September 15, 2013

Fuck, you guys.

My life has been so crazy.

Tonight I was thinking about value. Not like, monetary or emotional value; like, value. 


I should have just said greyscale. Whatever.

Long talks with my friend Fif (who is phenomenally gifted with this kind of thing) have lead me to realize what’s really lacking when I draw/paint things is a grasp of value. I love my blendy stick (aka paper stump) but it can only do so much for you when you’re still trying to figure out where you want the light source to be in your drawing, and what that means for the other shapes in terms of highlights and shadows.

Composition is tricky, like, whether you’re writing, or creating something more visual; figuring out where you want things to go & how those things relate to the other things in their environment can give you a headache.

Right now, I wanted to be working on a yet-to-be-decided drawing that probably would have featured Susan Sarandon with a long, wispy braid; and some sort of vintage hospital ward. (I just rewatched the Witches of Eastwick the other night for no good reason, and it was the best choice I’ve made in a longass time.)

My brain has this wonderful fascination of the paradox of “the hospital”. (Conundrum-y because you either get well…or you don’t.) The other thing that sort of spurred this weird idea was my inaccurate memory of one of the scenes in WoE. (I was thinking towards the end that Michelle Pfeiffer’s character Sukie was in a communal ward as opposed to just a shared room. I almost don’t even want to watch it again, because the version I remember seems much dreamier.)


That’s something you don’t see with a lot of hospitals, right?

I wanted to draw one like this:

(I think.)


The original picture is much less…fake 35mm. I can never seem to find the type of dreaminess I’m looking for. *sigh*

I don’t know how this all relates to each other– and I’ve also heard on fairly decent authority that SS isn’t a very nice person. (Though, I suppose I’d rather make that assertion for myself. Given the stress involved with making films, it’s hard to believe *anyone* would want to be nice -all- the time.)

One of my bosses gave me new shampoo the other day, and I’ve just tried it out. (My hair is nice and dry finally!) This has nothing to do with anything.

Honestly, I just want to talk about hospitals, and how not being able to draw things that feel accurate to my memory of them; or accurate to my fabricated memory; or accurate to how they look in my brain is frustrating.

I’m having, as Hannah and I discovered, an Ira Glass crisis.

Eventually I’ll be able to create the art I like.

For now, I suppose; I’ll settle for the spirit of the chase.


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