adventures

of aplantfancier

Tag: video games

  • puppy101

    I’m working on layering some detail into the grass this morning, down in the furnace workshop. I’ve got towels going in the laundry room outside the saloon doors, and upstairs I hear the rattle of the puppy’s stuffed worm, a hand-me-down from the cat, and the telltale thump of a jump down from the bed, where she knows she is not allowed.

    I knew puppies were like babies, but like nothing can prepare you for the reality of a baby, human or otherwise.

    We’re on day 7, and I finally kind-of slept last night. It’s trash day, and I’ve already been out with her on the leash three times, watching the trucks, getting treats, bristling, getting treats, mostly not barking, getting treats. She’s beginning to deescalate.

    She’s fascinating. I’ve loved training the cat, and so even though the puppy is unfamiliar, in some ways she’s easier. Many of the same concepts apply. They’re both food motivated, but the puppy is biddable, the puppy wants to please me.

    ENTER

  • WIP

    Hi, welcome! I have a confession to make. I’ve been meeting puppies. I’ve been reading dog books and stalking dog reddit and trying to get “AI” to tell me what kinds of dogs these rescue pups are. Trying to see the future. Medium, or big, or perhaps extremely big? Can I picture that? Will this dog be kind to my cat? Can I know that somehow?

    Meanwhile I’m plugging away at the little adventure comic and plugging away at the laundry, down in the basement, snow piling up outside and muting the light trickling in through the glass block windows.

    I’ll have to get up early and shovel before I go to work, but I can only be glad. I put 50 plants in the ground in the last weeks before the weather turned, a garden hail mary. The more snow the better. One year we got so much, even the gladiolas made it.

    I’ve got all the lamps on; the little 70s swivel neck I found in the basement of my apartment in Seattle near 15 years ago, the green glass bankers lamp on the bench, the silver clamp lights I paint under.

    I swept and vacuumed the floors, and dusted the worst of the cobwebs, and now I’m here, brush in hand, thinking.

    ENTER

  • content is king

    Laundry day. I’ve got towels and sheets and clothes of various temperature requirements lined up in little heaps. The laundry room is right next to the furnace workshop, through a pair of slatted saloon doors, so it’s the chore of choice when I can’t tear myself away from whatever I’m working on. Something is getting done. Not much else, but something.

    And also art.

    ENTER

  • smth new

    I pulled out a few older paintings while organizing the workshop today and thought this one deserved another look. Yes, I know it’s not Thursday, July 24th.

    So go ahead and have a look while I get my thoughts together.

    Go on, drift away a minute on that viridian sea.

    ENTER

  • who is this even for?

    Someone told me recently that I should be working on my art for me, not to seek recognition. Huh. Does it mean something bad about me that I see no reason to make art that I don’t intend to share? To seek recognition implies, I think, a desire for accolades. I do seek recognition, but literally just that — to be recognized. I see no reason to tell this story to myself, as I already know it. I want to tell it to you.

    ENTER

  • the fool

    This year, a data loss left me with only a handful (here below, one of that handful) of the images of planets I’ve collected playing No Man’s Sky. Hundreds of beautiful coincidences of color and form and light. Crushing, though I do feel a little bit silly, being so crushed.

    But they weren’t just random screenshots, they were an extension of my photography, something I poured a lot of creative energy into, and more, they were the references I paint from, so they represent this huge lost potential — now they’re all paintings that will never exist.

    ENTER