Friday, August 31, 2012

Home Again, Home Again

I think I have a crappy scanner.  Now to be fair, I hate scanning. I'm not a fan on a good day, but recently I've been looking at my work after I've scanned and edited it (or at least attempted to) and I am starting to wonder if it's just . . . my scanner.

Does anyone know anything about scanners?  Like what a good one is and how much it costs?  I'd love to get some insight . . .

Anyway, I am back.  Washington was both awesome and stressful which means it was a good trip.



Coffee should both start and end a good trip - coffee and a good book.

Or groping.  My brother would go with groping.  Either way, my trip was staunchly supported on either end by all three.

I got to the airport with enough time to grab a cup of joe after having my bags ransacked and my personal being patted down by the very nice TSA lady.  But I couldn't leave because there was something wrong with my backpack (I don't check bags, especially when I am going to a workshop where loosing my art supplies would be . . . really not good).  They kept talking about a water bottle I had in my backpack.  I was very confused because the only water holding container I had in my backpack was my Nalgene - which was in the lid of my pack and not the main compartment.

Assorted chargers, papers, and knickknacks I had shoved into the lid poured out as another TSA agent went searching for the said Nalgene.  I ginned sheepishly. I wanted to help, I really did!  But you're not allowed to touch your stuff if you've elected to be pat down until you're cleared.  The poor flustered guy looked at the assortment of buckles and straps and chords holding my life for the week together and said, "Yeah, let me run it through again."

It was only later after 4 runs through the x-ray machine and they had released me with no small measure of exasperation and relief that I thought about the bottle of graphite powder I had carefully secured in a ziplock and stuffed down into the main compartment of my pack.  Oops.

Anyway, grabbed the joe and sat and read "Mind of the Maker", by Dorothy L. Sayers.  The first chapter - which isn't even about art knocks my socks off.

And that was only the beginning of my week.  First, the plane malfunctioned and they unloaded all the passengers  so they could drain the fuel tank and refill the plane.  They told us it would take 10 minutes or so.  I laughed.

An hour (or more) later we were on our way.

My rental car was fire-engine red, which pleased me far more than it should have - considering that it wasn't like I was going to keep the car or something.

I also got lost.  A lot.  I am of the opinion that whoever designed the streets and non-existent signage is at fault and I am sticking with that opinion.  Also, who puts all the entrances to and exits from the highway on the same side of the street?  I cannot tell you how many times that threw me and I had to drive down to where I could make a U-turn and come back.  And did I mention the absence of signage?

Anyway.  I explored Seattle a little on the first day I was there while battling a massive migraine.  Love those.    I went to the original Starbucks and Pikes Place Market early in the morning and watched them unload all the flowers and produce and fish.  That was cool.   And such a vast assortment of smells.  Conflicting smells . . . But in all seriousness, I have never smelled flowers like that.  They were so beautiful - and I am not a flower person.  Their fragrance filled the air.  Literally.  Occasionally the smell of the bread from the French Bakery would waft through the market and set my mouth watering.  I wanted to go in - the set-up was really fascinating (and did I mention the smell?) but I didn't trust myself to stay away from the gluten.  So irritating, but I've decided that it's not as painful as the subsequent days of pain and discomfort would have been.

Look at me making progress.





The only disappointing thing was that I never got there at just the right time to see them throwing the fish.  Everyone who's ever been to Seattle and Pikes Place Market told me to go watch them throw the fish . . . and I think I either got there too early or too late on all three times I tried.

Also went to the original REI.  Dear Lord in Heaven.  That was traumatizing.  In a good way.  I have never seen so much outdoor stuff in one place.  And they've made a kind of "forest" you have to walk through to just get to the front door.  You have to see it to believe it.

Next day I went to the San Juan Islands - I made the dock just as the ferry was loading.  But I couldn't get on until the next one which didn't leave for another two hours.  Gah.  This was a recurring them for the entire trip, by the way.  I didn't plan as compulsively as I usually do and it reinforced why I am/need to be so anal about planning.  There is something to be said about just going with the flow, though.  And that was another theme for the week (mainly as a result of my poor planning).  I rolled with it, went down to the beach and did a little watercolor of the view.  Not great but good practice.

