Sometimes the creative process becomes a touch daunting (haunting?) for me, and I’m hesitant to draw, because I get this notion that everything I crank out has got to be a masterpiece. Really good. A worthy showcase of my ‘talent’.
That’s why I like doing roughs of things that may or may not be developed in the future. I’ve taken of late, to going back and working on or re-working older drawings. Taking a second look often helps me see what I hadn’t scene before. So these two sketches, lacking in composition, have potential in there somewhere. I’ll have to revisit them in a few weeks (or perhaps wait til May). Hope I don’t forget.
There’s nothing like the last page of a sketchbook * It’s the last one, and that signifies closure; end of story: Fini. I like that because it means that I’ve been doing a lot of drawing. And if I’ve been doing a lot of drawing, I’ve been doing a lot of something else, and that’s good too.
Well these three masterpieces are the last ones (in ascending order) from an old book I had laying around with some blank pages left. I like using a brown paper with ink and colored pencils for it allows me to use a white pencil for highlighting and adding volume to my figures.
*Actually the last page of a sketchbook should be like the first page, and all in between, unless you’re using some cheapo art supplies, or stealing Zerox paper from work.
Okay, everybody does it and thinks nothing of it. A pen that just happens to make it home with ya after work. Why that ain’t stealing! It just happens. No big deal. Anyway, I’m not gonna keep it forever. I’ll bring it back to work when all the ink is used up. So it’s more like borrowing the pen…I’ll give it back to ya, but in a slightly used condition. Let’s call it, “wear and tear”. Hey, nothing is permanent, even when it comes to marking pens.
So… I have all these pens laying around now, and I gotta use them, (cheap pieces of Made In China crap that they are), cause fine art supplies are expensive, and, hard to steal. When ya work in a bureaucratic paper-mill like I do, nobody’s gonna miss a few pens or pieces of paper: half the stuff ends up shredded anyway. When I go to the Supply Room, sometimes I start to think: Might as well grab a couple of number 2 pencils, Ow, there’s a ruler, and…Oh, gotta have an eraser. One can always use a stapler (might as well get one of those), then I’ll need a staple remover too. A two-hole punch? What the hey; never know when something might need to be punched twice. Oh yeah, better take some manila folders to carry all this shit in. A ream of paper would sure come in handy too. Double A batteries? Never know when they’ll be an emergency.
Hell…this isn’t stealing. It’s more like shopping. Wonder what’s in the Lunch Room?
You know, I wasn’t having any visions there for a while. Seemed like they all up and vanished. But then, I closed my eyes, and sure as shit, I see another vision. I know what I was doin’ wrong. I had my eyes open all the time, and instead of seeing any new visions, I was seein’ the same old crap,
Wow, what a difference closing my eyes made. I’m gonna start closing my eyes more often. Hope I don’t fall asleep though. Closing your eyes to what’s going on around ya is one thing. Being totally asleep is another (unless of course it’s bed-time). Sleeping is a world unto itself. Especially if you have vivid dreams. I mean totally wierd-ass stuff that could never happen in real life, like all the subconscious crap we process and try to make sense of daily. Some of my dreams are really trippy. Boy am I glad when I’m sometimes jolted awake after an especially good one, and to my relief, find it wasn’t real.
I think what I’d like to do is spend half of my time with my eyes closed, and the other half with them open. Wonder if I closed one eye, would I be able to see visions, while keeping the other eye open so I don’t crash into stuff. The hard part would be which eye to pay the most attention to, and which one ya could pretty much ignore. I think I’d probably go for closing both eyes, so then I could see the whole vision instead of just half of it.
If I ever got back into oil painting, like I did in college and the early 70’s, I think my paintings would pretty much end up looking like my drawings, except much bigger. But that is a matter for conjecture, as I seriously doubt that I’ll get back into painting. All that turpentine and linseed oil really stink. And I don’t wanna work that hard to achieve a finished product. But a nice “rough draft” for future reference is nice.
I think the roughest draft I’ve ever done was in 1969. And the folks that wanted it done to me was The United States Selective Service. I’d just graduated form College, my student deferment had expired, and they considered my ass 1-A, prime specimen for military service. I was sure hoping’ they wouldn’t select me.
Needless to say, I wanted no part of that, and no part of the War Machine and it’s endeavors in Southeast Asia; Vietnam in particular. So what I did was find myself the nearest Los Angeles area National Guard Unit and join ASAP. Thing was, just before I was gonna join, the government instituted a Lottery for the Draft, just to make it more fair. [The good old US of A sure likes lotteries to get what they want, be it money, or bodies; nothing like peddling a loosing proposition for one and all]. The dilemma was, should I join (which guaranteed a no Vietnam ticket), or, take my chances in the Lottery?
Well I joined. Sure glad I did! My ass was number 57. A guaranteed ticket to Vietnam. So I served my Country with honour for six long years as a “Weekend Warrior”. What a joke. Dig this: When The Wife and I were working as surrogate parents in a mental health treatment home for severely disturbed kids, we were watching the afternoon news. It was during the time of the UCSB campus riots in Santa Barbara. The students (my brothers) were having a grand time demonstrating, then rioting, and then burning down the local branch of Bank of America, when they made the announcement that the National Guard had been called in, and there before my eyes was MY Company, armed and keeping the peace just a few miles north of me. They didn’t call me. I then gave strict orders that no one was to answer the phone for any reason until all this simmered down.
Hey…I was ready to serve my country. I just wasn’t taking any calls at the time.
You’ve probably heard the expression “Ass Backwards”. Well, if ya don’t want to sound vulgar or come across as being crass, you can switch the beginning letters and come up with Bass Ackwards. Pretty clever. It means doing something, usually in the reverse order of how it’s normally done, and suffering with a shoddy outcome as a result. So doing something bass ackwards, is generally to be avoided…except when it comes to me and blogging.
See, I prefer to start by drawing an ass, or somehow featuring one prominently in my drawing, and then working forward with delightful verbiage, which may or may not have any relationship to the drawing whatsoever. The results vary. Some times they’re good; some times a little Uucked Fup.
Being peaceful. At ease. Happy and content. Not overly worried about what may happen in the future. No regrets over the past. Relaxed. Without fear.