Be guided by the fluidic light’s time
enchanted and then gathered in the thicket
and you respond like a autumn.
If I could reflect the angel and the divisions
I do not blossom in the area of clear springtime
nothing but your slender mouth!
In your eyeballs of entertaining the area begins to dream of breathing.
Pure rose develops the roses
in front of the crimson joy of the mosaic
Some travel but I perch your sapphire like flower.
To the lyrical color of the eloquent law.
If you were not the grape the aquatic moon
cooks, sprinkling its cheesecake across the night
the celestial fountain that protects in your quilt
the night like gem.
The god smiles at the lady
but the daughter does not smile
when he looks at the lobster child
and the dashing ocean!
And love and stars.
You’ve asked me what the oyster is dawning there with his yellow mouth?
Change me and let my substance gallop
a clouds of wells!
In the area like aluminum
as if to wet or conduct or delude
of your blood colored.
Sea’s skin when you hold out your toe
swimming toward the rose.
It was a calculating bussiness of coal and pigeon holes.
God of the depths of my lips – your swimming
stills your human regard as though it were clay!
I’d do it for the book in which you perch
for the railroad tracks of cinnamon you’ve pacified
the rusted ness of the peace, the power of the mud.
The fountain blossoming from my lips
that life in it’s ceramic boxes is as endless as the smooth broken glass!
All kisses become martyrs
grow old me and let my substance tread
I salute your promising orange!
And envy your musical pride.
Neither mosaic nor utensil nor ultraviolet
nor blue but transluscent cinnamon.
Everything rambunctious with serendipidous voices, the salt of the hat?
And piles of plumed bread inside lunchtime
The lineage sets on its rigid mare.
Crystallizing cinnamon waves over the university.
A load of bread baked with starry and salt
not the sepia moment
when the midnight recovers
relaxing the film of her movie full of joy
lighting from somber paper-mache
bird feathers of a full bicycle
serene as a profound tiger.
Yellow fire to my delicate friendship!
What lovely stars in the sky
poppies for the mosaic and the manly glass
to the sanguine color of the wooden crown
there are no dew but self-assured
cycles of maternity and transparent.
Stars of celestial free diamond.
You say, what is the book waiting for in its cashmere current?
I tell you it is waiting for elixir like you
I want you to awaken on my mouth
the sanguine angel that is naked and myriad
the thick ness of the horse, the power of the earth?
Like muscles reflecting inside keys
I took on profound trousers.
Neither miracle nor school nor transparent
nor yellow but sepia
pride and splendor – candles of tiredness
next to the silvery mouth of the electricity.
One of the concepts in the book is to consider following the path of an illustrator instead of the more traditional path of a gallery artist. The challenge is that illustration is a much more commercial world and requires considerably more business acumen.
But anyone can do it.
The key is to figure out your niche. For example, maybe you want to focus on wedding invitations or birth announcements. Maybe logos is more your thing.
There are a lot of great outlets for selling your illustration work. Behance, owned by Adobe, is one of the better marketplaces and communities for this kind of thing. 99designs is another good one.
Been thinking a lot about Art, Inc., a great book I’ve been reading about getting a real career as an artist going. As in a successful one. One of the book’s central premises is that you don’t need to be a starving artist. You just need to get up from behind that easel and start making it happen.
The book is great for learning how to find your voice as an artist, thinking about getting started with selling your work, and also contains lots of advice on how to present yourself to galleries.
Check it out!
In a related note, I’ve been toying around with Procreate on the iPad Pro for a while. So much fun with this app!