My website has featured a blog, in one form or another, for a long time. The trouble is that I’ve never really known what to do with my blog. It always seemed like a good idea to have one. In theory, my blog provides a place to share my process and ideas in a more personal format than the rest of the “finished” work on this site.

In theory.

I’ve been experimenting a bit. For the longest time I’ve worked with a sable brush, pen, black ink, and water. I still like those tools but for small drawings it’s a lot of prep and cleanup, and it’s labor-intensive to control tones and washes.

Last week I picked up this Pentel water brush, and then found this lovely Pilot Iroshizuku grey ink. It’s meant for pens, but its natural shading and solubility make for these nice, controllable warm grey washes with the water brush. A Kuretake brush pen a friend got me awhile back is great for details and linework, along with a fountain pen.

I need more practice to get used to these tools but I’m excited about being able to ink in quick bursts while doing other dad things, with no worries about ink drying in bristles or spilling my ink well.

This extremely rare, rotary-powered Citroën combines my two favorite kinds of automotive-design crazy: Citroën quirk (one-spoke steering wheel, super weird suspension, black-swan-beautiful styling) and Wankel engines.

My daughter pulled a toy train, cleverly made from pieces of candy, out of her stocking; its wheels were Reese’s cups, it’s boiler a roll of Lifesavers, the cab a stack of Hershey’s bars, and so on. There was no note or name attached. My mom explained, offhandedly, that she had helped my grandmother make the candy locomotives the day before, so that she would have gifts for the kids this year. Her casual tone was a little careful and deliberate, so I didn’t ask any more questions, knowing that it would probably cost Mom more to elaborate than she let on.

I'm always drawn to work that feels both intricate and gestural, a balance I keep grappling with in my own stuff. These illustrations really nail that. They are precise and clear but not fussy, and unafraid to be imperfect.

I'm not sure what tools the artist is using, but my guess is Procreate on an iPad? I'd love to learn more about how he achieves such lovely wet-brush watercolor effects digitally.

I really like artist Kaethe Butcher's figurative ink drawings. I've found myself staring at them awhile today. She has this wonderfully expressive, loose-but-precise linework, and I love the way she uses tone and contrast — both spare and dramatic.

She mentions in her bio that she's a fan of Austrian Expressionist painter Egon Schiele, and I think I can see his influence. But while Schiele's work has often struck me as clinical — if not deliberately lifeless or grotesque — Butcher's work seems much more intimate, more connected with her subjects as people. She's struck a nice balance between being formally interesting and also being emotionally compelling — that is, between being a good drawing and a good portrait, which Lord knows is not easy.

I really love these textbook-illustration tattoos by Michele Volpi. My favorites are the “planetary thermometer” and “beer recipe.”

New prints came in today! Some new additions to my “Inventory” series: bits and pieces and memories from around my neighborhood. All are now available on my Etsy shop.

I almost ran over this poor toad when I was out on a bike ride one night. I enjoy evening rides on the bike paths around my town, but on summer nights there are often so many toads hanging out on the path that I have to slow down and thread my way around them. It’s like a game of Frogger, but in reverse.

The toads seem surprisingly unconcerned with either my bike’s crushing tires or with the close proximity of giant human predators. This one sat there calmly as I took a picture of him.

And so now I offer my tribute in ink: take care of yourself, brave toad.