For the final image, I decided on painting an abandoned interior space, using different colours to portray severely different moods within the same space.

Reference image:

The specific reason behind paintings of abandoned places was because I wanted to experiment with textures as well as lighting contrast. My goal was to emphasize the shafts of light pouring through the holes in the dilapidated theater

Colour studies:

I did small colour studies to determine the composition as well as the shape design. In my opinion, the orange one worked best but the tones could use some work as not all mid-tones have been identified.

These studies were mainly dedicated to the day painting so i decided to do another one for the night painting , mainly to decide on colours:

Final paintings:


In the end, I decided on using a palette based around greens, yellows and browns to bring out the green mossy environment.


To bring out the difference between the day and the night painting, naturally the night painting should be darker but instead, I opted to use a blue undertone and a much more intense and darker shadows.


Asshole by Default/ Guilty Cupid

Title: Asshole By Default

A prickly insurance agent attends a high school reunion party and meets an old flame. As the night progresses, a family crisis strikes. She has to learn to curb her defensiveness or risk losing a potential romantic opportunity.

Style: Starts off light and comedic, ends on a slower, muted note

Title: Guilty Cupid

Story opens with Cupid in the courtroom as the defendant. The story takes the jury through 3 cases, which will help the jury decide whether Cupid is guilty or not.

Style: Theatrical and comedic, extreme/ exaggerated angles




You know it’s Christmas when you’re being blinded by Christmas lights that practically wind around any available surface, illuminating the roads and busy streets for the season. Left and right, you’re slapped with obnoxiously loud posters plastered across the shops’ display windows, screaming ‘SALE’ while guilt-tripping you for missing out on the “best deals of the year”. Shoppers bundled up in thick, warm garments packed into the tiny shops, seeking refuge from the brutal cold outside. The streets smell of gingerbread and candy canes, both artificial and natural scents mixing into the air. A gust of wind whips past you and tongues at the sliver of exposed skin around your neck. You shiver involuntarily. Pulling up the thick woollen scarf over your dripping nose, you quicken your steps, braving through the power walk across the entrance of Yankee Candle, the overwhelming scent of Christmas Cookie and Sparkling Cinnamon putting you in a temporary chokehold. You hurry down the busy streets, stopping in front of GameStop. The newly released game is on sale. You’ve heard the countless praises for the game and it seems to be a wildly popular among kids too. Well, you might as well gift it to your nephew, he’d appreciate it even if your sister doesn’t. It’s okay to spoil the kid every once in a while, after all, Christmas is around the corner.


Well, you may be wondering where the story begins. Now don’t get cocky because this story isn’t about you. No, this story is set in a destination much further away, tucked away in a place a little to the left of the North Pole. That’s where the Santa Claus Village is, a place thought to reside among other children’s myths and legends.  Unbeknownst to the world, the village is indeed very real. It is one of the most magical places on Earth, a gem hidden away from the rest of the world. The place is dubbed as one of, if not the most joyous places on Earth by the few that are aware of its existence. Christmas spirit never dies here, rather, the village strives on it; it’s how they live.

Here, ugly Christmas sweaters aren’t just reserved for the holidays; they are a daily staple worn under thick parkas of Christmas colours, appearing in various shades of green, red, white with the occasional splashes of gold. And to the residents, there is no such thing as ‘taking down your decorations’; the string of colourful lights strung across their roofs, the light-up Rudolph instalments and the decorated pine tree that is stationary to every household planted in their front lawns, all of these are not excessive, they are permanent renovations to every home. The cold weather contributes to the holiday vibes as well; it’s like living in a perpetual state of white Christmas all year round.

