Finger Meets Mouth

This one morning, I woke up to my girlfriend not lying beside me in our bed. This was (only) a little confusing; I had not remembered her going (back) to Brussels, but as she does often enough, I figured I was still rather sleepy.

But the sun had called the morning, so it was time to get up -- when I heard strange noises from my kitchen: there must've been a monster.

And like a normal person, I weighed my options: escaping from my apartment to avoid a conflict or protecting my belongings from the demon.

When I finally, after a good half hour or so, mustered up the courage, all I found was my cute girlfriend.

She had awoken to an insatiable desire and had just cleaned our kitchen of anything palatable. So when she noticed me, she leaped to me, took my finger in her mouth, and well -- the rest I'll leave up to your imagination.

A Live House

I have a couple of critical questions for you. Please don't move on until you've answered them to yourself. 

When was the last time you genuinely thanked someone? I don't do it often enough—it's nice to be appreciated.

Well, you might've been able to answer that one, but when's the last time you genuinely thanked the stuff you own or the house you live in?

I never would, as I didn't believe they could appreciate the gesture, but I met a man with a story who changed my perspective. As I've already wasted your time with my exhausting questions, I'll keep his story short.

The man had lived in this house for the better part of his adult life, never batting an eye (as he assumed he was merely losing his mind), but slowly and more frequently, he heard the house starting to move, talk, and more worryingly: complain.

One time, when he came back from watching grass, the house was alive and well: the lights were on, music was playing, and the chimney was blowing large clouds.

And that's all he could figure out, as he was no longer allowed inside.

Weird Girl

I'm one of those people with weird parents; when people look at me, I feel them (annoyingly, correctly) assume so.

But they're the good kind of weird, I promise. Their friends, the few they had, often turned out to be the bad kind. Many weird people are; the weirdness starts as fun, but when further explored, it quietly becomes evident that they're kinda dysfunctional. Weird people are somewhat of a gamble.

A lot of normal people, the older they get, see themself become more and more like their parents. Well, let me tell you, as a weird guy, this is also true for us. 

Like my parents, I prefer having few friends, and the ones I choose to spend time with are primarily weird. 

If you don't end up like your parents, you'll end up pretending to be their opposite. Hopefully, convincingly enough to one day trick yourself into forgetting it was an act.

Anyway, so this painting is about my new best friend, who's rather weird.

Now I get most people might call a lot of otherwise normal people weird because of a few things they do out-of-the-ordinary -- that's not the case here.

Are you wondering what makes her weird? I get that, but that's not what this painting is about.

Lost in translation (1)

While walking through the beautiful Den Bosch, I frequently wonder about all the genius ideas people that pass me by are having. They don't know me, so they'd never tell me, and if they did, there's a big chance I wouldn't get it.

It's hard to explain interesting ideas sometimes. 

I knew this genius in high school, who could've solved many of the world's problems had he been motivated to (instead of solving obscure ones).

However, whenever he tried to explain his thoughts, his words came out in a language nobody else could understand. 

Maybe you don't understand how I knew he was a genius, but sometimes you know from the moment you see somebody. Yes, he could not communicate well through language, but the beautiful way he solved problems showed me enough.

Nobody else could see it. They all called him an idiot because he could not bring his mind to words. Thinking about him still makes me sad, and the worst part? To a lesser extent, this is true for everybody.

Some people are born wise, and you're probably not one of them. Though maybe, if you're lucky, you've met or even known someone who was. 

These kinds of people seem to come out of the womb with knowledge from outside, which is easy to understand but hard to figure out while being more truthful than anything others ever think of.

My toddler nephew sometimes seems to be like that. I'm not sure if he's genius or even intelligent, and he may lose his wisdom with age, but for now, the guy seems to speak truth into life.

While playing in the backyard, we talked about life a little bit -- like young men sometimes do -- I asked him a question that wasn't important enough to remember.

