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“Naked woman jumps into the pool” Sketch 20x30cm, 2018

Admittedly I’m a bit upset because winter keeps on dragging on and dragging on, and outside the weather is really horrible. Sleet drips out of the sky. It isn’t really freezing but it is also not very warm, the weather is like tepid beer. The sky is gray and heavy with rain, just waiting to poor down. It has been like this for the last six weeks. No weather to go to a pool, and no naked woman jumping into either.

It isn’t really freezing but is also not very warm, and the sky is gray and heavy with rain, just waiting to poor down. It has been like this for the last six weeks.

Spring spring beautiful spring

I am looking forward to summer time. The flowers in the garden are beginning to grow out of the ground and the rosebush has a lot of fresh green little leaves. So nature is actually ready to stop the winter blues and to move into spring.

Well, if summer isn’t here yet, then at least I can make a drawing that reminds me of summer. So take out the old crayons, sit down and made a picture of a gorgeous naked woman jumping into a cool pool in the middle of a hot summer. Is she alone? Is her boy- or girlfriend perhaps on the side of the pool? Or is she in the middle of a crowd? The picture doesn’t tell. It shows a person, confident and, most of all, enjoying the weather and having fun.

You can find more of my sketches and paintings at the following link. Check out my art here: www.clemenssuter.com/art

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Crayon drawing of a naked woman jumping into a summertime pool

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A picture of the summertime sky – beautiful memories

The weather is almost like it is in England in summertime: cool, windy and rainy. The dust is gone from the air and has been replaced by the fresh smell of drizzle and wet leaves and water on the pavement. I miss the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, causing the conviction that life is beginning over again with the summer, just as it stops and halts with fall and winter. The world smelling of roses, cold beer and lawns that are fighting to keep the water. The pleasure that water brings in summertime is undisputed, in winter water is frozen and hard and unpleasant, but in summer refreshing and welcoming. Sunshine like powdered gold over the grassy hillsides, light everywhere and always, in patches and splashes or simply in one big blinding chunk. And in those long dusks of summer, we walk suburban streets, with the smell of concrete that is hot to the touch, plagued by an early thirst. Maple and cut grass, waiting for something to happen. Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August, and those months are full of memories and associations from childhood, and innocence. Nothing more beautiful than falling in love in the summer, when laziness overtakes us and makes us slow down and we waste away hours on terraces, drinking exotic drinks and eating summerly food until the sun sets, or even far beyond if the circumstances necessitate us to do so. Stars that litter the sky, haven’t we looked up at the firmament at all over winter? As we wander back home and stumble into beds too hot to hold us long. And when we go on vacation, we shed our home skins, think that we can be a new person, like rattlesnakes do.

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Summer sky in Maastricht

Summer sky in Maastricht

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“Flag” – a painting in oil on canvas. One of my #earlyworks

This is a very early painting “Flag” (50 by 60cm) that I created in the 80s of the last century. It is a style that I do not use anymore since 20 to 30 years: just oil on canvas – nowadays I use a hybrid technique with, in addition, pigments and sand. I still like this painting though; it is of course an abstract and the motive doesn’t have any particular meaning, although I’ve heard from people that you can read a lot into it, as it looks a bit like the Dutch or French flag or a beach chair, or both. It does have considerable dynamics and the colors are fresh and bright.

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The bright colors are magnificent and well balanced in this particular painting. The nice thing is that if you are using oil colors they stay vibrant and alive for a very long time and there’s a certain deepness that oils create which is absent in other paints. I use a special impregnation that is added to the painting about a year after it has dried, and this makes the colors become even more alive. It also protects the paint over time. Although, if you apply it too early, the paint becomes flaky and falls off (haha, that’s not what you want). And why ‘protect’ paintings? It isn’t as if the people that purchase my work practice fencing on them.

See more of my paintings by clicking here.

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Sketch Nude Woman 20x30cm painting #ampainting #amhappy

I do not paint a lot of pictures of humans; if you look elsewhere in this blog you will see that I mostly focus on animals and in fact on depicting fish! However, in this case, I publish a picture of a nude woman.

I have forgotten where I made this painting/ picture or what inspired me. Practicing away, practicing skills, and getting something onto paper. It looks like 2007 was the year.

I used heavy paper and crayons, which is not the easiest technique as the colors are very aggressive, and you only get one shot, very little room for corrections. I do like it though, because in some cases it is very good to be forced to focus on the motive, and not worry about the execution. In most cases the sketches are turned into paintings after a while… Although I’m not sure that I will actually do that in this case.

I will upload a couple of additional pictures of human motives over the next couple of weeks, so stay tuned.

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A sketch from the sketchbook – never stop creating #amcreating #ampainting #amhappy

Just as with writing (where I write at least three pages each day) I try to make at least one drawing every day too. Only through practice practice practice is the artist satisfied and stays motivated within the creative process.

