Josh Hernandez

Hidden in the Shadows — I am giving away this drawing, sign up for my news letter for a chance to win. Link in bio.

Even the stars dare not shine — In the quiet depths of night, when shadows stretch long and the weight of the world presses on weary shoulders, the stars themselves seem to falter, hiding their light in the vast, unyielding dark. Life, too, often folds under its own heavy cloak of struggle, where every step feels like a battle against invisible forces. Yet, within this darkness, there is a beauty that only the most steadfast hearts can see—an untold brilliance in every breath, every tear, every quiet moment of endurance. For it is not in the absence of night, but in our ability to love, to reach, to rise, that we find the truest light. The struggle is not meaningless; it is the very forge of passion and purpose, and in the end, it is worth every heartache, every silent victory, to endure and love with all we have.

The quiet collapse of what was

CHAOS ABOUNDS — He rides through the endless expanse of silence, a lone figure draped in shadow, his horse’s hooves stirring the dust of forgotten trails. The wind speaks in whispers only he understands, the vast sky above a canvas of fading blue and bruised clouds. His face is carved from the same stone as the mountains, a mask of untold stories, eyes that have seen the edge of the world and returned with secrets heavy as the night. In his wake, the wilderness holds its breath, as if the land itself knows he is both of it and apart from it—neither man nor ghost, but a wandering soul tethered to something older than time. The earth trembles beneath him, not with fear, but with reverence, for he is the keeper of the forgotten and the witness to the sins of the sun and the moon. Each step, each mile, is a prayer to the unknown, a dance with the eternal.

Drawing in under 90 seconds

Unfolding Depths of My Soul

Guided by the Wind — The rider leans, the stallion flies, Through open fields and endless skies. A whispered call, a wild embrace, The wind's soft hand, a fleeting grace. No path to follow, none to bind, Just heart and hoof, the earth aligned. Through dusk and dawn, their journey spins, Forever guided by the wind. 30x44” Charcoal on archival paper Paper: BFK Rives supplied by @Legion Paper Available at @The Marshall Gallery

Ink, charcoal, pastel on BFK Rives. Lasy day for prints

And at once i was not there At once, I was not there—like the wind that forgets its name in the vastness of sky, drifting aimlessly between shadow and light. My shape dissolved into the emptiness, a fleeting echo, lost in the depthless sea of time. But in the silence that followed, something pulled me—an unseen tide, a whisper without sound. I was drawn back, piece by piece, not as I was, but as I was meant to be. The river found its course again, not in the contours of its banks, but in the pull of the ocean that knows no edges. And there, in the endless horizon of being, I was no longer alone; I was the breath of the wind, the echo of the wave, the stillness between every moment. Charcoal on BFK Rives supplied by @Legion Paper madcharcoalshop.com For original artwork, prints, and art materials

I left the valley of darkness

Tell me when you hear the scilence — that falls like a veil over the world—when the heavens themselves seem to shudder in disbelief, as love stretches too far, too wide, and breaks beneath its own weight. In the stillness, the heart of God beats, broken and bruised, not for glory, but for the ones who will never truly know the cost. His hands, once so full of creation, now are nailed to nothingness, reaching through time, through every soul, through every wound. The earth holds its breath, and even the stars dare not shine. He cries out into the void, but the void does not answer; only the echo of His agony rings in the dark. Forsaken, yet never ceasing to love, He hangs between the agony of all that is and all that could be, torn between worlds, between hearts, between life and death. And in that silence, in that aching void, do you hear it too? The love that will never let go, even when it seems no one is listening?

When my elements come apart, it feels like the earth beneath me cracks, and I am both dust and void, suspended between what I was and what I fear I might become. The weight of my own bones pulls me deeper into myself, while my breath, like wind in an empty field, rises, falls, and trembles. There is a beauty in this disintegration—an aching tenderness, like the fading light at dusk that doesn’t wish to leave, yet knows it must. My heart beats, out of rhythm, each pulse a fracture, a longing to connect even as everything slips through my fingers. The struggle is not in the breaking, but in the recognition of how every piece, sharp and soft, holds its own quiet grace, its own sorrow, and in their unraveling, they whisper that it is only through loss that we find the truth of our shape.

The slain lamb — In the stillness of eternity, where shadows wove their silent dance, He came—a gentle agony wrapped in flesh, the Lamb who bore the weight of all unspoken cries. Beneath the brittle sky, where the earth trembled with the echo of unseen chains, He moved, unyielding and broken, a sacrifice not of violence but of surrender. His blood, an untold river, spilled into the soil of a world too weary to dream of redemption, yet longing for it with a thirst older than time. In His gaze, the endless ache of the heavens found its voice, and in His silence, the loudest cry was heard. To look upon Him was to witness the raw, tender wound where God bled for man—an offering that was both a wound and a song. He was the sacrifice that turned death into a prayer, the shadowed light that whispered mercy into the hollows of the soul.

Bottom Of A Heartbreak

Charcoal drawing in 30-something seconds

Predestined — it was always meant to be, you only make sense of it as you see it behind you, as you experience it as it happens 22x30” Charcoal, BFK Rives supplied by @legionpaper Link in bio to own original

The Blinding Thoughts That Surround Me — sometimes I dont know what is real and what is it not. Is that voice yours, or is it mine? Give me peace that surpasses all understanding, the peace which I long to taste. I will continue on, I will remain steadfast, pursuing what is real.

The crushing darkness

Ashes of the unraveled