Patronized

A while ago I told you about a series of drawings I did inspired by Dia de Los Muertos ofrendas, including a skeletal St. Catherine of Bologna. I always meant to come back and do more skeleton saints and apparently to make that happen I needed someone to say, 'I want that and two more like it and in exchange I'll give you dollars.'
Of course, said benefactor is a family member and while I know in my head he's just being a nice guy, I'm not going to look at it too hard. Also, if he'd asked for anything else, anything but colored pencil, I'd have given him the usual family discount of, 'take it, it's just cluttering up my house and one of the cats might wee on it.'
But as these things take forever and absolutely wreck me physically (went for a massage after finishing one and was promptly scolded for all the weird noises my bones and tendons were making really take a break and stretch out ever, god, what is that you're arm is doing, that doesn't even make sense) so I'm not really feeling the guilt of charging a relative. Also, we come back to he's being a nice guy and I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
As I'm playacting at being professional, I decided that I will mat and frame them. Which seems an excellent yet relatively simple idea, but I didn't really leave enough room for matting on St. Catherine and so I've had to redo her. Along with coming up with two more pieces. Way to go, self.
At ny rate, here's is St. Catherine v. 2:

Unfortunately, I'd don't like it as much as the first. I had some human faces, how do they work problems. The Boyfriend pointed out that they usually have skin, which was about as helpful as it sounds.
Up next was St. Luke:

Or, 'cross-dressing Ghandi in a Hello Kitty not wearing a windsor.' Which translates from the original Boyfriend to 'looks a bit like Ghandi, but he has a red smudge on his forehead, in a reliquary and he's not wearing a wimple because he wasn't a nun.'
I've currently sketched out the frame for the third but am stumped on which saint to do. I initially wanted to do St. Anthony but Pater pointed out a painting of St. Agnes in his Lives of the Saints book. She's typically depicted carrying a lamb, and a skeleton lamb tickles me greatly.
All of these were / are being done with Prismacolor colored pencils, which are notorious for their easily breakable leads. And it's not just the bit that pokes out of the wood, oh no, the leads will and do break inside the pencil leading to many frustrated attempts at sharpening which end with a lovely point that promptly falls out of the barrel.


Cue fit throwing.
I'm doing two things to help minimize the frustration. One, I'm making perhaps the longest pencil roll ever to keep them from rattling around and suffering indignities as the pretty tin they come in isn't so great at actually, you know, holding them. This won't magically piece back together what's already been broken, but I can at least now pack them up in a bag without having seventeen heart attacks every time they're jostled.
Two, I've ordered a new set. I've heard of people having better luck ordering sets from the internet than picking them up at a brick and mortar as far as internal breakage is concerned so I'm testing this theory out. That their largest set now comes in 132 colors is what finally tipped me over into switching my current collection to traveling mode. 132 colors! I can hardly imagine. Also purchased, two fancy pants pencil cases that I've heard wonderful things about as far as providing the coddling these pencils require.
Sensible!resa knows that she just ought to use her perfectly serviceable 72 colored pencils to finish this project up but waiting until I have 132 colors at my disposal is so tempting. I'm going to be coloring all the things when it gets here. It's a coloring party at my house.

Hatch Chile Season -

- An Almost Wordless Parable

Moral: Chiles Are Wily, Knives Are Sharp, Capsaicin Is A Wee Bastard.

Revenge

I think my house is still peeved about me not taking better care of it and doing things like painting it terrible colors. And now that I'm trying to catch up on housework its striking back.

Why is it that the things that best kill mildew are also the best at killing brain cells? I mean, it says right on the bottle that it's for cleaning showers yet goes on to say 'use in a well ventilated area'. And maybe I'm missing out on a whole realm of experience but I don't think I've met a shower yet that could fairly be called 'well ventilated'.



I like to think that I lost my grasp of arithmetic for a worthwhile cause though. It seems as though the tide of war is finally turning in my favor. I can safely shower without just averting my eyes and pretending that the grout wasn't actually developing rudimentary eyestalks and ogling my sudsy butt.



I know I can't be alone in this, but I seem to be a real winner when it comes to realizing that something is a terrible idea and is bound to end badly but then going on to do it anyway.

The step stool ended up mysteriously broken when we were painting and still hasn't been replaced. So when it came time to clean off the light fixture above the dining room table I figured I could probably get the job done by standing on a chair on tip toe and just leaning brazenly across the table.

