One hour pencil, one hour + crow quill pen and ink. Sketchbook
The drawings are starting to look almost like I would want to show them to someone. That's good I guess. Practicing is getting a little tedious - which is what this is: practice. Endless chord progressions and I don't attempt to make myself think any different. Do the exercise. Change your brain. Do another. And another. And -
There's a whole lot of things I'm beginning to like about these drawings - there's a lot I don't. A lot I don't deals with me getting confused on where to put the line and also still, some of the sloppiness - not Looseness, Sloppiness. These drawings should be almost engraving-tight, I'm practically gridding out the figure's ever-changing planes, but, well, I mess up. Sometimes there's seems to be three choices to go, and I take all of them. Starting on one side and finishing the line to the other was a great idea, though. I also gave more room per line, so I could go in with even a third round of lines and all of a sudden, I have 5 shades to work with - all you need.
I sort of realized that my lines would look less shaky if the paper was actually of good quality, for pen and ink, instead of a piece of sketchbook paper, just out there, willing to move as the ink does its job of changing its qualities. I'll stick with sketchbook paper for now, as it'll just toughen me up and let me get ready for disasters, like my pen exploding at the wrong time. This ink truly sucks for photographing, having that sickly shine to it that makes absolutely no sense for anything.
It's currently 5:30am - I'm finishing my day by photographing this drawing and writing about it - just as a log of my exercises - just like riding bikes great distances. I just got from the studio, prepping for the intern tomorrow and washing gigantic screens to do secret Things with. Before that, I finished the above drawing and got coffee. Read books on bizarre topics. I can't help but go to the library and just steal books I find important or interesting. Computer card catalogs are just not my type of tea, I guess.
I have to get up at 9:30 and jostle someone out of bed, make them coffee and make sure they start their day - they have a lot to do: make a doctor's appointment, find a job. It's been months, but they need to find a job. I truly love this person - if I didn't? No way would I bike half way across town with 4 hours of sleep to get their lazy up. But for this person? Anything.
And other people - less intimate than I am with this person, have done the same for me. It didn't work - I never got out of bed, but in hindsight, I appreciate it. It was a wonderful act of selflessness. Or just no big deal. To them. To me? I should have taken their kindness and repaid them 10x.
And I guess, it's not up to me what they should do, but it would be nice if they could just. Get up.
I write these things with heavy eyes and a dull sense of language. It irks me to have it down, but it's either in this form, or not at all. And I doubt this will ever be thrown away by me. I can think of a lot of things, that also fit this template. Funny as we record in exhaustion, what we did in exhilaration? Maybe recording all of this isn't of extreme importance...
