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.

The post explains that drawing is guided by the same physical rules that govern the universe—colors shift, shadows fall, light reflects—and that an artist must learn to apply those tiny variations consistently across different subjects. It uses concrete examples such as hair and its subtle canyons or cables forming wrinkles in fabric, showing how a round shape creates bumps and shadows that deepen with light, while shiny strands reflect the sun and darken at the edges of their valleys. By mastering these fundamental, universal rules—like adjusting hue, brightness, and shadow depth—the artist can synthesize realistic images, whether they’re familiar subjects or new ones such as Europa’s icy ridges or alien armor. The key message is to gather these basic principles and apply them across all art projects.

The poem encourages beginners to start painting by practicing simple, whimsical subjects—like a bear’s hair or prairie dogs’ eyes—and then gradually move on to more complex scenes. It stresses the value of beginning with easy sketches, using tools such as Krita for reference, and dedicating just an hour or two each day to practice. By focusing on fun, repetition, and self‑paced learning, it shows how drawing can become a powerful, enjoyable way to master art without formal mentorship.

A vivid, well‑lit reference photo—rich in light, shadow, color and an engaging pose—serves as the essential springboard that lets painters move from realistic detail to imaginative scenes, from simple faces to epic adventures like dragons or space battles.

The post argues that creative work in art and programming can be stifled by rigid practices—such as insisting on using reference images or over‑medicating focus—and that this rigidity mirrors how horses are forced into training, resulting in loss of natural creativity; it stresses the importance of letting minds freely switch subjects to maintain mental health, and suggests that overworked artists and programmers often feel “pushed around” by peers who elevate themselves; finally, it contends that schools and corporations frequently prescribe medication to boost productivity, but this practice ultimately harms authenticity and long‑term creativity.

The author argues that those who oppose humanity’s advancement are essentially liars—people who manipulate truth to maintain their own power and who keep the world in a state of “blind veto.” They claim that much of what is presented as science is fabricated, that educated people’s work is often unrepeatable, and that these liars exploit goodwill, always winning through compromises. In contrast, the post calls for genuine education—real schools that produce lasting talent, clear thinking, and peace—that ends poverty and lets a nation grasp reality, reason, and wisdom as its highest values.

The post envisions a whimsical future where war is gone and the world is filled with cats that people love, feed, and cherish; their purrs and occasional fur spittle bring joy. It also imagines cute computer programs—chatbots that smile and go beyond basic interfaces—and even a program capable of managing money to give each person $100 daily. In this future, Japanese kittens get their own computers, “stomach grumbles” are translated into playful wishes for chewing, and political cats chatter about scratching posts. The result is a peaceful world where wisdom matters more than gold; schools adopt kitten mascots to boost education and empower the young generation.

The post is a playful guide to writing that advises against using itemized lists or TODOs because they make the writer feel short‑tailed and blue; instead, it suggests moving slowly at your own pace, treating a project as dough that grows gradually, and writing indirectly so you can be correct. It encourages drafting a “cook book” before cooking, rewriting repeatedly until it feels right, mixing talents to create balance, and even fluffing up details like sipping from a teacup. The author stresses staying strong, doing things the old way in a day if you dream, modeling in 3D rather than studying perspective alone, tracing faces, rebuilding precious artifacts before contracts, and finally resting—taking a wise cat’s nap—to stop inventing crap.

The post argues that modern schooling often relies on temporary memorization rather than true understanding, leading students to be unable to explain what they “know” even when asked about topics like math or physics. It calls for a renewed approach in which teachers and learners question everything, blending science study by day with investigative reporting by night, so the learning process becomes self‑examining. The author uses hackers as an example of how creative engineering—combining networking, programming, soldering, and art into one coherent discipline—can rebuild communication systems from scratch, suggesting that a real school should cluster such subjects mutually reinforcing each other. In this view, teaching disjointed fragments merely yields fraud; instead schools must let students build or rebuild their community from the ground up. The piece ends by recalling how poor children were once employed in mines, and now we “mine” student labor as cheap resource to pay for college loans that end up being unforgivable debts.

The post argues that schools force students into learning math and physics mainly to preserve accreditation, but many teachers are ill‑prepared or over‑dependent on rote methods, leaving students feeling frustrated and “delayed.” It claims true learning happens when the student independently reinvents concepts—seeing mathematics as a living language rather than static notation—and uses modern resources (code repositories, video tutorials, Newton’s Principia) to explore ideas. The author stresses that curiosity, self‑education, and following thinkers like Isaac Newton are the real keys to mastering the universe’s workings, not merely obeying school schedules or teacher expectations.

The author argues that learning is an interconnected, enjoyable process where one can juggle multiple subjects and switch between them as interests evolve; he claims that Newton’s method of self‑education was driven by fun rather than rigid study. He contrasts this with standardized schooling, which he sees as a forced sequence that wastes years and reduces learning to memorization for grades. By switching subjects freely, a self‑educated person can approach each topic from new angles and keep the joy alive. Finally he invites readers to start their own upward cycle of self‑education by exploring audiobooks such as those by Bryson, Munroe, Sagan or de Grasse Tyson.