You know you're in the art business when...
So there goes this saying that you know you're a real artist when you slip up with your X-acto knife.
Course this is more of a humorous saying than anything else, but it has its history. The saying pretty much just implies that generally, at some point in their career, artists are constantly using exacto blades-- so some time along the line an accident is bound to happen. If life were a video game and you had warning signs floating above you, your LIFE EXPECTANCY percentage wound drop a bit every time you pulled that blade out to the light of day-- illustrators cutting masks and boards, students shaving charcoal pencils, watercolorists scraping off paint, etc.... And don't forget to compound the DANGER percentage when working under pressure to meet deadlines.
Anyway, this was a saying passed down from a couple of my art teachers, though I remember most prominently the case of my current mentor, who in turn heard that saying from one of his own mentors (and so on). My teacher told the story of how as a young working artist he heard that and thought "Nah, I'll just be extra careful and won't let that happen to me--" and then one fateful night in he stayed up way too many hours in a row, armed with adrenaline and coffee and shaking hands to mechanically work nonstop to meet this incredible deadline. He ended up getting this major gash from the flesh between two fingers down to his palm. He didn't even notice it until he realized there was red dripping all over the place when he hadn't been using any red paint. Annoyed by yet another obstacle between him and the deadline, he wrapped up his hand and continued to finish the product. The few thousand bucks he earned from that commission ended up being used to pay hospital fees. (Later, he said, the adrenaline wore off and then the pain hit!)
Now, of course, the digital era makes these kinds of wounds less relevant. But still, it happens.
After hearing that story, I thought of it every single time I used an exacto blade. And like him I liked to think that with enough care, I could avoid that scenario. And I just had to remember that story again today when I woke up two hours later than planned, had to cram in a watercolor project from start to finish in an hour and a half, and somehow managed to slit the tip of my index finger in the process. When a cut is swift, efficient and deep, sure enough you hardly even feel it until you notice the blood. When I heard my mentor's story I cringed and couldn't understand how he just ignored it and went back to work; and even though mine is (thankfully) a much less epic wound than his, in that moment I felt like I could almost sympathize. All I could feel was annoyance that this meant further complications and so I would be even more late for class. I ignored it to finish slicing off the painting from the watercolor block*, dumped some rubbing alcohol on and crudely wrapped up the bleeding finger, and then I went back to finish the darned project.
*Yeah, watercolor is not a harmless medium. (Actually, some watercolor paints are poisonous, like the Cadmiums; they contain metals that can mess with your nervous system-- ie you can go deaf, etc-- so you get to choose between a quick and straightforward death via exacto blade or a subtle and slow one from paints.)
So, moral of the story: Exacto Blades. You. Inevitable. It's like a rite of passage or something. Remember this tale of our people when you next use blades and then pass on the legacy to the next generation.
And a pchat doodle just becuz, haha
Course this is more of a humorous saying than anything else, but it has its history. The saying pretty much just implies that generally, at some point in their career, artists are constantly using exacto blades-- so some time along the line an accident is bound to happen. If life were a video game and you had warning signs floating above you, your LIFE EXPECTANCY percentage wound drop a bit every time you pulled that blade out to the light of day-- illustrators cutting masks and boards, students shaving charcoal pencils, watercolorists scraping off paint, etc.... And don't forget to compound the DANGER percentage when working under pressure to meet deadlines.
Anyway, this was a saying passed down from a couple of my art teachers, though I remember most prominently the case of my current mentor, who in turn heard that saying from one of his own mentors (and so on). My teacher told the story of how as a young working artist he heard that and thought "Nah, I'll just be extra careful and won't let that happen to me--" and then one fateful night in he stayed up way too many hours in a row, armed with adrenaline and coffee and shaking hands to mechanically work nonstop to meet this incredible deadline. He ended up getting this major gash from the flesh between two fingers down to his palm. He didn't even notice it until he realized there was red dripping all over the place when he hadn't been using any red paint. Annoyed by yet another obstacle between him and the deadline, he wrapped up his hand and continued to finish the product. The few thousand bucks he earned from that commission ended up being used to pay hospital fees. (Later, he said, the adrenaline wore off and then the pain hit!)
Now, of course, the digital era makes these kinds of wounds less relevant. But still, it happens.
After hearing that story, I thought of it every single time I used an exacto blade. And like him I liked to think that with enough care, I could avoid that scenario. And I just had to remember that story again today when I woke up two hours later than planned, had to cram in a watercolor project from start to finish in an hour and a half, and somehow managed to slit the tip of my index finger in the process. When a cut is swift, efficient and deep, sure enough you hardly even feel it until you notice the blood. When I heard my mentor's story I cringed and couldn't understand how he just ignored it and went back to work; and even though mine is (thankfully) a much less epic wound than his, in that moment I felt like I could almost sympathize. All I could feel was annoyance that this meant further complications and so I would be even more late for class. I ignored it to finish slicing off the painting from the watercolor block*, dumped some rubbing alcohol on and crudely wrapped up the bleeding finger, and then I went back to finish the darned project.
*Yeah, watercolor is not a harmless medium. (Actually, some watercolor paints are poisonous, like the Cadmiums; they contain metals that can mess with your nervous system-- ie you can go deaf, etc-- so you get to choose between a quick and straightforward death via exacto blade or a subtle and slow one from paints.)
So, moral of the story: Exacto Blades. You. Inevitable. It's like a rite of passage or something. Remember this tale of our people when you next use blades and then pass on the legacy to the next generation.
And a pchat doodle just becuz, haha