- The Bucket Digest -

     A s an artist who paints mainly smooth portraits, there have been times I have wanted to break from pattern and do something completely wild with movement and thick with texture-- I'm sure I'm not alone in this notion-- although admittedly, I have yet to truly experience doing so. Today's artist, however, freely executes such style as his main course of action when creating, and seems a man vacant of fear as he layers paint and exercises movement with each stroke onto canvas; allow me to introduce abstract artist   Nicholas Ashton.     P ictured below are a few of his works, but as to what he uses to create them, well that's the interesting part. Having attempted abstract myself, my first go-to paint tool is usually a simple palette knife, but for this man, a palette knife is his last resort. Let's imagine for an instant that instead of a palette knife, we use a window squeegee, a copper pipe, a necklace, a pinecone, and then if that wasn't enough, use a li

     * A uthor Tidbit*  As some of you may know, today is the kick-off to the artist feature project! I'll be featuring a new artist every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday -starting today forward- taking an in-depth look at a few artworks that best embody the featured artist's style, talent, and skill. You're welcome to leave a comment, and if you like their work and want to learn more about them or to see other artworks, links will be posted at the end of each feature for you to follow. Thank you for taking the time to learn a little more about the raw hearts behind the work*       W ith that said, allow me to introduce our very first artist for this project, a digital artist with a passion for animals and someone who doesn't take "light" lightly: Artist Taylor Frost.       P ictured below are just a few of her animal portraits. It's easy to see how much thought went into the lighting and drama of each artwork. Paired with the light is the absolutel

     * A uthor Tidbit* Happy Day everyone!! Wow, doesn't time just seem to pass by so seamlessly these days? It's already the day of our fifth artist feature! I know that doesn't sound like much when they're still are over 100 to go, but slow progress is still progress and should be celebrated all the same! With that said, let's get on with today's feature! 😊*       T oday's artist has a knack for creating the cutest designs, with a little humor tied in: allow me to introduce artist Tianna Almy .            I can't place the reason why but I felt the above artworks fit best with a poem: Pastels, pastels, happy yellows, greens, blues, pinks, and purples, jubilee! Colors so bright yet soft you see, within them, happy faces smile at me-- I smile in return, my mouth can't help but react; AWWW, how lovely are these, how sweet their owner must be, to draw such sights  into life, and bring their joy and words of wisdom, and humor into mine.      I' m

          Almost as important as the art itself, if not the same par, is coming up with a title to describe your work. It can easily change the overall demeanor of a piece and instantly tie it together. Take, for instance, an original I recently purchased from Devon Steinke, pictured below:      At first glance, it's easy to see that eyes are the recurring theme of this abstract, but how they are portrayed is where it gets interesting. Not only are they placed rather randomly (or at least appear that way), creating a seemingly chaotic-looking endeavor, but the majority of them have irises looking upwards, almost as if the eyes are rolling back. Chaos is also embodied in the background, with bold colors and streaky lines to contrast an almost shadowlike, one-eyed looming figure (top left). Paint dripping from the irises fabricates a frustrated silence as well.   What could one possibly call this piece? Steinke brilliantly titled his artwork "The Doubt" and like being

I n the past, I was timid, quiet, easily overspoken. I gave an air of maturity, that I could claim, but that description no longer fits me. Don't get me wrong, I'm still meak, mature even, but what now lays underneath that veil also lies someone willing to change, to take courage, and speak up for herself and for the vulnerable mother that she is, that I am- unsure of where I should take my next steps in life as an independent woman, and to what direction I should travel in the journey to guiding my children. I want to communicate, connect, have fun and enjoy life to the fullest of my capabilities. I want to be unafraid, encouraged, and motivated. I want to be the best version of myself possible; making progress one day at a time.                                                         * * * Y ou might not suspect my timidness or my worries upon first greeting; I'm of Slovakian build with wide shoulders that make me appear intimidating and, paired with an overall thick bui

  An illness I felt,  for the longest time. My sadness,  was no friend of mine.  She made me miserable,  and in consequence,  everything else around me became miserable too.  I cast her out once- like an exorcist a demon.  I had learned a new word,  "optimist," and it was like sadness,  like sin vanished, back to whatever hell she came from.  Like a new friend to the friendless, optimism reached out his hand- my savior, and we had months of happiness together.  But to my dismay,  in few years time,  sadness crawled out of the grave she was cast,  and hit me harder than she had ever before.  Optimism was taken aback- him and sadness fought often, over the rightful claim to my mind. Until one day I decided I had enough of their quarreling,  told them both to stop,  and the storms settled, and they decided to live side-by-side, marry, and give birth to realism, who currently resides. 

This is the exchanged interview between Andrea Geones and me. I thought it'd be a nice way for you to get to know me further, so I wanted to include my side of the interview. Here goes:  (originally posted on Words Between Coasts ) "Sky Abraham is a wonderful and inspiring art creative, writer, and mother of three young boys. We decided to sit down and ask her some questions about her life as an artist and what it’s like to participate in vendor events. Tell us how you started your journey with art. (How old, what medium, etc.) There’s always been artistic influence in my life.  When I was younger, my mother often painted in the early morning hours at the breakfast nook table; the house was quiet – her coffee always close-at-hand – and I often watched as she did so.  My father’s grandmother was also an artist, and he used to show me her old sketchbooks. I think that was the start, but what really got me going (wanting me to be an artist) was actually a Japanese show called “F

Like a pot of water slowly coming to a boil- it starts to fizzle and then bubble. The bubbles pop, they pop scarily, rapidly- and in the steam  you see the darkness, the enmity in my eyes. But my soul breaks  at the release of explosion. Immediate regret, and disdain, for myself and this part of me. I try so hard to keep this beast contained- and yet, he always finds his way to the surface, eventually. 

Let's just say-- it's like getting hit with a tin pan full of flour rather than a whole pie.  As to why that is, I suppose it's like this: A pie smashes into your face. It's sticky, ew-y, but it tastes good-- and comes off easy. A tin pan full of flour on the other hand-- gets everywhere-- in your nose, in your hair, your eyes, your clothes, and when you go to wash it off, it gets gooey, so you'll end up washing yourself several times before all the flour is gone --and who knows how long you'll be finding flour on the floor-- but that's the beauty of it . That there, is the beauty of realization... ...although it's not something you'll likely want to wash away. It's not tasty, it sticks, but you couldn't be better off... Now, I must clarify...I have no idea what I'm talking about here ^.  Hello, it's future me! Past me could have been writing about any number of things (this is one of those drafts I never got around to finishing)... b

The warmth of the sun through the windows,  as it lights up the pane the window sits,  and glides through the blinds,  upon my tan skin,   hugging me in its warm embrace.  "I should go outside today," yet still I sit, upon the chair behind the desk, where work must be done.  Will you wait for me sun?  Time waits for no one.