But I could never forget his answer: "Ja!" He loudly exclaimed, which helped me make sense of so much of what once had seemed unrelated.

Then he put his toy car in an impossibly tall tree and asked me to add another vehicle. But I was too busy thinking to play around, and before I knew it, he also had grown too old to play. What a shame.

Far from home

This Thai lady is lying on my couch -- don't worry about how she got there; it's a story I'll reveal some other time. 

I had told her she would look great as a painting, which she struggled to believe, only making her more beautiful.

She allowed me to sketch her anyway, and because I didn't know when I'd get such an opportunity again, I took full advantage, stealing her soul and capturing it on my canvas.

Well, that was probably my biggest mistake ever.

Don't get me wrong, the painting is excellent, but now I have this soulless body in my apartment who's NOT pleased with me.

Apparently, stealing one's soul is frowned upon -- maybe THAT is something they should teach you in school (though perhaps they did, and I wasn't paying attention.)

I would appreciate any ideas about rectifying this situation without destroying my painting or upsetting her more than she already is. I like her a lot, and I'm not ready to depart from my painting yet.

Anxious dissociation

We all know that the universe, and life in general, is bizarre. There's no way to talk about it without repeating what billions of others have thought and without sounding pretentious.

And worst of all, it doesn't seem like anything meaningful is ever actually discussed when talking about it. So I won't bother.

Anyway, so one day, while I was walking through Den Bosch, or perhaps while I was sitting at home, it doesn't matter. I was lost in thought, thinking very deeply about something simple.

But I could not wrap my mind around it, which scared me. How could something so straightforward be incomprehensible?

I felt like if even something like that didn't make sense anymore, how could anything else? I'm not sure how long I felt like this, but at some point, I continued walking through the beautiful city while sitting in my apartment, accepting that the most bizarre thing seems true -- it's all just real & normal.

Eggs

When's the last time you've thought about breathing, or how to walk, or any of the hundreds of household items you've seen every day since basically the start of your life?

Well, I hadn't thought about eggs -- chicken eggs specifically, in a while. It fluctuates, though generally, eggs are, and have been, a big part of my diet. They're pretty good. 

One day, during easter, while talking with my almost 2-year-old nephew, he pointed at an egg and accurately said: 'egg,' which I agreed to -- then I understood that I had to make art about eggs. 

Because even though their competition is fierce, eggs have some of the best marketability out there in terms of appearance.

Few clouds

I get tired of making art about my sisters, but when making art about the sky, it's too easy to inject them into whatever other narrative I'm working on.

Sometimes, I merely want to look at the sky and appreciate its beauty -- so there's no meaning here. If you're looking for it, please move on. 

A sky full of clouds is often as impressive as an empty one: not very. 

Preferably, around 20% of the sky is clouded, but the perspective may be captivating as long as 20% of the blue sky is noticeable.

And while looking at such a sky, I feel at ease with life. I'm not sure whether I'm still anxious. Probably, but it's not the type of thing I remember. I am sure I  feel like I'm floating along the clouds, and I'm inconsequentially small and irrelevant, which I actually am, of course, but now that realization comforts me.

Hunger

If you analyze my life (and are a little weird), it could appear like, since the age of 14, I keep gaining weight, just so that I can lose it again, so that I can gain it again, on repeat. 

Since moving out, I had to relearn how to feed myself, including, for some reason, that you can't keep food in the fridge for that long and that I can't handle having snacks around as I'll never stop eating them.

Recently, I've been trying to lose weight again. Even when I eat whatever I want, I'm always hungry, so it's rough.

Unrelated, I've also been trying to get better at selling my art, which is difficult because when I'm free from my job, I don't want to spend it on another instead of working on my art. 

In that sense, ironically, because I'm not "hungry" enough, it's hard to get better at selling my art, though this is as much a privilege.

But some days, I daydream about my hunger for food overtaking my ability to reason so that I'll start eating my art. I'm sure that'll make it sell.

