Here's what my good art used to look like.
I shudder to see it now. But I do like the flowy hair on the bespectacled young male whose name I have forgotten. Kinda want to play with it...
Hey, I draw what I enjoy.
Here is what a quick sketch looks like now.
It took me 15-20 minutes. I still want some professional training, i.e., an art class for portraits or the like, but nonetheless I do see an improvement. I just recently obtained a set of watercolor pencils. Here is my experimentation with 100% dry:
Oh no, it's hung sideways...is that better or worse than upside-down?
Here we go, a quaint farmhouse sunset. The weather will be lovely tomorrow in this domestic scene.
(I promise, it looks better in person. All the more reason to come see my future galleries, because the scanned versions just...aren't the same.)
My humans have taken on a more humanish quality, but big noses and pronounced features keep them cartoonish enough to count as semi-realistic. Oh, how I long for anatomy skills like Miss Burge's, or a fun originality like Miss Meago's, but alas! I am more often than not clearly a novice and self-taught. Still, progress heartens me, and though paging through my old sketchbooks is at times painful, I am encouraged by how far I have come, and hopeful as for where I am to go next.
*~*~*~*
Shout-out to all of my friends: I am sorry that I am not always in cell phone range, and/or that I am terrible at staying in contact. But vacations are restorative times for me, where the pressure to always keep in touch in a twenty-first century timely fashion is lifted. If left to my own devices, I would do nothing but write letters to you personally and make posts on this blog and my Tumblog to show that I am indeed alive and kicking. Not many of you read this. In fact, I only know of one...but nonetheless I am communicating with you all here. Huh. I make very little sense sometimes. But with many companions on all corners of the internet and many ways to commune, I cannot possibly make sense. My head is spinning. I belong in another century. Adequacy in technology does not mean love for it. What I love about the internet is not its speed nor its silent pressure on my subconscious, it is the ability to access things and return to them later if I wish to do so. When romanticized in my head, it's like a massive library with new books always coming in. One can get lost so easily. I have buried myself in it and never wish to resurface.
I am sorry. The cost of my companionship is alternating silences and aching monologues. Signing out for the night.
Day. It's late evening but the sun is out.
Gah.
I shudder to see it now. But I do like the flowy hair on the bespectacled young male whose name I have forgotten. Kinda want to play with it...
Hey, I draw what I enjoy.
Here is what a quick sketch looks like now.
It took me 15-20 minutes. I still want some professional training, i.e., an art class for portraits or the like, but nonetheless I do see an improvement. I just recently obtained a set of watercolor pencils. Here is my experimentation with 100% dry:
(I promise, it looks better in person. All the more reason to come see my future galleries, because the scanned versions just...aren't the same.)
My humans have taken on a more humanish quality, but big noses and pronounced features keep them cartoonish enough to count as semi-realistic. Oh, how I long for anatomy skills like Miss Burge's, or a fun originality like Miss Meago's, but alas! I am more often than not clearly a novice and self-taught. Still, progress heartens me, and though paging through my old sketchbooks is at times painful, I am encouraged by how far I have come, and hopeful as for where I am to go next.
*~*~*~*
Shout-out to all of my friends: I am sorry that I am not always in cell phone range, and/or that I am terrible at staying in contact. But vacations are restorative times for me, where the pressure to always keep in touch in a twenty-first century timely fashion is lifted. If left to my own devices, I would do nothing but write letters to you personally and make posts on this blog and my Tumblog to show that I am indeed alive and kicking. Not many of you read this. In fact, I only know of one...but nonetheless I am communicating with you all here. Huh. I make very little sense sometimes. But with many companions on all corners of the internet and many ways to commune, I cannot possibly make sense. My head is spinning. I belong in another century. Adequacy in technology does not mean love for it. What I love about the internet is not its speed nor its silent pressure on my subconscious, it is the ability to access things and return to them later if I wish to do so. When romanticized in my head, it's like a massive library with new books always coming in. One can get lost so easily. I have buried myself in it and never wish to resurface.
I am sorry. The cost of my companionship is alternating silences and aching monologues. Signing out for the night.
Day. It's late evening but the sun is out.
Gah.
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