On and on, the path makes itself.

Welcome to another instalment in my ongoing saga of narcissistic self-indulgence.

I went out this morning to buy a hand mirror, so I can draw my own... hands. The cashier got me talking and then gave me her dad's phone number, because he is a retired (from Notre Dame) art teacher runs a local figure drawing/ landscape group. I am going to overcome my aversion to assocaiting with other people and join, I guess. Further, as there is no real field season this year, so I'll be returning to school for some basic drawing and figure drawing classes.

I am toying with the idea of putting all my projects on indefinite hold until I get this art thing nailed down.

Well, I could go on, but there is so much to do, and you have more interesting things to do anyway.

 

PS: is some bullshit art math for you: discipline + time = compulsion. Compulsion> discipline.

Hands, day two.

 

 

As it turns out the Loomis Head and Hands book is more of a head book, really. Like most, I prefer head to hand, but hand is what is required in this instance.

So I picked up Bridgeman's Book of a Hundred Hands. I'm on about hand 17, (after about 6-8 hours drawing today) right now, but I'll spare you the pictures of my studies until I am on my second or thrid trip through. That should be next week or the week after.

I got his Constructive Anatomy as well, because the intro spoke to me.

An (way better than me) artist friend of mine insisted that some guys were just going to be naturally better than other guys- and no amount of practice will change that. I don't know if that is true or not. I choose to not to believe. After all, what the fuck is in it for me? Not a fucking thing, that's what.

Anyway, hands are one of those things that are notoriously difficult to draw, and lots of aspiring artists give them up as beyond their capacity before they even start. I am pretty good at faking (symbol drawing, if you will) like four or five handsets, but have otherwise avoided these fuckers for years.

However, since the change in my inking style, I have come to realize that I have no idea of what my true limits really are or what is (or is not) possible. That said, the path forward seems pretty clear to me. I have decided to indulge in my most hubristic delusions of adequacy, whilst working like a bastard to keep ahead of the impending doom of reality. I have to do something, anyway, 3.50 USD gas trending down has likely killed all my field work for the rest of the summer.

Thanks Obama?

Anyway, last week I had a dream that Jack Kirby came into my subterranean fastness and broke my drawing table over his knee. That can't be good.

In honor of that, here's a picture of the King with Frank Zappa. I'm out, take care, and do something for yourself today, for fucks sake.

 

 

PS I'll have something up on Metal Earth early next week. I need to set aside some time to do a finished piece. Bah.

I should be drawing...

This is a blog about my struggle to overcome my many, many shortcomimgs as an artist. I will talk about practice here and take any and all critique in the spirit which it is offered. I may even share a grain or two of wisdom I have picked up along the way.

The impetus for this renewed focus came late last year when I broke my leg. I was trapped inside all winter, and relitively immobile. I worked on my comic (same name as the blog) for the first few months and really figured out a lot of stuff regarding inking. This advance in skill, however, only served to highlight how much I suck at most stuff, especially, especially, especially anatomy. However, I remained resitant to some good advice for a bit longer. Nobody who thinks they are working hard wants to be told they need to work smarter and harder.

That said, I faced the wall of my own mediocrity with increasing desperation. I am incapable of quitting anything that isn't alcohol, cigarettes or opiates; so I knew that giving up was not the solution.

And then, one day it happened. I was gimping up the stairs and a thought crossed my mind...

What if I really, really really made an effort to improve and put all my energy into it? What if I laid aside my ego and assumed that I knew not a fucking thing?

I ceased production of the comic that same day, facing the fact that I am just not ready was really a relief, to be honest.

I still make the odd finshed piece as readers of the other blog know, but for the last two or three months, I mostly I do shit like this:

Before that I did months worth of gesture drawing, which I'll get back to once I have a better understanding of anatomy.

Here is a recent doodle, wherein I tried to put what I have learned over the last few months together:

As you can see: still not ready.

As of today, I am adding hand studies to my rotation, beginning with the plates in the Loomis book.

I'll let you know how that goes and maybe talk about my routine next time...