Original Art Sundays No. 302: Sharp Invitations: Curt, p. 42

 Okay, here we go!

When we last saw Curt, he was charging at me, full of rage.

Read on.

This was a tricky layout. The first panel portrays a really clumsy moment (in a physical sense). I almost went full cartoon on this one, since it was so absurd. Then this was going to be silhouette, but it seemed too ominous. I opted for a borderline approach- loose figures, awkward poses and just enough text to clarify the action. I opted for simple pencil for the ground shading, a leadless HB.

The second panel establishes the space from an angle we haven't seen before. For a simple, boring room with tedious 1970s architecture, this space is really challenging to draw! I took half a dozen reference shots of a similar setup in my living room, tried drawing it from six different perspectives. Nothing worked. Finally, I decided to simplify and make it about the characters, then made the environment another character. The anchor points related to other pages are the cabinets on the far wall and the open area where Mother's painting once was. No facial expressions in this panel. I wanted the poses to convey the emotions. Also, that's a really tiny drawing of a human body!

The last panel goes tight on his reaching hand an foreshadows the next page.  There's also the visual device of the hand reaching towards the corner, encouraging the reader to turn the page. Large curved area of black serves to anchor the panel.

I was almost late with this page, as I was also preparing work for the upcoming MCAD Faculty Biennial show this week. Show goes up in late August. Rest assured there will be photos. I reviewed about 30 recent pages and selected 14. The pleasant surprise was how much I liked some of them! My internal .dialogue on my art, my writing, my craft, leans towards lament. I tend to dwell on how much time has slipped by me and how the work suffers from that. That's human, but also very self-indulgent. My consolations/realizations are that the work is stronger than I think it is, and that if I use my time well, I can do 50 - 100 pages a year. If I manage to keep going another 20 years, that's a lot of story!

Tools for this page:

• Canson Bristol board, plain paper slipsheet, masking tape
  
• iPhone for photo reference.
• T-square, triangle, Ames lettering guide
• Tech pencil, Paster 6B pencil, HB Woodless pencil
• Dr. Martin's Black Star Matte Ink
• Blick #6 Round Brush
• Pen nib & holder
• Micron .005, .01, .02, .03, .05, .08, 1.0
• Faber Castell Brush Tip Marker
• Plastic eraser
• Photoshop

Next: things break.

Original Art Sundays No. 235: The Next Sharp Invitation, p. 7

The books are printed, the grant is submitted. Funds reimbursement expected soon.
Until then, the work goes on, as we know it should.
I solicited feedback from some folks at Spring Con this weekend, and am waiting for their responses.
The last page of the current story:

I'm very satisfied with this page.
I could have gone nuts rendering the angelic figure in Panel Two, but sometimes simple is better.
There are almost no backgrounds on this whole page. For the most part, that's the way I wanted this one. I was keen for the sense of floating- first being held aloft by the twine, then feeling free in the dress.
I find the freehand borders here particularly effective.
In upcoming stories, I have an even higher emotional content. This is problematic. It's a balancing act between the integrity of the work and how much the reader can, or chooses to, take. How responsible is the creator for the reader's reactions? It's easy to say one has no culpability. But we try for responses to our work. Who's to blame if we succeed?
No easy answers here. As my sister Pat once told me, I don't have the answers, but I'm starting to learn the questions.
The printed version of the work to date jumps over a BIG part of my life, going from this period to adulthood. Those stories will be completed in some form by the time of the faculty art show in the fall, in which parts of this work will be exhibited.
Next: a new Sharp Invitations story.
As promised, I am re-posting the whole story below.

One for Felix

Haven't posted for a while. But April 20 is my other birthday. 23 years ago today I had my final gender reassignment surgery.
Some well-meaning friends don't get it that I want to celebrate this day, in my own quiet way. After all, it's done now, why live in the past?
Well, in the first place, hushing it up implies lying about the past, and I think lying about who you were is the same thing as lying about who you are. Mind, I'm not going to stand in the middle of a biker bar and shout it out, nor am I going to ramble incessantly about it like a silly schoolgirl. But no more shame, not of who I was, not of who I am.
Second, the people who tell me to keep mum about my past sometimes seem more ashamed of it than I am. Paradoxically, many of them are people who've outed me to others to show off how open-minded they are to have me as a friend (sorry, but my private life is not your trophy), or people who know my business but have never had the decency to discuss it with me directly. Maybe they have their own stuff to deal with, but I try to be there for the hard stuff for my friends, and I hope for the same from them. It disappoints me when that reciprocation is missing.
If I sound a little bitter about some of that, we have a bingo, please hold your cards.
But as frustrating as all that can be, if someone else has a problem with my life, that's just what it is: their problem. It's up to them to solve it.
This day also gives me pause to remember all the things I've done in those years.
The bad comes from trusting the wrong people and not trusting myself: an abusive relationship, bad financial decisions, too hesitant to act in advancing my career.
The good comes from taking chances related to knowing I'm worth taking a chance on: randomly recording original music, published articles, a newspaper strip, self-published comics, a technical college diploma, a BFA, a Master's, and a twelve- year (so far) teaching career.
I'm still fighting to stay motivated on my own work. What creative person doesn't share that fight? But I learn from watching others who simply do the work, without conceit or complaint.
The first of these I observed during these years was a teacher who shared my original birthday, Felix Ampah.

