Oh, Blogger. You're so pretty and sweet, but Tumblr is just so...
Well, it's probably best I don't go into details.
But, suffice to say, I've been hanging out a lot more with Tumblr lately, and we've decided to take it to the next level. I'll be blogging there from now on. So, if you need me, I guess I'll be at UnicornCandyCastle.Tumblr.com ...
Can we still be friends?
Love,
Rose
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Monday, March 17, 2014
Birthday Card Thing
I'm cheap, so instead of buying a birthday present for my friend, Colin, I just did a watercolor for him, instead.
My goal was to channel the weirdest, saddest children's birthday party in the world.
At the moment, I'm back on a watercolor kick. But I'm being more flexible about the process. This was roughed in and inked in Manga Studio, then I printed that out at size and watercolored it on my lightbox. It's a weird process, I admit, but interesting. I got the idea for lightboxing watercolors from Aaron Renier.
I did some linework on the painting with a watercolor pencil, thinking maybe I could skip the digital lines altogether. I'm not sure why I was so keen on tossing out my digital lines. Maybe because I thought it would make the piece "purer" or something? I'm weird.
Going in this direction wouldn't have been a TERRIBLE move, but yeah, I don't know. It just wasn't snazzy enough.
I ended up using my digital inks, but turning the opacity way down and playing with blending modes a little bit. Next time, I might refine things a bit more on the paper and see how it turns out. Like, maybe with a really light inkwash for the lines, along with the colored pencil?
Hmm.
My goal was to channel the weirdest, saddest children's birthday party in the world.
At the moment, I'm back on a watercolor kick. But I'm being more flexible about the process. This was roughed in and inked in Manga Studio, then I printed that out at size and watercolored it on my lightbox. It's a weird process, I admit, but interesting. I got the idea for lightboxing watercolors from Aaron Renier.
I did some linework on the painting with a watercolor pencil, thinking maybe I could skip the digital lines altogether. I'm not sure why I was so keen on tossing out my digital lines. Maybe because I thought it would make the piece "purer" or something? I'm weird.
 |
| Meehhhhhhhh... |
Going in this direction wouldn't have been a TERRIBLE move, but yeah, I don't know. It just wasn't snazzy enough.
I ended up using my digital inks, but turning the opacity way down and playing with blending modes a little bit. Next time, I might refine things a bit more on the paper and see how it turns out. Like, maybe with a really light inkwash for the lines, along with the colored pencil?
Hmm.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
The Writer's Super-Power
by Rose David
So, at my day job, I work with this kid who's a total asshole. He just... sucks. I won't go into the details. Anyway, he snapped at me, I tried to talk to him like an adult, and things got heated.
I left before I started yelling and/or crying.
It takes a lot for me to get mad about something, and when I do, it's like this big rush of emotion that fills up my chest until its so tight I feel like I'm going to explode. And the only escape hatch for all that emotion seems to be through my tear ducts.
I wish I were one of those people who can get mad and just feel the righteous warmth of it. People who use the energy to talk louder. And stand up straighter.
But I'm not. Intensely angry feelings are too weird and intense for me. I'm not the kind of person who yells easily, so that means sometimes everything just threatens to pour out of my eyeballs, instead.
Which is why I left work early that day.
On the drive home, I was annoyed at myself for being such a baby about everything. And, as we all know, berating yourself for feeling feelings is the BEST way to get rid of said feelings! Still, I didn't want to cry, so I held it in.
When I got home, I did something even better... I wrote a scathing letter to my boss about the bullshit that had just transpired.
Oh, yes.
I'm a master at the scathing letter. I don't write them often, but when I do, I get this incredible rush. Because I KNOW that I've absolutely hit it out of the park. In almost every creative situation, I doubt my ability to write good prose, but when I'm writing persuasively about something that has pissed me off?
I don't know, man. Something happens.
I CHANGE. My fingers are nimble as they pound the keys, not a trace of hesitation. My thoughts are liquid perfection. Scathing letters are my jam.
As a writer, it's the one super-power that I know I have. (My Kryptonite, obviously, is when I actually have to deal with conflict face-to-face.)
Sigh. You guys, I really wish I could post this letter online, because it is a thing of beauty. Obviously it's not a good idea to do that. But yeah.
So, at my day job, I work with this kid who's a total asshole. He just... sucks. I won't go into the details. Anyway, he snapped at me, I tried to talk to him like an adult, and things got heated.
I left before I started yelling and/or crying.
It takes a lot for me to get mad about something, and when I do, it's like this big rush of emotion that fills up my chest until its so tight I feel like I'm going to explode. And the only escape hatch for all that emotion seems to be through my tear ducts.
