These abstract vulture studies began as an exploration of shape, movement, and personality through minimal linework. Created with flowing marker lines and layered color edges, the pieces reduce the bird down to its essential forms while still capturing its posture, weight, and strange elegance.

I’ve always loved vultures artistically. They’re awkward, dramatic, intelligent, and somehow both ugly and beautiful at the same time. Their hunched silhouettes, stretched wings, and exaggerated necks create natural abstract shapes before you even begin stylizing them.

The first piece focuses on the back view of the bird, simplifying the body into large sweeping curves and layered arcs. The form becomes almost floral in places, with the neck and folded wings flowing together into one continuous movement. There’s very little detail, but the posture still feels unmistakably vulture-like.

The second drawing pushes further into motion and attitude. The wings spread outward in sharp, exaggerated curves while the head pulls forward with a tense, searching energy. The layered red, blue, and brown outlines create subtle vibration around the form, giving the drawing a restless, alive quality without needing shading or realism.

These pieces sit somewhere between animal study and abstract design with simplified organic forms, continuous flowing line work, minimal detail with expressive posture, and layered color edges to create movement and depth

What I enjoy most about this style is how little information is actually required to suggest a subject. A few curves, directional lines, and proportions can communicate far more than heavy rendering.

These studies also reflect something I return to often in my artwork—finding elegance inside creatures people normally overlook. Vultures are scavengers, awkward on the ground, and unsettling to many people, yet their shapes are incredibly graceful when reduced to rhythm and motion.

Sometimes the strangest subjects make the most interesting abstract art.

These pieces began as a series of small watercolor experiments—each one painted individually on circular sections of paper. There was no fixed plan going in. The goal was simple: let the paint move, react, and settle on its own terms.

Working this way removes control at the start. Color bleeds, edges form unpredictably, and textures develop in ways that can’t be forced. Some areas bloom softly, others create hard lines or unexpected patterns. Each circle becomes its own contained moment of movement and color.

Once the individual pieces were complete, I brought them into Photoshop and began building a larger composition. This is where control returns—but in a different form. Instead of directing the paint, I’m directing relationships:

How shapes overlap
Where color intensity sits
How transparency creates depth
What draws the eye first

Layering the circles allows the textures to interact in new ways. Soft washes stack over one another. Edges blur or sharpen depending on placement. The composition starts to reveal itself rather than being imposed.

This hybrid process—traditional watercolor combined with digital composition—is one I return to often. It gives me the unpredictability and organic movement of paint, paired with the flexibility to experiment, rearrange, and refine without losing the original energy of the work.

The final result is less about a defined subject and more about atmosphere. Color and texture take the lead, while structure emerges gradually through layering and balance.

It’s controlled chaos. Just enough intention to keep it from falling apart.

This illustration was created as part of an Aesop’s Fables assignment, focusing on The Fox and the Cat. It marks my first fully illustrated story scene and played a major role in shaping the clean, bold style I now use in children’s book illustration.

The goal was to keep the composition simple while allowing the characters to carry the emotional weight of the scene. The fox sits confidently with its back turned, while the cat’s expression introduces contrast—subtle tension, uncertainty, and personality within a minimal setting. That dynamic became the foundation of the piece.

Created in Adobe Illustrator, this vector illustration uses strong outlines, flat color, and simplified forms to keep the artwork clear and readable. This approach translates well to children’s books, where clarity of shape and expression is key, especially for younger audiences.

The limited background was intentional. By reducing environmental detail, the focus remains on the interaction between the characters and the story they imply. The tree provides just enough structure to anchor the scene without distracting from the main subjects.

This project helped define several elements that continue to show up in my illustration work:

• Expressive, character-driven design
• Clean vector linework for scalability
• Controlled, cohesive color palettes
• Simplified environments that support the narrative

It also reinforced something I return to often—storytelling doesn’t require complexity. Strong shapes, clear emotion, and thoughtful composition can carry an entire narrative moment.

This piece represents the starting point of my children’s illustration style, which continues to evolve across both traditional and digital media.

