Kelly Banlaki Art

🙂

‘Another f*cking Boston Terrier’

Watercollar.
21.06.20

"The Messenger"

🌹Bush.

‘Grey Area’

25.05.20

An old piece of mine from 10 years ago, depicting the danger of eating disorders.

‘Reflecting Murder’

Acrylics and Supervision
Approx. 2009-2010.
***es

kókuszzsír.

‘Make America Drink Again’

Graphite and Pálinka
17.05.20

‘Deaf by Trombone’

Watercolour, Grass and Brass.
16.05.20

‘Deaf by Trombone’

Watercolour, Grass and Brass.
16.05.20

Smile, and your heart will spill colour. Or reveal the spinach you ate for lunch. 👍

Commission done, ready to be printed as postcards for ‘Tender Paws Cat Rescue’.
Check out their page, a lovely organisation helping felines in need - feel free to get in touch with them regarding donations, fostering or adoption. 🥰😺

‘Feline Colourful’

Watercolour and Whiskers
13.05.20

‘Lucky Escape’

Watercolour and Fishy Coffee
12.05.20

If you’re a lazy artist, whack a bunch of paint at a canvas and call it abstract.

‘Splat Cat’

Acrylics and No F*cks To Give
09.05.20
**ksgiven

I swear this is how I look when I draw... 😂


📸: Banlaki

Bob Ross called, he wants his wife back.


📸: Banlaki

First commission in its early progress. 👇

If you'd like a drawing, or a painting done by me, drop me a message here, or email me at: [email protected]. Yes, I still use hotmail. 🤷‍♀️

‘Kis vese a rúdon’

Watercolour and Athletic Yorkies
07.05.20

A birthday gift to one of my dearest friends. 💕

‘Kis vese a rúdon’

Watercolour and Athletic Yorkies.
07.05.20

My favourite artist in the whole world, who also happened to be my high school teacher (and secret cigarette giver).
Cool guy and even cooler artist, check out his work at MarcusGoldsonArt .

Balaton Arcadia, 2009. Watercolour. www.marcusgoldson.com

‘Papa’

Acrylics and Memories.
27.03.20

‘The house you built’

I’m sat in your favourite chair, staring at your picture.
That cheeky half crooked smile I inherited from you.
You know, I never realised how beautiful you were,
Your warm brown eyes, and every decorative wrinkle.
They all tell a story, that I’m just putting together..
I see you as whole for the first time.
Your crows feet tell me you were happy, your frown lines tell me you were sad.
I’m glad you lived a most colourful life.
Experienced everything you possibly could for your heart
to gain its badges for you to become the commander of wisdom we all admired.
You taught us so much…mostly through your humility.
You were rarely a man of ego or possession,
Your sharp tongue used only to cut the bu****it to teach us all a lesson.
Grumpy and blunt, you scared away those who struggled to see love in its purest form,
As you were never afraid to own your beliefs and make enemies.
That’s why those who stayed with you, knew you were the real deal.
I wish I’d have spoken to you more whilst you were still here. Asked you more questions,
to dive deep and swim endless lengths amidst your ocean of knowledge.
You never had a degree, or had the most eloquent vocabulary in your account,
But you were able to express your experienced philosophy with such simplicity that it’d put most babbling academics to shame.
You loved through your actions, not through your words.
A trait so rare these days the books could claim extinction.
We’re all here now, in the house you built. The fence, the walls, the garden, the machines.
Decades of your life dedicated to creation. Creation with sentiment to leave a home and a means to survive for those you love.
You built a house of loyalty and dedication. I see you everywhere.
Each crack, each fading paint job. Each swallow you used to talk to every spring as you protected their nest each coming year.
I see you in the eyes of my Grandmother, the posture of my Father,
The authenticity of my Brother.
You planted your seed in all of us, and did it without expecting any form of credit.
As like many artists and creatives in their time..the beauty of their work often only gets noticed after they have left us.
You know, I thought that grief would be no more than a sadness fuelled by loss.
But the sadness is not your leaving. You are not suffering, which calms the inner storm.
The sadness as well as the happiness, is in the house you built.
You made such an impact against your will, that the people you have left behind are fighting each day not to allow pain to fill the gap you’ve left in their hearts.
This is what grief is to me. Seeing the footprint you’ve left on the life of your loved ones.
It hurts me to see them unsettled. To see them cry tears of sadness pouring like blood from a fresh wound.
She hasn’t washed your sheets since you’ve left us and sleeps on your side of the bed now. I sleep on hers. And each night when I hear her sniffles, I hold her hand like you would have done, and thus she goes to sleep peacefully.
I want you to know, that your work is not left unfinished.
We’ve learned how to support this house you’ve built, by watching you.
We patch up each other’s hearts, and lick each other’s wounds.
We balance out weakness with strength, whilst remindind ourselves that one doesn’t exist without the other.
Though we’ll never stop missing you, the panic is slowly starting to fade.
You’ve taught us well, we will manage. You left us enough love to work with.
And each time a swallow comes to say hi, I speak to them as if I were speaking to you.
They are wise, understanding and ruthless.
Thank you, for the house you built for us.
We will savour and expand it forever, until it is time for us too to pass it onto our children. Your craft will always be present in this world.
I bet the beer is outstanding in paradise. Cheers!
I love you. We all do. 🙂

