Roman Architecture and the Iconic Pantheon. Art and Travel

Artist, Roman Architecture, Uncategorized, Urban sketching, Voyage
Painting –Rome, Pantheon, Roman Architecture. Year of construction-126 AD. Address: Piazza della Rotonda, 00186 Roma RM, Italy
Watercolor painting of the Pantheon in Rome, highlighting its iconic oculus and intricate dome structure, with a blend of blue and warm tones.
A watercolor depiction of the Pantheon in Rome, highlighting its iconic oculus and intricate architectural details.
The Pantheon is a masterpiece of Roman architecture with an innovative structure

Lost in Time & Whispers of History

A sketch of a cat gracefully navigating ancient stairs, symbolizing the contrast between modern life and Rome’s timeless architecture.

https://www.coursera.org/learn/roman-architecture

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Open Italian anatomy book beside red flowers, paint palette, brushes, and cappuccino

Magic and beauty, red peonies, cappuccino and Leonardo’s Notebook. Part 3.

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Still life and urban sketching. Because apparently, I can’t sit still OR leave my house without a sketchpad.

So Leonardo da Vinci’s Notebook told me something rather inconvenient: artists need to constantly find new things to paint or draw. (Thanks a lot, Leonardo—no pressure!) Thus began my endless quest to think outside the box that I’m apparently always painting inside. This summer, I had a minor epiphany: watercolor graphic technique is NOT just fancy coloring books. Shocking, I know. It was a small discovery that spiraled into full-blown artistic obsession, and now here we are.

My still life muse? Bright reddish peonies, obviously. I arranged them artfully on my treasured Leonardo da Vinci book, added my glasses (for the intellectual look), threw in a cup of cappuccino (for the vibes), and created what I can only describe as a masterpiece of self-indulgence. Voilà! Another watercolor and ink painting in my beloved impressionist style was born.

Watercolor fantasy. Cappuccino and red peonies and a book

Just imagine it: a warm Mediterranean evening, you’re wandering charming cobblestone streets, and voila—red and pink peonies spill from a straw basket on some picturesque wood door or window. That’s watercolor and ink, my friend. That’s impressionism at its finest. That’s also my elaborate fantasy about our future travels to southern France, Italy, or possibly Greece (I’m not picky when it comes to vacation dreams). Who knows where wanderlust will take us? :)

Summer flower fantasy.

Shout-out to my daughter for the phenomenal gift: Leonardo’s Notebook. This book is basically the gift that keeps on giving—centuries-old wisdom from a guy who was basically good at everything. It’s like having a Renaissance master constantly looking over your shoulder with 500-year-old advice. Terrifying and inspiring in equal measure.

Bon voyage! Until the next adventure awaits! Stay healthy and hydrated (your skin will thank you when you’re sketching in the Mediterranean sun).

All paintings belong to the author. Seriously, don’t copy them. I mean it. My lawyer says I have to say that. Just go make your own masterpiece!

Tools used for my painting: Watercolors by Charvin and Van Gogh (because apparently only the best will do for this artist’s delusions). Pastels by GrayPas Expressionist (the feisty cousin of regular pastels). Derwent watercolor pencils and Faber Castell artist pens (because one type of pen is never enough). Paper: Strathmore Watercolor and Mixed Media albums in that perfect 15×20 cm (6×8 inch) size—not too big, not too small, just right for my control-freak tendencies.

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Travel and Art based on Inktober 31 days=31 drawings fun challenge. Day 22 – Open

Artist, ink, Uncategorized, Urban sketching, Voyage

The next Inktober prompt is Open.

For prompt Open I am doing an ink drawing of an Open window to the city of Rome with the Colosseum as background. A white dove sitting on a balcony and enjoying the Eternal city. Scientists believe space travel is possible. You just need a portal, for example a window…voilà and you are in Rome or Paris or another your dream place:) My Yales’ course the Roman Archtecture is helping imagine it:)

My Toronto. Stay home and Urban sketching. Travel and Art. Old Toronto. Part 8.

ArtTravel

My daily sketches’ journey in October 2020 is very close to the end. The next chapter is Old #Toronto.

Gooderham and Worts Distillery National Historic Site of Canada with industrial skyline of pitched roofs, turrets, chimney stacks and parapet.

When every chimney has retired but still dresses for the occasion.
Brick by brick, century by century — still standing, still judging your latte choices.
Old buildings staring down the new ones like: ‘We were here first.’

There are abandoned buildings with modern city’s buildings as background. Paintings were done as mixed of watercolour pencils, watercolour paints and acrylic, above added oil to add some texture for bricks.

I added cum clouds for peaceful sky and keep the interest in the scene to substitute buildings’ pipes that do not smoke anymore.

Abandoned? Prefer ‘vintage and unbothered.’