Boy in skirt

Vaguely, I remember a boy in a skirt at one point, lying on a couch, sleeping, sucking his thumb. I don't and can't know if it's true, but lying there, he looks so unbothered by it all, just living his life exactly how he wants, at least as far as a child can do whatever he wants.

My parents try to make me believe that I used to be that boy, but I know that can't be true. I've never been so chill, not even while I'm sleeping, or at least it's hard to imagine.

I also couldn't imagine wanting to wear a skirt, but my parents tell me it's true. There's really no issue here. I don't want to wear skirts anymore, if I did, I would. 

Except that I'm scared that they took that decision from me and that I wouldn't want to, even if I tried, and if I did want to, I wouldn't do it.

But it's easier to not think about it and to do what I enjoy. It's not like I'm that normal anyway.

Happily walking my life away

There are many ways you can travel to most locations you need to go, and there's only one almost universal: walking.

Even though that's an intriguing idea, it doesn't influence my love for the transportation method much.

Frankly, I struggle to understand why I love it so much -- I'm Dutch, so maybe it's because biking is just too prevalent, making walking another way to feel unique. 

My parents think I'm crazy. They also think it's weird that I don't repair my bike or get a driver's license. But I'm content with walking -- toward public transit if necessary.

Walking seems to suit me. I don't move or go outside enough, or rather, I wouldn't if it weren't for walking. There's also so much time in our lives, and a lot of it we waste on dopamine machines; walking is an alright alternative to that.

And finally (and this is a secret), it's how I find all the ideas for my art. I'm not sure who leaves them there, but throughout the city (and surrounding area), someone ditches all these great, free ideas I pick up, which nobody else ever seems to. Maybe they're all too busy to look around.

Finding meaning in anything

Only once was I ever depressed. 

My parents never recruited me into a religion, nor did they push me away absolutely, though probably more than they realize.

They convinced me that there weren't any spiritual omniscient beings and that the idea was ridiculous, the latter coming naturally; if you're sure it's nonsense, the concept quickly becomes laughable. 

It's hard not to look down on people who you ""know"" believe in silly creatures, and I wasn't above it either. Even now, while I cognitively recognize we can't know, and much of the conclusion is almost evolutionarily determined, I'm as jealous as I feel superior.

In the most respectable way I can. Because everyone, presumably, feels the same way (though they are wrong as I am right.)

But then, one day, I realized that if not for the spiritual, except for being happy, there's no reason to exist, which took me by surprise for probably less than a minute, when I understood it meant I got to pick whatever I wanted, optimally one day forgetting it ever was a choice.

I suppose the religious people might've figured this out quicker than me. 

And now, way too much like my parents, my art, words, family, and walks are my meaning.

Most Details Are Redundant

Most details in art (and life) are redundant. I probably only believe this because my work isn't that exact.

Of course, my art does contain detail -- it's impossible not to have detail if you're portraying anything, especially if you've been doing it for a while. 

But when I think about 'detailed' work, I think about purposefully capturing small elements relating to the idea of the art piece. 

Instead, I focus only on what makes the idea engaging. And then, I use details solely to make those few elements more intriguing.

However, someone might call my art redundantly detailed, and I might prefer a needlessly detailed piece over one with few. 

So it's all just arbitrary gatekeeping in the end.

Bad Year Can't Complain

Comparing your state of mind from year to year seems nearly impossible. 

Last year might've been the worst year of my life (so far) because of some anxiety problems that now constantly seem present. 

It wouldn't surprise me if it were, but I'm uncertain how I could compare how I felt like as a 4, or 12-year-old. 

So, I'll settle for calling it just a bad year.

Maybe one of the worst things about it is that I've got it good in many ways; I work on so much satisfying art, live comfortably, and have little stress in my daily life. 

That may not sound bad to you, but it is -- now I feel like a loser when complaining. 

