View allAll Photos Tagged inks
This South African Wildabeast (or Wildabeest depending on where you are from) was another "throw away" shot from my 2025 trip to Namibia. The sun was brutal in Etosha that day. When I reviewed the shot and developed it as a high key image, I found that with a little more work, I could make it look like a pen and ink drawing. I hope you enjoy it. 20250508 South African Wildabeast
2020-09-06, Day 2
A deep carpet of red- and golden-tinged dwarf birch and willows lines both sides of the milky blue, glacial waters of Dinwoody Creek as it flows under Ink Wells Bridge, Fitzpatrick Wilderness, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
After saying 'Dinwoody' enough times, I gradually morphed the word into 'Dim Woody', and my hiking partner and I then began to develop the tale of Old Dim Woody whose spirit still roams these parts. Without screens or responsibilities, and with enough time on our hands doing nothing but walking through beautiful country, the mind rapidly unspools into wanton ridiculousness. It seemed likely that Old Dim Woody was a tad fond of his sipping whiskey, and when his spirits were high and besotted, he was prone to bouts of poor decision making. Things only got worse when a neighbor's mare kicked him in the pate one night when the rye was particularly enchanting and he mistook her for a spittoon.
One September after this unfortunate event, an autumn snow-storm blew in when Old Dim Woody was camped at Ink Wells. Sometime during the night his pony became infected with a bit of madness and threatened to break its hobble. The hapless man tried to calm his hoofed companion but to no avail: Dim Woody was never too meticulous about maintenance, and the hobble leather was old and rotted. The pony broke free and headed over the bridge and upstream through the forest at an impressive speed for one with such stubby legs. In fact, its diminutive stature may have helped it avoid some of the boughs already pressed low by the accumulating snow as it heedlessly fled upward toward the headwaters. Pondering the situation for perhaps too-brief a time, Old Dim Woody slapped his battered hat onto his dented head, invigorated his mind with another dram of rye, pushed through the flap of his tent, and began to follow the already-filling tracks of his erstwhile steed.
The tracks wound ever higher and the temperature was cold. Not quite cold enough to tingle and freeze the nose hairs upon the inhale, but cold enough that his toes became numb once the snow that kept knocking into the tops of his boots eventually overwhelmed the capacity of his feet to produce heat. The pony's tracks were faint but continually bore upward, past timberline and toward the giant cirque of peaks that held the glacier that fed the creek. If he stopped for too long, he shivered, sometimes violently. It was difficult to move through the rocks once the snow hid the deep cracks between them. He discovered that the coefficient of static friction between his boots and the icy boulders was perilously low. Once, his foot became tightly wedged between two large, immovable stones and it took him several increasingly panicky minutes to extricate it. The sky was filled with snow and then a surprise clap of thunder sobered him up as waves of kettle-drum sound crashed amongst the ice-clad peaks. The lightning followed immediately and was so bright it lit up the atmosphere. It was like being deep underwater beneath a violent falls under the dazzling sun, bright snow bubbles everywhere and impossible to tell which way was up.
Nobody knows exactly what happened to Old Dim Woody on that fateful night. His empty tent was discovered by some trappers seeking late-season beaver a month or so later. There were fresh pony tracks over the bridge and horse dung inside the tent. The small cache of oats that Old Dim Woody kept in a can near the wood-stove had been raided. They say the moaning wind of the first winter storm is the sound of Dim Woody howling amongst the rocks, looking for tracks and pining for another dram.
Another try of a kind of splash...hmm...I don't know, how to call it. No matter! My first try with "Ink and water". I hope you like it.
And I go on saturday in the holidays for 3 weeks. But I hope to take some nice photos in Saint Petersburg/Russia. Should be a nice city. =)
1, 8 oz oink ink black barely used
1, 8 oz Junobo white Barley used
3 empty 1 oz or 2 oz mops
1 Black filled mop
1 White filled mop
11 extra new nibs
Make your offers looking for prismas, copics, decos, and money
Shoe: nike.com
Background: freestocktextures.com
Paint material: mediamilitia.com
© Rui Almeida 2011 | All rights reserved.