Some books are meant to entertain. Others are meant to strengthen you. 52 Weeks of Victorious Aging does both—and that’s exactly what makes it such a meaningful Mother’s Day gift. Written by Dr. Martha Lucas, this book offers 52 practical, achievable actions designed to help readers create a healthier, happier life as the years advance. Each week focuses on one simple step—no overwhelm, no drastic overhauls—just consistent, sustainable choices rooted in real clinical experience and wisdom.

Simple Guidance That Actually Sticks

Let’s be honest—most wellness advice is either too complicated or too unrealistic to maintain. This book takes a different approach. One week. One idea. One small shift that builds into something bigger over time. It’s approachable, encouraging, and designed for real life—especially for women who have spent years taking care of everyone else and are finally ready to put some of that energy back into themselves.

Illustrations That Reinforce the Message

One of the most special parts of this project is the artwork woven throughout the book. I had the privilege of illustrating it, and the goal was simple: create visuals that feel warm, inviting, and easy to connect with. Two of my favorites capture the heart of the book beautifully.

Love Yourself (Yes, Really.)

The hugging heart illustration—also featured on the cover—represents one of the most important (and often ignored) ideas in the entire book: Yes, like yourself or how about this crazy idea—love yourself. Loving yourself means having regard for your own well-being and happiness. It means acting in ways that support your physical, emotional, and spiritual growth. It means knowing how to say no, taking care of your own needs, and not sacrificing your well-being in the process. It’s about focusing on what is good within you and building a relationship with yourself that is supportive, not critical. In other words—treat yourself like someone you actually care about.

Bake the Cookies

And then there’s the cookies. Simple. Familiar. A little nostalgic. This illustration taps into something just as important: joy. Not everything about health needs to be rigid or restrictive. Sometimes it’s about allowing yourself moments of comfort, creativity, and connection—whether that’s baking, sharing, or simply enjoying something small that makes you happy. Because a healthy life isn’t just about discipline. It’s also about living.

Why This Book Makes a Perfect Mother’s Day Gift

Mother’s Day gifts often land in the same category: flowers, candles, maybe a brunch reservation. Those are lovely—but temporary. This book offers something that continues long after the day is over:

• encouragement
• practical guidance
• weekly moments of reflection
• a gentle push toward better health and balance

It’s a gift that says, “I want you to feel good. Not just today—but all year.” Whether it’s for your mom, grandmother, aunt, or even yourself, 52 Weeks of Victorious Aging is a thoughtful, lasting choice.

Available Now

The book is available in eBook, paperback, and hardcover through your favorite retailers. It’s a beautiful addition to a bedside table or coffee table—and even better when it becomes part of a weekly routine. And yes—I’m especially proud to have illustrated it.

Available in the store of your choice in eBook, paperback, and hardcover.

Many of my geometric pieces start in the simplest way possible: paper, markers, rulers, and a handful of circle templates scattered across my desk. No grand plan, no complicated concept—just lines, curves, and shapes beginning to interact with one another.

What I enjoy most about this process is the balance between structure and spontaneity. The tools create order—perfect arcs, measured angles, repeating circles—but the way those elements intersect is often completely intuitive. I draw a line, then another curve, then suddenly a pattern begins to appear that wasn’t planned at all. Once the drawing feels interesting, the second stage begins: translating that loose sketch into a digital composition.

The Hybrid Process: Hand First, Digital Second

Each of these pieces began as a marker drawing on paper. Using rulers, protractors, and circle templates gives the lines a clean geometric foundation, but the imperfections of hand drawing add a bit of organic movement. After the sketch is finished, I trace and refine it digitally—usually as vector artwork in Adobe Illustrator on the iPad. That stage lets me experiment freely with color, spacing, and balance while preserving the original structure of the drawing. This hybrid process is one of my favorite ways to work because it combines two very different energies:

• the spontaneity of hand drawing
• the precision of digital design

The result is artwork that feels both structured and alive.

