Ink Wash

For over five years, I completed Inktober’s 31-day challenge, always working from my own prompts but staying rooted in what I love-drawing with ink.

Last year was different. Before October arrived, my grandmother came home under hospice care. That moment reshaped everything. My energy turned toward family, and art had to wait. I still wanted to create, but I was running on empty.

So I wandered the halls of my imagination. Some rooms were barren, others chaotic-but something clicked. Every piece I managed to draw carried part of me. It wasn’t just art— it was a literal act of expression.

I let go of the challenge and refocused the series-choosing meaning over volume. These six pieces reflect that transition: three created before the shift, and three born from it. Each one will be noted in its own description. This series gave me room to breathe in a heavy time, and I hope it offers you something, too.

No Prints available for these yet but let me know if you want the original.

These pieces were all made with:

9x12" Strathmore Series 400 toned and tan paper
Dr. Ph. Martin's Bleed Proof White Ink
Dr. Ph. Martin's Black Star Ink
Modern Master's Pharaoh's Gold (Semi-opaque)

Invicta

Sixth in the Ink Wash series, this piece was born during one of my heaviest seasons—while caring for my grandmother at home through hospice. Every day felt like a quiet battle, and this image became my anchor.

A towering sword dominates the scene, overwhelming the page. Yet on its hand guard stands a lone female figure—defiant, poised, unshaken. Her stance challenges the looming threat behind her: a hooded presence whose head peers from behind the blade like an omen.

But she does not flinch. She stands for those who fight quietly, who endure without praise. She carries untold struggles in her silence, and yet she remains—fearless in form, gentle in soul.

Like me in that moment, she faces the insurmountable not with fury, but with resolve.

Quaerens Inveneri

Eighth in the Ink Wash series, this piece emerged during a period of quiet erosion—when my art felt distant, my spirit heavy, and my thoughts hardened under the weight of grief. I was searching, but had no map.

A small hooded figure stands in the foreground, approaching a massive male head rising from beneath the sand—visible from the neck up. The figure’s expression is unfinished, its interior exposed as broken stone, a partial monument to something once whole.

Surrounding pillars add weight to the scene, echoes of pressure and emotional scaffolding. Yet there’s light. At the crown of the fractured head glows an opening, illuminating the symbol of the third eye—a quiet spark of awareness in the midst of collapse.

This piece captures a turning moment: when, though hardened by circumstance, I chose to keep walking. To seek clarity in the unknown. And in that pursuit… I began to find myself.

Sanctum Vitae

Ninth in the Ink Wash series, this piece invites you to look twice. She is my version of a life-bearing goddess—gentle in grace, unsettling in presence.

Her wings resemble those of an insect, not the feathered kind we’ve been conditioned to expect of the divine. Flowing robes soften her form, yet the horns declare power: a silent dare to come closer. Behind her, a golden ring glows like a celestial halo—symbol of eminence, of divinity.

Her rounded belly carries life in motion, creativity gestating in quiet defiance. Below, nestled in ink and intention, sits the Egg of Life—a glimpse at the mysteries from which all things emerge.

This was created prior to the refocus.

Crux Creatoris

Eleventh in the Ink Wash series, this piece marked a turning point—a quiet realization that each stroke pulled something deeper from within. Time, energy, emotion… all offered up to the page.

At the center sits a hooded figure—an artist, alone before a blank canvas, pencil in hand. It’s a moment every creator knows: the silent duel between possibility and doubt.

Above, a brain is gripped tightly, squeezed by a hand determined to extract inspiration. Because while art brings joy, it also demands sacrifice. Creation isn’t always gentle—it can hollow you out before it lifts you up.

Two cloaked figures stand nearby, each holding a candle. They don't speak. They simply remain, offering quiet company while the artist reaches for the unseen—proof that even in solitude, there can be presence.

Cor Meum

Twelfth in the Ink Wash series, this piece marks a full transformation—where the series began to celebrate the artist as conjurer, as vessel, as sacrifice.

At its center stands a nude, horned figure with wings spread wide like a summoned force. Her presence commands space. Her right hand reaches toward the page, while her left curls near her chest—revealing an open cavity. Her heart slips away, absorbed into the paper below.

She is the embodiment of creative surrender. To make meaningful art is to offer yourself—your time, your soul, your quiet truths—and let them live beyond you.

This piece reflects how I feel when I create. I attune to the current of emotion, then pour myself onto the page, leaving behind something that is no longer mine… but fully me.

Pigmentum Vitae

Thirteenth and most recent in the Ink Wash series, this piece speaks to the true tools of an artist—not brushes or ink, but the raw essence within.

A pale figure sits serene, her head opened not in pain, but in offering. She holds her own brain like a palette, its golden blood transformed into paint—a quiet metaphor for how ideas become tangible. Within her head glows a small flame, untouched and eternal: the spark every creator guards and channels.

Behind her looms a darker figure—the Muse. Elusive, external, sometimes comforting and sometimes distant. Together, they embody creative polarity: intuition and influence, solitude and inspiration.

The composition plays in duality—black and white, joy and toil, yin and yang. Because to make art is to balance what comes from within against what the world demands. And in that balance, meaning is born.

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