Clearly there was nothing that could possibly go wrong here.



I have to admit, damaging my vestigial muscles was probably the least hurtful way this could have ended. While I would like nothing more than to give the finger to the dishes and curl up with a steady stream of gin and tonics for the rest of the summer, at least I didn't completely bust my face open pirouetting dramatically off the chair and onto the table.

Not that I almost did that. No, no, it was fiiiine.

A laundry basket will do just a good a job holding my clothes as the dressers, right? I don't even want to contemplate how folding laundry is going to injure me.

HA HA! Estoy Usando El Internet!

Click to embiggen

I'm not sure if this counts for blog week, since comics aren't exactly new here, though I haven't done a full page one in years.

Tidy Mind, Tidy Stitches

Here we are at day three of blog week (2KCBWDAY3) with the following prompt:

How do you keep your yarn wrangling organised? It seems like an easy to answer question at first, but in fact organisation exists on many levels. Maybe you are truly not organised at all, in which case I am personally daring you to try and photograph your stash in whatever locations you can find the individual skeins. However, if you are organised, blog about an aspect of that organisation process, whether that be a particularly neat and tidy knitting bag, a decorative display of your crochet hooks, your organised stash or your project and stash pages on Ravelry.

 Curse you new floors!  That bit about personally daring me to photograph yarn as I find it?  Two weeks ago I could have done that handily and proven that, truly, there are those of us who just don't have anything in the way of organization.

Well. That may be overstating things a little.  But only just.  I have a rather large chest in the corner of the living room next to my side of the couch (the one with my hard won butt dent) that has zip top bags filled with yarn.  But the likelihood of yarn making it from purchase to zip top to chest is pretty darn small.  And if I want to use the yarn right away or just look at it for a while then I don't even have the advantage of knowing which shopping bag it was in.  It could literally be anywhere I might have put it down.  Or hidden it from the cats after putting it down.  Or hidden it from myself because it got in the way.

Despite that my tendency to lose things is actually not that bad.  In fact, I'm more likely to lose something if I've put it away someplace obvious.  Which is why I can tell the Boyfriend that the shopping bag from the trip to the hardware store three months ago is beneath the chair in the dining room near his shoes.  Ask me to find my favorite black bra after I specifically announce to myself aloud, 'I am putting this in this drawer because I have just washed it,' and I'm tearing apart the house.

So, I know my Cascade Magnum was on the DVD shelf next to Zoolander*, the red variegated sock yarn was on the corner of the coffee table, bits and bobs of the cotton acrylic blend for the commissioned monkeys was behind the left hand cushion of the love seat, the Baby Ull and half a fingerless mitt that I really need to start over was in the magazine rack.... I could keep going but why?

Now all my yarn is in three places: the chest (which has no organizational system besides 'what will fit in this bag'), a box packed with all the crafty related shenanigans I could round up from downstairs (and my copy of The Wasteland, for some reason) and the freezer.  I guess, four places if you count the trash.

Why the freezer and the trash? Well, this:

If you see this bastard anywhere in your house just burn the place down and salt the earth.  Even then you'll have nagging doubts about whether it really, truly is this time gone.

I knew there was a point to all those zip top bags when I first started using them.

*Wait, that's a filing system that almost makes sense.  If you squint.

Illustration Friday - Toy

This is George.  I don't know when I originally got George, or who gave him to me but he's been a part of my life almost as long as I can remember.  His little French knot eyes are unraveling, most of the paint on him (like his nose and toes and fingers) is gone, his whiskers have been replaced at least once and he has a sort of well worn and grimy look to him that comes from being a kid's constant companion, the sort that can't be washed away.

George went with me to my first day of school, my first sleepover, every trip to my grandparents' and was one of the first things I picked up from my parents' house when I moved to my first apartment.  He's been soaked in tears, flown in giddy circles in my hands and knows all of my secrets.

He no longer has a place on my bed right by my face but I don't think I could ever really and truly put away childish things if it meant that I couldn't have George.  As I get older I'm trying to be less sentimental and to accumulate less things and give more away, but George will never be on that list. 

As for the actual painting, it's pretty crap.  Enough that I want to redo it when I'm a little more clear headed, and a little less full of allergens and rhinovirus.  At least enough that I don't get distracted half through erasing my pencil lines before starting the water color.

If anyone deserves actual effort, it's probably George.