Photo used for MTC Catalog dedicated to Felix

I first encountered this bright smile and dark voice in a Drawing and Painting course at Minneapolis Community & Technical College.  I'd had surgery less than three months prior to starting the Commercial Art program there, and was still quite unsteady on my feet, in every sense. But it would be disingenuous to say Felix made me feel at home, since he had that effect on everyone.
We began talking about comic art as he taught me basic techniques, later built on in Airbrush and Portfolio classes. Even when we were not in his classes, we sought him out for advice on art and career, and we looked to the way he conducted himself as an example of what an artist could do with his/her own life.
We didn't know how rich that life was until later.
I bragged about having seen Hendrix, and that really got Felix going. He was a huge hendrix fan, studying his guitar technique and lyrics scrupulously. When Felix talked to me about learning to play Hendrix licks on homemade guitars in Ghana, I had no idea that he was actually a Ghanan prince, and got special permission from his father to study art in the States.

Felix and his wife Sylvia

Life isn't a contest and there's enough to go around, as long as people are willing to share and trust. But I still find myself in awe of what people are willing to give up to get the lives they want, and how happy they often are with those choices.
Felix maintained his joy teaching in a place where some of the teachers seemed rather unhappy with their lots in life. In time, his successful career as a painter led him to open his own gallery, Ampah Gallery.

A Felix painting, reminiscent of Reginald Marsh

I was driving a different route home from teaching one February night when I noticed the sign for Ampah Gallery. Thinking that it might be "our Felix", as we called him, I made a mental note of stopping by during regular hours.
But I was too late. A couple weeks later, I saw his obituary in Insight, a local paper dedicated to news of the Black community.
I did stop in a couple weeks later, to look about and sign the guest book in Felix's memory in thanks for all he'd given me.
Felix's critiques bordered on Zen but were always eminently practical. Every now and then some overly regimented student would gripe about his criticisms not being specific enough, but the rest of us got it. He was giving us room to explore, and pointing in the right direction. Only the best teachers can pull that off.
He also taught adjunct at U of MN, and has had a scholarship in design named for him at MTC.
I miss him on my other birthday, Feb. 19. As I mentioned, it was his day too.
I hope this inspires me rather than intimidating. Looking at the scope of the accomplishments of others contributes greatly to a sense of inadequacy, which immobilizes creativity.
But I also remember Felix working at a dozen different projects- posters, prints, lesson plans, inventions (!), a pilot for an unproduced PBS series on airbrushing (screened in class for fun). He just kept working.
That's the challenge, and the only way to do it is to do it.
As Steve Rude once said, hey, what else you got to do with your life?

Original Art Sundays No. 119: video: Melanie interview

I was blessed to see Melanie Safka perform live this evening.
I cannot tell you how delightful it was. Her self-deprecating humor, couple with her spiritual strength and an incredibly strong voice and her son Bo's virtuoso guitar (and bowed guitar!) playing made for a highlight of my concert going life.
I shot videos of three songs. While the lighting on them was atrocious, I will be posting them soon anyway.
After the show, I chatted with her very briefly about art and music as businesses, about Isle of Wight, and about Jimi Hendrix.
I posted my little interview to YouTube with no editing and quick titles.






Next week, a new page of A Private Myth.

One for Mother

Today is my late Mother's birthday.
It's also Jimi Hendrix's birthday.
As such, I'd like to offer a sentimental Hendrix number, accompanied by photography. Mother loved nature photographs, and took some good ones, though these are not hers.




She also loved a good laugh. She weaned us on Burns and Allen records.



Every year, I put together a book of her paintings for my brothers and sisters. The shoot is tomorrow. Between that and her birthday, she is very much in my thoughts and heart today.
Without her influence, I might never have become an artist. Like many of us, I owe my Mother more than I can express. I try to give it back by reflecting the best of her in my words and deeds.
Lighter post again on Sunday!

Who gets to call it Art?

Freely stolen from the Sleeveface blog!

More on SES

I promised more on SES, and here it is.
SES stands for Summer Expressions Seminar. It's Art School Camp for College credit. Takes place at Minneapolis College of Art & Design. Two sessions, two weeks each, one week in between. I've been teaching it for ten years now. The upcoming SES II, which starts this coming Sunday, will be my 16th session.
In session one, we teach graphic design, web, rock video, documentary, photo and sound.
In session two, we teach painting, animation, comics and game design.
I have pretty much free rein when teaching in this program. When the strictures are removed, the focus quickly shifts from "how do I satisfy my employer?" to "what are the needs of the students?"
It's a humbling experience to be in service to something bigger than yourself.
We only have them for two weeks, but during that time, they get a taste of art school- the real thing, not the romanticized version put forth by people who aren't artists. It's a baptism of fire, and I'm honored to be part of it.
My courses are more concerned with the how than the why. I teach courses in the nature of performance and in constructing and deconstructing text and image.
The above sketch was done by an SES II student last year while I was lecturing. I was so taken with it, I asked if I could keep it.
More than anything, those surprises are what make it worthwhile.