None of these pictures have been edited yet . . . I love light and shadow so you'll see a lot of that.  I'm not a photographer.  For me all this is reference for later pieces.

























The next day the class started.  I checked out of the hostel I had been staying in, dumped everything in the car and drove to Bothell.  I got there early, camped out at a coffee shop for an hour or so and tried to calm my "raging nerves".

I debated with myself about how honest I wanted to be about my struggles over that weekend.  Especially with the Internet.  But I was rather humbled and encouraged by Nicholas Kole's heartfelt honesty about his struggles with art on his blog, so I am taking a leap.

I felt inadequate and painfully out of place.  It was like my first day of high school all over again (which was really horrible, I had been home schooled up to that point and did not want to go to a public school).  "You're 25, for goodness sake," I told myself over and over again, "Get a grip."  It didn't really work - my personal pep talks usually don't, I've found.  And by the end of the day, despite both Iain and Brom being absolutely wonderful and encouraging, I was so emotionally frazzled by the end of the day I had to run to the hotel, check in, and hide in my room for a couple of hours.  I was really irritated with myself. I went searching for some bubble tea, watched a stupid TV show and tried to laugh off my emotional state, but I still couldn't sleep, couldn't relax.  Finally after trying to ignore it and hope that it went away, I had to get up and deal with it.  

So I put on a song that had really spoken to me on the ferry ride out to San Juan - "I Am All He Says I Am" performed by Kari Jobe and Cody Carnes, opened up my bible to the book of Psalms and started praying the verses that stuck out to me. And then I started speaking those truths over myself. I don't know how long that was, but eventually I was able to go to sleep.

The next day was better. I got there early and Iain was looking over some of my sketched for the Pied Piper and asked if he could look at my sketchbook.

No, Iain, I do not want you to look at my sketchbook. (and just to be clear, that was sarcasm. I find that it doesn't translate so well in type . . .)

Actually, I was more like "Oh, well, yes, of course." But you have to imagine the squee-ing and bouncing, 'cause that was only going on in my head. For real. Only in my head.

He loved the toned paper that I was working on and was surprised when I told him what I was doing for a living. He had lovely things to say about my drawings. It was very encouraging. To put it mildly.

And the kicker is that he's giving me an art assignment that he's going to "art-direct" with me. Comps are due before the end of September and the final in December. My soul is kinda singing right now.

Anyway, enough about me.

Iain McCaig and Brom are fantastic people.  So much fun to be around and great teachers.  It was awesome to be back in a class after being out of school for so long.  I'm not going to lie to you, I hated high school, but I LOVED college.  I loved going to class, I loved the challenge, I loved LEARNING.  Everyday there was something new to learn or discover, some new piece of wisdom to unfold.  And this workshop brought a piece of that back for me.

Everyone there was working in the art field in some capacity.  A lot of game designers and full time illustrators.  Everyone was so talented and it was really awesome to be in such an art-rich environment for 3 whole days!

The focus of the workshop was storytelling - which is right up my alley.  We took the story of the Pied Piper and basically re-wrote it as a class, designed the characters and story-boarded the beats out in three days.  Each of us was given one or two beats to draw.  Interspersed throughout were a series of demos on oil painting by Brom - I have been re-inspired to try oils, so expect to see some of that in the near future.







Above are some of the sketches from my sketchbook.  I was in the group that was designing the townspeople and I tried my hand at some ideas for the piper and his pipe, too.  

The weekend was awesome with so many cool stories about Brom and Iain's adventures in illustration.  I love stories.  And it culminated with the video of all our our beats put together with music.  We talked about which parts were weak or needed more panels, etc.  Iain's doing the extra panels himself and sending us a link to the final.  Before December, we all are going to "finish" our panels and send them to Iain who is then going to make the final video with music and titles and such and either send it to us or create a web page for it.  I'll keep you updated.  

