Thursday, July 23, 2009

I ALWAYS FORGET TO CLEAN THE BRUSH.

Striped Socks and Oxfords.

Forgive me for this lengthy absence. I know it's Summer and I should probably be lounging around in a sweet smoking jacket, eating Cheetos and constantly updating my blog with cheese-dusted drawings. But I'm not. I've been playing sort-of counselor at MICA's Pre-College Summer program, as well as Teaching Assistant-ing an illustration class. It. Is. Non. Stop. The highly intense month-long program ends this weekend, and I still have yet to shake the weirdness of a bunch of high school students relying on my feedback and supervision. Yeah. Me. Terrifying.

Since I can't really concentrate/work on anything super-substantial during class time because of my divided attention, I've been casually practicing my technique with brush and ink. I'm feeling a little bit more confident, but, holy wow, the wonkiness of the lines is killing me. On the plus side, I have been blazing through this new sketchbook. Here are some pages. So... That top one is a quick ink sketch of my foot. This is the kind of nonsense I wear. Black patent Oxfords, black trousers, black & white striped socks. Dangerously feminine, I know.

More Sketches and Ink Practice.

The above image actually consists of three different pages from my sketchbook. As you can see, in addition to my usual pencil sketches of girls with weird sci-fi guns, I have been doing some hand lettering practice. The words for the page on the far left popped into my head as I was watching the students perform in the talent show. Sometimes weird phrases just float through my brain and I have to put them down, even when they have nothing to do with anything. I swear. No one was doing slam poetry. Or lines. Really. And the last page is a drawing of a plastic dog and some text from one of the assignment prompts in the illustration class. I don't feel like explaining it, so draw your own conclusions.

... Ah-haha. Draw.

In other news, I hope everyone at San Diego Comic-Con is having an incredible time. Actually, I know they are, because the endless giddy Tweets are bumming me out. You lucky bastards.