And Then the Bats Came Out

Occasionally, my lack of time management skills has consequences that seem obvious after the fact but in the thick of it I am bewildered by things not going right for no discernible reason.

Like last night. I was feeling bad about the bag of holding so decided to pull together another small thing to give my friend.

Busted out the water colors and sat down to make a little piece of Austiniana, since while she no longer lives here the city does still hold a warm place in her heart.

Here's what I came up with:


Congress Avenue bridge with bats. Ish.

I thought I'd waited between layers long enough to keep working, but not so much. As a result I've got some muddiness and streakiness and some bits that are over worked because I could just not for the life of me get the paint to move the way I wanted it to. And clearly the way to deal with that is to just keep moving it around and adding more and lifting some and what not.

Though I did get it pretty much done in enough time to put on pants that don't involve a drawstring and a brassiere before she got here. Go me! Of course, it was still pretty damp when we were supposed to leave for a movie (Cabaret at the Alamo, complete with drag commentary. It was glorious, Fosse is the best) so I handed it to her still taped to the board and asked if she wanted it.

The answer was maybe, because while she thinks she understands the meta commentary on process and what is art etc., she wasn't sure if a DaDa inspired piece was really up her alley. Also, how would she display it? I told her that when we got back from the Drafthouse it'd be dry enough to take off the board because while I liked her interpretation I like the convenience of the board more.

If you're unfamiliar with the Congress bats, they're the largest urban bat colony. Little Mexican Free Tails living under the bridge and coming out at dusk to do their bit to rid my life of mosquitoes. I love you, little bats. Your faces are at one ugly and adorable and you are voracious.

And on an unrelated note, Penny was feeling a little needy while I was writing this, and acting as a lap desk for the iPad wasn't cutting it. So, in a valiant attempt to get me to stop doing unimportant things and pet her she co-opted one of my hands as a pillow:

Illustration Friday - Chicken

Tyrannogallus Rex, King of the Chickens.

Well, they do look like dinosaurs.

Making Plans

Every year I buy a planner/date book/ diary/ agenda/ what have you and compulsively mark everyone's birthdays with stickers, make up elaborate color codes and all sorts of nerdy nonsense in a desperate bid to be the least bit organized.  And when I remember to a) have my date book with me at all times so that I can actually write in it and b) remember to check it, at all, ever it's a very useful thing.  But neither a nor b happens on the regular.  No one is shocked.

Apparently what I needed to do was write down in last years planner to buy a new one for this year.  At least then I'd have a chance of remembering before the pickings got slim.  Something tells me it's wrong to for a voting adult to have a Justin Bieber Homework Planner.*  And I definitely need one, even if I'm not the best at using it.  If only for hair cut appointments.  Speaking of Bieber, these bangs are out of control.  It's ok, I wasn't too attached to seeing or anything, but I seem to be doing my best to grow a femmullet and that is very much not ok.  Curly hair doesn't lend itself to DIY haircuts, but I'm about to give it a go anyway.

No matter how stupid it looks, it's better than a mullet.

Back to the point: planners!  I have had a nutty but possibly brilliant idea.  I have a spare pocket sized note book.  I have a ruler.  Onward, to making my own date book.  Maybe.  Because while making my own would spare me the embarrassment of pulling out my Team Jacob ♥ planner in front of other people, this may be a project too anal retentive even for me.

Thus far I've made it mostly through most of March without setting it on fire out of boredom and frustration.  Though I have killed a pen.  To be fair, it was probably on it's last legs, but still.  At any rate, the exciting bits aren't the lines and my awful printing.  No, the exciting bits are that at the beginning of each month I've done a doodle.  Well, so far I just have January:

I have decided that if I can manage to finish it this year (April will have to wait until I find a replacement pen.  I know I have another package around here somewhere.) that next year I ought to use a sturdier notebook.  Because the paper in this one is so thin media choice is pretty limited.

I'll be sure to pencil that in toward the end of December.  Or at least on one of the blank pages after March.

*A Justin Timberlake Homework Planner on the other hand.... I can't pretend that I wouldn't spend good money on that because heeeee.

Illustration Friday - Star Gazing

Star Gazing

Playing around with watercolors again.  We'll see if the fascination lasts a little longer this time so that I have a chance to see some actual improvement before I go off mucking about with something else.  Did this while at the adoption event for the kittens so my travel watercolor set actually did some traveling.  Good times.

