Oh oof. Another cold has crept into the household, and I started coughing this morning. I'm expecting my parents to call me and tell me I should stop getting colds, as if I were buying them in a discount store because they are cheaper in a multi-pack. What kind of freak immune system could shake off all the colds that come to London from all over the world? I know people who never usually get colds who pick them up reliably every time they visit London.
Yesterday I went on the tube, a rare occasion, and as often it was a sociable affair: being held in place by strangers on every side, all taller than me, and most of them politely agreeing that it is okay for me to fall into them without notice as long as I don't grab any of their body parts. Every now and then the doors open and someone shouts in an authoritative voice (a bit like a priestess of Dune) "Move down, there is still space in here for two more passengers!" - That sort of ride.
The highlight of the journey for me was when I was stuck in a deadlocked crowd - hundreds of people trying to get up to a platform from the district line while everyone from that platform wanted to get down to the Jubilee line via the same stairs - and I spotted a completely clear tunnel marked NO ENTRY with completely empty stairs up to the same platform at the other end, so I broke free and walked that way... and noticed that the whole crowd was following me. It felt great to trigger that sort of sudden mass movement, but also a bit like a scene from a zombie movie.
Anyway, whatever, I hope this is a mild cold.
I've been buying fountain pens and converters and bottles of ink, inspired by the purchase of a new notebook that reminded me of the first one I ever had. Same sort of size and paper. I suddenly felt like having one like that again, a book to note down random things all the time, anything that catches my attention, just to have a map of my brain as it is these days. And also to put stray thoughts to rest sometimes - someone told me once that it's a good idea to just write down distractions to get them out of the way to clear the mind for composing stories. It seems to work, often, or if not it sometimes unlocks interesting little fragments of thought that cling to those distractions like seaweed when I grab them and drag them up.
Anyway, I felt like taking those notes in different inks, I've never liked the look of pages and pages of ultramarine blue writing, reminds me of school.
I think I'll spend the day trying out all my old inks to see which ones are still good, and maybe even find out what they might be good for.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Bright Inks
I think today I'll go and buy a set of Winsor & Newton inks so I can ink in colour. For some reason I keep seeing that in my head these days, which normally means it needs doing.
This orange cat looks off because I went from abstract ink-scribbling to figurative drawing. You can tell where I started, on the shoulder. There's something nice about that shoulder, I want to try that again...
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Happy Walk
I went out in my re-soled shoes, and they are great! It was so nice to feel all those different bumps under my feet again and grab my toes around the edge of the pavement. In the library, I scrabbled my toes about in the shoes while looking at the shelves and considering what to look at first, and I felt suddenly happy.
I read up on the Victorian sewers and lost rivers of London and took notes with a brand new fountain pen which I bought on the way. I've had the same fountain pen since I left school, and I felt like getting a slightly wider one to write bigger and bolder notes and enjoy the variation in ink that happens in a wider line. - I've been looking at blogs of people who document their experiments with different art materials, and I'm feeling inspired. After finishing a digitally coloured book really I want to re-connect with materials again, and make marks and leave traces and play with pigments and liquids and sticks of graphite and charcoal and grease. Digital work makes me feel like a ghost sometimes.
When I walked back home it was raining, and my feet got wet. So I got to try out my shoes under bad conditions, too, and all I can say is there are worse things than wet feet, I've never quite understood what the problem is with getting wet in the rain anyway when you can dry out again as soon as you're home, and as long as it's not freezing.
Also a pack of flyers for a show that I helped with arrived while I was out, and a picture of the preliminary cover of my latest book, which looks cute.
Yay.
I read up on the Victorian sewers and lost rivers of London and took notes with a brand new fountain pen which I bought on the way. I've had the same fountain pen since I left school, and I felt like getting a slightly wider one to write bigger and bolder notes and enjoy the variation in ink that happens in a wider line. - I've been looking at blogs of people who document their experiments with different art materials, and I'm feeling inspired. After finishing a digitally coloured book really I want to re-connect with materials again, and make marks and leave traces and play with pigments and liquids and sticks of graphite and charcoal and grease. Digital work makes me feel like a ghost sometimes.
When I walked back home it was raining, and my feet got wet. So I got to try out my shoes under bad conditions, too, and all I can say is there are worse things than wet feet, I've never quite understood what the problem is with getting wet in the rain anyway when you can dry out again as soon as you're home, and as long as it's not freezing.
Also a pack of flyers for a show that I helped with arrived while I was out, and a picture of the preliminary cover of my latest book, which looks cute.
Yay.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Hacking Converse
One thing I've always found difficult about London is that people just won't accept bare feet in public. Back in provincial Germany this was never a problem, and so I grew up to have fairly healthy, naturally wide feet with toes that have some memory of gripping.
I've been on a constant quest for comfortable shoes that fit me... but the problem is that if they have a thin sole, they are too slim, and if they are wide, they have a chunky orthopedic sole. And that's even before considering if I like the colour.
So I ordered some leather, and got crafting.
This is my first project: turning my old Converse trainers that pinch my toes and feel like chunky hooves into barefoot shoes. Well, as close to barefoot as I can get.
First I sawed off the sole, and IT WAS GREAT FUN. Nothing like finally dismantling an object that has annoyed you for years.
Hooray!!!
I tried them on like this, actually, and it's quite possible to discreetly tie one lace around the bottom of the foot and actually go out barefoot with decoy uppers... but I do want a shoe that I can actually wear everywhere in London, not even I would go barefoot through a pigeon-infested Saturday Night underpass where lost hair pieces roll by like tumbleweed until they get stuck in some chunky puddle.
I drew a new sole on the leather. It's amazing how unlike feet most shoes are shaped - I don't know what evolutionary pressure is at work there, but some collective subconscious wants us to lose four toes per head.