Even their factories seem to belong in children’s fairytale pop-up books. The exterior is made of a special blend of gingerbread, its secret recipe heavily guarded by the villagers for generations. The cookie mix, once dry becomes hard as concrete, yet, emits an everlasting sugared scent that isn’t cloying. Unlike the drab, grey concrete structures we’re familiar with, their factories are studded with vibrant M&Ms and glossy peppermint sweets (among other confectionery embellishments), the windows made from clear melted down candies.  The entrance is framed by two giant striped candy canes, holding the sugar cookie double doors in place.

Now, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the man running the village is none other than the original Father Christmas himself, St. Nicholas. Running the most joyous villages and overseeing one of the most anticipated holidays is a dream come true for the senior, so what has gotten into him for his white feathered brows to crease and furrow, merging into a unibrow. The carpeted floors cushions the heavy footsteps of his worn black boots as he paces in front of the fireplace. Yet another uncharacteristic sigh rips from him; that’s a record number of consecutive sighs for the usually cheery old man, if he actually keeps count that is. He grabs for his mug of egg nog and takes a swig, feeling the kick of the vodka, dulling his senses just a little to keep himself from going insane from the stress he’s currently faced with. Shuffling across his cabin, he leans against the cold surface of his window, dreading the events planned for the following day. His warm breath fogs up the window as he sighs, again.


The next day, Holiday Headquarters garners a number of visitors – various sleighs and reindeers (and even a red-nosed buffalo) are parked outside the building, taking up most of the parking spaces. Judging from the tiny footsteps treading through the thick snow and the trail of wet bootprints leading up the steps to the veranda, someone even made it here on foot. Impressive.

The international visitors dressed in red suits are ushered into the board room, each one donning a Santa suit with a cultural twist of their own. Chatter grows as the room fills and the sound of chair legs scraping against the hardwood floors add to the noise. The visitors settle down on either side of the incredibly long conference table, with St. Nicholas situated at the head of the table. The man himself clears his throat, the sound bouncing off the walls and bellowing through the rooms. Silence engulfs the room almost immediately and St. Nicholas takes it as his cue to commence the United League of Santas conference. Greetings and introductions are cut short as St. Nicholas explains the Christmas crisis that has shaken their world.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are facing an emergency. We are talking about code red here!” his fist comes slamming down against the smooth table top, rattling the whole room and startling its occupants.

“Everyone is in the holiday spirit. They’re carolling, shopping for gifts and baking cookies. So why in the name of Rudolph aren’t kids writing us letters? The letters… they just stopped coming. And worse, this is an international catastrophe; this applies for kids globally. Never in all my years have had had I witnessed anything like this. At this rate, we’ll be out of commission by Christmas,” St. Nicholas continues, his Turkish accent thick in his voice. “If anyone has any suggestions, I’d appreciate it if you speak now.”

His tone is completely devoid of any cheeriness and even the playful twinkle has abandoned his eyes. Overall, it seems like the man’s effervescent personality has dimmed as well. It really dawns on the other Santas how dire their situation is.

Silence settles in the room for a while before someone pipes up.

“Maybe it’s because kids these days will just badger their parents for gifts until they give in. Why ask Santa for anything when their parents have already bought it for them?”

“Not everyone is able to afford gifts, Simon.”

“Or maybe it’s because no one wants to play with our toys anymore. The millennials can practically survive on their phones and other electronics alone. Kids these days, they’re the problem! They won’t even look up from their screens-”

“Mother of Rudolph! Frank, would you please just stop with your ‘millennials are garbage’ bullshit. Yes! Yes, we get it: iPhones are the bane of the world’s existence and should be burnt by the Sun. Please, as if you’re one to talk. You OWN an iPhone Frank, ditching it for the Nokia you called a ‘relic’. Now, can we please move on?” Clement (from Belgium) interrupted, clearly having heard enough of Frank’s ramblings.

Frank opens and closes his mouth several times but is unable to utter a comeback. He folds his arms crossly slumps back into his seat, feeling defeat and embarrassment burn in his already ruddy cheeks. It is safe to say he opts to remain silent for the rest of the meeting.