‘May The 4th Be With You’

Watercolour and Pandemic Dread.
04.05.20

Kelly Banlaki Art updated their business hours.

Back when my eye for realism was at its peak! 😄 Happy Hungarian Mother’s Day! /Boldog Anyáknapját!

Just a quick lighthearted morning coffee poem from a few weeks ago, titled: 9.30 am.

"I look at my phone, it's 9.30 am.
I don’t know what day of this mental mayhem.
A hybrid of emotions, the clown with a frown,
All skilfully timed for a global lockdown.
Doused in self loathing, self pity at best,
My mind never seems to want to take a rest.
You should do this, you shouldn't feel that,
Do you want to keep having the charity chat?
So you spiral inwards, I'll step out when I’m ready,
I swear this time I'll keep my head steady,
But my heart is weak, it’s been wringed of love,
Sometimes so desperate I even look above;
Can you help me? Do you symbolise healing?
If I leave this in your hands will you stop this world stealing
Everything that I hold so dear?
I don’t think I can handle more fear.
Such unproductive behaviour, destroying potential,
We all know deep down its not fu***ng essential..
But it doesn’t exsist, I know I create it,
Like every "bad guy" that has ever related
To my life negatively. I want you to know, that I can’t blame you.
You hit from pain, you insulted from hurt,
My egotistic impatience always gave it some dirt,
But no matter how upset or unloved I was feeling,
Just know, that the layers are constantly peeling.
And I'm no better than you, if at times even worse,
A hypocrite; man’s most ignorant curse.
I hold you accountable out of fear of losing,
You that is! Not the fight that we're choosing.
The fear of lost love, sends most of us strange,
Jesus, I've felt absolutely deranged,
But I'm not. And most definitely not you.
You’re just dealing with your own reality too.
Others’ experience is different to your own,
Accepting that, is a tough muscle to tone.
I want you to feel. Feel what I am feeling,
Can’t you see that it's only love that I'm seeking?
But you're seeking it too, and for your own reasons,
My approach to love will have had its own treasons.
But it's fine. Not a big deal.
Sorry to say but time only won’t heal,
Because time is a passing, not an effect,
I’ll need to implement some kind of neglect
Towards the truth I once held to like a mother to its child,
Gripped with all my might, “Don’t go into the wild!”
I argue and swear that it’s for your own good,
But now possession takes stand where protection once stood.

I’m sorry for ever thinking you were mine.
For ever expecting you to dedicate a single thought in my direction,
‘Cause even a mother bringing life to their child is never obliged to do so with affection.
Life is a choice, it’s what depicts liberation,
Freedom of action, speech, thought, not dictation.
I am hurt, but it is my own doing,
Your hate, your anger and all your sentiments,
I now know was no more than love stewing,
Each time a new angle, new approach you’re pursuing.
I’m sorry for all the pain I self inflicted,
Then called the authorities and made you the convicted.
And though the shop’s out of business, my love is yours to keep,
Please take it for free, it was once selfishly un-cheap.

Sh*t..look at the time.

My coffee’s gone cold, I prefer it this way,
My third fag for breakfast...puff, puff, decay.
It’s gone 11.30. I better get ready,
A long day ahead destroying what’s now steady.

See you tomorrow, 9.30 am,
To tell you I’m sorry, again and again."

‘Kis Fecske/Baby Swallow’
30.04.20 - Watercolour and Ci******es.