And complaining is one of the most fun things you can do.

Another Bird Over Water

Don't remember or care where, but I noticed a bird flying over water. What a free creature. Do you think it understands the depths it's flying over with such ease? Few do. 

It reminded me of another time (the 16th of September, 2022) when I saw a similar bird flying over similar water, and I decided to draw it (#386).

So now, because of that loser, I have to feel unoriginal about an idea I feel strongly about. But the joke's on that guy, I never was original. Only the insane ever do anything new, and I haven't lost it yet.

And that's the key: accepting there are probably four billion other people who have had the exact idea you feel so passionate about. 

If you're lucky, you'll convince some that you thought it better.

Haven't Seen The Sun In A While

It's not like I haven't been trying. (Almost) every day, she knocks on my windows, but when I go outside, all I can find are clouds and their tears.

Maybe she's upset. In the summer, she worked long hours, seven days a week, but couldn't find me -- I was inside then. 

She gets too hot sometimes.

And also, my brain made me feel like I was about to explode. I decided that if an explosion were my fate, I'd rather have it be inside.

But now I ache for her warmth. Looking at trees, grassfields, and bodies of water without her around somehow always feels less beautiful. 

When the summer is back, I'll miss the gloomy days of the winter. Yet again, what makes me happy is complaining about what I can't have.

Until the sun returns, I'll hallucinate lush trees, free-flowing water, and green grass fields.

High Water In Den Bosch

I don't know much about many things (like most people). How and why the water inside of Den Bosch goes up or down is one of those things.

Recently, it rained a lot, maybe that's why? But it often rains, and the water rarely consumes the city.

Anyway, so there was high water in Den Bosch, which I walk through frequently, and it was a pleasant sight. 

Some benches I sometimes sit on are now inaccessible because of it. And boats that typically relax on the water are now swallowed up by it.

Sometimes I think about if the rising sea level will inevitably result in much worse consequences for Den Bosch (I guess the Netherlands in general, but who cares about places you never or rarely visit).

There's nothing I can do to help that. So I won't worry about it either. Hopefully, if the water does end up swallowing us all, it'll at least be beautiful.

Finally alone

Being alone is fantastic. Or so I tell myself. 

I'm conflicted, as I refuse to engage in behavior that would result in me not being alone (because I don't want to do those things), but sometimes I get the urge to connect to others.

Even then, it's challenging to be completely alone. In my apartment, where I live alone, my many neighbors, make noise sometimes . And otherwise, the cars driving by would.

If all of those are somehow quiet, there's also still this device that puts sounds in my ears, which I could remove, but what's the point?

One of the ways to fully be alone is to go for a walk in a more secluded area. This painting is inspired by walking past the Bosche Broek. It was cold and dark, and within, I saw a tiny figure who seemed all alone. I was, and still am, jealous.

Fruit

The family of my half-sister, Americans, had never eaten any vegetables or fruit in their lives. Instead, they opted for poor, sugary imitations.

To one of my ancestors, and you don't have to go that far back, our everyday fruit might seem like imitations of theirs. 

But our selectively bred, more extensive, more consistent, more colorful, and less seedy fruit is a sign of the inventiveness of humans and how we can use nature for our benefit.

Although genius, the processed food my sister's family ate is just not as great, as they rely much less on enhancing natural flavors and more on optimizing addictive food. 

That's just personal taste, though. What is objective is that fruit is more beautiful and fun to portray. 

Immerse in Zen Dageraad's captivating art, merging color and symbolism. Drawn from Den Bosch's flower fields, it beckons interpretation and awe.

Flowerfield

Immerse yourself in Zen Dageraad's alluring exploration of color and symbolism. Strolling near the Dieze in Den Bosch, Zen Dageraad chanced upon a vibrant field of flowers. Their beauty stirred his creativity, inspiring him to capture their essence in a poignant illustration. The art features eight flowers, each symbolizing a thought, an emotion, still open to interpretation.