And art is the only way to escape the apocalypse 😎

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A sketch from my #sketchbook “Raven” (although you could argue that it is a #crow) #painting #sketchbook

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Connoisseurs of of my work will recognize the motif of the lone RavenCrow in the deserted landscape. Here a modest sketch, several full-blown oil paintings can be found here.

When sketching or painting, or writing for that matter, it always intrigues that each work is unique; an original. It is like with people: even though it is hard to distinguish Susan Sarandon from Sigourney Weaver or Kurt Russell from Patrick Swayze, each one is unique as a human. In the Alien trilogy I preferred Patrick; much better than Susan in Escape from New York… just goes to showcobbler, stick to your last. But that is a different story altogether.

Learn more about my post-apocalyptic work.

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Should we give money to street beggars ? Some thoughts. Comments welcome.

We visited Paris a few months ago. Aa soon as we left the train and the station, we met a beggar, and a few streets on the next one… and then the next one. How to deal with this as a good citizen? Emotionally, you want to give money, rationally we hesitated: would the Parisians be pleased if millions of tourists start funding beggars, potentially increasing their numbers ? What will an individual beggar do with the donation? Buy food, finance a roof for the night, or god forbid buy drugs? Or is the beggar part of a commercial enterprise? Shockingly, we noticed couples getting ready for a night on the street with small babies. Should we support that?

For me, just like tipping and charity, giving money to homeless people has a bad side to it. It crowds out state involvement and our sense of community. A minimum existence should not be left to the whims of tourists. Shouldn’t it be something that we collectively decide to guarantee for everyone? In the perfect society, there ought to be no need to beg, there shouldn’t be a need to rely on the irregular kindness of passing people.

A dilemma. In the end we think we found a way out of this. We started counting the number of beggars that we met. We tripled that number and after we returned home we searched and found a charity in Paris that supports homeless people. We donated the calculated sum to that organization. Not the best solution, but workable.

Unacceptable behavior by a fellow citizen #bananapeel #unacceptable #shitholecountries

Tsk tsk tsk! Indeed, only a few minutes later, an elderly lady slipped on this banana peel and badly hurt herself! I continued to observe the situation for half an hour, but luckily enough no further accidents occurred. Clean up your garbage, folks! This isn’t a third world country.

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Celeterra – an adventure set on Earth and Heaven #100+pages of #highspeedadventure

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Shocking secrets hide within a simple cover

Vance descended into the cellar. He found the light switch. They entered the space where the Biedermeier desk had stood. Quickly, he walked into to the wine cellar. He passed by the empty barrels. His hand searched for the handle behind the paintings. He pulled it and the hidden door opened with a click. Fumbling in the semidarkness, he made sure that the lever remained hidden behind the old paintings. He switched on the light in the secret room. He retraced his steps and made sure that he hadn’t left any footprints in the dirt of the wine cellar. He turned off the basement light, reentered the room, and pushed the door shut behind him. After hastily opening the cans of food, he switched off the light in this room too, as he was afraid that it might spill into the night through some hidden shaft. Vance drank first and then allowed the hound to drink. They ate their food in the darkness, the dog wolfing it down hurriedly. Vance ate a can of cold peas, which was not very tasty but at least rich in calories.

After that, they stretched out on the damp sand. Vance was exhausted and he shivered uncontrollably. Obviously his body was trying to get rid of some substance, some poison – a drug. He tried to recall how to combat withdrawal symptoms, but under the circumstances, he could only think of drinking a lot of water. In a way, he had been lucky. His stomach had been upset the last few days and due to that, he hadn’t eaten much and had mostly turned to drinking plain tap water. The amount of drugs in his bloodstream must have gone down and as a result, his head had slowly cleared.

The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. He began to realize that the occurrences of the last weeks were all interconnected. The rococo table, Darwin’s letter, this mansion, the religious sect, Enrique and the fake heaven – they were all interrelated like threads that stick out of a ball of wool. He felt that if he would follow just one of those threads, he would arrive at the core of the ball. Again he imagined that an instigator was waiting there, waiting for him. An individual, pulling all the ropes, manipulating the lives of many people, the perpetrator that had organized Vance’s ordeal.

Who had been in the car that had driven away as he had arrived at the house? What had this visitor been up to at this mansion? He was almost certain that this person had seen him, possibly even recognized him. Had this been the mastermind behind the entire affair?

With that question in his mind, he fell asleep, exhausted.

His sleep was filled with nightmares. He was hunted by wild animals, lions, and tigers. He tried to escape by climbing up a tree, but its bark was wet and slippery and his hands could not get a hold. A male lion came closer and closer, staring at him, both evilly and indifferent.

Eugene woke him up. The dog trembled and growled softly and Vance quickly put his hand on the animal’s snout. They listened. After a while, Vance could hear sounds. As he had suspected there was a shaft or a pipe leading from the ground level down into the cellar. It ensured that fresh air could reach this hideout, even when the door was closed. Now, that shaft transported the sounds from the outside world down to him. A car approached slowly, its wheels grinding on the gravel of the driveway. The engine was almost inaudible. Vance imagined that it was a big vehicle.