Here it got messy: using my leather awl. I'm afraid I didn't do the neatest possible job, but this was my first attempt, and I didn't have a curved awl.
And here we go! Before, and after. Yeah, it looks like a Clown shoe. But at least no one will shout at me in the supermarket any more, and my toes can finally stretch and curl.
Now I just need to find the right glue to fix the slightly messy bits and make it look as sturdy as it actually is... it looks like that heel is coming off, that's just because the rubber is so thick that I didn't quite manage to stitch it as closely as the rest.
HA HA HA!
Grand. I'll hack the other one tomorrow. And next I'll make some one-piece Ghillie shoes.
I've been on a constant quest for comfortable shoes that fit me... but the problem is that if they have a thin sole, they are too slim, and if they are wide, they have a chunky orthopedic sole. And that's even before considering if I like the colour.
So I ordered some leather, and got crafting.
This is my first project: turning my old Converse trainers that pinch my toes and feel like chunky hooves into barefoot shoes. Well, as close to barefoot as I can get.
First I sawed off the sole, and IT WAS GREAT FUN. Nothing like finally dismantling an object that has annoyed you for years.
Hooray!!!
I tried them on like this, actually, and it's quite possible to discreetly tie one lace around the bottom of the foot and actually go out barefoot with decoy uppers... but I do want a shoe that I can actually wear everywhere in London, not even I would go barefoot through a pigeon-infested Saturday Night underpass where lost hair pieces roll by like tumbleweed until they get stuck in some chunky puddle.
I drew a new sole on the leather. It's amazing how unlike feet most shoes are shaped - I don't know what evolutionary pressure is at work there, but some collective subconscious wants us to lose four toes per head.
Here it got messy: using my leather awl. I'm afraid I didn't do the neatest possible job, but this was my first attempt, and I didn't have a curved awl.
And here we go! Before, and after. Yeah, it looks like a Clown shoe. But at least no one will shout at me in the supermarket any more, and my toes can finally stretch and curl.
Now I just need to find the right glue to fix the slightly messy bits and make it look as sturdy as it actually is... it looks like that heel is coming off, that's just because the rubber is so thick that I didn't quite manage to stitch it as closely as the rest.
HA HA HA!
Grand. I'll hack the other one tomorrow. And next I'll make some one-piece Ghillie shoes.
Storage Solutions, and cold
I just discovered that watching Charlie Brooker's Newswipe and inking don't go together, I kept laughing and smudging the lines.
There are some very brilliant new storage shelves covering the bathroom walls almost completely, my studio/bedroom is almost tidy, and I've loaded my eReader up with classic ghost stories. The combination of Calibre and Project Gutenberg
is proving really useful these days. Now all I want is Spring, because it's so cold and grey out there that I keep resisting all cultural and social engagements which require me traveling back home in the freezing night.
I'll heat up some soup, feed the birds and see if I can write another scene of this here novel.
There are some very brilliant new storage shelves covering the bathroom walls almost completely, my studio/bedroom is almost tidy, and I've loaded my eReader up with classic ghost stories. The combination of Calibre and Project Gutenberg
is proving really useful these days. Now all I want is Spring, because it's so cold and grey out there that I keep resisting all cultural and social engagements which require me traveling back home in the freezing night.
I'll heat up some soup, feed the birds and see if I can write another scene of this here novel.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Shoe Plans
I finally managed to write that scene in my novel... the one I've been stuck on for weeks. I'm not sure it's any good, in fact I'm not sure that the book is any good, but I think that's a normal phase. - It was definitely a good day for writing, because all my other projects are awaiting orders, or have been handed over to other people to be made ready for this year's Bologna book fair.
I did some other things first - looking up how to make shoes, mainly, and ordering a big piece of leather to cut two pairs of moccasins from. I've recently become completely fed up with shoes, but barefoot walking is generally not welcomed in London. So I've been reminiscing about the moccasins I had as a child, made to measure from a footprint. Well, I finally found some instructions for making my own.
I'll make one pair of airy medieval lace-up shoes and one pair of fur-trimmed boots (because I have some fake fur that wants using). I'm hoping I'll get so good at making them that I can eventually design some acceptable everyday barefoot shoes.
I like that time between projects, it always feels like anything is possible.
I did some other things first - looking up how to make shoes, mainly, and ordering a big piece of leather to cut two pairs of moccasins from. I've recently become completely fed up with shoes, but barefoot walking is generally not welcomed in London. So I've been reminiscing about the moccasins I had as a child, made to measure from a footprint. Well, I finally found some instructions for making my own.
I'll make one pair of airy medieval lace-up shoes and one pair of fur-trimmed boots (because I have some fake fur that wants using). I'm hoping I'll get so good at making them that I can eventually design some acceptable everyday barefoot shoes.
I like that time between projects, it always feels like anything is possible.
Library Quest
I want to join more libraries. As much as I love my local library, it's quite small, and so are all the other public libraries I've been to in London.
I grew up in a medium-sized German town, and for some reason we happened to have a big library. It had a cloak-room with lockers, and beyond that a number of big, bright spaces - to me, it felt like a huge space station made out of big old houses connected by marble bridges and spiral staircases floating in a glass dome. There was a whole room for history, a section of framed prints you could borrow for your house, and what seemed like a whole building just for children's books. They had the complete works of Winsor McCay, and, most importantly, a science section. They just had everything I wanted to know. Plus some friendly librarians who could find whatever I couldn't, and happily ordered new books as needed. I spent some hours of every day after school there, drinking the horrible broth the soup-and-coffee machine dispensed and reading.
Surely there must be a place like that in London?