Letting the Shapes Reveal Themselves

One of the most interesting aspects of these drawings is how the forms emerge naturally as the lines intersect. In some pieces, overlapping circles create unexpected shapes that almost resemble leaves or petals. In others, arcs sweep across the page like orbital paths or flowing ribbons of motion. Occasionally a single bold element becomes the anchor for the entire composition—like the red circular form that interrupts a field of intersecting curves.

Because I start without a rigid plan, the drawing often feels like a conversation between the tools and the page. A line suggests another line. A curve invites a circle. The composition slowly organizes itself through repetition and balance.

Exploring Color and Motion

Once the drawing is digitized, color becomes the next playground. Some pieces lean into bold contrasts—deep greens, bright oranges, and sharp lines that cut across the composition. Others use softer palettes that create a calmer, almost meditative rhythm where the motion of the lines becomes the main focus.

In one of the designs, a strong purple tone anchors the entire piece, creating a unified visual field where overlapping curves form organic shapes. In another, layered arcs drift across the surface in muted earth tones, emphasizing movement rather than symmetry.

The digital stage allows these variations to happen quickly. A simple sketch can evolve into multiple color explorations before the final version emerges.

Finding Rhythm in Repetition

Geometric abstraction has always fascinated me because simple shapes can produce surprisingly complex visual rhythms. A few circles, arcs, and lines repeated across a surface can start to feel almost musical.

That rhythmic quality is what I try to preserve in these pieces. Even though they are minimal in structure, the intersections and overlaps create patterns that guide the eye through the composition.

• Some viewers see planets and orbital paths.
• Others see leaves, petals, or flowing fabric.
• And sometimes they’re simply lines enjoying their own geometry.

A Series That Continues to Grow

These drawings are part of an ongoing exploration of geometric abstraction. The series continues to evolve as I experiment with new combinations of circles, arcs, and intersecting lines.

What began as simple marker sketches has become a growing body of work that blends hand drawing with digital refinement—an approach that keeps the process playful while still producing clean, modern designs.

It’s a reminder that even the most minimal marks on paper can lead to surprisingly complex visual ideas. Sometimes all it takes is a ruler, a circle template, and the willingness to see where the lines decide to go.

Recently I had the opportunity to design the cover for The Epic of Lost Immortality, a novel by Bernard Langs. This project became a fascinating exercise in assembling fragments of historical imagery and symbolism to reflect the psychological depth of the story. The final design may look simple at first glance, but like the story itself, it is built from layers of meaning.

Understanding the Author and the Story

Bernard Langs is not just a novelist. He is an art historian and scholar deeply engaged with the symbolism of ancient civilizations. His work draws heavily from the visual culture of the ancient world—reliefs, mythological imagery, and symbols that carried profound meaning in their original contexts. That meant the cover could not simply be decorative. It needed to reflect the intellectual and symbolic landscape of the book.

The Epic of Lost Immortality explores themes of power, memory, cruelty, and the psychological consequences of actions that echo across centuries. It’s a story that engages with ancient ideas of cyclical time, cosmic order, and the uneasy relationship between human ambition and the forces that shape history. From a design perspective, that gave me a challenge: How do you represent those ideas visually without turning the cover into a literal historical illustration? The answer was to build meaning from fragments.

Working with Ancient Imagery

The starting point was a photograph of an ancient relief depicting a royal lion hunt scene. Rather than reproducing the entire relief exactly as it appears, I began isolating individual elements from the image. The lion, for example, carries powerful symbolic weight within the story. It represents strength, cruelty, domination, and the moral consequences of violence. At the same time, the novel frequently engages with the idea of cycles—time turning endlessly forward while the past refuses to disappear. That concept led to the second central symbol on the cover: a wheel. The wheel represents cyclical motion, the turning of time, and the recurring patterns that define human history. By placing the lion in tension with the wheel, the cover visually suggests the struggle between individual power and larger, unstoppable forces.