Drawing on a palette of green, blue, pink, and orange, Zen Dageraad delineates each flower with striking contrasts. The green and blue flowers boast outlines that cast blue and green shadows respectively, filled with bold splashes of orange and pink. Similarly, the pink and orange flowers bear vivacious outlines of orange and pink shadows, their cores filled predominantly with blue and green.

The background, though a mélange of all these colors, is dominated by varying shades of purple, setting a mesmerizing contrast against the vibrant blooms. From a soft lilac at the top to a rich purple at the bottom, the gradient forms a stunning backdrop for the symbolic eight.

Immerse in Den Bosch's tranquil charm with Zen Dageraad's art of Moerputtenbrug, fusing vivid hues and poetic storytelling. Discover daybreak's enchantment.

Moerputtenbrug

Zen Dageraad invites you on a tranquil journey to the heart of Den Bosch, through his immersive artwork featuring the Moerputtenbrug, an iconic landmark surrounded by natural beauty. Bathed in the soft glow of dawn, the bridge stands majestic and serene in hues of vibrant yellow and a soothing palette of oranges, as if personifying the stillness of an early morning in a nature reserve.

From the bottom left corner, your eyes are drawn to the curving bridge, guiding you to the top right. The orange railings and pillars, darker on one edge, gracefully descend into the surrounding water, enhancing the depth of the scene. A subtle purple border encapsulates the entire vista, tying together the elements with a flourish of color.

In the distance, lush green trees rise, their vivid trunks casting playful reflections on the water, subtly tinted a darker shade under the bridge, and a brighter green under the foliage. The scene is completed with a sprinkle of green water lilies that adorn the water surface, a silent testament to the region's rich ecology.

The artwork, with its intricate detailing and thoughtful composition, echoes Zen Dageraad's poignant sentiment beautifully captured in his poem, a tribute to the beloved Moerputtenbrug. Each line resonates with the profound tranquility and age-old charm the landscape exudes, encapsulating the essence of what it feels like to be the first visitor on a peaceful morning.

Embark on Zen Dageraad's ethereal journey, a white bridge embracing a kaleidoscope of nature's melody. Surrender to serenity in vivid strokes.

White Bridge

Immerse yourself in the serene realm of Zen Dageraad's art piece, where the essence of tranquility is encapsulated in vivid colors and familiar scenes. The main subject, a radiant white bridge adorned with soft pink borders, stretches from left to right across the piece, a harmonious contrast to the effervescent greens enveloping it. The artist has added a body of water, absent from the original perspective but significant to the piece's allure. Shades of blue with dark lines, and strikingly, two red lines, mirror the bridge above and the world around it.

Surrounding the bridge are trees of varied green hues, their pink trunks standing stark yet beautiful against the landscape. A unique touch by Dageraad, they diminish in size the farther they ascend the piece, with one partially concealing the bridge. The diversity of greens extend to a bush bordered with purple, intriguingly concealing a portion of the bridge view. The ground itself is a blend of blue-green, shadowed by the bridge and trees.

Every element mirrors the poem's narrative - a white bridge, a world more vibrant around it, and an artist's creative liberty of 'untroubled water'. It's not just a drawing, but a gateway to a peaceful place 'near my house', where 'the grass is greener', 'the trees and bushes are greener too', and 'the colors more brilliant'.

Discover Zen Dageraad's breathtaking art, merging vivid hues and nature's beauty. Inspired by poetic words, his buzzing bees ignite a vibrant ode to creativity.

Bees

Immerse yourself in the whimsical world of Zen Dageraad's expressive art piece, born from an evening of shared creativity and camaraderie. Drawing inspiration from a friend's book filled with engaging poems and captivating illustrations, the featured bees took flight in his imagination, culminating in an effusion of colors.