I moved back to the hostel for the next two nights.  Went hiking near Mt Rainier on Monday.  But FIRST I had to go back to the hotel because I leftmydigitalSLRinthenightstand.  Hehem. Good thing I remembered.  Here's pictures from the "hike".  Again, they're not edited, and I take pictures with the idea that I am going to use them as reference at some point, so . . . 





It's rather hard taking pictures of yourself with a DSLR . . . 

I either got my face or the mountain - kinda . . . 














And the next day I went home.  After first having to go back to the hostel because I had left my iPad in the room.  Yep.  I promise, this was not usual for me.

Seattle has ridiculously long lines for security.  Fortunately I had less trouble with the backpack.  Still patted down.  Then because I was still EARLY, despite my fiasco with the iPad, I got a cuppa joe and sat and read my copy of Alex Alice's "Siegfried".  Again.  I love this thing so much.  I can't wait for "Valkyrie" to come out in English.  I might just cave and get the French version to tide me over.  

And then I drew some stuff.


And then I got on the plane.  And subsequently got OFF the plane because of something with the fuel tank gauge things (wait, I've heard this story before . . . ), got on ANOTHER plane after much delay, and drew some more.




The End.



At least until next week.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Hutchmoot Countdown

Ugh.  The craziness hasn't ended.  Washington was just the beginning.  September starts a whole new gauntlet of personal deadlines - and some "real" ones, too.  I have a post I am still working on about the Washington trip and workshop - but it's not finished.  And this one is.

First off, I am taking an online class with illustrator Eric Fortune, part of the lovely Rebecca Guay's program SmArt School  which is kind of an extension of her Illustration Master Class.  Anyway, I am in it for the long haul - at least until the end of the year.  I am now in a constant state of being super excited and super nervous and also super stressed.  Which one is currently at the level of "super-SUPER" is entirely dependent on whether or not I am caffeinated.

Secondly is Hutchmoot.  I cannot express the level of excitement that is building in me for this conference.  It's an extension of the Rabbit Room, an online site for creative community.  It's awesome.  Just go check it out.  Anyway, Hutchmoot is their yearly meeting; this year it sold out in SEVEN minutes - I was sitting at my computer half an hour before-hand with my mouse hovering over the refresh button, waiting for the tickets to go on sale.  Justin Gerard is going to be there (super-Super-SUPER excited), as well as Phil Vischer, N.D. Wilson, S.D. Smith, Lanier Ivestor, singer/songwriters galore, and oh-my-gosh, have I told you yet that I am really excited?

Now, because of all the awesomeness that is to come, I have a lot to do.  I have made a list:

  1. New Website
  2. Promotional Pieces and Hand-outs
  3. Business Cards
  4. UPDATE PORTFOLIO

Website

Ugh. SO overdue.  I still have the domain name (thank you, God), but the actual process of getting it up is an entirely different matter.  Hopefully, my amazingly brilliant designer sister can help me with that . . .

I want the site to be memorable - not as far as complexity of design goes, but the way the work is portrayed and the design itself.  I want it to be story-centered.  Anyway, the idea is there, I'm not quite sure how to express it or if it will even work, but we'll see.  

Promo Pieces/Business Cards

Kind of self explanatory - I have lots of (old) post cards, but there's something about specially designed or handmade promo pieces that's just . . . cool.  But of course ALL of this is dependent upon the . . . . 

UPDATED PORTFOLIO

I'm starting to sound like a broken record (to myself at least).  I'm thinking about it consciously about 20-40% of the time, and subconsciously about 378% of the time (Yes, that is physically possible, you and your logic and your maths can just . . . leave).  And that's just my hours of consciousness.  I'm not even going to start on what my mind has been doing while I'm asleep.  Not that that's been happening a lot.







Tuesday, August 14, 2012

The Drawing Board

Late night in the studio.  