Constructing the Image

Creating the cover meant carefully extracting and reconstructing pieces of the relief in Photoshop. The lion was isolated from the original artwork and placed against a textured stone background that evokes age, erosion, and the passage of time. The wheel was introduced as a counterbalance to the lion’s motion and rotated slightly to create visual tension rather than static symmetry. Even the background texture plays a role. Subtle cracks in the stone surface hint at fracture—both literal and psychological—without overwhelming the central imagery. Every element was chosen to reinforce the narrative themes of the novel.

Typography That Supports the Story

The typeface used on the cover, Romana, was also selected intentionally. Because the interior of the book uses the same typeface, carrying it onto the cover creates visual continuity. More importantly, Romana has a classical quality that complements the historical themes of the story without becoming ornate or distracting. In this design, the typography needed to remain restrained so the symbolism of the imagery could do the heavier narrative work.

A Cover That Interprets the Book

In the end, the goal of this cover was not simply to depict a moment from the story. Instead, it brings together several symbolic elements—the lion, the wheel, and the fractured stone background—to reflect the psychological and philosophical ideas at the heart of The Epic of Lost Immortality.

This is the part of design I enjoy most: taking pieces that may seem unrelated at first and assembling them into a visual language that supports the story itself. When the author saw the final design, he immediately recognized how the imagery echoed the themes of power, cruelty, cyclical time, and memory that shape the novel. That moment—when the design reveals something meaningful about the story—is when you know the cover is doing its job.

About the Author

Bernard Langs is a scholar of art history whose work explores the symbolic language of ancient civilizations and the enduring influence of myth and imagery across cultures. The Epic of Lost Immortality draws on those interests to create a narrative that blends historical depth with psychological insight, examining how actions in the distant past can continue to shape human consciousness centuries later.

A Lesson in Visual Storytelling

For designers and authors alike, this project is a reminder that strong book covers rarely come from a single image. They come from carefully selecting and combining elements that communicate meaning. Sometimes that means isolating a single figure from an ancient relief. Sometimes it means introducing a symbolic form like a wheel. Sometimes it simply means allowing texture and space to suggest the passage of time. When those pieces come together, the result is more than a picture—it becomes part of the storytelling.

And that is exactly what a book cover should be.

Some books are meant to entertain. Others are meant to strengthen you. 52 Weeks of Victorious Aging does both.

Written by Dr. Martha Lucas, this book offers 52 practical, achievable actions designed to help readers create a healthier, happier life as the years advance. Each week focuses on one manageable step—no overwhelm, no extreme overhauls—just consistent, sustainable choices rooted in experience and wisdom.

I had the privilege of illustrating this book, bringing visual warmth and personality to Dr. Martha’s practical guidance. The illustrations are simple, approachable, and designed to reinforce the encouraging tone of the book.

Dr. Martha is a seasoned Chinese Medical Doctor and acupuncturist with decades of clinical experience. Her advice isn’t trendy internet wellness chatter—it’s grounded in real-world practice, long-term patient care, and a deep understanding of how the body changes with age.

Here are two examples from the book that readers especially love:

Week Spotlight: Vitamin D and Sunshine

Dr. Martha writes:

I can’t say enough about vitamin D. In my practice, I recommend taking 10,000IU a day. In fact, during flu season, when everyone seems to be sick with some sort of virus, I take 20,000IU a day.

Vitamin D boosts your immune system, increases muscle mass, and builds strong bones. Wait… isn’t that the saying for milk?

You get vitamin D from some foods: fish, dairy, and fortified food products.

The most common source of vitamin D is the sun. Being out in the sunshine for 15 - 30 minutes a few times a week gives you adequate vitamin D. But after 15 minutes, you need sunscreen.

You can ask your doctor for a blood test if you are unsure whether you are getting enough vitamin D.

Simple. Practical. Actionable.

Week Spotlight: Coffee Without Guilt

Good news for coffee lovers:

It’s okay to drink coffee.

Some research has found that coffee may even reduce your chances of developing Alzheimer’s disease, dementia, and heart disease.