All photos they may not be used or reproduced without my permission. If you would like to use one of my images for commercial purposes or other reason, please contact me. Depending on the situation may have to assign the work as specified by the author.
◘ No images in comments please, or you or you can be blocked, but group invites are welcome
This week's FlickrFriday theme is: #Ink
Maple Leaf by Brian Chan
На этой неделе тема FlickrFriday: Чернила
Кленовый лист Brian Chan
Parker Duofold fountain pen makes a Perfect Match with Parker Quink ink. Taken for Macro Mondays. Macro photograph taken using diffused daylight. Blue pen and blue ink. Black border with white key line.
stylemerotten.wordpress.com/2014/12/03/wanted/
僕らは生まれてからso多く学び
死に近づくにつれて多くを忘れ
気付いた時にゃもう灰になって
生きた証を残しておくにはモノじゃ無くて
誰かの記憶に残るような人生をお薦めします
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcBBNB5JTOQ
We've learned so much since being born
And we forget it everytime we inch closer to death
Before we know it, we've turned to ash
And to leave behind proof of the lives we lived
I recommend you live a life somebody out there will remember
.......... bottle. Shot this old Sheaffer's Skrip ink bottle a lot of times before finally cropping down to this one. Tried with no ink. Then with a little ink in the bottom and well but it looked like a, well, an ink blob. Then tried this one with just a bit of ink in the well. Seemed to work.
completely my design (simple, yes, but perfect).
The tattoo artist did absolutely nothing to it, but size it for me.
It is so perfect, and people are now approaching me to do designs for them. Very surreal.
Old portable Smith Corona Manuel Typewriter: I bought this typewriter new over 50 years ago when I was in high school. It was purchased from a school & office supply store in Hillsdale, Michigan USA.
In this photo, the ink ribbon has become entangled in the type levers. This close up lets you see the detail on some of the the type bars at the end of the levers.
The manual typewriter was replaced first by the electric typewriter, but then typewriters as a word processor were replaced by computers/laptops/tablets etc..
A photo of the typewriter from which this macro shot was taken can be viewed here.
Another hobby of mine is drawing (I have way too many hobbies, really).
Tomorrow marks the start of the annual Inktober challenge, where you draw something every day for one month. There is an official prompt list of things to draw, but I want to imporove my texturing using ink, so my personal list is going to focus on that.
If you're interested in this and/or dark fantasy art, check out my instagram:
Mobile Tatoo Studio captured for Happy Truck Thursday.
HTT everyone!
While I was taking this photo a passerby asked me what kind of tatoo I was considering. He suggested a daffodil. I said a killer whale. We didn't discuss where i might want to have it put. I'll leave that to your imagination!
This was taken over the weekend in the Forest of Dean. A brilliant time of year for wandering in the Forest looking for fungi :)
It is as though this lady was formed from a splash of ink. Art brings substance to the world.Reflection in a glass awning, NYC.
Ink on paper
© All rights reserved, don´t use this image without my permission. Contact me at debmalya86@gmail.com
I live about 15 minutes from this spot, and every time there is a sunset in Newcastle I think about whether this place will have the perfect sunset ive been waiting for. I think this photo is close... it has the great reflections and misty/fog in the distance, so it'll be hard to top. I need some new locations close to home...
These three ink caps were growing inside a rotting tree stump. The trunk is hollow apart from close to the ground where these are growing.
Got some Ink in LV, so did the dear wife...a first experience for both of us. I guess you can say we lost our tattoo virginity in Vegas. Ha! Photos shall come later, but both jobs were near and dear to our hearts.
...:::Death ink:::..PSYCHO EvoX Tattoo
PSYCHO TATTOO ONLY FOR LEL EVOX AVAILABLE AT STORE LINK linktr.ee/DeathinkTattoo
The Haunt / The Tenth : Seter
The Creech / Back : Merlyn
Headphone : Necro - Raw Talent ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2KXPjCJAt4 )