The reference libraries in the big old museums and other cultural institutes are great, but they always ask readers to request books beforehand from their online catalogue. No browsing. So you can only find what you KNOW is there. Which is fine, but not great.
Anyway, I'm on a quest... I shall try out London libraries this year and see what I find.
I grew up in a medium-sized German town, and for some reason we happened to have a big library. It had a cloak-room with lockers, and beyond that a number of big, bright spaces - to me, it felt like a huge space station made out of big old houses connected by marble bridges and spiral staircases floating in a glass dome. There was a whole room for history, a section of framed prints you could borrow for your house, and what seemed like a whole building just for children's books. They had the complete works of Winsor McCay, and, most importantly, a science section. They just had everything I wanted to know. Plus some friendly librarians who could find whatever I couldn't, and happily ordered new books as needed. I spent some hours of every day after school there, drinking the horrible broth the soup-and-coffee machine dispensed and reading.
Surely there must be a place like that in London?
The reference libraries in the big old museums and other cultural institutes are great, but they always ask readers to request books beforehand from their online catalogue. No browsing. So you can only find what you KNOW is there. Which is fine, but not great.
Anyway, I'm on a quest... I shall try out London libraries this year and see what I find.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Doily Dress Plans
I think it may be time soon to finish my strange knitted dress. I never got around to designing the top bit, so I took a picture of it and doodled some designs on top... I think this may be good:
Hm!
Hm!
Self-promotion, meh... maybe later.
Hmm. Some days ago I put an FAQ page onto my website, and I just deleted it again. Then I made some attempts to re-design my link-section in a useful way, and postponed that, too. It's all part of the gradual overhaul of my online presence, and it's quite confusing. Sometimes I want to put advice online about making picture books, because I get asked a lot (as does every one who has at least one of them published), and I have new notions about it weekly-or-so. But then that seems just a bit wrong somehow. As if I thought myself an expert.
Wah, I dislike thinking about self-promotion. I think I'll just ignore the whole matter for now.
And now I shall find the right brush to letter the title of the Hamster book... there will be a cover soon! That is actually extremely exciting. Hah! Hooray.
Wah, I dislike thinking about self-promotion. I think I'll just ignore the whole matter for now.
And now I shall find the right brush to letter the title of the Hamster book... there will be a cover soon! That is actually extremely exciting. Hah! Hooray.
Friday, February 19, 2010
The end of kittens, and a near miss
The publisher who asked me to supply some kitten samples just sent me feedback, as expected they agree that my kittens don't look like kittens and that someone else should draw those kittens. I am relieved, actually. Even though I personally think they are kitten-like enough now my control group of kitten lovers tells me they are cute, but they are in fact hamsters, tiger cubs and other assorted mammals.
It's funny, I remember that was the first criticism I got when I first showed a comic to a famous illustrator when I was a teenager. "Bla bla bla perspective.... and... yeah you need to make those kittens look like kittens."
Basically: I will turn down, henceforth, any job that hinges on kittens.
The End.
I spent the day crunching down the script, and I lost 26 pages (!!!) by gentle abridging and hefty re-paneling. There are still 4 that should go, but I will take a break now and find out how serious that 90 page limit is before I crunch any more. I very much dislike having more than 9 panels on a page, I've done it wherever I could bear it. I deleted a flock of vultures and a whole page of... um... oh I forgot. Enough for today.
Tomorrow I shall help re-paint the bathroom.
It's funny, I remember that was the first criticism I got when I first showed a comic to a famous illustrator when I was a teenager. "Bla bla bla perspective.... and... yeah you need to make those kittens look like kittens."
Basically: I will turn down, henceforth, any job that hinges on kittens.
The End.
I spent the day crunching down the script, and I lost 26 pages (!!!) by gentle abridging and hefty re-paneling. There are still 4 that should go, but I will take a break now and find out how serious that 90 page limit is before I crunch any more. I very much dislike having more than 9 panels on a page, I've done it wherever I could bear it. I deleted a flock of vultures and a whole page of... um... oh I forgot. Enough for today.
Tomorrow I shall help re-paint the bathroom.
Almost working
Argh. I dreamt in comic panels last night, and I woke up knowing exactly how to re-write my script, so I started on it right away. But then I couldn't find the grids I needed to refer to, they have disappeared completely. And now I want late breakfast, and I can't be bothered to go out because I got a nasty bill and so don't want the expensive cafe, and the cheap cafe has 80% chance of being flirted at today according to my weather report. So I won't go there to write, neither.
There's nothing worse than romantic interest when trying to work.
I really dislike the way that one person realising I'm regularly going to some place by myself and thus getting the notion that romance is on basically renders the whole territory useless as a creative space. I wish humans had a clear signal that says ABSOLUTELY NOT INTERESTED passively and categorically to everyone around, like a special crest I could just switch on and forget about. I wonder if some marriages are based on that need.
Ah well, I can afford losing territory, London is still full of places to sit and think. As long as I keep the Tate Modern members room, all is well.
Today I shall sit in bed with instant coffee, and then I'll have another look for those grids, and I shall have chips for lunch, and it'll be great.
There's nothing worse than romantic interest when trying to work.
I really dislike the way that one person realising I'm regularly going to some place by myself and thus getting the notion that romance is on basically renders the whole territory useless as a creative space. I wish humans had a clear signal that says ABSOLUTELY NOT INTERESTED passively and categorically to everyone around, like a special crest I could just switch on and forget about. I wonder if some marriages are based on that need.
Ah well, I can afford losing territory, London is still full of places to sit and think. As long as I keep the Tate Modern members room, all is well.
Today I shall sit in bed with instant coffee, and then I'll have another look for those grids, and I shall have chips for lunch, and it'll be great.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
My favourite kitten...