Dr. Martha’s approach is realistic. She isn’t trying to remove every joy from your life—she’s helping readers make informed choices that support longevity and quality of life.

Why This Book Makes a Perfect Mother’s Day Gift

Mother’s Day gifts often focus on flowers or candles. Those are lovely—but this book offers something deeper: encouragement, empowerment, and weekly reminders that health is something we can actively nurture. Whether it’s for your mom, grandmother, aunt, or even yourself, 52 Weeks of Victorious Aging is a thoughtful, practical gift that keeps giving all year long.

Available in the store of your choice in eBook, paperback, and hardcover.

It’s a beautiful addition to any bedside table or coffee table—especially for women who value wisdom, health, and graceful strength as they move forward in life. If you’re looking for a meaningful Mother’s Day gift that blends medical expertise, encouragement, and approachable design, this one delivers.

And yes—I’m especially proud to have illustrated it.

Meet Metrosexual Humpty Dumpty—mustached, scarfed, booted, and absolutely unbothered by the zombie apocalypse.

This simple ink outline character began as part of my Zombies in the Nursery series, where familiar childhood icons are dropped into wildly inappropriate horror situations. In his story, Humpty doesn’t just fall off a wall—he unintentionally saves the day when zombies invade a royal birthday parade. It’s dark, ridiculous, and exactly the kind of storytelling playground I love to explore.

What makes this particular piece special to me isn’t the gore or the parody, it’s the restraint.

This illustration was done as a clean ink outline with minimal interior detail. No shading. No color. No texture tricks. Just line work and silhouette. When you strip an illustration down to that level, every decision matters. The curve of the mustache. The tilt of the glasses. The exaggerated swoop of hair. The weight of the boots. Even the drape of the scarf had to communicate personality.

Humpty’s rounded body creates immediate visual humor, but the accessories shift the tone. The boots give him attitude. The scarf adds motion. The perfectly groomed mustache suggests a character who cares deeply about aesthetics, even if he’s about to crack open on a cobblestone street. The balance between absurd and dignified is where the charm lives.

I often tell clients and students that strong character design starts with silhouette. If you can recognize the character in solid black, you’ve done your job. This little egg-shaped gentleman holds his own because his outline is readable, exaggerated, and intentional.

And honestly? Sometimes simple ink work is the most fun. It forces you to rely on fundamentals instead of hiding behind effects. It reminds you that personality comes from design choices, not decorative noise.

Zombies in the Nursery lets me experiment with that balance—playful, nostalgic forms colliding with horror and satire. It’s nursery rhyme meets splatter comedy, and somewhere in the middle of that chaos, a mustached egg becomes a hero.

More cracked classics are on the way. If you'd like to read the story, head on over to winniejeanhoward.com.

Every once in a while, a piece of art accidentally turns into something else. This cover is a perfect example. This is not a published book. It’s a sample cover, created to show how my horror collage work naturally lends itself to book cover design—especially for dark fantasy, horror, and supernatural fiction. Moody lighting, narrative tension, strong focal imagery… all the ingredients are already there. And yes, this cover was created in Canva. Before anyone cheers too loudly, let’s talk about that.

“I Can Just Do This in Canva, Right?”

Technically? Yes. Realistically? That depends on how much time, patience, and visual problem-solving you’re willing to sacrifice while you’re supposed to be writing a book.

Canva makes it easy to place elements on a page. What it does not magically do for you is:

• Make lighting consistent across multiple images
• Blend disparate stock elements into one believable scene
• Control depth, hierarchy, and focal flow
• Prevent the cover from looking “collage-y” in the bad way
• Ensure readability at thumbnail size
• Keep typography from fighting the imagery

This cover works because every element—wolf, figure, forest, moon, color palette, and text—was intentionally blended to tell a story at a glance. That part isn’t a Canva trick. That’s design experience.

Why Horror Collage Works So Well for Book Covers

Horror and dark fantasy thrive on implication. You don’t need to explain everything—you need to suggest danger, transformation, tension, and mystery. Collage allows for that in a way literal illustration often can’t. In this piece, you already know the story isn’t cozy:

• A woman who looks like she’s seen something.
• A wolf that isn’t just a wolf.
• A forest that feels watched.
• A moon that feels complicit.