I was at the store the other night picking up some more tracing paper and other supplies when I was once again tempted by the travel/table top easels.  You know the ones that you can pack up and take with you or put on a tripod and do plein air painting with?  Yeah.  I get tempted every time I pass by or get an ad in my email.  So I was thinking about it and then I saw this table top drawing board (not a bad price and I had a 40% off coupon!).  It sits on your table (or desk) and it has all of these different angles you can set it at.  I'd been bemoaning the price and size of drafting tables and this has met that need so far!  I am going to have to address my lighting situation though next.  Horrible . . . just horrible.

Anyway, this's stuff in progress for "The Chronicles of Prydain".


Next night was the sister-in-law's birthday, so not much work/art got done.

The next day was more sketch refinement and color-comps.  Holy crows, I hate color comps.  I looked at them the next morning - hoping that they were a little better than I remember.  They weren't.


You can see a little bit of Hen Wen here.  She wasn't a complete loss, but I got to a point where I was looking at the board and thinking - "What the hell am I doing?"  I literally had no idea.  Which really just means that I'm not ready to proceed from the comp stage yet, which is a good thing in a way because it tells me where I am in the whole process.  What is it that Edison said?  

"Results? Why, man, I have gotten lots of results! If I find 10,000 ways something won't work, I haven't failed. I am not discouraged, because every wrong attempt discarded is often a step forward...."

I imagine that that is much easier to say after the fact.



I am always in love at the sketch stage.  This is the fun part for me, the problem solving part.  You'd think that my mind would equate painting with problem solving, too.  But it doesn't.  It's more like conflict; I feel like I'm fighting something the entire time.  And I really hate conflict.

Part of the problem is also that I've started to be able to see a glimpse of the final image in my mind - that hasn't happened before.  Usually I have an idea that I want to illustrate, I do a bunch of thumbs, find ones that work, get the reference, do the drawing, figure out what needs to happen with the color in the comp stage and then paint the final.  I don't usually see the finish before it's sitting in front of me.  But with these I have and it's making my inability to but down even an echo of them on the board absolutely infuriating.

Another part of the problem is that at heart I am not a patient person - especially with myself.  I want things to be done right, and I want them to be done now.  And if I can't make it perfect then it's not worth doing.  Illogical, I know, and with anyone else I would be completely reasonable and understanding.  But it's not anyone else.  It's me.  And it has to be perfect.  I haven't quite figured out why perfect is so important to me, but my life seems to have been defined  in my own mind by it's level of "perfection".  Which isn't really attainable, which means that in my mind my life has not been successful up to this point.  But I think that might be too much honesty for the internet.  So.


Sorry.  I find myself all too often downing in my humanity lately.

I usually work on either cold-press watercolor paper or Strathmore 500 Series Illustration Board (Vellum). But the new-ish Aquaboard by Ampersand has captured my fancy.  I haven't quite "got it" yet, but something about it fascinates me (don't ask me what) and I keep coming back to try it out.  It's absolute murder on your watercolor brushes, though.  My Windsor Newton Series 7 has probably had it even without the abuse of the Aquaboard and gouache (it's . . . 6 years old? Good grief . . . And they're so expensive).  But of all the brushes I've used they are the best.  Dick Blick has a Kolinski Sable that's a decent substitute.

Anyway, I fought with the watercolor for another day, had a couple of emotional breakdowns with both art and life, then of course started to panic with my deadline advancing towards me in a most menacing fashion.  And I couldn't make the watercolor work to save my life.  The next night, I quickly changed gears and broke out my powdered graphite, carbon sticks and pencils and trusty kneaded eraser.  I love graphite.  And while I continued to fight with these, I didn't have the same level of frustration that I did with the watercolor.  These are on Stonehenge.  I also have some BFK Rives waiting for me to get back and experiment with.

I chose to stick with the just the spot illustrations.  I have full page illustrations waiting to be developed, but with my time constraints they just weren't feasible.  I'm finding that it takes me about 6 to 8 hours to finish one of these (starting from the point when I put the drawing on the board to adding the digital color), which is what I usually spend on a painting.  Now, Hen Wen took less time than that, obviously, and Taran and Melyngar are taking longer, so, I think the 6-8 is average.  And that's not including the time I spend finalizing the sketches.  I was hoping that these would be less time intensive since they were spots, but, c'est la vie.