Speaking of kittens, I blame them entirely for me being inblognito.  It's been a tough season so far, adoptions are way down and the mortality and morbidity rate is way up.  As a result, creative (and cleaning) pursuits have been put on the back burner while things are getting sorted. We lost two of our fosters and the ability to muster up the energy for art or craft related pursuits is nearly impossible when you're feeling like a awful kitten killer.  The remaining three seem to be bouncing back and are doing reasonably well though.

Except for the epic case of ringworm.

Oh, ringworm.  How much do I hate you?  So much I can't find adequate words to express it.  The bathing.  The desperate hope that our own cats don't catch it.  The thanking every deity I can think of that I'm seemingly immune.  Our plans for replacing the manky downstairs carpet with wood flooring suddenly being moved up.  Because steam cleaning?  Is a pain.

Here's hoping things continue to improve.  Because at this point the universe is just being mean.

Illustration Friday - Caged

A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down the narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
and he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for he caged bird
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on the dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

-Maya Angelou




Note to self: when mucking about with digital art it really is worth the trouble to find your mouse.  My touchpad finger's all hurty now.

Illustration Friday - Artificial

The artificial sentiments of white lies and platitudes are an important social lubricant, I'm not denying that.  But one of my many weaknesses is that I'm not always the best at either giving them in a sincere manner or managing to take them graciously when I hear them.

Missed last week's topic entirely, things have been pretty crazy on the kitten front.  Hopefully things will be better this week.

Calaveras

The last two years I've participated in a month long project where I try to create a piece of art every day and share with other artists doing the same.  I've enjoyed it so much and I feel such a sense of accomplishment when it's all over, even if I whine and moan during it.

Last year, toward the end of September I was so ready for Día de los Muertos I couldn't stand it.  Since it was still more than a month away I got my fix by drawing an ofrenda:

A common argument between the Boyfriend and I when the subject of my love of skulls and skeletons comes up usually goes something like this:

Him:  You're such a goth.
Me:  I'm embracing my cultural heritage!
Him:  Goth.
Me:  We used skulls as a common motif well before goths.  I win.
Him:  Goth.

And so on and so forth.

So, we've established that I love Día de los Muertos, skulls and skeletons, and I was trying to dig up some ideas for art every day.  With all this, plus a lifelong love of the engravings of José Guadalupe Posada and a little latent Catholicism thrown in I produced this:

St. Catherine of Bologna

Saints as skeletons is a theme I wanted to explore more, but life got in the way.  But I think it's interesting me again and I have a few ideas in the works.  We'll see what happens.

Illustration Friday - Breakfast

I'm obviously not the healthiest person in the world.  Not pictured is NPR or one of the cable news channels playing in the background because I'm a total news junkie.

I've been putting off posting this because I don't think it's finished and just generally think it's a bit crap.  But I'm totally stumped on how I want to finish it and if I waited until I was completely satisfied with something to share it I would be consistently not sharing.  So this is me pushing myself out of my comfort zone.

I don't like it out here one bit.

Illustration Friday - Diary

I didn't start keeping a regular diary until I was in college.  Sometimes it seems like my life before that is written out on my body.

My second and third toes on both feet are crooked from my years in ballet.

The middle of my right forearm aches when it's cold and rainy since I broke it in third grade.

The two scars from the man o' war sting I got the first time I went to the beach when I was 12 have faded.  For a few months after it happened they were the same color as the man o' war's tentacles.

The long thin scar on my inner thigh just above my knee is from the sleepover I had for my fifteenth birthday.  I scratched myself with my fingernail while flailing during a tickle fight.  I never knew fingernails could be so dangerous.

Of course, now it's a collection of fine lines from kittens trying to climb up my legs.  Words I'd never thought I'd say: 'Could you pick this kitten off my butt before it tries to go any higher?'

Playing with New Toys

Brown Sea Nettle

You know how pleased I was with the watercolor instruction book because it had exercises in it that would result in proper paintings while I learned how to use my new paints?  Well, despite that the first thing I did was a quick doodle of a jellyfish so I could color it in.

None of the exercises was of a jellyfish, so obviously my way was better.  Or something.

Had the shakes while I was inking it (damn you caffeine addiction) but other than that I'm pretty pleased with myself.  Still have a rather long way to go, but for a first attempt with proper watercolors it could certainly be worse.  Unfortunately, I can't get the colors true in the photograph, but you can get the idea.

Art Supply Haul

Behold, my materialism!

