Art talk
This weekend, I finally picked up a pencil and pen and started really drawing again.
While there's no denying my skills have severely deteriorated throughout college as a result of decreased (serious) usage, I realized a few things this weekend.
Among the little lightbulbs to blink on:
* In procrastinating and ultimately failing to produce that Project Which Shall Not Be Named, I tried justifying it as lacking the proper tools to produce good work. At the time, I knew it just to be an excuse. Now, though, I realize that as much as it was an excuse, it was the truth: those goddamned felt-tip markers, even with multiple thicknesses, simply do not have the control and smooth variation of a single steel g-nib. The lines produced were not dynamic, required numerous touch-ups that ultimately further flattened the image rather than enliven, and faded with a swipe of an eraser. Hell, just laying down a single line meant I had to press and drag, because a quick light swipe would yield very little ink on the page.
* The Nikko wooden nib grip I first got back at Exeter is still the best suited to my hands. I have seen several by the same brand since, but in different sizes, widths, and shapes; my favored grip is nowhere to be found. I pray that, having lasted this long, my trusty companion will last a few years more.
* My attempts at drawing on a tablet were idiotic. So what if steel nibs are considered old-fashioned? Why fix a system that works? I need the direct feedback of pen and line, not pen-through-computer-screen, especially for line art. I have no problems playing with colors and shapes and tones on the computer, but unless I'm using a tablet PC where the feedback is immediate and not secondary, I should reserve my tablet for effects only.
* Line art is the easiest, quickest part of drawing comics for me. Laying out a page/creating an idea takes time, but the actual sketching and subsequent line art takes very little time --when using the g-nibs. I cannot believe how much time it took to draw crappy lineart with the felt-tip pens.
* I sabotaged myself by insisting I could do good work with inappropriate tools. There was just no way for a .3mm pen and a .8mm pen to achieve the same look as a single steel nib.
* Scanning, cleaning up, and finalizing tone effects are the labor-intensive parts of the process. This is due in no small part to the fact that I'm just not as experienced using the computer for manga effects; I would wager that with practice, I could get basic toning down quickly.
* I need a scanner. I also need more g-nibs and manga black ink.
* As wonderful as my little cartridge-based manga pens are, they too lack the fluidity of a g-nib. Those are best used for sketching; final art should be steel-nib based.
* Having a surface dedicated exclusively to drawing makes life a hell of a lot easier. At Exeter, I generally had open space on the floor for that very reason --so I could lay down on my belly and draw without having to take the time to clear some space. I don't need to clear a space now to draw, which means it's not such a hassle to begin drawing. My roommate was getting rid of two small white shelves on rollers, which I happily snatched up because my only furniture are still my bed and desk. They're horribly impractical for storage, as they don't have backs and are two shelves each --one is currently holding some books and random items-- but for drawing...the top is completely smooth, the open-air structure means I have easy access to supplies on the shelves, and it's at a reasonable height if I adjust my computer chair. Still kills my back, but eh, it's better than the floor.
* I like drawing. This is kind of a biggie, since I thought I'd lost all enthusiasm and love for it.
* I've been caught in a vicious cycle of punishment in addition to suffering a lack of better working conditions. The Project That Will Not Be Named made me feel so guilty I decided I had to draw it perfectly. Problem was, my skills at that point at had already sank in the toilet, so I needed to practice. I didn't allow myself to practice because I didn't think I should work on anything but the Project That Will Not Be Named. But because of the guilt, I couldn't let myself 'practice' instead of trying to churn out perfect final art. And since I wasn't practicing, I wasn't getting better, and the Project couldn't move forward because nothing was turning out perfect the way I required. And being discouraged, I tried even less...Bad bad bad. I lost my enthusiasm and got completely discouraged from the Project, but then couldn't really justify working on anything else.
* Drawing fanart is fun. This weekend I've finished up lineart for four pieces, and interestingly enough, each subsequent piece exhibits better lineart. They all desperately need toning and cleaning (I'd forgotten that dipping ink needs to dry and wound up smudging Sesshoumaru's lower lip enough that he looks like he's wearing lipstick.), but they're here and they make me happy.
* I do my best work when I'm sick of life. This point sort of irritates me, because who wants that, really? But the apathy and depression really do feed into better focus on the lines and composition. I guess there's an upside to the dread I feel about work.
* I should do this my way, not the way that anyone suggests in any tutorial, book, or guide. I don't need to draft out every page, I don't need to start with a script, and I am not obligated to be a trail-blazer and max out computer abilities to draw. The very first rule in one of my how-to books is to do things your own way and disregard other people's methods if they don't work for you. I had been trying to do things the 'correct' way as I interpreted methods and steps used by various professionals, which ultimately didn't work.
* I still am not ready to commit to this as my life goal. In high school, I was --and everyone knew it-- but now...as much fun as it is, I fear trying to turn it from a hobby to a job, because then what would I do to escape my job?