A lovingly rebuilt historic district that’s now so touristy, even the cobblestones are posing for selfies—yet somehow the old spirit still refuses to check out.

Canada Malting Site .It is one of two remaining silos in Toronto’s Harbourfront in Ontario, Canada. It is almost 100 years.

The museum and house Sir William Campbell is a vibrant public space where members of Toronto’ communities giving life to the words “freedom of expression.” Painting was done as combination of fountain pen with watercolour paints.

Almost 100 years old and still not on TikTok. Respect.

Toronto’s CN Tower, casually photobombing downtown with its reflection on the surrounding buildings, has been the city’s superstar landmark for the last 45 years. That basically makes it ancient history by our young country and city standards. CN originally stood for Canadian National, the railway company that decided, “You know what would be fun? A *massive* tower.” At over half a kilometer tall (555 m), the CN Tower spent more than three decades as the reigning champ of tallest building, tower, and freestanding structure—because apparently “really, really tall thing” needed multiple categories.

The CN Tower refused to be painted directly. A diva to the last pixel.

I decided to be “original” and painted this famous building, the CN Tower, not directly, but as a reflection in the fancy high-rises that try very hard to look taller than Canada’s tallest landmark:)
I splashed in deep blue and juicy raspberry colours for a slightly over-the-top romantic vibe. This early-dawn scene was painted in the morning before work hours—because coffee and sunrise apparently make me think I’m a landscape poet with a paintbrush.

Bon voyage! Until the next travel:) All paintings belong to the author. No image is to be copied without permission.

Tools used for my painting Watercolour used Charvin and Van Gogh brands, Derwent watercolour pencils and Faber Castell artist pens. Paper Strathmore Watercolour and Mixed Media albums, 15×20 cm (6×8 in.)

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My Toronto. Stay home and Urban sketching. Travel and Art. Weird statues-2. Part 7.

ArtTravel

Daily sketches in downtown Toronto with some funny sculptures. In this post I am adding 3 interesting sculptures and architecture that are located at one park, very convenient for the artists, locals and tourists:)

Dog Fountain at Berczy park. 2020 new reality. I saw some disposable masks on the sculptures of dogs. It is still one of the favorite meet point for friends in the city:) I added coolers of sour cream, tobacco and cappuccino to add warmth of the last days of the Indian summer. 

Toronto downtown beautiful Flatiron building by architector Derek Besant. It has a narrow angle from one side, but I like its facade on Berczy park, overlooking the square, like the wrapped edges of autumn leaves. I using colors salmon + rose + vanilla

And another weird and fanciful sculpture of hands out of the ground. Maybe they are life-giving hands of the Earth?:) In my painting I used matte and very deep black with indigo, grass is an autumn shade of flax. The background is the peach-colored building Flatiron building at Berczy park.

Bon voyage! Until the next travel:)

All paintings belong to the author. No image is to be copied without permission

Tools used for my painting Watercolour used Charvin and Van Gogh brands, Derwent watercolour pencils and Faber Castell artist pens. Paper Strathmore Watercolour and Mixed Media albums, 15×20 cm (6×8 in.)

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Daisy Oracle.Part 2.(He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not). Marguerities in Giverny, France.

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Still life and urban sketching. Where I convince tiny flowers to sit still for their portraits while dodging pigeons in European streets.

Why do I love daisies? Because they’re basically flower emojis that actually exist. Adorable, cheerful, and completely indifferent to my sketching abilities.

Daisies in the wild. They had no idea I was about to make them famous.

I genuinely hope to return to a truly cozy Norman village in the near future. You know, the kind where every cobblestone has probably been stepped on by centuries of people who knew how to properly enjoy apple cider and weren’t obsessed with their phone cameras. Picture this: leisurely evening strolls down the main street, gawking at the kind of farm architecture that makes you question every design choice you’ve ever made, ducking into tiny restaurants that smell like butter and dreams, and pairing crisp apple cider with slices of camembert so good you’ll question why you’ve wasted money on cheese your whole life.

White daisies: looking effortlessly elegant since forever. Unlike me before coffee.

Here’s a fun daisy fact that I definitely verified on Wikipedia (so you know it’s true): the word “daisy” is the French word “marguerite,” which sounds way more exotic and romantic. In Greek, it means “pearl” — which explains why they’re basically the Beyoncé of flowers. The English “daisy” comes from Old English “daeges eage,” meaning “day’s eye.” Our word “day” comes from “dawn,” so basically daisies are just flower alarm clocks. The term “day’s eye” refers to how the flower opens its petals in the morning and closes them at night, like a tiny botanical snooze button. Cute? Absolutely. Slightly controlling? Let’s not judge.

Early summer morning — the kind where everything is still wet with dew and the moist grass looks almost black in the shadow. This is the moment I attempted to paint marguérites (fancy name, same flower) in watercolor. Featuring the majestic shasta daisy: nature’s way of saying “I’m delightful AND low-maintenance.”

