: Theeth

Because this - as Sir Terry Pratchett would call it - Narrativium, has been such a strong force in my life, I feel like it also influences my art.

Day 9 - Prompt: Throw

I can not create a piece without having a story around it. Like a method actor, I need to live and feel what my subject live and feel, to get the moods, expressions, the 'feeling' of a piece just right. I guess that’s how most artist are. But it is hard to know these things, because it is hard to explain or talk about.

Day 10 - Prompt: Hope

New and Old Prints

I always struggle when I need to decide which works I should turn into prints for sale. It is always a bit of a hit-and-miss. Sometimes the piece of work that I enjoyed making and is important to me as a creator does not translate well as a print, and sometimes things that people seem to like surprise me.

I finally managed to refill my dwindling stocks of postcards and art prints, as well as adding some new designs to the shop.

Sharing something new is always a thrill, the anticipation is delightful.

I guess it is close to impossible to see my own work objectively. Even the smallest scribbles, for me will have the time, space, mindset in which the drawing was made, all woven into it. Those things are invisible to the audience, but they create their own story. It is one of my favorites things about showing my work to other people, to see how similarly or differently people with react or interpret it.

All creation is a reflection of the author, no mater how small, silly or lighthearted. It is impossible to not channel a bit of yourself through your work, be it music, art, writing, dance, cooking etc. And sharing that, for me is the most delightful part of it all.

New and Old Prints and Postcards are now available right here.

That Day

Another beautiful little Poem From the multi talented David of course. This one is (sort of) based on a true story!

We have been on a short holiday in Rome one warm autumn weekend, and while walking back to our hotel after a long and exciting day of sightseeing we turned down a broad dark and empty road with a park on one side, separated from a road by a fairly high sidewalk. As we strolled along discussing what we have seen in this beautiful city, we noticed a poor little hedgehog on the road who scuttled towards the park and was faced by the sidewalk that was much too high for him to conquer. He stopped in his tracks and stood there, facing this obstacle with his tiny snout touching the cold concrete that was between him and a cool safety of the bushes just beyond. We also stopped and observed him. Nothing happened. He just stood there, as determined and patient as the sidewalk itself, trying to stare it in to submission — to let him continue on his journey — home, perhaps? After a minute of observing that epic stare down between the brave hedgehog and the immovable sidewalk, I decided to intervene, and gave the little Hedgie boy a lift onto the sidewalk, where he eventually relaxed, and continued on his merry way into the safety of the park just beyond.

This was the Inspiration for this little poem that David wrote just a few weeks later.

A little hedgehog trippled 'long the street, it had oh! so many folks to meet, it had water, it had lunch - one big red beet, so it swivelled swifty swoftly with its feet After one whole morning in the sun, it had talked to the dog, the bird, the cat, when a big long shadow soon begun, looming over the poor hedgehog like a mat. Fearing for his lifenot knowing what to do, our friend hedgehog simply stood there without clue, but it soon found gentle hands lifting it up, and our little hedgeboye understood its luck A young hooman had decided it will help, so the little hedgie cried with one fun yelp, as the hooman saved him plenty lots of walk, lifting him off the edge of the HUGE sidewalk.

At the end the hedgie talked to all his friends, and to those that weren't yet he made amends,.? but the lov'liest part of the day for sure, was the human with its help so true and pure.