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AngelusNoir — Sketchbook Pages Two
Published: 2007-04-12 13:34:42 +0000 UTC; Views: 1612; Favourites: 23; Downloads: 48
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Description
A love charm
...from Somerset,to be said on Midsummer eve in a churchyard,whilst strewing roses...
"Rose petals,Rose petals,
Rose petals I strew,
He that will love me,
Come to me soon..."
[watercolour & pencil on sketchbook paper]
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Comments: 37
Great pages, and especially the typography (my favourite bit)
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so i defintly have a journal that has somthing like this on the cover. very pretty. how long do you take on these do you do them all in one sitting?
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thankyou
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I love your sketchbooks, something I keep meaning to do
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These are really beautiful - its like an old silk painting. Almost Nostalgic.
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mm,I love old flower pictures...thanks
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Pretty. How is it that you prevented the paper from warping from the watercolor?
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Thanks darling...I paint these usually when I'm out...when I get home,I put the paper between very heavy watercolour paper...under glass paperweights...& leave overnight
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I love all three of your sketchbook pages, but I really love the little poem incorporated into this one (If only something that simple really worked!). Nice, the way you've played with different types of roses and different weights of watercolor. Very vivid and visually rich.
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I thought those were those water colors
I miss those.
You probably use them more frequently than
I think, I just manage to not recognize it somehow
My goodness I wish I had your patience for drawing out the more floral things in life.
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That is something I don't do enough, to let the brush (implement)
take charge. Now for some off-the-wall reason inks always allow
me that privilege, but anything else I'm so concerned with how precise
my strokes are I normally can't get carried away (it does happen at
times, however
standard works, you'd think I'd be focusing on them more.
Not to mention, it gives your right hemisphere a work out you say?...
hmmm, more incentive says I, to go have fun
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oh, the colours are so deep and romantic! i love these pages of roses....
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indeed! they are so charming...
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Wow! The shadows on the top half are drawn really well (i suck at shadows!) and I love the really antique old style of colour on the bottom half, its really pretty!! My fave rose is the far bottom right...so beautiful!!
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Oh,it's just a practise thing!I've found if you mix a bit of the complement in with the shadow[blue-gray being the complement of peach...it's easy
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No problem!! I love staring endlessly at your work haha! x.x
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breath-taking...I love roses, and you make me love them even more....
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Ah, so that's why they have such a dry, woody, earthy sort of atmosphere about them, autumn usually draws out such parts out of everything. :3...this makes me like your roses even more.
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*nod nod* I can't wait to go somewhere which has autumn, and really experience it for myself; everything that writers always describe in far off places.
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I'm sure your surroundings have their own unique charms
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yes there is some charm...like how the world becomes gray after it rains, and stays gray, in a nice, comforting way, all throughout the day...but your sounds nice, trees in your garden? I haven't even enough space in this appartment to grow a tomato. *laughs* but outside is good, along the small footpath-varanda place, I grow things I'm not sure of, like pumkin and lime and stuff...they are pretty...so perhaps...there is charm int that??? hmm...I shall go stare at them for a while and see...
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*comforting*sounds nice,I like the winter,& the chill tones of blacks & greys....& I love the rain......[we don't get so much at the moment.
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hmmm....:3....yes, that is true...people and life, but some how i can't seem to put it down on paper. In writing, I can fill pages, of tears, and screams, and laughter and songs...but in drawings, I am dry. I wish each day that one day I could put pen to paper, and paper to my heart, and create something that speaks of the dreams and desires which I have always wanted to say, always wanted to write...
Your garden used to be part of an orchard? O_O wow...I alway find it fascinating when I think of living on the ground, next to the earth...I've always lived in the sky, where the earth is a quick and painful meeting with death, if you fall out of a window that is. When I'm on the bus, I've always sat on the top story of a double decker, and in school, I've always been on the highest level...the ground seems to be foreign territory to me...and just as well, exciting territory to me....everytime I reach ground floor, I secertly squeal inside, and say, "what shall happen today for the short time my feet are on the ground????"
And the trees in your back yard...what an idea. I've always seen the tops of trees, and I can't get close to them on the ground, even if I wanted to, because my mother forbids me to step on the grass; it's sort of a dumping ground for the residents'rubbish, and animals do their business there 
Wild plants; do they flower? What kinds of wild plants to you have there? And possums...all a dream to me...a fascinating dream indeed. Here, there are the crows which caw at the temple at the end of the road, and the alley cats which give you wide-eyed stares or stone-cold glares, which keep your hands in your pockets and your heart on your sleeve, as you wish you could tend to their wounds which scream out to you, wounds aquired from the nightly cat fights around the block. An occasional squirrel here, a glimpse of an eagle there, a rare, daunting chance of a raven overhead...but no possum
I shall draw the seedlings for you. They are small and sweet and fragile. The other day a catapillar ate away at the limes, which was sad, and I almost cried, thinking that I'd lose them; I hate bugs, and no one in my family wanted to help me get rid of it. But somehow, I told myself not to scream, and yanked the leaf with the catapiller off, and threw it over the balcony...so the seedlings are doing better, but are still suffering from the attack; big chunks of the leaves were eaten.
As for the rain, yes, I agree. I love the rain too. In fact, if not for the rain here, I would be utterly miserable, because it's either humidly-hot, hot-dry and baking or stagnent, which is a weird feeling of moving through sticky-nothingness...
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How very sweet of you to bother
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