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Ninn Salaün - I draw @clever_reports @mondaykyungsoo contact me: [email protected] no repost no nft no ai please [email protected]

FR/EN • she|her
Joined July 2017
Photo by Ninn (@bleu_capsicum)Photo by Ninn (@bleu_capsicum)Photo by Ninn (@bleu_capsicum)Photo by Ninn (@bleu_capsicum)Photo by Ninn (@bleu_capsicum)Photo by Ninn (@bleu_capsicum)Photo by Ninn (@bleu_capsicum)Photo by Ninn (@bleu_capsicum)Photo by Ninn (@bleu_capsicum)Photo by Ninn (@bleu_capsicum)
Hello #PortfolioDay ! I'm Ninn, an illustrator from France. I draw surrealistic scenes focused on the sky, and nature in general. Check out my daily meteorological fiction project here: @clever_reports 🌈ninnsalaun.com ✨[email protected]
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Ninn retweeted
"The weather" is not small talk. Weather is vast, beautiful, and mysterious. We are never really ready to talk about the clouds
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We report 2023 days of Reports From Unknown Places! I usually like to take milestones as excuses to try something new and confusing with Reports. This year, I missed the 5-year anniversary back in March, so the 2000 days anniversary had to be extra new and confusing.
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I made one report for each hour of the day: small squares drawn with wax pastels, interrupted sentences, one short minute at a time. In the end, the sky is the sky, so a temporary change in format like this can still make sense, which is nice to realise.
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I do have to say, after trying this out, I have no plans to start posting hourly! We’ll keep doing the daily thing. Thank you so much for paying attention to this project, whether you have a look once in a while, or it’s a daily meeting. This means a lot to me.
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We report on a brittle January morning: the dew point is rather low, and along with the wind, we think that we might freeze solid if we stay out too long. We count the handful of remaining stars in the sky, and the air inexplicably smells like dawn, brisk and sweet.
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We report: the stratus fractus of wet weather have come, and we are wondering as to what kind of wet weather we are supposed to be having. Until very recently, we were quite certain the weather would remain very dry throughout the day. Our expert puts on a second coat.
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We report at the shorter end of the afternoon: the light has come to glaze the world with honey. Though it is the coldest it has been since the early morning, there is a warmth to the clear sky. Our expert is still looking for the presence of clouds somewhere - typical behaviour.
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We report: for the second time now, we struggle in our attempt to button up our coat with our numb fingers. There is a robin hopping around the feet of bare bushes, rummaging through sodden leaves for worms. There is that complicated smell of white rot fungus in the air.
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We report long past our bedtime, whatever it is meant to be: the moon has prematurely vanished from the night sky, and we unfortunately do not have the patience to seek it out for very long. The clouds are moving at a leisurely pace, and we feel rather sleepy.
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We report: there is only a light breeze on the beach, but it is enough to carry a substantial amount of sea-spray. Only the ocean can tire us out this way, make us bone-weary, and the cold has gone to our feet despite all our layers. We also feel particularly alive.
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We report in the space of a few seconds, while the light shines just at the right angle, through the correct type of air: there is a small bit of iridescence sojourning on the edge of a cloud. This time, for once, we let it vanish without alerting anyone to its presence.
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We report: the sunset was cut a little bit short by the gathering clouds. The sky was clear throughout the day, but come dusk, a few wisps of condensation started to appear above the horizon. The west wind quickly brought more with it, and the humidity is now palpable.
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We report while we are still in the grasp of slumber: Mars, Castor, and Pollux are all holding hands, slowly descending towards the horizon. As they complete their journey across the vault, the sun is beginning its own on the opposite side. Our expert is still snoring lightly.
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We report: today, the fog is so dense that even our expert's keen eyes are starved for details. The sky seems a nebulous concept when brought down so low to the ground. We watch minuscule droplets of water dance in front of the fog lights, and the day goes by unseen.
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We report on a slow day: the clouds, too, are taking all the time in the world this morning. The ground is frozen solid, and we are finding a shimmer on every surface. We briefly thought time itself was not moving, until it all started to melt in the low winter sun.
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We report: someone has lit a fire in the neighbourhood, and we have trouble telling smoke from clouds. The days have not grown much longer yet, and the sunsets still seem to last hours, holding on tightly to each end of the afternoon. We tread well-worn grooves in muddy paths.
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We report on the moon side of things: one, two, three nights in a row we have been able to see the moon on its way down. For the month of January, this is nothing short of a miracle. A waxing gibbous, kept from the cold by the small clouds surrounding it, or so we hope.
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We report: while the sky is doing its best to swallow itself through its impossible maw, the hail starts falling. It is, at first, a handful of pebbles on the roof, but once it gets going for good, the sound is almost deafening. The afternoon is stitched out of these showers.
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my friend @hyuckharmony got me this wonderful puzzle for christmas, and didn’t even know how much i already love @bleu_capsicum so this was such a perfect gift and amazing coincidence too! (i won’t post the secret ending version just in case of spoilers but it was magnificent)
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We report as the wind is picking up: if we listen closely, we think we can hear the waves up there. The weather is changing, a taste of storm that carries from afar. We are taking a dive for cold waters, and we are watching the birds attempting to stay afloat.
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