A few months ago, Allen Williams emailed me a painting for an upcoming anthology, Queen Victoria’s Spellbook. (You can see the image in the post below.) Allen has been one of my favorite artists for a while now, and if you take a look, I think it’s easy to see why. His illustration is a […]

Miroslav Zgabaj - "Face the Reality" - De a poco la atmósfera arranca el cuerpo de los condenados, los cuales agazapados ...

Welcome to ISSUE TWO of Ink & Arrows Design Magazine.

100% ART

C. Coles Phillips [American artist and illustrator, 1880 – 1927)]. Phillips was one of the chief architects of the "Golden Age of American Illustration." His "fade-away" style of illustration was highly popular. Life magazine cover, October 26, 1911 Also featured in 'A Young Man's Fancy' 1912, a portfolio Phillips' illustrations

Tutto Passa Standard Postcard, Tutto Passa Postcard, Tutto Passa Illustration "Tutto passa" is an Italian phrase that translates to "everything passes" or "all things pass" in English. This phrase conveys the idea that no matter how difficult or challenging a situation may seem, it will eventually come to an end. It's often used to provide comfort or reassurance during tough times, suggesting that whatever troubles or hardships one may be facing are temporary and will eventually fade away. • Cardboard paper/ Thick high-quality matte paper • Paper weight: 7.67–10.32 oz/yd² (260–350 g/m²) • Size: 4″ × 6″ (101 × 152 mm) • Paper thickness: 0.013″ (0.34 mm) ++++ PLEASE NOTE: This product is made especially for you as soon as you place an order, which is why it takes us a bit longer to deliver it to you. The position, colors and size of the print may differ slightly from the illustrations. While I cannot accept returns for made-to-order items, please don't hesitate to reach out if you need any assistance. I'm here to help! Thank you for visiting. For more please visit my shop: https://etsy.me/3f6zkhN 💓 Follow me on Instagram IG @comecosidesign

“" And then, gradually, the memory of her would fade away, I had forgotten the girl of my dream." 📝 Marcel Proust. 📷 Art Alma Haser”

This piece is one out of the many illustrations I created for my final thesis project during my senior year of art school. This work of art personifies how one drifts off within their own mental space and where their thoughts lead them. Below is the excerpt from my book that give the viewer a written description of the piece being presented. "The petition of voices turn into white noise as your concentration slowly fades away. Your eyes glaze over, and the architecture of your mind deconstructs into hundreds of pieces. You’ve lost track of what’s in front of you as you fly to live in a world of fantasia. But where do you go? Where do the clouds of your mind take you? Do you dwell in a benevolent world that is filled with your innermost pleasures? Or do you dream of Armageddon where the fatality of others becomes your resort for comfort? Or maybe, it is the exile from reality that brings you euphoria. The dream of leaving a world that only gives you anguish, to be somewhere else where pain is only conceptual, merely a fantasy." Digital Illustration Print 14x11 on premium matte paper

I've figured out why I've been in such a foul mood for the last few days. Four years ago, in June, I moved to New York. When I arrived at my new apartment, at 9 PM on a Friday night, it had been trashed. The power, phone and TV cables were cut, the intercom was smashed, it was about 104 degrees indoors and smelled like cat pee and moth balls. The movers, meanwhile, failed to deliver my personal effects until two months after I arrived. My only friend in New York suddenly turned into a paranoid, passive-aggressive freak and stopped returning my phone calls. I spent the Fourth of July wandering the streets of Manhattan at random, watching the first post 9-11 fireworks among a crowd of strangers. I don't think I spoke to another human being the entire day. Three years ago, on the Fourth, I was opening my new gallery. I was stressed, anxious and proud; there was a big party in the building, largely consisting of strangers with whom I had little in common. Two years ago, on the Fourth, I was getting dumped. I was the biggest wreck I've ever been in my entire life. One year ago, on the Fourth, I was in a period of prolonged, self-imposed isolation, re-examining every single habitual way I relate to other people. I spent the evening on my roof, watching the fireworks, and talking with my next-door neighbor. Basically, the Fourth of July in New York City does not hold too many positive associations for me. It's not only hot but muggy; it feels simultaneously oppressive and isolating. Plus, once you've gotten into the habit of self-isolation, it's a difficult one to break, like most habits. I start assuming that something bad will happen if I, like, call someone. Perhaps the fact that both my phone lines went inexplicably dead over the weekend has to do with physical reality manifesting out of my state of mind. Or maybe that's narcissistic. Anyway, this has nothing at all to do with the work of Sophie Jodoin, which Painterdog has so generously encouraged us to look at. The images posted here are all from her series, "Don't Fade Away," 2000, which are not necessarily representative, but which touched me deeply, for perhaps obvious reasons. Sophie's work is proof positive that you can still say something modern and individual with classical painting technique. Sophie does whole series of portraits where the figure is a tiny, isolated speck in the middle of a large canvas; she does other series which look like ancient masterpieces which have been through a shipwreck. The luminosity, the marrying of nail-on-the-head realism with textural abstraction and gestural freedom are unparalleled in anything else I've seen, and that includes Odd Nerdrum. (What's with those weird rants about Kitsch on the main page? Odd Nerdrum is not Kitsch in any sense of the word. He's way too strange.) Her work is a perfect example of how technique at its best is merely a tool for fluidity of self-expression. These paintings are obviously modern; the moods, the subjects, the compositions only make sense in the context, both of a long history of painting, and of our uncertain and socially isolated era. They're not about saying "look at me; I can paint like Rembrandt!" as much as they're about taking what's transcendent about Rembrandt's technique and bringing it to apply on deeply personal subjects. This is far, far different from what negative, snotty brats like John Currin are doing. After reading Peter Schjeldahl's review of the Currin retrospective at the Whitney, I expected to like it better than I did. But the aggregate effect of perusing a decade and a half of Currin's work in one fell swoop was, simply, icky. You got the feeling that this artist is a soulless, cynical creep who just applies his technique in the service of thumbing his nose at everybody--artists and regular people, past, present and future. He's all references and no center. Sophie's work may be much subtler than Currin's, as well as much more sincere; sincerity may indeed be out of fashion. But the depth that comes of mining a simple subject with patience and commitment holds up, for me, much better than Currin's snarky pot-shots. It bespeaks both humility and maturity.

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oruki: “たえ”

My Diary. Cover illustration for Good Housekeeping, January, 1914. Coles Phillips (1880-1927). Chief among the early architects of the "Golden Age of American Illustration" was Coles Phillips,...