The post is a stream‑of‑consciousness meditation on the human condition, arguing that true learning comes from stepping outside of pain and recognizing how our own missteps become the root of suffering. The author uses art as an illustration: good work fails if it only paints misery, just as war propaganda masks truth. He tells us to “crawl through a tunnel of shit” – i

The author explains that creating art is not magic but a systematic process of navigation through techniques—using reference images, tracing paper, grid methods or digital tools—to learn composition, color sampling, and mixing; practice turns these steps into habits, just as learning to navigate a city. He sees the first “lobby” of art as a place where beginners become perfect artists by mastering fundamentals, then expanding beyond them, and he frames art as a test of worthiness that rewards teachers who bring others into this starting circle so they too can grow. Ultimately, good art is defined not by subjective feeling but by its power to change lives, and new schools of art will emerge to free humanity from poverty and darkness.

The post argues that a painting should “speak”—not with misery, but with meaning—and that its message can be either inspirational or humorous. It suggests blending images with text, stories etched on stone walls, still‑life scenes of books and objects, or punchlines framed by a funny setup (like a cat in a suit) to bring both mood and laughter into the viewer’s day. By using familiar quotes or personal joy as sources of inspiration, an artist can create works that lift spirits and help people balance their lives, even though not everyone will laugh or be inspired. The author ends with links to a “Title Image” contest and time‑lapse video for further reference.

The post outlines three main approaches to art—Quasimodo, Digital Art, and Lowbrow—each with its own flavor. Quasimodo represents traditional classroom learning that can feel formulaic, yet some teachers are revisiting it to make it more innovative. The Digital Art method highlights how modern tools empower artists by bringing Renaissance techniques into contemporary practice, with light projection seen as a fundamental teaching aid. Finally, Lowbrow art embraces preset proportions and simple equipment to create charming, accessible works that resonate with viewers; the author shares a personal anecdote illustrating how this style can delight both artist and audience alike.

This post explains a simple, repeat‑based method for drawing faces quickly and accurately. It suggests using tracing paper, a projector or transparent digital layers to get proportions right at first glance, then skipping an initial sketch and painting shadows immediately. By repeatedly copying portraits with similar lighting, the artist learns to map key features—eyes, nose, mouth—into their correct positions before adding details, so that later compositions feel natural and consistent. In short, memorizing a face through repetition builds a mental “map” of light, shadow and feature placement, enabling an artist to produce at least one finished portrait per day with minimal extra steps.

The post argues that true learning comes from following your curiosity—combining art and programming, mastering tools like regular expressions through hands‑on practice—and that fun is essential to retain knowledge. It contrasts the hacker’s self‑learning style with traditional college experience, claiming graduates often lack deep retention and can be re‑tested to separate what they learned independently from classroom teaching. The author suggests this could improve schools (and even bring prizes). Finally he links a career built on knowledge to larger goals—ending poverty, advancing humanity, and achieving global consensus on issues like the ozone hole—concluding that real education and wealth creation are intertwined for becoming a great being.

The post argues that the current education system is deliberately designed to make students feel inadequate, relying on memorization and standardized tests rather than true learning. It claims teachers, principals, and politicians work together in a “group‑think” scheme to keep students dependent on money‑driven grades, while free libraries and self‑education are presented as the only real way to acquire knowledge and escape poverty. The author urges readers to take charge of their own learning—through books, videos, art, design or programming—to become competent thinkers and ultimately “great beings” who can contribute meaningfully to society.

In this post the author reflects on how children remember and expose their teachers’ lies, thanks to their growing connectivity and knowledge. The writer argues that as people age they tend to underestimate the power of modern information, yet the younger generation can quickly catch up with any misstep, especially when a teacher fails to deliver real learning. By recalling their own school days—where students tested instructors for worthiness—the author stresses that teachers must show genuine learning and care if they want children’s respect. Proper education, audio books, healthy habits, and sincere effort will extend life expectancy and help parents/teachers learn from their own mistakes.

The author contends that true art is life‑changing and sees truth as lofty mountain peaks guiding the creative spirit; by traveling many roads, cultivating knowledge, wisdom, and greatness, one ignites an inner core whose “coronal ejection” reaches those peaks, while continuous learning keeps liars at bay. The post urges us to add fire through our works, not merely follow directions, and to light that fire in order to counter lies, hunger, and wrongness so that everything can be made right.