Watercolor daisies. Took 2 hours. They still look happier than I do on Mondays.

Plot twist: in the Middle Ages, daisies were called the “Romanov Flower.” Honestly, they should still go by that name. It makes them sound like royalty instead of something a five-year-old picked for you because you were standing still long enough.

In ancient Egypt, daisies were dedicated to Ra, the sun god. Clearly, ancient Egyptians had excellent taste and questionable work priorities. Meanwhile, the Greek name translates to “white flower,” which honestly is just giving up on poetry entirely.

Summer daisies at golden hour. Even flowers know how to pose better than most people.

Unpopular opinion: the whole “he loves me, he loves me not” petal-plucking game is deeply pessimistic and needs a rebrand. My version goes: “he loves me, he loves me dearly, he loves me tenderly, he loves me passionately, he loves me…” (you get the idea). This way, your mood is GUARANTEED to be good, and the daisy feels validated that she didn’t sacrifice her petals for nothing. The daisy is pleased. The daisy is wise. The daisy says: “Guess the right way, love and be loved.” So believe the daisy, because it will absolutely confirm that your person loves you! (Even if the original game said otherwise. Trust the flower, not the math.) 😊

Still life. The daisy was still. I was not.

Another watercolor masterpiece starring the glamorous Gerbera daisy, nature’s way of saying “regular daisies, but make it EXTRA.”

Want to nerd out about Giverny? (And honestly, who doesn’t?) Check out the Foundation Monet at fondation-monet.com/en/giverny/ — it’s basically a pilgrimage site for everyone who has ever been emotionally affected by water lilies and French gardens.

Can’t find it? No problem. Giverny’s address is 84 rue Claude Monet, 27620 Giverny. GPS coordinates probably not required, since it’s the place where literally everyone is taking the same photo.

Did you miss Part 1? Read it here: Daisy Oracle Part 1: Marguerities in Giverny, France — where my daisy obsession officially began.

Bon voyage! Until the next adventure. Stay happy, and hug a daisy for me.

All paintings belong to the author. No image is to be copied without permission. (The author has very strong feelings about this and also a decent lawyer.)

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Daisy Oracle.Part 1 (He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not). Marguerities in Giverny, France. Still life and urban sketching. Art and Travel.

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Daisies have already helped millions of lovesick romantics settle the eternal question: does this person actually like me, or are they just being nice? (Spoiler: the flower doesn’t know either, but at least it looks pretty while lying.)

Recited solemnly while engaged in the delicate art of aggressive petal plucking—because apparently, we decided flowers could predict love better than therapy ever could.

He loves me,
He loves me not.
He loves me,
He loves me not.
He loves me,
He loves me not…

(Narrator voice: “The flower had no opinions on the matter.”)

Petals: the original dating app. No wifi required.

Watercolour painting of a flower plume of daisy petals—captured before they could escape the romantic nonsense being projected onto them.

Giverny. With the arrival of spring, the first flowers appear in Claude Monet’s garden—hyacinths, daffodils, pansies, and daisies all staging a botanical fashion show that makes the rest of us look bad by comparison.

Monet’s garden in spring — where even the flowers are better dressed than you.

Giverny is a small village in Normandy where the home and garden of the famous impressionist painter Claude Monet is located—basically the botanical equivalent of a celebrity mansion, except the residents are flowers and the paparazzi are just a bunch of very serious garden enthusiasts.

A summer hat painting. For when you want to look chic but a daisy already stole your spotlight.

Watercolour painting: a bird’s-eye view of daisies—painted from the perspective of someone who probably should have been working, but got distracted by flowers instead (relatable).

Bird’s-eye view of daisies. They had no idea they were being watched. Classic daisies.

#workfromhome goals: We are dreaming, planning future vacations around the world, and learning other languages. In my example, French—because nothing says “I’m productive” like avoiding actual work by becoming weirdly fluent in compliments and croissant-related vocabulary. :)

Fantasy. French countryside vibes. Currently unavailable to anyone with a job and responsibilities.

You might visit the Foundation Monet website to learn more about Giverny—or you could just stare at it longingly on the internet for free like most of us mortals do. http://fondation-monet.com/en/giverny/

Giverny address: 84 rue Claude Monet
27620 Giverny

(GPS is optional; just follow the trail of art students and disappointed daisy pluckers.)

Bon voyage! Until the next travel adventure—may your daisies be abundant and your romantic outcomes less dependent on flower petals. :)

All paintings belong to the author. No image is to be copied without permission—unlike the daisies, which are free to be plucked and interrogated by anyone with questions about their romantic future.

