Another quick insomnia fuelled not-looking-at-page drawing. Can you guess who it is? ( and no, it’s not me, even though we appear to be hair twins. The title is a small clue. As is the fact that his name is in the tags ).
I feel the need to again add the disclaimer that only the initial biro sketch is done without looking at the page. When it comes time to add colour, I’m eyeballing like nobody’s business.
*biro, watercolour pencils, watercolour paper*
The above group of wordsicles came about thanks to this fun little thing Black Cat Alley has going. It’s called Whiteout Wednesdays ( or W.O.W.) and is basically the same dealy as a blackout poem, but instead of taking a black marker to the block of text to leave behind a previously hidden poem, you copy and paste that week’s assigned block o’text into your wordpress draft, and white-out the unneeded words using the ‘text colour’ feature. You can then reformat the words so that they’re more readable (but NOT rearrange/add words or punctation) , OR leave them all spaced out and strung out ( like I did.). This week’s text up for your literary obliteration/ creation is here. I do hope that you DOOOO EEEEET! ‘Cause it’s lotsa fun.
So often, I lose contact with people. For no particular reason. We all have shit going on. But just because we’ve stopped talking doesn’t mean these people don’t enter my thoughts at all.
Here is one such person. His name is Andy, aka re/search/er. I did a pic for him a while back, which I was reminded of whilst looking through my folders for something else this evening. He’d liked my drawings, and wanted something re/search/er-ish. I don’t think he meant a pic of his cranium, but that’s what I did anyway. So instead of the very me-centric thing I was going to post, here ( above) is a very simplified version of the thing I sent him.
Please do listen to his musix – especially if you’re into Atoms For Peace-ish , Radiohead-ish, even Jeff Buckley-ish style sounds/ vocals. Or just really nice electronica. I feel his tracks have a certain cinematic quality. You can still hear him on triple J if you listen carefully ( and if you’re in Aus). If you’re in the UK , I believe he’s been played here, too. Hopefully there are more places I don’t yet know about.
Andy won’t see this post, but I wanted to pimp out his musical talents anyway. All my blogging thus far has really been about me. I know that’s just what tends to happen when a person blogs. But sometimes it’s nice to add some variety. Not sure why I should choose tonight, or this, but it seems as good a time and subject as any.
So listen below for an example of why I think Andy deserves to not only make a living off his music, but to be massively rich and famous for it too. I hope he’s doing ok.
There must be something in the air at the moment, because no less than three of the blogs I follow here have posted today about the subject of depression and the associated crappy feelings that occur when it begins sneaking up again.
I won’t go into vivid detail about my own stuff right now. Those who know, already know. What goes up must come down, and I have to admit that I’ve had a good run of silly moods over the last few weeks, so this crash was inevitable. It will end, and I will be OK. The real me lurks somewhere in between the amplified neon version and the washed out sepia one. She’s elusive, but I know she exists. I will stop calling myself awful names, and I will feel positive and clear again, as I have done before. That knowledge helps already.
The artwork above is not new; I drew this a few years ago. But it does accurately illustrate how I’ve been feeling today ( ie. GRRR!), so here it is! People who have perused my art page will have already seen it, but most likely many won’t have done- especially if they’re “read it from the reader feed(er)” kinda people. So hopefully this will be new to one or two humans out there.
Sending a massive cyber hug to anyone feeling low at the moment. ( And yes, I know; a cyber hug is about as useful to a depressed person as an offer to eat a beret is to somebody suffering from vertigo. However, I’m hoping that my cyber hug has a touch of magick about it, and will somehow- on its way through the ether to you- convert into a real live one from someone lovely. )
Hello. Here is a terrible scan of a mediocre drawing of a not-at-all-mediocre actor playing a not-at-all mediocre detective:
He’s supposed to be closing his eyes slightly, but it just looks as though he’s squinting. Also, I feel that I’ve made him look more like someone from The Godfather rather than a detective. I’m out of practice. Oh well. May Jeremy accept the apologies I now send to him out there in that big theatre in the sky .
Why did I show you this? Do you really care? If so, read on.
My circadian rhythm is syncopated. It’s hard to live in time.
*biro & watercolour pencils*
Process: draw initial biro sketch without looking at the page. Fill in colour whilst looking at page.
I’m not sure if this was the wisest use of my very last piece of watercolour paper, but I’m going a bit mad, and don’t have any better ideas.
*watercolour pencil on black paper*
Crows are fascinating creatures. They are intelligent, fearless, and hilarious. I rather adore them.
This wasn’t always the case, though. I used to find them… disconcerting. I remember one night, having a dream that a Crow was rushing towards me; trying to get into my house through my open door. I tried to close the door in time, but Crow got in, right at the last minute. I woke in terror.
My superstitious side worried about the implications of it getting in. It bothered me for weeks. What was it now doing- down in the dark recesses of my subconscious? What did it mean?
Over the years I’ve drawn my own conclusions (and I won’t bore anybody with that here) , but the Crow dreams continued. Curiously, as the Crows became increasingly amusing and sweet in my dreams, I began warming to them In Real Life. Now I’m at the point where my Crow dreams put me at ease. I can’t help but smile when I see them in the waking world. They’re like old friends.
I’ll leave you with some footage of some crows playing in the snow. So bloody cute. Also, here’s a lovely little vid of a Crow snowboarding, just to illustrate one of the many reasons why I just can’t get enough of them.
P.s. For those of you interested in learning about how Crows think and behave, I highly recommend reading Gifts of the Crow by John Marzluff. I’m only about 1/3 of the way through it, but so far it gets an enthusiastic thumbs up from me!
P.p.s. For anyone who clicks that link to the book description, notice how before you click on “more”, the line “They mate for life and associate with relatives and neighbours for years.” has been shortened, so it initially reads: ” They mate for life and ass” . I wonder if that was intentional……. Anyway, sorry. Immature giggly times. Carry on..
It wasn’t there before, and now it’s here- languishing in the fruitbowl, listening to Planet Caravan by Black Sabbath on repeat. Where did it come from? Maybe it was there all along…:
*watercolour pencils ( with water and brush, obviously)*
I’m not as happy with this as I could be, but it took me all evening, so I’m posting it.
*biro with digital colouring*
It took a lot of effort to convince myself to draw today. I no longer seem to derive any joy from it, which is a shame, seeing as I used to do quite a bit of arty stuff ( here; let me prove it). Where does that passion and enthusiasm go, I wonder? Well, actually, I don’t wonder. I know very well that it gets swallowed up by the ravenous parasite that is Depression. It’s the reason behind my inability to reclaim/retain enthusiasm for anything for longer than 5 minutes, and also the cause of the dust on my guitars, the withdrawal of my friendship from others, and the panic that my options in life are running out; the day the last ship sails- leaving me behind for good- rapidly drawing near.
Pardon the Debbie Downerism in this space which I generally reserve for the convenient escapism of nonsense and absurdity. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to achieve from it save the vague chance that it will prove relatable in some way, thus somehow providing for myself -and the people who do relate- some sort of reassurance that the experience isn’t purely a solo one.
Anyway, this drawing may not have been any fun to do, but it is nice to have some sort of evidence of having made an effort. When effort is possible, it can’t be too bad. Sending my love to anybody out there struggling with similar. Lord knows we’re only really allowed to exist on The Internet ( and then, only in certain shadowy corners) , so the least we can do is acknowledge one another on this one safe bullshit-free corner we seem to have here.