...which could just as easily be "Sound and Fury." Whether these random notes and observations signify anything or not, well, that's up to you my tens of readers:
- When stuck on a drawing in any respect, it's worth thinking out what exactly you anchored yourself to when you first started. The ground-plane? A perspective grid? Character pose, facial expression, hand gesture, their interacting with something?... Any number of things that, consciously or otherwise, you may have started the drawing with or had in the back of your mind as the reason you started the pic in the first place, and thus linked every drawing decision afterwards to revolve around.
Which is why it's best to look at any drawing - or anything in a drawing - as a mandala: Nothing so precious that it can't be erased and done over again if you have the energy for it.
- And given, when doing revisions over someone else's stuff - storyboards, design work, illustration, whatever - it's difficult not to have their drawing as the template to do your own work with, complete with their own stylistic idiosyncrasies, for better or otherwise.
Which again is why it's good to get a breath of fresh air and start from scratch, even if it's simply as a thumbnail or something that won't end up being the final product. Every drawing gets you closer to the goal, gets you to consider a subject or object from different angles (more than just literally), and with any luck gets the bad drawing habits out of you.
- If you've seen The Pacific, you'll know who Eugene Sledge is, otherwise known as Sledgehammer. After recalling his time on Peleliu, which was more than a month of some of the worst fighting in the Pacific theater (admitted to him by even some of the vets), he observed that it's not so much the intensity of the event, but rather the duration that wears on a man the most.
- Also, shifting gears a little, an observation from John Surtees, motorcyclist, who graduated from the short circuit to Grand Prix time trials (TT), and went on to eventually win several of these on the renown Isle of Man.
He stated that during his time racing, given the bikes available:
"...the most vital ingredient was getting into an established rhythm and sticking to it. On the Island, with the staggering starting intervals, and the length of the circuit, you're engaged in a much purer form of racing [than with short circuit races] - it's just you against the clock. The length is also important in that at the TT there are long sections of road where if you make even a small mistake, you can still be paying for it five miles later, in terms of an extra 200 revs you haven't attained, and so on. You must think much further ahead than on a shorter course."
He goes on: "I've always contended it's much better to make a 98% effort for the whole race, rather than ride at 101% for shirt bits and if you and the bike survive that, then stroke it at 95% for others. The Mountain Course is an ultra high speed circuit, and in my day it was vital to keep that momentum going once you'd achieved it."
And his method of prepping for the IoM race? Touring the course in a car, which was "different enough" than on a bike:
"and anyway I quite often preferred someone else to drive while I just looked around at everything. It was like making a film, really - gradually you'd be cutting and splicing whole sections together in your mind till there was a complete 37 3/4 mile long production. Then each year when I went back it was a question of using the first few laps of practice to speed the film up, till by the fourth or fifth lap it was running at full speed. I can tell you I buzzed down Bray Hill many hundred times more in my mind than I ever did in real life!"
- One thing that keeps me inspired while drawing is determining the mood of the picture. Which in other words, means both lighting and environment. (And which may also mean: My tendency to draw unemotive characters, thus needing something like dramatic lighting to punch the overall feel.) In any event, once the character's facial expression and body language is set, the further refining of light and shadow and setting helps transport me into the picture, wanting to be there to look around and see what there is to see. (If it's a medium to wide shot, or if the character is interacting with something, I'll usually lay down environmental perspective first, ground plane, vanishing point and so forth. This may come after if my initial focus or inspiration is getting a nice character silhouette or pose first.)
If environment is the fifth character so to speak, then lighting and atmosphere is the stepping stone, the spirit, which moves the whole thing towards the ethereal. I'd say metaphysical, but that's the weightier stuff for the actual story or theme to carry.
