Wednesday, 3 December 2014

Neither water nor air.

Ménage à trois

Personal work.

Mixed media: pencil, ink, acrylic and digital.

Thursday, 16 October 2014


My shop is now open, please feel free to browse, it's a little shop but one you can peruse without feeling awkward if you want to leave without buying.


Bye for now x

Monday, 29 September 2014

The Serpent Path

A chance to let my dark half loose. Album artwork for the prog rock band Incurvatus. For their forthcoming release The Serpent Path. I also produced an illustration for the inside booklet ... I'll post that soon too.

Bye for now x

Wednesday, 24 September 2014

Nature Magazine

Two of five illustrations for this weeks Nature magazine in the Autumn book review section.

More soon! Bye for now x

Thursday, 5 June 2014

The Silkworm

One of four illustrations I made for yesterdays T2 in The Times. Illustrating Extracts from The Silkworm by Robert Galbraith. It does not take a one legged detective to find out that Robert Galbraith is actually J K Rowling.

A very enjoyable job, did I ever mention I love illustrating literature? I think I probably did.

More soon, bye for now.


Friday, 9 May 2014


New personal work.

Mixed media: pencil, ink, acrylic and digital painting.

More soon! x

Friday, 4 April 2014

Green Waltz

Here is a piece of flash fiction I wrote recently. I am hoping to illustrate it when time allows and when I have decided whether to go down the strip route or illustrated story path?

Green Waltz.

Slender fingers carefully cutting. Outside in deep red, the sun rising, a slow charge against the retreating night. Slender fingers cutting shapes. Outside in red, deadwood limbs sway as light strengthens. Her little fingers, snipping scissors, busy cutting. Red orange sky with hints of encroaching blue now, dry limbs swaying, waving the passing time goodbye. Little fingers collect the cutout shapes, discard offcuts and pick up a crayon. Outside blueness prevails. Busy green crayons colour shapes. Through the window upright and bare against the clear blue sky, the trees. Little hands brush green coloured shapes from the table into the mouth of a sad old leather bag. She goes out, amongst the parched copses under the cloudless blue sky.

A short walk over the hill flanked by the tall, long dead stick men. To the one she chose some weeks before. He stands naked, alone, not the biggest, small, just a little taller than herself. From her pocket a ball of string, old and yellow. Little slender fingers go to work. A paper leaf from the tired old bag, snip the string, slender fingers deftly tying. Again and again, reaching, bending, engrossed, consumed in her repeated work. The sun high in the clear sky burning, watching, a fiery eye witness to the solitary little figure. Steps back from her task.


She stares. And stares.

She stares at the little green dressed tree swaying, a rustling dance in the soft rolling air with the hot sun rising. Mesmerised. The high fiery eye staring like it to was mesmerised by the little green tree in it’s waltz with the breeze. hypnotic and strange. She had wondered you see, she had never seen and had to know.

What they had looked like.


By Darren Hopes