... is the one that looks like a guinea pig by accident.
I picked out all the ones that look most like kittens and sent them off as ordered.
This may well be the end of my first kitten-based job opportunity... we'll see. Maybe it'll get me some work drawing a guinea pig epic instead.
And now I shall re-work my graphic novel script to get it down from 120 pages to 90 because the format of the book has changed... should work if I sometimes allow a 12 panel grid instead of 9.
Wish me luck.
I picked out all the ones that look most like kittens and sent them off as ordered.
This may well be the end of my first kitten-based job opportunity... we'll see. Maybe it'll get me some work drawing a guinea pig epic instead.
And now I shall re-work my graphic novel script to get it down from 120 pages to 90 because the format of the book has changed... should work if I sometimes allow a 12 panel grid instead of 9.
Wish me luck.
Kitten Update
For those who are following my quest to draw three cute kittens. Observe how I am reverting to older cats as the drawings go on, and my complete lack of inspiration for interesting things they might be doing since I'm totally stuck on trying to get them to look like cute kittens first. Shameful. Always draw your characters doing something. I normally try.
There are more pages like this. I shall colour them in after lunch.
Two useful books for starters
People sometimes ask me how to get publishers interested in their work for children.
My answer is: first make a good portfolio, a physical one if you like, and one on a website. It needn't be a flashy website, just a neat presentation of your best work.
When you are ready, do some serious research. Check which publishers you want to work for, phone them up, find out how they like to have work submitted. Don't just bestow your goodness at random in fat envelopes covered in glittery stickers (or fat emails clogging up people's inbox) and then get disappointed.
Remember, you are giving the world something beautiful, but you're not asking for gratitude, you're asking for a job. Except for if you're not, in which case I have no advice.
Here are two good books to get to help you:
Good Luck!
My answer is: first make a good portfolio, a physical one if you like, and one on a website. It needn't be a flashy website, just a neat presentation of your best work.
When you are ready, do some serious research. Check which publishers you want to work for, phone them up, find out how they like to have work submitted. Don't just bestow your goodness at random in fat envelopes covered in glittery stickers (or fat emails clogging up people's inbox) and then get disappointed.
Remember, you are giving the world something beautiful, but you're not asking for gratitude, you're asking for a job. Except for if you're not, in which case I have no advice.
Here are two good books to get to help you:
Good Luck!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Back to the Kittens.
Back to drawing kittens today for my potential kitten-related job.
I went to the library to look at books about kittens. Now I am searching flickr. Looking at kittens in motion didn't help. Thinking about kittens and discussing kittens didn't help.
I tried tracing photographs just to understand the proportions.
Didn't help.
All my drawings either look like small cats or weird furry none-specific bobble-headed creatures, and I am supposed to work it out by Friday.
I just don't get it. Whatever it is that gets people excited about kittens rather than cats in general completely eludes me. I've noticed before that I don't generally find baby animals cuter than other animals. Maybe I have missing genes.
I have a feeling this particular illustration gig isn't meant for me...
Ah well. Otherwise, it's been a splendid day. I also got out a book on how to draw comics, just because it's good to keep up to date, and I donated a bag of useful-looking novels and reference books that I don't really care for, and I looked out from the back window of the library towards the Thames. The London Eye was glittering. It really felt like Spring.
I went to the library to look at books about kittens. Now I am searching flickr. Looking at kittens in motion didn't help. Thinking about kittens and discussing kittens didn't help.
I tried tracing photographs just to understand the proportions.
Didn't help.
All my drawings either look like small cats or weird furry none-specific bobble-headed creatures, and I am supposed to work it out by Friday.
I just don't get it. Whatever it is that gets people excited about kittens rather than cats in general completely eludes me. I've noticed before that I don't generally find baby animals cuter than other animals. Maybe I have missing genes.
I have a feeling this particular illustration gig isn't meant for me...
Ah well. Otherwise, it's been a splendid day. I also got out a book on how to draw comics, just because it's good to keep up to date, and I donated a bag of useful-looking novels and reference books that I don't really care for, and I looked out from the back window of the library towards the Thames. The London Eye was glittering. It really felt like Spring.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Jetlag
Yesterday's coffee actually made me jet-lagged.
I woke up a while ago, all my hair in a vertical nest as if I'd dreamed of weaver birds.
On the plan chest beside my bed I found my e-reader with layouts scrawled all over the PDF of my comic script.
A gentle rain is falling, and I shall carefully de-tangle myself and go back to the cafe to transfer those scribblings into the blank dummy, drinking tea this time.
I woke up a while ago, all my hair in a vertical nest as if I'd dreamed of weaver birds.
On the plan chest beside my bed I found my e-reader with layouts scrawled all over the PDF of my comic script.
A gentle rain is falling, and I shall carefully de-tangle myself and go back to the cafe to transfer those scribblings into the blank dummy, drinking tea this time.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Thumbnailing begins
I was sitting in the cafe next door, drinking their special coffee, which is the only sort I know that goes grey rather than light brown when you add milk. I'm not sure I should really be drinking it, it makes me feel like I could run over the surface of a swimming pool without sinking.
Anyway... I suddenly realised that I was thoroughly miserable simply because I had not drawn anything (except a few kittens and speech bubbles) for weeks, it seems... I've been writing, and carrying things, and tidying, but not drawing.
So I went and grabbed the bag I'd made ready some time ago for drawing the graphic novel, containing the right paper and pencil, a calculator, a set square and the project notebook, and started thumbnailing.
I'd been worrying ever since I wrote the script that the pagination was off - I noted down what layout I imagined I'd use for every scene, just from picturing it in my head so I had some idea when page-turns would happen and such.