Starting on Eilonwy.

Several hours in. 

Eilonwy nearing completion. 

Final with digital color.

I'm finding more and more that structure is very important for me - which may be why I was struggling so much with the watercolor pieces because I hadn't developed the sketches behind them enough.  Something to think about.  I plan on doing a lot of sketching and painting before and after the workshop, so maybe I can break through this mental block without the pressure of the little perfectionist in my head harassing me every step of the way (I've scheduled a few days before and after to "relax".  I love Seattle - couldn't tell you why, but it's one of my favorite places).

Working on Hen Wen.

Still working.

Hen Wen nearly finished.
Hen Wen final with digital color.

Working on Taran, Eilonwy, and Melyngar.

I wasn't able to finish this one - something was wrong with Melyngar's head, too small I think.  Didn't have time to finish it last night so it's still on the drawing board until I get back.  I'll finish it and post it soon.

Next stop Seattle.  I am so nervous on so many different levels.  I'll let you know how it goes.  

Monday, August 6, 2012

The Madness Continues

I am scrambling to finish things before I leave next week, but here are some photos of a warm-up I was working on this weekend.

These were the first "paintings" I have done in a while - confining most of my artistic pursuits to drawing in the past few months.  Color has never been my strong suit.  Drawing - love it.  Value - bring it on.  Color - ah . . . wha . . . is this . . . I don't  . . .

Yeah.  Color doesn't make sense to me.  I pick up the brush and look to my pallet and I'm . . . just lost.

When I was in school, my professors would make fun of me for limiting my pallet so much.  But it was the only way I could control the colors and the structure of the finished piece.  Fortunately, I managed to incorporated some reds and yellows in a few projects and they stopped harassing me.

Now, I don't want you to think that they didn't try to help me with my color problems - they did.  They tried very hard.  And conceptually, I thought I understood the process they were trying to get me into.  But whenever I took up the brush and applied the colors I saw them using . . . well, it's probably better not to talk about it . . .




Windsor Newton watercolors on an Arches cold-press block.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

The Chronicles of Prydain

I have attempted to take back control of my project list for the time being.  I have limited myself to one thing (or maybe two) to work on for my portfolio.  I have a little less than a month until my first deadline (I am going to a workshop on visual storytelling in August that I am SUPER excited for) of finishing . . . something. So. 


I've decided to do some illustrations for the "Chronicles of Prydain".  The thought process behind this is that it is less intimidating than "The Hobbit" and "Chronicles of Narnia" right now (don't ask me why, I have been highly adverse to burrowing down into the rabbit-warren of my thought processes and motivations these past few weeks . . . it's really . . . scary . . . down there). My goal is to eventually have one or two color illustrations as well as a hand-full of black and white pieces and spots. Anyway, we'll see.  


On a side note, as I have been rereading these books I have become more and more impressed with Lloyd Alexander.  Obviously he hits his stride in the later books, but he has high standards for his characters and he's not afraid to put them through the ringer and pull them out the other side all the more stronger for it.   I am so tired of characters whose lives are full of stuff they can't control and everything's unfair and they're all alone, etc. And then, Wham! Yay!  The universe aligns itself, or that bully sees the error of his ways, or we get pregnant with some parasitic vampire-baby that somehow magical solves all the emotional constipation of all the other characters in the books, or whatever, and everything is better and fair.  Ugh.  


I hate sparkly vampires.  I swear, it has to be something in the water.  


But, it's not just that stupid series - there are so many other books out right now that have NO POINT and they're badly written.  And re-reading these 10 years old and up books has restored some sense of balance in my own personal universe.  If I wasn't so very satisfied with their struggles and triumphs I might be tempted to wonder if my very great love of illustrated children's books and pre-teen chapter books says something about my general state of mind.  But I am satisfied.  So I'm not going there.  