Was this the same car that he had seen departing earlier? The car stopped and the engine was switched off. Absolute silence followed, only interrupted by the ticking sounds of the cooling motor. Then several doors opened. Feet stepped onto the small stones. After a few seconds, three doors closed softly. Vance strained his ears. Slow footsteps approached, toiling on the gravel.

With his eyes closed, Vance imagined three, perhaps four men. He imagined that they were going towards the back door. Suddenly it was silent again. Eugene stirred. Vance stroked the animal’s head and went sssh. They waited. It remained silent for a long time. Vance thought that half the world must be able to hear his breathing. He opened his mouth wide to reduce the sound as much as possible.

A man’s voice could be heard, whispering, but unexpectedly clear. They must have stopped very close to the exit of the shaft.

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WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange has been a refugee in the Embassy of Ecuador in London for 5 years. The country is looking for ways to change this.

Turning of the heating, water leaks, loud music, or putting a blaring baby in the guest room: we all have our own favorite way to get rid of unwanted guests. As the international press has just reported, Julian Assange is becoming a bit of a nuisance. How can Perdí Miscanicas, the current Ecuadorian Ambassador to London be helped? Should he…

  • Pack everything into cardboard boxes, and move the embassy to a new building, without telling Julian Assange?
  • It is no secret that Julian Assange loves frozen yoghurt. Julian will come running out of the building if a dairy van parks in front of the embassy and starts advertising a new flavor, for instance strawberry, vanilla, chia and goji berry.
  • Change the diet of all embassy personnel to include copious amounts of onions, beans, cabbage and other flatulent foodstuffs, naturally topped with garlic, at the same time closing all the windows.

I continuously confuse Julian Assange with Nigel Farrage (in fact, the former was visited by the British Donald not too long ago), and initially I thought this was because of the (slight) similarity in their names. But now I know that it is the dystopian gleam in their eyes that causes my nomenclature confusion.

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Tokyo, Japan. The ideal backdrop for a #postapocalyptic novel #postapo #lastmanonearth #twojourneys

Arguably, Tokyo is the largest city in the world, with 36 million inhabitants (daytime numbers, 22 million at night). It is impressive how this city runs so smoothly with that many inhabitants. What would happen should it come to a standstill? Read the opening chapters of Two Journeys to find out!

Below some pictures that I took in Tokyo during past visits and that have inspired me to place my postapocalyptic work partly in Japan.

Highrises in Tokyo. I have removed the surrounding cityscape and only show the facades in these pictures – which emphasizes the bulk of these buildings.

Alan, the hero of Two Journeys visits Tokyo around Christmas time… below a Christmas tree in a hotel foyer.Should an epidemic of the proportions described in Two Journeys strike, the lights (above) would extinguish rapidly, and the trains such as the one below (famously overfilled) would halt…


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A modest sketch from my #sketchbook

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See more paintings and drawings by clicking here. You can find info about my books here.

 


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Deep dive into the marvelous world of amazing creatures #newspudding

At university, I was most impressed by one professor for molecular genetics, who not only was extremely knowledgeable in his field of study, but also suffered from the worst case of dandruff I’ve ever encountered. The shoulders of his black jackets were covered with powdery skin residue, to such an extend that his scientific credence was somewhat overtoned by student jest. I have moved on since, and this dermally challenged professor dropped from sight. But science has progressed, so that now we know that dandruff is caused by yeast: and in fact, these Malassezia species cause most skin disease in humans. M. globosa and M. restricta seem to be the worst culprits when it comes to dandruff. Read more in Wikipedia… and better use a shampoo that effectively combats these yeasts.

Readers will know that I enjoy Wikipedia and that I thumb through the articles almost on a daily basis. However, and slightly disappointing, if it comes to bagpipes, Wikipedia only tells half the story. Little mention about the long term hazardous effects of blowing the bagpipe on the health of the musician. Bagpipe lung can be added to the list of alternative monikers for hypersensitivity pneumonitis, which is already known as “bird fancier’s lung”, “farmer’s lung” and  “hot tub lung,” after the wide range of activities to which it has previously been linked. Instruments can become infested with mould and this can be related to potentially fatal lung disease. Next time you see (or hear) a bagpipe playing, or even think of giving the old bag a squeeze yourself – consider that !

Finally to one of my favorite creatures! My youngest son told me a weird story that humans eat dozens of spiders each night… a tale that I found slightly disturbing, and mostly unbelievable. I advice you to do a quick internet search for “demodex” and look at the images and read the articles. These creatures dwell in the hair follicles of your eyebrows, come out at night to roam your face and live of the oil on your skin. Next time you look your loved one in the face, try not to think of this intriguing organism… and better not bring it up in pleasant conversation. I did, it kinda ruined the mood of the evening.


Filed under: General Tagged: Writing