So far it actually works!
HOORAY!
The bag, by the way, is from Muji and actually a bag-in-a-bag. They are brilliant - I can keep a whole project in one and when I want to go and work somewhere else I can chuck it into some random bigger bag and set off without having to look for bits and bobs.
Anyway... I suddenly realised that I was thoroughly miserable simply because I had not drawn anything (except a few kittens and speech bubbles) for weeks, it seems... I've been writing, and carrying things, and tidying, but not drawing.
So I went and grabbed the bag I'd made ready some time ago for drawing the graphic novel, containing the right paper and pencil, a calculator, a set square and the project notebook, and started thumbnailing.
I'd been worrying ever since I wrote the script that the pagination was off - I noted down what layout I imagined I'd use for every scene, just from picturing it in my head so I had some idea when page-turns would happen and such.
So far it actually works!
HOORAY!
The bag, by the way, is from Muji and actually a bag-in-a-bag. They are brilliant - I can keep a whole project in one and when I want to go and work somewhere else I can chuck it into some random bigger bag and set off without having to look for bits and bobs.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Arrrgh, Still Too Many Books!!!
The canary woke up at dawn and flew in circles like a yellow helicopter. I wonder if she enjoyed sleeping on the girder. You have to do these things sometimes I guess, even canaries.
My room looks like a room again! Hooray! Still too many books, but not enough to feel like a book graveyard any more. One day I'd like a library room, or even better a corridor lined with bookshelves so they are really out of the way, then I could have as many books as I like... I just really wish I could use these shelves for other things. Being surrounded with books when I am trying to make more books makes me feel like the spawning monster queen in the lair at the end of a horror novel.
I'll start sorting them into important reference books and others today so I can put all the ones I don't need right now but don't want to throw out in some sort of out-of-sight-out-of-mind storage and have space to live again...
My room looks like a room again! Hooray! Still too many books, but not enough to feel like a book graveyard any more. One day I'd like a library room, or even better a corridor lined with bookshelves so they are really out of the way, then I could have as many books as I like... I just really wish I could use these shelves for other things. Being surrounded with books when I am trying to make more books makes me feel like the spawning monster queen in the lair at the end of a horror novel.
I'll start sorting them into important reference books and others today so I can put all the ones I don't need right now but don't want to throw out in some sort of out-of-sight-out-of-mind storage and have space to live again...
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Evening scene
My canary has decided not to sleep in her cage tonight, probably because she disliked going to the vet.
Instead, she seems keen on the space ship models, but can't decide between x-wing or tie fighter.
So she's hopping from one to the other in the half-dark while her cage-mate the zebra finch is sitting on the sleep-nest honking quietly, looking puzzled.
Instead, she seems keen on the space ship models, but can't decide between x-wing or tie fighter.
So she's hopping from one to the other in the half-dark while her cage-mate the zebra finch is sitting on the sleep-nest honking quietly, looking puzzled.
Modern Times
Today I am happy about the internet.
My diary says "be available to fix files you didn't supply to designer properly" this weekend and so all I have to do right now is keep Skype turned on, and I can have a cup of tea and read "The Remains of the Day" by the radiator.
Also I have a whole bag of lovely pencils in different grades of softness which I bought from the new big art shop in Brick Lane, and I'm happily looking at them. And my canary, who had a sore foot yesterday, seems to have recovered.
It's my favourite kind of Saturday. Except a bit cold.
My diary says "be available to fix files you didn't supply to designer properly" this weekend and so all I have to do right now is keep Skype turned on, and I can have a cup of tea and read "The Remains of the Day" by the radiator.
Also I have a whole bag of lovely pencils in different grades of softness which I bought from the new big art shop in Brick Lane, and I'm happily looking at them. And my canary, who had a sore foot yesterday, seems to have recovered.
It's my favourite kind of Saturday. Except a bit cold.
Dreaming of a workshop
I just got the last load of my things out of the studio, except a chair which I couldn't carry. Now I have left and my space is taken over, and it looks very different.
My space had mainly been a fairly empty desk and some shelves waiting to be filled with art materials and objects...
I'd been hoping to get into fine art in a small way and also to make animations and a puppet theatre. I wanted to hang cardboard models above my desk and pin up maps of imaginary worlds for video games or choose-your-own-adventures or fantasy novels, and also plans for machines and anatomical studies of monsters... I imagined that in the summer there might be painters and sculptors wandering around in the yard and I could talk to them and be inspired and maybe learn how to use new materials, and I could use my space to store all the stuff I needed to make things, and make them outside in the tomato grove. But it just wasn't that sort of a place - you can't run a dance studio in a cathedral, you can't open a fish and chip shop in a hotel room, and you can't inflict a fine art studio on a load of hard-working comic artists, especially if you're sharing a small room and they have regular deadlines.
I think the studio looks very much happier without me - now it's an honest drawing den full of books and desks.
I'm not disappointed, rather happy that I worked out that what I want to do, if not how, because it'll be expensive. I want to get myself an art space, a proper workshop full of tools and materials, big windows that are open most days to let out fumes and let in world and light and birdsong, painty footprints tracking all over the concrete floor from the sewing machine to the sink to the workbench to the drawing desk - but how?
I think it'll have to wait. It's not urgent, I can make things at home for now. I better do some work straight away so I can earn some money towards my dreams!
My space had mainly been a fairly empty desk and some shelves waiting to be filled with art materials and objects...