I spent my college years oscillating between philosophy and art, first struggling through a dull Descartes‑centric course that left me craving deeper insight into Žižek’s ideas and the distinction between Ayn Rand’s philosophy and politics, then finding creative fulfillment in an art class where I learned practical techniques like layering paint to avoid bleeding under tape; meanwhile my teacher’s informal style—calling me “pig” behind my back yet later teaching me projector tricks—illustrated how professors can both insult and inspire. After making the dean’s list, I ventured into Michigan’s Nordhouse Wilderness with a group of friends, where I met a traveling philosopher who shared his own adventures on a bicycle, and together we reflected on human complexity, self‑care, and the joy of learning, concluding that our lives are not about perfection but about growth and becoming great beings.

The post argues that conventional schooling—studying hard, cramming, and attending unsequenced lectures—fails to give meaning to tests or true knowledge; it portrays education as essentially a mechanism for income, retirement, hedges, and profit maximization, with college loans engineered to extract maximum value through automatic deductions. The author uses the example of an art teacher who lets students trace repeatedly, claiming that mastery comes from countless repetitions (100th trace making one amazing, 1 000th revolutionary) rather than guidance, and concludes by urging self‑education: start with highly regarded books and keep learning until you become a “Great Being” like the world’s brilliant intellectuals.

The article explains why coloring a portrait face in hyper‑realism is challenging: no single hue fits every detail, and each feature often requires a slightly different shade. It recommends working from a reference image, using a color picker and occasionally shifting hues semi‑randomly, while keeping the source and final picture in sync. The author stresses starting with a clean sketch, then creating a black‑and‑white version of the source, adding a “Color” layer that imposes hue but preserves value, and applying filters (such as G’MIC) beforehand to see a reliable preview and avoid surprises during painting.

The post presents a straightforward, teacherless workflow for learning drawing and painting that relies on three core stages—sketch, value (black‑and‑white) study, and color application—and demonstrates how each stage can be executed with simple tools such as a grid, wall projector or an image reference in Krita. By first building a clean sketch using the grid or projected image, the artist trains hand and mind before moving on to a black‑and‑white value study that captures light and shadow; this layer is then used as the base for a separate color layer set to “Color” mode so that hue and saturation are applied while the underlying values dictate shading. The method encourages self‑study by letting artists sample colors from their reference, gradually developing an intuition for how hues shift across value levels, and ultimately fostering a personalized sequence of learning that can be adapted to each student’s pace and curiosity—an approach the author hopes will inspire new “schools” built around self‑education rather than traditional instruction.

The post offers a quick guide to using grids in Krita, pointing readers toward several helpful videos (setting up grids, grid‑scaling tricks, and apps that auto‑generate them) and suggesting even a chalk‑grid approach for easy erasing. It stresses that correct proportions are only the first step; shadows and highlights must be nailed next, so the author recommends working from a black‑and‑white source image, applying posterize and edge‑finding filters to get clean outlines. The writer notes that digital work makes erasing and experimentation painless compared with paper, and encourages color picking and mixing on the computer as a natural extension of the proportion lesson. Finally it reminds critics that they value art that “transforms lives.”

The post weaves together art, philosophy, and lived experience as the forces that shape personal growth, using imagery of trails, filaments, and learning stages to show how early instincts evolve into intellectual refinement as we navigate life’s “leads” and “drops.” It argues that continuous practice—whether walking long hikes, dancing, or skating—builds a personal mythology, while stressing the importance of meaningful education, student safety, and teachers who craft profound learning experiences that match each learner’s curiosity. The piece concludes that our choices and accumulated wisdom ripple through time, enabling us to share insights with future generations so they can build on our foundations rather than start from scratch.

The post explains how to use an airbrush—especially its pressure‑sensitive opacity—to build a digital illustration from scratch: start with a thin sketch layer (using light pen strokes that become faint lines at low pressure), then gradually add thicker outlines before moving on to finer details, always layering the new strokes over the previous ones so shadows and volume can develop naturally. It stresses the importance of an initial sketch (either hand drawn or photo‑referenced) as a foundation for the whole piece, and suggests giving the early lines texture, noise, and slight erasures to add character. Once the basic shape is set, you build depth with deep grays and shading, then use the airbrush’s gentle spray to apply subtle glows and highlights in darker scenes—turning simple shapes into 3‑D forms while keeping the workflow light, iterative, and always starting from a clear sketch.