Despite my ineptitude with watercolors I've decided that I really like them.  So, I need to get better at them.

Went to the craft store today to pick up some real watercolor supplies.  I figured that if I'm going to make a go at this I should do it properly and not use the ancient grade school style palette of watercolors that I do have.  But because this is me I couldn't just stop there.

I like to think that I understand the theory behind using watercolor (I might be wrong about that) but I fail completely and utterly in the execution.  Thus the book.  Instead of the usual drawing basics that most instruction books have and the step by step instructions of 'first you take your pigment....' it has several painting exercises.  Complete pieces done by several artists with their notes on how they did them.  This should keep me reasonably entertained as I'll have a distinct 'prize' at the end of each exercise- a painting that looks like something besides simple shapes.  Thanks for understanding my need for immediate reward, book!

Next were some brushes.  Because I have some acrylic brushes but nothing with fine hair or that were small enough to work in my sketchbook.  Except for one flat brush I stole from my dad's stash for leather dyeing once.  I think I used it for eye shadow.  Sorry, Pater.

And then I was completely distracted from my intended shopping purpose by the drafting supplies.  Yay! technical pencils!  They make me happy.  I also picked up a piece of illustration board because Pater is always bugging me about how I should work bigger.  Now I'll make him something and it'll take ten and a half million years because it's (comparatively) huge.  No idea what it'll be yet, other than big enough.  Hopefully.

And then a new sketchbook.  Because I'm a compulsive book buyer.  I have more notebooks and sketchbooks than I will probably fill in my entire life, but I'll still buy more because they have a pretty cover or lovely paper or come in an interesting shape.  I have a problem.  Someone on the Journal Writing Knitter's group recommended the hand*book journal co.'s books as a less expensive alternative to the Moleskine.  Unfortunately, I noticed after I got it home that the elastic closure on this one was already broken.  Still, if the paper is friendlier to my fountain pens than Mole or the Picadilly I'm currently using to journal then I'll be a happy resa.

And now the watercolors.  I bought the Winsor & Newton Cotman Watercolors Compact Set.

And here it is, all opened up.  Not the greatest quality on the plastic box, but I'm okay with that.  No sense getting the best of the best if I'm going to get bored of watercolor in a few weeks which is always a possibility.  Love how portable it is.  The few times I actually leave the house this will easily fit into just about any of my purses.

Here's my cheat sheet of what colors came with the set.  Just in case I actually finish off one or more of the pans and want to get replacements.  Also, it gave me a neat excuse to play with it right away.  Like any time I get a new toy the need to have a go immediately after getting the packaging off was strong.

I'm terribly excited about the table top easel.  As are my old lady bones that now protest hunching over a table for extended periods of time.  I'll get some more photos of it once I get it out of the box and set up.  I think we're going to be the best of friends.

Qi Vortex

Austin has a large population of Great-Tailed Grackles.  When a colony comes home to roost it's one hell of an experience.



My freshman year of college I went on a date with a guy who, while seeming perfectly normal if a bit pretentious (to be fair, so was I.  Philosophy undergrad will do that to you.) when I first met him, turned out to be benignly nutty.

Apparently a small-ish colony of grackles called the trees next to the ice cream shop we went to home and while we were there started coming in for the evening.  As they were screaming and swooping and chattering to each other my date starts going on this amazing tirade about how much he hates grackles.  Not the usual complaints of 'they're loud,' or 'they poop a lot on my car,' or 'they drive off the smaller birds,' but about how they were just energy draining.  Being around grackles made this guy exhausted.

Then he said what were perhaps the greatest words I'd thus far heard in my life:

Grackles.  They're, like, Qi vortexes, draining my life force.

Shortly after I had to call it quits and went home.  Because really.  I learned a valuable lesson though.  Never pick up guys in the wee hours at the all night diner.

Illustration Friday - Giant

Since I never draw anything anymore I've decided to hop on board with Illustration Friday, see if that can get my mojo going.

Sleeping in the Hands of Giants

That's Snickerdoodle, one of our foster kittens.  She was found at the dump after falling out of a couch being thrown away.  Because of being underfed she was tiny for her age so had the proportions of an older cat shrunk down to pocket sized dimensions.  Happily she recovered to be a normal looking kitten and has gone on to a loving home.

I thought that I would try watercolor for this but I forgot my almost pathological ineptitude at it.  I need to remember that if I think something will look cool in watercolor it won't with my watercolor.