I'd been hoping to get into fine art in a small way and also to make animations and a puppet theatre. I wanted to hang cardboard models above my desk and pin up maps of imaginary worlds for video games or choose-your-own-adventures or fantasy novels, and also plans for machines and anatomical studies of monsters... I imagined that in the summer there might be painters and sculptors wandering around in the yard and I could talk to them and be inspired and maybe learn how to use new materials, and I could use my space to store all the stuff I needed to make things, and make them outside in the tomato grove. But it just wasn't that sort of a place - you can't run a dance studio in a cathedral, you can't open a fish and chip shop in a hotel room, and you can't inflict a fine art studio on a load of hard-working comic artists, especially if you're sharing a small room and they have regular deadlines.
I think the studio looks very much happier without me - now it's an honest drawing den full of books and desks.
I'm not disappointed, rather happy that I worked out that what I want to do, if not how, because it'll be expensive. I want to get myself an art space, a proper workshop full of tools and materials, big windows that are open most days to let out fumes and let in world and light and birdsong, painty footprints tracking all over the concrete floor from the sewing machine to the sink to the workbench to the drawing desk - but how?
I think it'll have to wait. It's not urgent, I can make things at home for now. I better do some work straight away so I can earn some money towards my dreams!
Friday, February 12, 2010
Mad Love
I'm still in the process of re-absorbing my studio things into my room at home. It's daunting, but it's also good to do some stock-taking.
Yesterday I found my very small stash of treasured comic issues, and among them the first comic I ever bought. I grew up reading my sisters' Tintin Comics plus the selection in our local library, and I enjoyed them. But then one day I was at a news agents, looking for my science fiction magazine, and for some reason or another I bought a Batman comic instead. I read it and thought: wow! I didn't know comic magazines were like this!
I went back to buy some more comics (the shopkeeper sneered at me wasting my money, I remember holding my head extra high and staring her straight in the face when I paid) but they didn't do anything for me. So I decided that the first one must be unusually good, and I read and re-read it and some days later I started drawing my own wobbly comics.
Anyway, it's "Batman: Mad Love" by Paul Dini and Bruce Timm (and turns out it was an unusually award-winning issue). I've found more comics I like since, but this is the one I think I'll always keep. It's exciting and upsetting, and I think the pacing and drawing is great. It also was my first step towards appreciating superheroes, which before that I'd just found frightening because all I'd seen was one chewed-up edition of a Superman story where everyone died horribly.
I'm glad I remembered it just before starting to draw my first commissioned graphic novel, I'll keep looking at it for good luck...
Yesterday I found my very small stash of treasured comic issues, and among them the first comic I ever bought. I grew up reading my sisters' Tintin Comics plus the selection in our local library, and I enjoyed them. But then one day I was at a news agents, looking for my science fiction magazine, and for some reason or another I bought a Batman comic instead. I read it and thought: wow! I didn't know comic magazines were like this!
I went back to buy some more comics (the shopkeeper sneered at me wasting my money, I remember holding my head extra high and staring her straight in the face when I paid) but they didn't do anything for me. So I decided that the first one must be unusually good, and I read and re-read it and some days later I started drawing my own wobbly comics.
Anyway, it's "Batman: Mad Love" by Paul Dini and Bruce Timm (and turns out it was an unusually award-winning issue). I've found more comics I like since, but this is the one I think I'll always keep. It's exciting and upsetting, and I think the pacing and drawing is great. It also was my first step towards appreciating superheroes, which before that I'd just found frightening because all I'd seen was one chewed-up edition of a Superman story where everyone died horribly.
I'm glad I remembered it just before starting to draw my first commissioned graphic novel, I'll keep looking at it for good luck...
Monday, February 8, 2010
Lost Track...
It's finally happened.
I just got an event request that I have to meet and I have no idea where to book it in, because I have just lost track of the ones I'm already doing. For the first time ever my little pocket diary isn't cutting it any more, events are hiding between the pages and suddenly jumping at me when I am looking for people's birthdays.
The digital calendar on my mac isn't cutting it neither because it doesn't have a year view (how rubbish is that?) so there's only one thing for it I suppose...
I shall find a large piece of paper and draw a year planner to stick... ummm... yeah, on the back of my bedroom door. Yes. With a pen tied to it with string.
And then I'll work out what to do with the rest of Mount Stuff. It's like an elephant graveyard in here except with cardboard boxes instead of elephants.
Nerdy request: anyone out there able to tell me how to synch Taskmate over Dropbox? Maybe using symbolic links? I can't quite figure it out...
I just got an event request that I have to meet and I have no idea where to book it in, because I have just lost track of the ones I'm already doing. For the first time ever my little pocket diary isn't cutting it any more, events are hiding between the pages and suddenly jumping at me when I am looking for people's birthdays.
The digital calendar on my mac isn't cutting it neither because it doesn't have a year view (how rubbish is that?) so there's only one thing for it I suppose...
I shall find a large piece of paper and draw a year planner to stick... ummm... yeah, on the back of my bedroom door. Yes. With a pen tied to it with string.
And then I'll work out what to do with the rest of Mount Stuff. It's like an elephant graveyard in here except with cardboard boxes instead of elephants.
Nerdy request: anyone out there able to tell me how to synch Taskmate over Dropbox? Maybe using symbolic links? I can't quite figure it out...
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Weeding
Argh, there's too much paper in this room...
I've started to go through it all and throw away as much as possible. Old printouts, bad drawings, reference I won't need any more. - I think I'll use sketchbooks less in the future because it's really frustrating to have those books of which only a couple of pages are actually worth keeping, and endless pages of now-pointless scribbles completely swamping them. I used to tear out the useful pages and recycle the rest but there's something unpleasant about torn-out pages, they remind me of those book-breaking shops selling "antique prints".
Still, it's very very pleasing to look through the reduced paper piles of just the best rough sketches and preliminary drawings, and only the most interesting magazine clippings.