The post claims that the grade‑centric, punishment‑driven system of standardized schooling steals joy from true learning, and that only self‑education can revive learning before we finally need to redesign our schools.

The post explains how to use Krita’s Image Reference Tool by first pre‑arranging a scene in a photo‑editing program (or a solid image), then overlaying that reference onto your canvas so the color picker always samples from it, not from what you’ve already painted; it stresses using a pen and tablet for pressure‑controlled strokes, noting that a mouse is inadequate. It encourages embracing hyper‑realism as a path to mastery, illustrating how artists like Van Gogh and Monet employ bold, unblended brushstrokes or selective blur to convey depth with the fewest strokes possible. The author invites readers to begin with this technique and then evolve toward minimalism while achieving maximum expression.

In this post, the author extols the virtues of “Bush Babies,” portraying them as audacious, intelligent, and artistically inclined. They claim that engaging in art from early childhood fosters true learning, independence, and creativity, suggesting that such education can replace traditional schooling. The piece argues that widespread adoption of Bush Baby‑inspired artistic learning would brighten futures, resolve politics, end poverty, and bring wisdom and peace to the world.

Using a playful analogy that starts with Carl Sagan’s quip about baking an apple pie to “invent the universe,” the post explains how simple 3‑D objects such as apples can represent everything from stars and nebulae to planets and moons, while pointing out that astrophotography adds color layers to reveal motion (redshift vs. blueshift) and depth. It then walks through cosmic evolution—hydrogen gas collapsing into star‑forming clouds, supernova dust giving rise to planetary disks, and the eventual assembly of bodies ranging from large planets to small asteroids—and ends with the idea that one could paint a whole universe by rendering these objects as apples in a 3‑D scene. Links to the apple‑pie video, Wikipedia on astrophotography, a redshift/blueshift diagram, a YouTube video on life, and a time‑lapse clip round out the illustration.

In this post the author stresses that creating a painting—especially of a cute kitten—requires deliberate preparation: first, sit down with clear art ideas and expect no instant masterpiece; then gather image references that inform both shape and color theme, using tools like Krita’s Image Reference or wall projectors; choose colors thoughtfully because wrong hues ruin mood (e.g., a golden kitten on a red background); consider texture, aiming for simple yet expressive fur rather than over‑detailed work; research existing works to see how other artists handle kittens, and finally enjoy the process of learning trends and experimenting with color, texture, and composition before producing a finished painting.

Humans are built on ancient technology, with knowledge acting as our batteries; advertisers plug electric scooters and sugary drinks into the “battery compartment” of our ears, while politicians polarize us with hot issues to provoke voting. If we don’t take a long‑term view, we’ll bicker at trivial matters and be misled by repeated problems, because education is flawed and schools are incorrectly formatted. The world grows darker like chickens fed by a farmer, until the carrot‑and‑stick metaphor works: see the string tied to the carrot, the stick it’s attached to, and follow breadcrumbs from broken schooling to poverty that turns children into tools.

In this reflective post the author describes how a series of creative pursuits—painting realistic hair, re‑meshing complex 3D jewelry shapes, uploading audio files beyond free services, and experimenting with vocal filters in music—serve as personal callings that naturally leap from one activity to another. They recount recent projects such as reviewing gulp and grunt task runners, setting up a diagram for a new build system, fixing shadows in a painting called “Purrdy,” creating a new piece, and editing a timelapse video with ImageMagick commands. The author argues learning is most effective when driven by these intrinsic interests rather than by imposed curricula such as microbiology or sushi making; thus schools should provide safety, shelter, and support so students can pursue their own sequence of dreams at their own pace, but the best education remains self‑education.

The post encourages artists to learn by painting hair and portraits using photos as references rather than tracing or photobashing; it stresses free‑hand work and self‑paced learning, claiming that true artists are simply cheerful creators who keep making art. It introduces the playful term “arrrrtisst” for such people and suggests practicing with fun animal subjects—like birds wearing wigs or animals with unusual heads—to keep the process enjoyable and memorable, especially if you laugh while drawing to cement the skill.