Probably one of the longest ramblings I've ever had on the actual process of drawing for me.
While there's no denying my skills have severely deteriorated throughout college as a result of decreased (serious) usage, I realized a few things this weekend.
Among the little lightbulbs to blink on:
* In procrastinating and ultimately failing to produce that Project Which Shall Not Be Named, I tried justifying it as lacking the proper tools to produce good work. At the time, I knew it just to be an excuse. Now, though, I realize that as much as it was an excuse, it was the truth: those goddamned felt-tip markers, even with multiple thicknesses, simply do not have the control and smooth variation of a single steel g-nib. The lines produced were not dynamic, required numerous touch-ups that ultimately further flattened the image rather than enliven, and faded with a swipe of an eraser. Hell, just laying down a single line meant I had to press and drag, because a quick light swipe would yield very little ink on the page.
* The Nikko wooden nib grip I first got back at Exeter is still the best suited to my hands. I have seen several by the same brand since, but in different sizes, widths, and shapes; my favored grip is nowhere to be found. I pray that, having lasted this long, my trusty companion will last a few years more.
* My attempts at drawing on a tablet were idiotic. So what if steel nibs are considered old-fashioned? Why fix a system that works? I need the direct feedback of pen and line, not pen-through-computer-screen, especially for line art. I have no problems playing with colors and shapes and tones on the computer, but unless I'm using a tablet PC where the feedback is immediate and not secondary, I should reserve my tablet for effects only.
* Line art is the easiest, quickest part of drawing comics for me. Laying out a page/creating an idea takes time, but the actual sketching and subsequent line art takes very little time --when using the g-nibs. I cannot believe how much time it took to draw crappy lineart with the felt-tip pens.
* I sabotaged myself by insisting I could do good work with inappropriate tools. There was just no way for a .3mm pen and a .8mm pen to achieve the same look as a single steel nib.
* Scanning, cleaning up, and finalizing tone effects are the labor-intensive parts of the process. This is due in no small part to the fact that I'm just not as experienced using the computer for manga effects; I would wager that with practice, I could get basic toning down quickly.
* I need a scanner. I also need more g-nibs and manga black ink.
* As wonderful as my little cartridge-based manga pens are, they too lack the fluidity of a g-nib. Those are best used for sketching; final art should be steel-nib based.
* Having a surface dedicated exclusively to drawing makes life a hell of a lot easier. At Exeter, I generally had open space on the floor for that very reason --so I could lay down on my belly and draw without having to take the time to clear some space. I don't need to clear a space now to draw, which means it's not such a hassle to begin drawing. My roommate was getting rid of two small white shelves on rollers, which I happily snatched up because my only furniture are still my bed and desk. They're horribly impractical for storage, as they don't have backs and are two shelves each --one is currently holding some books and random items-- but for drawing...the top is completely smooth, the open-air structure means I have easy access to supplies on the shelves, and it's at a reasonable height if I adjust my computer chair. Still kills my back, but eh, it's better than the floor.
* I like drawing. This is kind of a biggie, since I thought I'd lost all enthusiasm and love for it.
* I've been caught in a vicious cycle of punishment in addition to suffering a lack of better working conditions. The Project That Will Not Be Named made me feel so guilty I decided I had to draw it perfectly. Problem was, my skills at that point at had already sank in the toilet, so I needed to practice. I didn't allow myself to practice because I didn't think I should work on anything but the Project That Will Not Be Named. But because of the guilt, I couldn't let myself 'practice' instead of trying to churn out perfect final art. And since I wasn't practicing, I wasn't getting better, and the Project couldn't move forward because nothing was turning out perfect the way I required. And being discouraged, I tried even less...Bad bad bad. I lost my enthusiasm and got completely discouraged from the Project, but then couldn't really justify working on anything else.
* Drawing fanart is fun. This weekend I've finished up lineart for four pieces, and interestingly enough, each subsequent piece exhibits better lineart. They all desperately need toning and cleaning (I'd forgotten that dipping ink needs to dry and wound up smudging Sesshoumaru's lower lip enough that he looks like he's wearing lipstick.), but they're here and they make me happy.
* I do my best work when I'm sick of life. This point sort of irritates me, because who wants that, really? But the apathy and depression really do feed into better focus on the lines and composition. I guess there's an upside to the dread I feel about work.
* I should do this my way, not the way that anyone suggests in any tutorial, book, or guide. I don't need to draft out every page, I don't need to start with a script, and I am not obligated to be a trail-blazer and max out computer abilities to draw. The very first rule in one of my how-to books is to do things your own way and disregard other people's methods if they don't work for you. I had been trying to do things the 'correct' way as I interpreted methods and steps used by various professionals, which ultimately didn't work.
* I still am not ready to commit to this as my life goal. In high school, I was --and everyone knew it-- but now...as much fun as it is, I fear trying to turn it from a hobby to a job, because then what would I do to escape my job?
Probably one of the longest ramblings I've ever had on the actual process of drawing for me.