The one thing that's really hard to throw out is nice scrap paper, old envelopes, tea-stained notepaper, old wrapping paper, card backing and such - it feels like throwing away potential drawings. I think that means I should make more use of the stuff so it won't pile up the way it does.
Ugh... and there are still several boxes of old paper under my bed, and on top of the wardrobe... I think I'll take a break now.
I've started to go through it all and throw away as much as possible. Old printouts, bad drawings, reference I won't need any more. - I think I'll use sketchbooks less in the future because it's really frustrating to have those books of which only a couple of pages are actually worth keeping, and endless pages of now-pointless scribbles completely swamping them. I used to tear out the useful pages and recycle the rest but there's something unpleasant about torn-out pages, they remind me of those book-breaking shops selling "antique prints".
Still, it's very very pleasing to look through the reduced paper piles of just the best rough sketches and preliminary drawings, and only the most interesting magazine clippings.
The one thing that's really hard to throw out is nice scrap paper, old envelopes, tea-stained notepaper, old wrapping paper, card backing and such - it feels like throwing away potential drawings. I think that means I should make more use of the stuff so it won't pile up the way it does.
Ugh... and there are still several boxes of old paper under my bed, and on top of the wardrobe... I think I'll take a break now.
Mount Stuff
Wah wah wah.
I slept soundly until ten this morning, after a day of inking and walking and thinking. When I woke up I'd worked out (at last) the scene for my novel which I've been stuck on for weeks. At least I hope I worked it out.
I felt a bit like I'd be better off unscrewing all my limbs and re-assembling them in a new and experimental order because they all ached, some sort of late effect of furniture carrying I suppose. So I staid in bed another hour to read (it's Saturday after all).
Now I've had a cup of tea, and I am wondering how to put all those things in the middle of my room away sensibly. All my studio things, and all the things from the bathroom that have to be out of there awhile for reasons of renovation.
I share a room with Mount Stuff, the peak of civilisation.
Hm.
Ah well, if I can find my White Stripes album I think I could tackle this...
I slept soundly until ten this morning, after a day of inking and walking and thinking. When I woke up I'd worked out (at last) the scene for my novel which I've been stuck on for weeks. At least I hope I worked it out.
I felt a bit like I'd be better off unscrewing all my limbs and re-assembling them in a new and experimental order because they all ached, some sort of late effect of furniture carrying I suppose. So I staid in bed another hour to read (it's Saturday after all).
Now I've had a cup of tea, and I am wondering how to put all those things in the middle of my room away sensibly. All my studio things, and all the things from the bathroom that have to be out of there awhile for reasons of renovation.
I share a room with Mount Stuff, the peak of civilisation.
Hm.
Ah well, if I can find my White Stripes album I think I could tackle this...
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Silence
I was just thinking about frightening things - I am working on a comic about nightmares with a chapter on being terrified into silence. I watched a documentary about selective mutism on the bbc iplayer for research, and thought: whew, I really can imagine that, finding yourself unable to speak even though you can.
I was terrified of speaking as a child (although I did speak). I find it kind of strange if people can't imagine being unable to speak, at least some of the time...
Back then I was very chatty at home, but I just couldn't speak to strangers for a time. It wasn't shyness, it felt like weird animal noises would come out of my mouth if I'd said anything to anyone's face and that would be the end of the world then. I could have slapped them on demand or given them flowers - but speaking: no way.
One day I decided to just ask the next stranger I passed on my way back from school a question. I stopped when I saw a man doing some gardening and without allowing myself any further thought I hollered at him full tilt: "Can you tell me where the nearest bin is please because I need to throw away my chewing gum!"
He frowned at me and turned his back. "Hello? Hello?" I shouted, just because I could, and he went back indoors, probably thinking something about those young offenders starting earlier all the time. I skipped all the way back home because I was so happy... because the first thing that had come into my head had actually been totally stupid, and I'd shouted it like a fool, and that guy had disliked me for it, and it could hardly have been worse and it was ok.
But I often had to trick myself into talking even after that. Sometimes in class I got around it by just calling into the room ("Does anyone have a tissue?") instead of talking to whoever sat next to me. Or else I just concentrated on how funny it was that the other people had no idea what an achievement it was that I was talking to them at all, and how they'd never know.
In fact, one reason I moved to the UK was that I thought: well, speaking English is no big problem, no one expects me to be good at that for starters.
These days, I've pretty much forgotten about feeling scared. Except when I have to give lectures. But I manage anyway. Hah! And still I'm always thinking: funny, I am standing here feeling like all the words in the world might rush back into my mouth and make my head explode, and all you see is someone standing there saying "...Hello!"
Anyway, enough about me already, I recommend the documentary, I liked it very much and I don't normally enjoy that sort of thing.
I was terrified of speaking as a child (although I did speak). I find it kind of strange if people can't imagine being unable to speak, at least some of the time...
Back then I was very chatty at home, but I just couldn't speak to strangers for a time. It wasn't shyness, it felt like weird animal noises would come out of my mouth if I'd said anything to anyone's face and that would be the end of the world then. I could have slapped them on demand or given them flowers - but speaking: no way.
One day I decided to just ask the next stranger I passed on my way back from school a question. I stopped when I saw a man doing some gardening and without allowing myself any further thought I hollered at him full tilt: "Can you tell me where the nearest bin is please because I need to throw away my chewing gum!"
He frowned at me and turned his back. "Hello? Hello?" I shouted, just because I could, and he went back indoors, probably thinking something about those young offenders starting earlier all the time. I skipped all the way back home because I was so happy... because the first thing that had come into my head had actually been totally stupid, and I'd shouted it like a fool, and that guy had disliked me for it, and it could hardly have been worse and it was ok.