That’s a book cover doing its job.

The Real Question Authors Should Ask Themselves

The question isn’t “Can I make a book cover myself?” It’s: Do I want to learn visual storytelling, compositing, typography, and market expectations on top of writing, editing, publishing, and marketing my book? Some authors do—and enjoy it. Many don’t. Most underestimate how long it takes to make it look effortless.

This sample cover exists to show what’s possible—and to be honest about the tradeoff. Tools are accessible. Skill still matters.

If you’re an author who wants your cover to look professional, readable, and genre-appropriate without losing weeks to design rabbit holes, that’s where working with a designer makes sense. If you love experimenting visually and want to get your hands dirty, try it yourself and see how far you want to go. Either way, your cover is not just decoration. It’s the first promise you make to your reader.

And horror readers? They notice when the promise feels real.

Cover design for this piece was created by Wendy Spurlin at ArmLin House Productions. Learn more about our professional book cover and illustration services for authors and publishers.

Sometimes the most interesting creative experiments happen on the smallest surfaces. These tiny 3 x 3 inch abstract paintings were created during a short burst of studio experimentation where I focused on color, symbolism, and simple geometric forms. The inspiration behind the series comes from the bold visual language of Hilma af Klint, whose work explored spiritual symbolism, geometry, and color relationships long before abstract art became widely recognized.

While these paintings aren’t direct copies of her work, they borrow from the same idea that shapes, colors, and simple forms can communicate meaning without representing anything literal. Working this small forces every choice to matter.

Why Paint So Small?

Each of these pieces is painted on a miniature 3 x 3 inch canvas. At that scale, there’s no room for unnecessary details. The design has to remain clear and intentional. That limitation actually makes abstract work more fun. Every line, color, and shape has to serve a purpose. The result is something that feels bold and graphic despite the tiny size. These little canvases also make perfect small art pieces for places that normally feel a bit dull—desks, shelves, offices, or cubicles. Instead of a blank corner, you get a burst of color and form that catches the eye.

Exploring Color and Symbolic Shapes

Although the paintings share a common inspiration and size, each one experiments with a different color palette and visual rhythm. One painting centers around warm pinks and earthy tones with soft blue shapes floating among looping golden lines. The composition feels organic and slightly playful, like abstract seeds or cells drifting through space.

Another piece shifts toward deep blues and circular forms, creating something that almost resembles an abstract planetary system. The rings and spheres give it a sense of motion, like a symbolic map of energy or orbit.

A third painting leans heavily into bold yellow shapes against a strong blue background, using spirals and clusters of dots that feel both mathematical and whimsical at the same time.

The final piece brings in a warm orange background with rounded shapes and layered circles that almost suggest a strange abstract creature—or maybe a symbolic diagram of something alive.

One of the joys of abstract work is that viewers often see completely different things in the same image.

Symbolism Without Rules

Artists like Hilma af Klint treated shapes and colors almost like a visual language connected to spiritual ideas and unseen systems. While I’m not working from a strict symbolic system, I enjoy the freedom of letting shapes interact in ways that feel intuitive.

• Circles suggest motion, cycles, or energy.
• Lines create connections between elements.
• Color sets the emotional tone.

Put them together and a simple painting starts to feel like it’s hinting at something larger. Or maybe it’s just a group of colorful shapes having a good time on a tiny canvas. Both interpretations work.

Small Experiments Lead to Bigger Ideas

These miniature paintings are part of an ongoing exploration of abstract work that mixes bold color with simple graphic forms. Working quickly on small canvases is one of my favorite ways to test visual ideas without overthinking the process.

Sometimes a tiny experiment leads to a larger painting later on. Other times the small piece becomes the finished artwork. Either way, these little canvases prove that you don’t need a giant surface to explore interesting visual ideas.

Sometimes three inches is more than enough.