Sans.

October 8, 2013

It’s all fun and games until someone mentions Carrie without Sissy Spacek.

I want to talk about a few things: semantics, faces, lust, and chill-ass-ladies.

Yesterday my pal Fif came over. We had somehow ended up in a discussion about a picture she’d seen of an abandoned library in Chernobyl.

“There’s no way you’re going to find it,” she said, “I looked for it for a show I was working on forever and *I* couldn’t even find it.”

My google-fu is unparalleled. Challenge was firmly accepted.

In the time it took for her to go to the bathroom, I’d found the source of her intrigue. “It’s like, a library with a tree growing through it, and like, piles of books, and it kind of looks like the one from Beauty and the Beast.”

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Done.

After that, we sat up and I persuaded her to sit through Sedmikrásky with me.

sedmikrasky3

She acquiesced, but only if I’d draw something with her, so I agreed.

Fif is a master of the human face. Actually, I suppose that’s a severe understatement.

The_Last_Great_Touchpad_Work_by_AlfredAskew

 

She drew this from scratch with the touchpad on her laptop. Just because. 

She was trying to get me to finish a piece that included Susan Sarandon. I just…get really clammy about finishing things. The leaving open ended thing is very much a part of my nature. Thankfully she gave me a few pointers about how to adjust the shape of Susan’s face, which was nice. (It was looking really wonky, and she was able to piece out why immediately. Bless her heart.)

After little sleep, and half muttering silly witticisms in Czech to each other, she said this to me:

“I wish you could draw like me.”

Then she paused contemplatively while I took another sip of coffee.

“No, that’s not what I mean. I wish– I wish you felt the same way I do when I’m drawing. Like, you had something that made you feel that way. ”

“…Umřít, umřít, umřít…” (We laughed.)

“It just makes me feel so– like I feel so good.”

“I think I have other things that make me feel that way?” Art makes me frustrated. I have recently come to the realization that as much as I want my brain to be a picture brain, it is a words brain. I have to sculpt the pictures in my imagination with words. Or, in some way; I have to figure out how to describe them and compartmentalize them so I can communicate what I’m seeing in a way that make sense to other people.

“I wish I could do that.” She said.

We resolved that we make a good team because what she’s good at leaves me frustrated, and what I’m good at does the same to her.

“…Umřít, umřít, umřít…”

And then we laughed even more.

Susan+Sarandon+Stars+Cars+2004+75Y5Vcg-YGZl

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