And just so that you know that I do on occasion turn to adult reading, I have also been trying to read the Kristen Lavransdatter series and that has been like wading through slime.  I'm not feeling any kind of life lessons learned or poetic justice or - anything - coming for this girl - if I can care enough about her to get to the end of the series.  Which isn't happening.  So.  I am not just complaining about teenage paranormal series. I have one other specific source of irritation.  One other.  That's reason enough to rant, right?  Right?


Gwydion, Prince of Don

Hen Wen, the oracular pig

The Horned King

Running from the Horned King, sketch.

Taran, Assistant Pig-Keeper

Taran, a little too young

Eilonwy and Taran on Melyngar doodle

Gurgi?

Gurgi looking more like . . . himself.

Designing the Horned King's Mask

Doodles and Notes


Eilonwy


Also I am trying to put together a short comic to work on my sequential storytelling.  I'm taking "East of the Sun, West of the Moon", a Norwegian/Scandanavian fairy-tale and turning into a comic-ish thing. Yeah.







And there might be some . . other things I am working on, too.  Yeah.  Maybe one or three others.  I am trying, okay?


Anyway, I know I am getting carried away with the Instagram thing, but it's so easy to post pictures of work in progress with it . . . and I don't have to scan anything . . . and I HATE scanning . . . 

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Queen Victoria, Illustrator?


New illustrations from Queen Victoria's journals have been made available online and I've heard a couple people express surprise that she could draw so well.  It touches on a point that I've come to believe very strongly over the last few years and I thought this was a good opportunity to share them.



First of all, I want you to be encouraged.  Even if you don't consider yourself and "artist" (like we really know what that means) you are creative.  I recently came across a great article from The Rabbit Room about creativity that I thought was incredibly well put.  Here's an excerpt:

"My point is this: we’re all creative. Tolkien coined the word subcreator. Some of you have likely heard me or someone else talk about that idea, but it bears repeating. He said, “We make in the manner in which we were made.” To put it another way, we serve a Creator, with a capital C. One of the ways in which we’ve been made in his image is that we also delight in creating. Everything we make is derivative and secondary, and in some manner draws attention to the primary creation, the truth, and the Creator himself. That means everyone on earth could justly label themselves a Creative. That means that even if you don’t wear hipster glasses, skinny jeans, and have Justin Bieber hair, you’re a Creative. It means that even if you’re a banker, a produce manager, or a doctor you’re a Creative. So allow me to reclaim that hijacked adjective, for the good of the world. None of us in this room is a Creative. But all of us are creative."
         - Andrew Peterson, transcript of opening remarks at Hutchmoot 2011

Secondly, anyone can learn to draw.  Drawing is about observation, it takes time and patience to learn but everyone can.  It's like reading or doing sums - everyone can learn how to do it.  And just like reading and writing and math, some people have a greater aptitude for the subject.  So, will you come out the other side drawing like Leonardo?  Probably not.  Will you be able to express yourself on a two-dimensional surface - yes.



I cannot tell you how frustrating it is when people say things like, "Man, I wish I could draw like that" or "Ugh, I'll never be able to do something like that".  Guess what?  All of those people that your admiring didn't come out of the womb with the ability to do that.  Artists spend years developing the skill to do all of the stuff  they do.  Years.  So all of that awesome that you're admiring?  Yes, it's talent, but it's also a lot of hard work.  They (hopefully) don't sit down with just the intention of drawing or painting something - they sit down (or stand, whatever) with the intention of making something better than whatever they did the last time they tried to put something down on paper (or canvas or whatever).  The best artists never settle for just "good enough".  They're always trying to improve their craft.  And every artist - from the one who's "made it" to the one that is still trying to break out of their boring day job - every one sees something in their work that isn't quite "it" yet.  You have less of that as you improve, as you make more and more art, but that "grr" moment is ALWAYS going to be there in some way shape or form.  The point is to keep pushing through that, cause there is improvement just around the corner!  I promise!