Two vibrant bees, bathed in surreal hues of blue and orange stripes, command attention with their pulsating red eyes. Their wings, a curious concoction of purples, contrast with their bodies, drawing one's gaze. They flutter above a unique landscape, where the ordinary becomes extraordinary through the artist's lens. Four ruby-red trees, each outlined by dual crimson lines, punctuate the scene with their vivid presence.

A solitary flower, an understated emerald spectacle lined with blue, anchors the image on the left. Above, a cotton candy cloud fringed with purple outlines the horizon, subtly shifting between two shades of pink. All of this set against a backdrop of a radiant yellow sky that transitions into a warmer, sun-like orange at the farthest corner.

The terrain is an amalgam of green and blue shades, hinting at Zen's trademark style of blending elements. Shadows cast by the trees and bees ripple on the darker green-blue surface, amplifying the sense of depth. The piece demonstrates an intelligent color palette strategy, with the sky, cloud, and ground reflecting each other’s hues, showcasing a cohesive unity amidst the diversity.

Dive into Zen Dageraad's depiction of Dutch windmills, where skilful artistry meets poetic narrative, offering a fresh perspective on the familiar.

Windmill

A compelling tribute to the timeless Dutch windmill - or wind turbine, as he affectionately terms it. Framed by towering trees dwarfed in its majesty, the windmill, drawn with immaculate detail, reigns supreme, echoing the artist's deep-rooted connection to this symbol of his homeland.

His deft strokes breathe life into a panoramic landscape, illuminated under an unobstructed sun. Its brilliance subtly mirrored in the golden halo encircling the drifting clouds and reflected by the sun-kissed flowers gracing the foreground. These elements coalesce, achieving an illusion of depth - a testament to Zen Dageraad's keen eye for perspective.

The accompanying verse resonates with this visual narrative. It tells a tale of a journey, where an ordinary encounter with a windmill magnifies into a transformative moment. As the poem echoes the windmill's enormity, it becomes a metaphor for shifting perspectives - a recognition of the colossal within the commonplace, artfully captured by Zen Dageraad.

Explore Zen Dageraad's vivid art of city lights at night, symbolizing a memorable walk home. A reminder to value the beauty in daily life.

Night Lights

A vivid portrayal of a nighttime stroll, Zen Dageraad's evocative work captures the enigmatic charm of urban illumination. Inspired by a journey home from a friend's soiree, the piece beautifully encapsulates Zen Dageraad's 70-minute nocturnal trek. His keen appreciation for the nocturnal lights gives life to the artwork, offering an abstract perspective of our familiar surroundings.

Dominating the composition are bright yellow lights that pop out from a dark blue field. Like the artist's memory of his path home, it's not cluttered with unnecessary details. Instead, it zeroes in on the lights, their brightness amplified by their simplicity. The background features a dark red sky, evoking a late evening atmosphere. Zen Dageraad meticulously reduces the size of the lights towards the horizon, lending depth and perspective to the canvas.

The artwork serves as a visual poem echoing Zen Dageraad's words, "dark red sky, fields of blue, bright & yellow lights, simply a delight." It's a poignant reminder of the beauty around us, often overlooked in our everyday lives.

Discover beauty in Zen Dageraad's art - a vibrant tribute to nature, calling viewers to find greatness in life's unexpected corners

Forest

Explore the vibrant embrace of nature through Zen Dageraad's unique artistic perspective. Inspired by a hidden pocket of serenity, this illustration brings to life a miniature world nestled amongst urban dwellings. The focus is a length of water, flanked by towering trees - a scene of simple beauty, yet it captivates with its sheer verdant allure.

Breaking from reality's color palette, Dageraad employs vivid hues to imbue depth and intrigue. The water dances in an unnatural blue, reflecting the red tree trunks that defy convention with their green and purple tones. Leaves don a striking orange, contrasted by the pink reflections dancing on the water's surface. The grass basks in yellow, subtly shifting to a darker shade under the tree's shadow, conveying depth and dimension.

