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One door closes, another opens
18 years ago
I am not feeling the art. I sketch every night, or try to, I'm working out of the Burne Hogarth and Bridgman books to really get my anatomy down better, but as far as making finished pictures, it's just not happening (as fast as I want it to).
That's fine. I'm still sketching (and
rocroldis PM me; I've got some sketches done for you), the finished stuff just isn't happening the way my ego wants it to. So for the time being, while I'm sketching away, noodling away on paper what it is I'm after, I'll just write.
One thing I've found in life is that no matter how shitty something is in life, if you can just make it through the tunnel, you'll look back and notice some incredibly beautiful things that happened during those dark times. Silver linings on rainclouds, I guess that's how the cliche goes, but it's true. Even the darkest night displays the most brilliant stars; brightly colored flowers, however rare they may be, adorn even the most derelict and abandoned of buildings.
This is a double-edged sword, because as another cliche goes, hindsight is always 20-20, so it's sometimes easier to see what you may have missed in the past, or experienced, as they case may be.
A better way to explain it would be to use the silhouette example. Whenever I draw a character, I try to make sure that the silhouette defines the character first and foremost - it's the first thing the viewer looks for to identify a character, or so I've been told. (I do this with my 3D models as well). Imagine the figure of a man, running toward you, full tilt. If you could only see his silhouette, you might see that he is still running toward you. You may also see him running away from you - without the clarity to discern which way he is facing, you literally could interpret this as either him running to you or away from you.
And so it goes with living in good times and bad times - the man running toward you angrily may later be revealed to instead be a coward fleeing from you, or perhaps vice versa. The class you failed one year - out of frustration, you skipped it and just drove home, only to find an old woman stuck on the side of the road, trying to push her car to the gas station. So you pulled over and helped her, and she thanked you and you left. The day may have meant less to you than it did to her, at that precise moment in time, and yet now, looking back, you see the it all, the gestalt and you understand.
It couldn't have happened any other way.
There is beauty amongst the chaos, triumph within the tragedy, yet revealing itself only later, as an illusionist reveals himself after supposedly being shackled. It was hard to see, but he was behind the curtain the entire time.
One final example, I remember driving my father to his new "home" - a ratty bachelor pad of a fellow coworker of his because my mother did not want to see him. It was probably one of the worst days of my life, having to help my dad move out of his house into that of a complete stranger (to me, at least). But we paused, and had lunch at Chic Fil A - and it was good. Strangely, through the misery, I remember just he and I sitting there, in silence, simply appreciating one another, as for years prior, we had simply hated one another.
Two chicken sandwiches and a half hour later, following what I now see as a gorgeous downward slope of a central Florida highway, we arrived. I drove home, alone, furious, saddened, grieving. But the beauty had made its mark on me, impressed itself, escaped from the chains and playfully scampered behind the curtain, knowing full well that the trick would be played out and completed years later. And the trickster, in all his gaiety, jumped out from behind the inky black velvet, and surprised me.
It was all part of the act.
That's fine. I'm still sketching (and
rocroldis PM me; I've got some sketches done for you), the finished stuff just isn't happening the way my ego wants it to. So for the time being, while I'm sketching away, noodling away on paper what it is I'm after, I'll just write.One thing I've found in life is that no matter how shitty something is in life, if you can just make it through the tunnel, you'll look back and notice some incredibly beautiful things that happened during those dark times. Silver linings on rainclouds, I guess that's how the cliche goes, but it's true. Even the darkest night displays the most brilliant stars; brightly colored flowers, however rare they may be, adorn even the most derelict and abandoned of buildings.
This is a double-edged sword, because as another cliche goes, hindsight is always 20-20, so it's sometimes easier to see what you may have missed in the past, or experienced, as they case may be.
A better way to explain it would be to use the silhouette example. Whenever I draw a character, I try to make sure that the silhouette defines the character first and foremost - it's the first thing the viewer looks for to identify a character, or so I've been told. (I do this with my 3D models as well). Imagine the figure of a man, running toward you, full tilt. If you could only see his silhouette, you might see that he is still running toward you. You may also see him running away from you - without the clarity to discern which way he is facing, you literally could interpret this as either him running to you or away from you.
And so it goes with living in good times and bad times - the man running toward you angrily may later be revealed to instead be a coward fleeing from you, or perhaps vice versa. The class you failed one year - out of frustration, you skipped it and just drove home, only to find an old woman stuck on the side of the road, trying to push her car to the gas station. So you pulled over and helped her, and she thanked you and you left. The day may have meant less to you than it did to her, at that precise moment in time, and yet now, looking back, you see the it all, the gestalt and you understand.
It couldn't have happened any other way.
There is beauty amongst the chaos, triumph within the tragedy, yet revealing itself only later, as an illusionist reveals himself after supposedly being shackled. It was hard to see, but he was behind the curtain the entire time.
One final example, I remember driving my father to his new "home" - a ratty bachelor pad of a fellow coworker of his because my mother did not want to see him. It was probably one of the worst days of my life, having to help my dad move out of his house into that of a complete stranger (to me, at least). But we paused, and had lunch at Chic Fil A - and it was good. Strangely, through the misery, I remember just he and I sitting there, in silence, simply appreciating one another, as for years prior, we had simply hated one another.
Two chicken sandwiches and a half hour later, following what I now see as a gorgeous downward slope of a central Florida highway, we arrived. I drove home, alone, furious, saddened, grieving. But the beauty had made its mark on me, impressed itself, escaped from the chains and playfully scampered behind the curtain, knowing full well that the trick would be played out and completed years later. And the trickster, in all his gaiety, jumped out from behind the inky black velvet, and surprised me.
It was all part of the act.
And the tunnel is pretty dark on this end for right now. I dont see any light and its hard keeping my head up. I think I might just sit and enjoy and mourn the dark for now.
Now I'm homesick...