But I often had to trick myself into talking even after that. Sometimes in class I got around it by just calling into the room ("Does anyone have a tissue?") instead of talking to whoever sat next to me. Or else I just concentrated on how funny it was that the other people had no idea what an achievement it was that I was talking to them at all, and how they'd never know.
In fact, one reason I moved to the UK was that I thought: well, speaking English is no big problem, no one expects me to be good at that for starters.
These days, I've pretty much forgotten about feeling scared. Except when I have to give lectures. But I manage anyway. Hah! And still I'm always thinking: funny, I am standing here feeling like all the words in the world might rush back into my mouth and make my head explode, and all you see is someone standing there saying "...Hello!"
Anyway, enough about me already, I recommend the documentary, I liked it very much and I don't normally enjoy that sort of thing.
Clearout
This morning there was no coffee in the house, so I took my mug next door and had it filled up at the cafe. As usual, it was very strong. I liked that they asked "do you want to drink it here?" which shows a great acceptance for the eccentric, why would I bring my own mug if I didn't want to go straight back out with it?
This fuelled me to empty the studio of almost all my stuff, with help from two nice ladies. I even got my IKEA mini plan chest, which is my favourite piece of furniture ever. It is evilly heavy and can't be taken apart once it's been assembled, but if you are working on A2 paper or smaller you definitely want one, I'm telling you.
Now my room looks like this.
Somewhere in there are two brilliant presents I got in the last couple of days: a moomin papercraft book and a German comic magazine.
Another fun things I did today was admitting to a publisher that I have real problems drawing kittens - I mean, I like my kittens, but kitten lovers disagree. I have been told on many occasions that my kittens look like rabbits, or other rodents. I'll try again over the weekend to draw some more feline ones. Stay tuned.
This fuelled me to empty the studio of almost all my stuff, with help from two nice ladies. I even got my IKEA mini plan chest, which is my favourite piece of furniture ever. It is evilly heavy and can't be taken apart once it's been assembled, but if you are working on A2 paper or smaller you definitely want one, I'm telling you.
Now my room looks like this.
Somewhere in there are two brilliant presents I got in the last couple of days: a moomin papercraft book and a German comic magazine.
Another fun things I did today was admitting to a publisher that I have real problems drawing kittens - I mean, I like my kittens, but kitten lovers disagree. I have been told on many occasions that my kittens look like rabbits, or other rodents. I'll try again over the weekend to draw some more feline ones. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Tuesday
WARGH!
I just noticed the file size of the artwork for my new book which I was trying to stick onto flash memory - Wow!
I trimmed the files as much as possible, dumbed down the smart layers and now it's compressing - the progress bar is teetering between "14 hours" and "About an hour".
It's been a lovely day, actually. I went and wrote some novel in a cafe, and just when I had finished what I'd set out to do a couple of friends appeared and we had a chat. One of them is rather old and had some great stories, she remembers the war better than whatever happened yesterday. - After that I trundled my new trolley-bag to the studio and filled it with pens and notebooks, and trundled back happily. It's a great bag, I feel like I got a new car (and since I don't have a car, it is kind of the equivalent, by my standards). With some luck I'll manage to clear all my things out of the studio this week and hand over the keys.
Hmmm, now the progress bar has jumped to 48 hours. I better get the external drive ready, this will never fit on a flash disk!
I just noticed the file size of the artwork for my new book which I was trying to stick onto flash memory - Wow!
I trimmed the files as much as possible, dumbed down the smart layers and now it's compressing - the progress bar is teetering between "14 hours" and "About an hour".
It's been a lovely day, actually. I went and wrote some novel in a cafe, and just when I had finished what I'd set out to do a couple of friends appeared and we had a chat. One of them is rather old and had some great stories, she remembers the war better than whatever happened yesterday. - After that I trundled my new trolley-bag to the studio and filled it with pens and notebooks, and trundled back happily. It's a great bag, I feel like I got a new car (and since I don't have a car, it is kind of the equivalent, by my standards). With some luck I'll manage to clear all my things out of the studio this week and hand over the keys.
Hmmm, now the progress bar has jumped to 48 hours. I better get the external drive ready, this will never fit on a flash disk!
Monday, February 1, 2010
Starting to move studio again.
Today I'll go and buy a new trolley bag (my old one broke when an offer on jars of tomato sauce at LIDL coincided with a month of not feeling inspired to make my own). Then I shall take it to the studio and grab all the pens and notebooks, empty my desk and measure my plan chest. I have a nasty feeling it won't fit back out through the door. I very much want to keep it though.
I wish I had loads of money, then I'd rent an empty well-lit concrete space that smells of paint and sawdust and move everything in there, and add a sturdy workbench and an animation table... and hang tools on the wall and put pots of glue and paint and jars of nails and buttons on the shelf... well, maybe next year.
Phew, I hope I can donate more books, they take up so much space! Loads of them I have to keep because they are interesting foreign editions of my own books or because they are out-of-print titles that I know I couldn't get again. - It irks me because I don't really USE them. I wouldn't keep clothes or crockery that I use that rarely.
Ah well... could be worse, could be designer chairs or dried prize pumpkins.
I wish I had loads of money, then I'd rent an empty well-lit concrete space that smells of paint and sawdust and move everything in there, and add a sturdy workbench and an animation table... and hang tools on the wall and put pots of glue and paint and jars of nails and buttons on the shelf... well, maybe next year.
Phew, I hope I can donate more books, they take up so much space! Loads of them I have to keep because they are interesting foreign editions of my own books or because they are out-of-print titles that I know I couldn't get again. - It irks me because I don't really USE them. I wouldn't keep clothes or crockery that I use that rarely.
Ah well... could be worse, could be designer chairs or dried prize pumpkins.
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