Despite the unusual perspective that reveals hidden layers, the message remains grounded in nature appreciation. The art echoes the sentiments of a poem - finding beauty and greatness in the simplest, most unexpected places, if only one knows how to look.

Dive into the unending ebb and flow of existence with this vibrant artwork, a symbolic rendition of a classic song's tale, set in a mesmerizing nature scene.

The Beat Goes on

An alluring art piece that spins a captivating tale of life's eternal motion. With its roots steeped in the rhythm of an iconic song, the artwork embodies the harmony of existence, mirroring the ceaseless rotations of the celestial bodies around the sun.

At the heart of this piece is the winding path, a metaphorical road of life bordered by dense foliage, leading into an enticing unknown. The inclusion of Luna, Sky, and the Sun dancing in the azure canvas above adds an ethereal touch to the piece, illustrating the celestial dance of life.

The vibrant hues infuse the scene with dynamism, while floral elements bring an earthy charm. Although more discernible in person, their subtlety online adds an element of intrigue. This is Zen Dageraad's initial foray into A3 drawings, further enriching the narrative with a personal, symbolic touch. Experience the ebb and flow of existence through the eyes of the artist.

Symbols

This piece showcases the power of symbols, employing them to narrate a compelling story in a simple yet profound manner.

Imagine the celestial Luna shedding tears, brilliantly juxtaposed with clouds, a manifestation of the boundless sky. These elements are not just visually enticing, but also imbue the artwork with a sense of depth and mystery. Each symbol tells a tale, and together, they weave an enchanting saga.

Venture further into the scene to discover a road, its destination shrouded in ambiguity as indicated by the sign. Is it a metaphor for life's uncertainties, or perhaps, a commentary on our collective journey? A figure, conspicuously located in the lower left corner, looks away from the road, seemingly detached from its directionless path.

Lastly, a modest chair and a tree are positioned, invitingly hinting at respite. But these aren't ordinary objects, they are symbols of comfort and tranquility, acting as a metaphorical invitation to 'sit down in the shade'.

Accompanying this visual narrative is a poem, whispering an invitation to simplicity and tranquility. The verses are a conversation, a seemingly innocent dialogue about pretending, about observing, and about embracing the ordinary. 'Have you met my sisters?', it asks, leaving us in contemplation.

This artwork is a testament to the transformative power of symbols, beautifully demonstrating how they allow art to communicate complex emotions and ideas in an easily graspable way. An intriguing blend of poetry and symbolism, it draws you in, encouraging you to delve deeper into its narrative layers.

Beloved Monster

Inspired by the evocative song from Eels. While the exact meaning behind the song remains enigmatic, this drawing portrays a compelling narrative. At its core, the piece depicts a figure, possibly the artist themselves, peering into the depths of water and encountering their "beloved monster." Despite this revelation, the subject maintains a serene smile, symbolizing their acceptance of their inner complexities.

The artwork embraces a minimalist color scheme, primarily showcasing hues of orange and yellow, which create a warm and inviting background. These colors seamlessly extend to the portrayal of the "beloved monster," representing the interconnectedness between the subject and their inner self.

A vibrant green road, embellished with a delicate pink border, winds its way through the composition, serving as a poignant symbol of the subject's journey. As the road recedes into the distance, it progressively diminishes in size, reinforcing the idea that life continues despite one's self-perceived "monstrosity."

The captivating blue water, adorned with a charming pink border, mirrors the blues employed in depicting the subject. This visual consistency reinforces the connection between the figure and their reflection, emphasizing their mutual existence.

Notably, the artwork features enchanting purple and green gradient "blobs" dispersed throughout the orange and yellow regions, adding an element of intrigue and whimsy to the composition.

Accompanied by a thought-provoking poem, #514 Beloved Monster invites viewers to ponder the acceptance of one's complexities with grace and a smile.