- One of the several Aristotelian goods is wealth, which is defined as an abundance of any number of things that are:
- able to produce something practical or useful, or
- able to be liberally used or enjoyed for their own sake, or
- able to be secure
That last one I think is the most important. If the owner has the freedom to be able to use, sell, or give away whatever they have as they see fit: "Being wealthy consists rather in use than in possession; for the actualization (energeia) and use of such things is wealth." (Rhetoric, 1. V, 7)
Is worth thinking on this when it comes to comparing the head knowledge of art, vs. actual application. Scientiam vs. Energeia. And ultimately in the professional world, Position vs. Potential. Craft vs. Creativity. And how the former tends to get in the way of not only the latter, but of preventing the security of one's artistic or personal wealth, both in time and in creative options, well after the job is done.
- Following this, what theoretically or even practically may be correct can ultimately be less than what you intended.
I've seen this all too often in terms of perspective grids or even CG renders, technically correct in every respect, that if used as a one-to-one guide for every line while drawing can make the whole thing look forced and extremely skewed, and ultimately incorrect.
The eye is not flat, and our vision reflects that. Look at any straight line that is long enough to extend past your immediate and peripheral vision and follow how that line looks both in front of you and in your peripheral; e.g. : Take the part of a wall that meets at the ceiling with two walls on either left and right. Try drawing in your mind's eye what you think a straight invisible line connecting one corner of the room to the next should look like, all the while keeping focused on the wall/ceiling line while slowly turning your head in either direction.
Inevitably, the line we physically see bends on the peripheries no matter which part your eye focuses on. In effect, there's a fish-eyed lens effect the further outside anything gets from your direct line of sight.
Thus! There's a certain point where our minds can instinctively pick up on how something should look in a two-dimensional drawing, and which parts would "bend" as per your peripheral. Perspective grids start to distort the further away one gets from the vanishing (or the focal) point of the drawing.
So, start thinking in terms of art rather than scientiam when it comes to bending lines and perspective to make it look more natural. This goes for both backgrounds and characters.
- Apropos, decide on which lens you'd likely use if the drawing you're making were shot through a camera, as well as its distance from the lens. This will determine perspective and attendant distortion of, for both background and character.
- Further... I've heard it said that when it comes to visuals or anything creative,
trust your gut, feed your gut. It's one thing to have that warm fuzzy feeling of being secure in the learned, systematized,
scientific method of placing everything where it should be while drawing, carefully, like a watchmaker; and of knowing that you followed the rules, that everything
"lined up, jus' like a perty lil chorus line..." (And this would explain the increased uniformity of art on the internet over the past several years, and I think especially within certain areas of the animation industry.)
Unfortunately, as Solzhenitsyn said in his Nobel lecture,
Art is something we may try to define and contain, but as with anything mysterious or beautiful which we can't fully comprehend - either in its usefulness or its potential - we do so in vain and, in the process stifle and choke the life out of the very thing we're trying to cultivate for our own (or another's) use.
"All the irrationality of art, its blinding turns, its unpredictable discoveries, its profound impact on people, are too magical to be exhausted by the artist's view of the world, by his overall design, or by the work of his unworthy hands. Will we, before we go under, ever understand all of its facets and ends?... Not everything has a name. Some things lead us into a realm beyond words. By means of art we are sometimes sent - dimly, briefly - revelations unobtainable by reason."Even Aristotle warns against turning a faculty into a science. An ability that deals with almost unlimited and intangible set of possibilities and which may furnish a usable answer from those possibilities... ought no to be touted (or used) as a formula to obtain regular, expected results from a definite fixed subject. (
Rhetoric, 1. IV, 5-6.) Non-linear vs. linear thinking. He uses a good example of saying that while a faculty or art may employ certain aspects of the definite, you can't try to make one-size-fits-all when it comes to diagnosing a specific case: What medicine is good for Socrates or even Hippias may not be good for a certain class of patients, and vice versa. (1. II, 11) Only in a generalized sense can larger formulas or prescriptions be handed down, until one gets to know who exactly the patient is, and what aim they're going for. Presumably health, but there are times the world (in this case, studios) force a goal that may not be towards that "realm beyond words" (Art). Or even your own health, for that matter.
"Have it your way!," as the Burger King motto goes.