“Could it be that kids just don’t believe in Santa anymore? Kids are maturing faster and all and they get made fun of for believing in us. They think we’re just a bunch of clowns dressed in red suits and white beards, shoving our bodies down chimneys.”

The discussion continues, with Santa Clauses throwing out suggestions and others shutting them down.

(Please continue the story as your characters.)



Tucked away in the most northern part of the world and located just a little to the left lay the most joyous place on Earth – Santa Claus Village (which also holds the HOliday Headquarters). Christmas is around the corner and all is jolly for the holidays. Ironically, the residents of the village can be described as ‘less than jolly’ at the moment. Before we get into the nitty gritty of their current state of distress, allow me to disarm you of possible assumptions about these men.

Stories from our childhood had you believing that Santa Claus somehow made his way across the globe all in one night, helping himself to an unimaginable amount of cookies and milk while leaving good kids presents to tear open on Christmas morning. It makes for a charming story, no doubt, but think about Santa’s age and show some mercy for the old man’s knees. There is some truth to the story; the original Santa Claus was St. Nicholas but he has long retired and leaves the present delivery to the younger Santas spread across the globe. Now, he enjoys a cup of egg nog as he overlooks all Christmas activity from his cabin situated in the heart of his village.

Tuning back into the current situation, St. Nicholas has invited every Santa internationally to the North Pole (and a little to the left) for an emergency meeting. It has come to St. Nicholas’ attention that there’s been a threatening decrease in the letters received from children from all parts of the world. This is a global crisis in the Christmas world. The men in red suits put their heads together and try to piece together an explanation. Every Santa has their own opinion on the matter, each one becoming more vocal than the previous one, trying to get a word in. Their efforts are commendable but futile as they fail to come to a solid conclusion.

You will be playing as two of the Santa Clauses invited to this meeting. After the dismissal of the meeting, you trudge back to your hotel, brows furrowed in misery as you continue to ponder over the cause of the crisis. You are both looking forward to a warm glass of eggnog and rum to clear the oncoming headache when you encounter something strange. Curiosity wins you over and you put thoughts of eggnog on hold, heading over to probe the situation a little.

Who knew that that encounter would be the just tip of the Christmas tree, leading up to much more dangerous and sinister intentions. Punch another hole in that thick black belt and buckle up those red velvet pants as you as you embark on a dangerous mission to save Christmas and possibly, the whole of humanity. You better not pout, you better not cry, for the survival of Christmas lies in your polyester gloves now!


  1. Good kids show creativity. Create your very own version of Santa Claus. Reimagine them completely, from top to toe, and do leave a name as well. Create a backstory (e.g. your nationality and race, your age, how you came to be Santa Claus, etc.). Describe your personality, are you naughty or nice?

  2. Nice children like to share. You each have 8 points to be shared among the following 3 areas:
  • Strength:
  • Agility:
  • Intelligence:

  1. Every Santa is equipped with the following FIXED items:
  • Santa hat:
  • Gloves:
  • Boots:
  • Belt:
  • Beard:

(E.g. Boots: A hybrid of hoverboards and heelys, allows for a quick escape)

Now, go ahead decide on the function of each article of clothing (Each item can only serve one function). Think carefully (or not), you’d probably need them on your mission.

Ho ho ho, one more thing! There are a few restrictions when it comes to the functionality wardrobe:

To avoid tainting Santa’s good name and reputation, your choices must not cause death. You’re only allowed to knock out your opponents, not kill em’.

Prepare yourself for bad Christmas puns galore and references sprinkled throughout the story. It’s the holidays so pull the candy cane out of your butt and enjoy the ride in a one horse open sleigh to saving the day!

Spongebob Santa

I hope you enjoy your stay!

Image credit:

  • Featured image:

Christmas 2012

  • Santa Claus Village:


  • Milk and cookies:

Cookies for Santa

  • Santa Spy:

Christmas 2012

  • Spongebob Santa Waving: