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The original illustration and prints are available. Woody’s temper never got any better—and the door was never repaired. The marks from Woody’s fists were visible every day at 3 o’clock when the early afternoon sun shone through the window. Johanna had just put blue tape over the marks—Leon never understood why the door hadn’t been replaced with a new one. As he remembered that dramatic day, Leon squirmed in the cave. Pulling Pinkerton tightly around his body, he wondered: What would Woody have done to me if the lock or the wood had given way? Leon checked that Grampy’s walking stick still lay beside his right leg, then rested his weary and worried head on the backpack and soon drifted off into a beautiful, colourful, and peaceful dreamland. A place with no drama, and no adults. -
The original illustration is sold. Print is available. LEON CAME out of the entrance to the secret garden in a daze, but smiling. He found his backpack and walking stick from where he had left them, under the tree. Ignoring the two paths, he set off diagonally into the park. A short walk away, he spotted a strange, familiar shape in a field. As he got closer, Leon wondered, What’s a veteran car doing abandoned here? Then he felt a tingling in his whole body: it looked just like Grampy’s car. Leon stopped in his tracks when he saw the license plate: Darling 3440. “It is Grampy’s car!” he shouted aloud, excited. Leon’s mind buzzed with questions. Does this mean I’m close to home, or perhaps to Grampy? Is he hiding out here among the animals or in the amusement park? Maybe he’s not just a voice in my ear—or in my dreams?To order your original or a print send me an email
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The original illustration is sold. Print is available. He trudged through the desert for hours. His walking stick dragged behind him, leaving a thin trail in the sand. Eventually, and with teary eyes, he threw away Mousey's useless scribbles. Suddenly, to Leon’s right, he saw a silvery trail gleaming in the moonlight. Leon ran as best he could towards it and was dismayed to notice the very same trail behind him, traced by the end of the walking stick. Leon had dutifully kept the sun on his back—exactly as Mousey had advised, ensuring he'd wander endlessly in half circles. Exhausted and outsmarted by a mischievous mouse, Leon collapsed in the sand and fell asleep, dreaming of a grand four-poster bed with silken sheets where no hungry, scheming mice could ever find him.To order your original or a print send me an email
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The original illustrations and prints are available. Behind a tuft of grass, a hiding mouse watched Leon’s every move. It had been attracted by an enticing smell it had never encountered before coming from a little pouch on the back of the strange creature struggling in the sand. Oh, how delicious! The stars finally align. It is mealtime for Mousey, the mouse thought joyfully as its stomach rumbled with hunger. A sudden noise made Leon turn around. A large mouse had appeared out of nowhere and was holding up a sign that read “TINY THINGS MATTER MOST”. Shocked, Leon stuttered, “Errr, hello, who, who are you?” “Don’t be alarmed little one, I am your guide, Grandmaster Mousey of the Mighty Dry,” lisped the mouse, lacking several teeth. Mousey tilted his head to one side while rubbing his stomach and added, “Some call me The Pocket Mouse, but that is just vicious accusations.To order your original or a print send me an email
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The original illustration is sold. Prints are available. At dawn, Leon woke to find a bunch of pink flowers beside him. The golden light had now turned into tiny golden stars, bright sparkles in a dark blue, velvety sky. Could this be where Grampy is? Are the flowers for him? he wondered. Saint Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. It was quiet, but Leon could hear a faint humming sound in the distance. It sounds like a choir of men and women, he thought. Leon remembered once listening to a choir on Grampy’s old radio during a long, lazy Sunday afternoon at the workshop. Leon stood up and swayed from one leg to the other in a slow dance. He looked down at the pink flowers in his hand and suddenly glimpsed his feet through the stems. He was standing on… nothing!To order your original or a print send me an email
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The original illustration and prints are available I can’t sail or row away; what do I do? thought the terrified boy. He remembered that Vikings in cartoons sometimes lashed themselves to the mast to survive a terrible storm. He found no rope but remembered the blanket in his backpack. Leon hurriedly pulled it out, went over to the mast and wrapped the blanket around himself, his backpack and walking stick. He tied a knot around his neck and held onto the mast for dear life as waves crashed across the deck. “I don’t want to die. What if a hungry sea monster finds me?” Leon shouted his fear into the teeth of the storm. Noticing that his feet were very wet, he saw that the boat was slowly filling with water. He began climbing up the mast by locking his legs and arms around it and pulling himself and the blanket gradually upwards—like in the garden at home where he climbed the highest trees.To order your original or a print send me an email
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The original illustration and prints are available. LEON WAS still pondering whether to take the path to the right or the one to the left when a sweet voice in the distance said, “Hello!” He didn’t answer but opened his eyes slightly to steal a glance at whoever the voice belonged to. Oh no, a beautiful girl with a blonde ponytail in a pink dress, and she’s coming closer! “Why are you just sitting under a tree, instead of playing in the park, are you blind or something?” asked the girl, stopping in front of Leon. Her parents sat nearby drinking coffee and staring at their phones. She also carried a backpack and some sort of walking stick, a nice new one. “I’m not blind,” he replied, “I’m trying to decide if I should follow the path to the left or to the right to find my way back home.”To order your original or a print send me an email
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The original is sold. Print is available. THUMP!” SOMETHING hit Leon’s back and shoulders. What on earth was that? Blinking the salt out of his eyes, he saw a pink rope ladder swoop around the mast and head back towards him through the waves and spray. Quickly pulling his walking stick out of the blanket, he flung the curved end into the air and hooked it onto the ladder just as it swung over his head. With all his strength, Leon pulled the end of the ladder down and held it with one hand, while he untied the blanket and wrapped it around his waist. Placing one foot on the ladder, he pushed himself forcefully away from the mast with the other foot. Leon clung grimly to the ladder which was blown this way and that by the howling wind. Peering down through the gloom, he caught a glimpse of the tiny Viking ship just before it tipped over and sank beneath the waves.To order your original or a print send me an email
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The original and prints are available The sleeping boy woke up and felt a strong urge to wrap himself in his beloved blanket. Rolling over, he pulled the backpack over his shoulders, opened it, and took out his blanket. It was drier than he was, and he wrapped it gently around himself. A wonderful wave of comfort flowed through his body. He crouched in the meadow and hugged the blanket, imagining that he could feel Grampy’s arms around him. The blanket had been on many adventures with Leon—to Grampy’s workshop and boat, to the beach, or just lying spread out underneath Leon as he lost himself in either a game or a book. Pinkerton, as he liked to call the blanket, had been listening to Leon’s heart from the very day he was born. Its main purpose was to give him warmth, safety, and a sense of comfort through all kinds of adventures.To order your original or a print send me an email
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The original illustration and prints are available. LEON AWOKE with a start. Hot, parched and covered in sweat, he lay on his back in the sand beside his backpack. He rolled over onto his stomach and almost fell into a large hole in the ground. After staring with surprise down into the darkness of the hole, Leon stuck the walking stick into it to test the depth. “MON DIEU!” a deep voice exploded from the hole, and the walking stick flew up and over Leon’s head. As he scrambled away from the hole, an enormous beige rabbit jumped out and landed on huge feet that sent a cloud of sand showering over Leon. “Êtes-vous complètement fou?” the rabbit shouted in a deep voice. Leon had no idea what the furry, furious animal was saying, but sensed it was not too pleased with him. “Vous ne parlez pas français ? Ah, quel imbécile !” continued the rabbit, tightening a red scarf around its neck. “Parlez-vous anglais ? English?”To order your original or a print send me an email
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Finding Grampy, book cover The original illustration is sold. Print available. The cover of Finding Grampy is a mixed media illustration. Watercolours, acrylics, ink and bright markers have been used to create this larger piece. The goal was to capture the fairytale elements with Leon’s deep desire and longing to find his beloved grandfather, Grampy. The long dangling rope ladder from somewhere in the sky symbolizes the desire for sudden help and protection, or could it be a hidden pathway never seen or found?To order your original or a print send me an email
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Darling 3440, chapter 47 The original illustration is sold. Print is available LEON CAME out of the entrance to the secret garden in a daze, but smiling. He found his backpack and walking stick from where he had left them, under the tree. Ignoring the two paths, he set off diagonally into the park. A short walk away, he spotted a strange, familiar shape in a field. As he got closer, Leon wondered, What’s a veteran car doing abandoned here? Then he felt a tingling in his whole body: it looked just like Grampy’s car. Leon stopped in his tracks when he saw the license plate: Darling 3440. “It is Grampy’s car!” he shouted aloud, excited. Leon’s mind buzzed with questions. Does this mean I’m close to home, or perhaps to Grampy? Is he hiding out here among the animals or in the amusement park? Maybe he’s not just a voice in my ear—or in my dreams?To order your original or a print send me an email
