Inktober Inspires

If you walked in today, I would pass you a quick cup of coffee. I have some roast and ground Robusta filtered at my desk, waiting to be made into a drink. Excuse me, if it’s not too great and I seem hurried, because I am. So if we were having coffee, it would probably be a bit short and quiet, because I would be too engrossed visulaising the explosion of ideas inside my head, that is all courtesy of Inktober 2016. Hail, Jake Parker, hail! Inspirations, come and go. But Inktober churns that inspiration into a motivated effort, and that so effortlessly (at least on your first day!). After long, I did so much in my sketchbook today, needless to say, it felt great. I am not sharing them all, as most were sort of brushing up (pun intended).

Inspirations, come and go. But Inktober churns that inspiration into a motivated effort.

So, it’s evident I just started today. And the prompt for today was – noisy. After chucking a couple of concepts, I did a quick illustration and had it captioned “When one gets a bone, the others get noisy”.

When one gets a bone, the others get noisy. @JakeParker @inktober #inktober2016 #inktober

A photo posted by Oshin Vipra Sagar (@oshinviprasagar) on Oct 2, 2016 at 4:29am PDT

 

So, I will try and keep up with Inktober the coming week, and hopefully when I see you next weekend, I will share an illustraion for each day to come until then. And I would love to see if any of you give Inktober a shot. (Please do. You’ll be glad you did. It personally gave me a dopamine surge today!) 

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An Acoustic Sojourn

24-March-2013

As the screeching giant vehicle halted under the Gulmohar tree, it had already precursored the much procrastinated commotion of the men and women who commuted by the bus daily to earn their livelihood, and bring back home the required. The birds atop the wilting trees within the walls of the land owned by the mill, chirped breathlessly from the moment I approached this place. The worn out blue chalk tip-toed and swiftly marked its path on the magenta imitation of silk. Seated for a while on the stool in this ramshackle room, the monotonous buzzing of the mosquitoes going around my head had now started to seem like what I would call silence. There was no change in it. It was a constant layer of sound steadily enveloping me which soon after it had begun, had ceased to bring out any auditory and cognitive response from me. Now, it should not seem ironic why I would call it silence.  Continue reading