Melting Doll : Origins

Whenever I read a graphic novel I find visually appealing, it's hard for me to get the art out of my head. Sometimes it is very clear as to which book it is, just by how drastically my style seems to suddenly change.
But I think it's safe to say that every artist who has established a distinct type of style has established such through the inspiration of others'. I've seen a lot of online discussions/forums where people say that it is actually beneficial to mimic another's technique, as long as they have no intention of taking full credit for it, and are willing to derive and develop as an individual artist.

I myself have lots of different inspirations, and am in no way afraid to admit to it. Sometimes I use the same ideas/techniques I've been using since I was nine years old, no joke:
I still make very round, wide, and sometimes squarish heads. (2004)
I am still shakey with shoulders, arms, and torsos. (2004)
My love for drawing legs and bare feet (2008) still overshadow my delight in drawing hair (2005).
Color is still my absolute weakest point (2006). So many drawings, thrown in the trash because of my obliteration of crappy coloring jobs (2006) , whether it be paint, marker, colored pencil, or pastel. Digital colors are the only colors I've found myself to be atleast somewhat consistent with, but still weak (2008).

Despite having so much to learn, and feeling old knowing it, I feel it appropriate to acknowledge those who have inspired me most over the past five years, helping me establish what I draw today.
Mike Krahulik, artist of Penny Arcade.
Vera Brosgol.
Jen Wang.
Clio Chiang.
Andrew Hussie (and Cindy Marie, "betelgeuse").
Chris Eliopoulos.
Kazu Kibuishi, editor of Flight.
Bryan Lee O'Malley.
Alexandria Neonakis.
Craig Thompson.
Cyril Pedrosa.

If you take the time to see their art, it isn't hard to find them seeping through mine. It is also interesting to see what catches my eye most, are those that show similarities to the classic Disney art legend, Mary Blair.
She would most definitely be my top "What dead person do you wish you could have dinner with?", aside from Cornelius Swarthout, who patented the first U.S. waffle iron.

But enough of my babble. It's time to mourn the ending of my paid vacation with The Office.

Color blind

I made fun banners for my site!

Too bad HTML codes melt my brain.

The colors look terrible at the moment, but I'm giving up for now.

#1 Chronic Worrier of 2009

Worst Case Scenarios:

A. "I've met someone else."

B. "I think it was a bad idea, and it's not gonna work out."

C. "Don't bother waiting for me."

D. "I don't like you."

E. "You're creeping me out."

F. "I'm filing a restraining order."

G. "(All of the above)."

Some, I would hope, aren't likely, but all are 100% possible.

I always fret when I go long periods of time without hearing word. And by "long periods", I mean more than two days. Sure, I spend lots of time with friends, and I'm rarely ever at home anymore, but time doesn't fly by quite as quickly when you're counting the minutes. Please tell me, Audrey Niffenegger - why IS love intensified by absence?

Bleh. I've got nothing.

Although if option A comes into the picture, I will fight. I will no longer reserve pistol-whipping for grouchy old ladies, if that's what it takes.

Beware my quality seal, bitches!

Because my boyfriend says the cutest things (:

According to Norse Gods Weekly, the Easter Bunny was laid off last week due to the Nation's economic recession. Cupid, known world-wide for his accomplishments during the holiday Valentine's Day, has been hired to take Bunny's place.

"This is bullshit," stated Bunny, now well over 100. "I just can't believe it. What am I supposed to do now? Work as one of Santa's elves?"

People worldwide seem shocked by the appearance of the winged love symbol, but not displeased. Matthew Major, popular for his famous haiku such as "Miss Spider Bucket", commented Thursday, saying there's "just something great about stuffing [baskets] with your loved ones". Major plans to spend the holiday in bed with his mistress, Brian's mom.*





*Not to be confused with Melanie's mom.

"Art blog", what?

With that being said, I will not plague you readers with my lack of cleverness today, and instead just smother you with my love for "the art thing". Remember you can click on the picture to see the full image!

Reality Strikes.

I love all of my friends.

And from here on in, I will always make an effort to both tell and show them every day.

Don't ever put it off until tomorrow, because who knows if there will be a tomorrow.

Where the Waffle-things Are (or should be).

Paying for oil heat is not a good idea, and I would encourage anyone that has been told otherwise to punch the person saying it right in the head.

Also, make sure your hands are not cold if you're testing the water in a shower before getting in.  You won't realize that there is no hot water until you get in, when suddenly your back is freezing, your hands burning, and your body confused.

The only amusing part of this life-scarring experience is the wretched picture you may or may not take of yourself  to prove your terrible misery to the world.  

But only if you're a vain asshole. ;D

As for "the art thing" (as a girl from work has referred to it), I'm still on slacker-hiatus, but will be back on it again this week.  Mostly because Brian is back from Cancun and I won't have an excuse to browse the web all day instead of make real attempts at being productive.

Really, though?  I blame my lack of waffle consumption.  It's clear that more waffles = more creative thought processes.

So, you know.

Buy me waffles.

Confessions of a Not-So-Teenage Dirtbag

The tricky part about not owning a computer is when you suddenly have full use of one, trying to pry yourself away from it proves to be incredibly difficult.  This results in a lack of productivity, and therefore, I am completely empty-art-handed.

I also find myself a little poor..er.  The internet has reached out to me with its grubby fingers and tricked me into subscribing to Netflix.  I feel as though spending any more time exploring these so-called Series of Tubes may cause permanent damage to my wallet, as well as my innocence.  I mean, $4.99 a minute(or should I say, per browser?) doesn't look quite so bad when the only thing I have to look forward to in my immediate future is walking in the bitter cold for 30 minutes so I can work for 480.  Okay, no, not really.  Because $5 is way too much to pay for any sort of pornography - I know because The West Wing told me so.

On a completely unrelated note, I think it should be said that I am a needy, high-maintenance little turd of a chronic worrier.  Don't ever date me.  The next year is going to be long and dreadful, but I will fight.  Because thanks to Pat Benatar, I am prepared for...well, fighting.

And since this is an "art blog" and I feel obligated to post something of the sort, I have dug up what I think is an appropriate picture I drew back in '05.

So, thank you, P. Benatar.  You have given birth to one of my favorite one-liner-song-titles ever.  These are words to live by, people.

Next up:  Hell is for Children.  Illustrated with or without the Corinthian, I've yet to decide.

Poetic Interpretation Illustration

My favorite thing to do is illustrate another's idea. Whether it be songs, poems, stories, spoken word, or even art, the amount of fun I have creating my own images from them is immeasurable.

Lately in particular, due to circumstances involving my personal life(teehee), I've felt extremely...inspired. I came across the following poem by Margaret Atwood, and managed to produce one of the best watercolors I've painted in weeks (I really need to start using brushes to ink more often.) I'll be scanning it in full color, later on. (:

Variations of the Word Sleep

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

Transatlanticism - DC for C.

the atlantic was born today and i'll tell you how:
the clouds above opened up and let it out.

i was standing on the surface of a perforated sphere when the water filled every hole.
and thousands upon thousands made an ocean, making islands where no island should go.

those people were overjoyed; they took to their boats.
i thought it less like a lake and more like a moat.
the rhythm of my footsteps crossing flood lands to your door have been silenced forever more.
the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row; it seems farther than ever before..

i need you so much closer.