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For all the coffee lovers.Toronto, still life and urban sketching.Coffee and breakfast in megapoles

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Even a regular #MondayMorning could be enjoyable and relaxing—especially when #WorkingFromHome means you can attend Zoom calls in your pajamas. This is the view from my downtown Toronto home office: a dark rye sandwich piled high with salmon (nature’s way of saying “I’m fancy”), a small cup of coffee (the fuel that makes Mondays bearable), and the burning question on every artist’s mind: “What else could an artist possibly need?” Well, possibly some watercolour paint. And maybe a shower. But mostly coffee.

Salmon on rye: because adulting requires at least one fancy breakfast decision.

Paintings with oil pastel: A small cup of coffee for a busy-morning breakfast—because nothing says “healthy nutrition” like caffeinated courage and hope in a ceramic vessel.

Coffee: officially a still life subject AND a survival strategy.
Wild flowers in a vase: fighting back against Toronto grey, one petal at a time.

Paintings with oil pastel. Coffee aromas come in all different flavours: fruity, caramelized, sometimes nutty, and occasionally burnt (which tastes suspiciously like Monday morning mistakes). It always energizes me. I take a few precious moments every morning to savour my coffee while watching the vibrant young Toronto hustle and bustle outside my window—basically, I spy on everyone else’s productivity while I’m still in my pajamas. Living the dream!

A cup of coffee and flowers—what could be better in the morning? Absolutely nothing, unless you count oxygen and consciousness. I add some bright and delicate colours to the grey downtown city landscape of #Toronto to prove that life doesn’t have to be monotone—a wild summer flower bouquet in a vase, basically nature’s rebellion against urban beige.

Bon voyage! Until the next adventure :) Stay healthy, stay caffeinated, and for heaven’s sake, use sunscreen—your future self will thank you.

All paintings belong to the author. No image is to be copied without permission. (Yes, even if you think you can sneak it past the internet. You can’t. We all know about screenshots.)

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Lemons, tea, aromas and Italy. Still life and Urban sketching. Part 5.

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#lemon #art #travel #Italy (aka my holy trinity of happiness)

Yellow, sour, fragrant… and absolutely the diva of the citrus world. In tea with sugar? *Chef’s kiss.* It’s pleasant. Also full of vitamins (or so I tell myself between paintings). And its name is LEMON! Perhaps each of us, both adults and children, knows this bright, yellow citrus fruit—unless you’ve been living under a Mediterranean rock your whole life.

Still life. Still delicious. Still not edible.

It was in Italy (the land of carbs, art, and lemons galore) where my family dragged me around the Italian “boot” from top to toe several years ago. Because nothing says “family vacation” like touring every inch of a country! The painting happened in the south of Italy, in one of those charming little towns where time moves slower and espresso is cheaper than water. Naturally.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but this lemon was painted in one. (Lies. It took three.)

Our next stop was the north of Italy, literally the “top of the boot” (geography humor—I’m here all week). Lemon trees were EVERYWHERE on the Borromean islands, like someone’s obsessed Pinterest board came to life. The backdrop? Mountains. Swiss mountains. Beautiful, indifferent, Swiss mountains that made the lemons look even more golden and smug.

Lemon trees: nature’s way of saying ‘you’re in Italy now, calm down.’

The lemons were HUGE. Like, absurdly huge. And their aroma? Everywhere. It was less “fresh citrus scent” and more “olfactory assault in the best way possible.” I still remember the weight of those yellow orbs in my hand—fruit so heavy it could double as a gym weight. Nature’s dumbbell.

Shall we have tea with lemon now? Or should we just sit and contemplate the sheer absurdity of how a little yellow fruit has consumed my entire artistic existence?

Tea. Lemon. Existential peace. You know the vibe.

According to legend (and I’m not making this up, mythology nerds), the aromatic fruits the color of the sun were gifted to Hera’s wedding when she married Zeus. Because if Zeus’s new wife wanted to stay young and beautiful forever, obviously you give her lemons. Logic. The ancient Greeks apparently believed: “Its aroma amuses the mind, the peel and grains are good for the heart, the flesh is excellent food, and the juice quenches thirst.” Basically, lemons are fruit’s overachiever. They’re doing cardio, aesthetics therapy, AND hydration all at once.

All paintings belong to the author. Seriously, don’t copy them. I’m watching. (Jk, but also—don’t.)

Tools used for my paintings: Watercolour brands Van Gogh and Cotman (because why choose when you can be indecisive?). Derwent watercolour pencils for when I need surgical precision on my lemon chaos. Paper from Canson Mix Media albums (28×35 cm / 11×14 in.) and Canson Watercolour albums (25×35 cm / 11×15 in.)—basically, I invested in better paper than I invest in my actual life stability.

Bon voyage! Until the next travel adventure (hopefully with fewer lemons and more personal growth, but let’s be realistic). Stay healthy, stay hydrated, and may your tea always have the perfect squeeze of lemon.

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