I wish I were one of those people who can get mad and just feel the righteous warmth of it. People who use the energy to talk louder. And stand up straighter.
But I'm not. Intensely angry feelings are too weird and intense for me. I'm not the kind of person who yells easily, so that means sometimes everything just threatens to pour out of my eyeballs, instead.
Which is why I left work early that day.
On the drive home, I was annoyed at myself for being such a baby about everything. And, as we all know, berating yourself for feeling feelings is the BEST way to get rid of said feelings! Still, I didn't want to cry, so I held it in.
When I got home, I did something even better... I wrote a scathing letter to my boss about the bullshit that had just transpired.
Oh, yes.
I'm a master at the scathing letter. I don't write them often, but when I do, I get this incredible rush. Because I KNOW that I've absolutely hit it out of the park. In almost every creative situation, I doubt my ability to write good prose, but when I'm writing persuasively about something that has pissed me off?
I don't know, man. Something happens.
I CHANGE. My fingers are nimble as they pound the keys, not a trace of hesitation. My thoughts are liquid perfection. Scathing letters are my jam.
As a writer, it's the one super-power that I know I have. (My Kryptonite, obviously, is when I actually have to deal with conflict face-to-face.)
Sigh. You guys, I really wish I could post this letter online, because it is a thing of beauty. Obviously it's not a good idea to do that. But yeah.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Brass in Pocket
by Rose David
Right, well, here's the thing that's currently freaking me out...
I'm working on my graphic-novel-thingee, and I guess I'm making progress. I mean, I AM making progress. Occasionally I get all flustered and worried and spend a really long time playing with texture brushes and color schemes, neither of which I really need to worry about right now.
Which leads me to another issue: I've gone digital.
Not completely, of course. I've tried that, but I always missed pencil and paper too much. But I'd say, for this comic, it's about 80% digital work.
There are practical reasons, sure. Like, my scanner is standard-sized and I'd like to work bigger but NOT have to scan things in pieces (which I hate). Also, you know, I tend to be a little more experimental when working digitally, so that arguably means that I get a more ambitious final product.
I don't know.
It's weird, but I worry that I'm losing something. I don't know what. Like, a crunchy appeal that I see with my analog stuff because it's so much less polished?
After a lot of hand-wringing, I finally decided that my main goal was to tell the damn story, and I tend to be more efficient when I go digital, for whatever reason.
This is probably me just worrying again, unnecessarily, and freaking myself out. I know this.
That doesn't stop me from wondering whether or not my comic is going to look too polished or same-y. And whether keeping things analog would've made the pages more interesting and distinct, because God knows my artwork isn't going to do that.
Ahem.
So then, I run to my analog supplies, convinced that making comics in a way that's currently less popular is going to be a shortcut to making interesting art.
I think we both know that's bullshit, but there you go. The truth, of course, is that it's about working hard and challenging yourself, not worrying constantly about being unique. That kind of thinking leads to paralysis.
I guess the basic issue here isn't "digital versus analog." The whole thing just plays upon a really basic fear that I (and I think most artists) have--whether the stuff I do is unique or, you know, good.
Whatever the hell that's supposed to mean.
 |
| I'm special (special)... so special |
I'm working on my graphic-novel-thingee, and I guess I'm making progress. I mean, I AM making progress. Occasionally I get all flustered and worried and spend a really long time playing with texture brushes and color schemes, neither of which I really need to worry about right now.
Which leads me to another issue: I've gone digital.
Not completely, of course. I've tried that, but I always missed pencil and paper too much. But I'd say, for this comic, it's about 80% digital work.
There are practical reasons, sure. Like, my scanner is standard-sized and I'd like to work bigger but NOT have to scan things in pieces (which I hate). Also, you know, I tend to be a little more experimental when working digitally, so that arguably means that I get a more ambitious final product.
I don't know.
It's weird, but I worry that I'm losing something. I don't know what. Like, a crunchy appeal that I see with my analog stuff because it's so much less polished?
After a lot of hand-wringing, I finally decided that my main goal was to tell the damn story, and I tend to be more efficient when I go digital, for whatever reason.
This is probably me just worrying again, unnecessarily, and freaking myself out. I know this.
That doesn't stop me from wondering whether or not my comic is going to look too polished or same-y. And whether keeping things analog would've made the pages more interesting and distinct, because God knows my artwork isn't going to do that.
Ahem.
So then, I run to my analog supplies, convinced that making comics in a way that's currently less popular is going to be a shortcut to making interesting art.
I think we both know that's bullshit, but there you go. The truth, of course, is that it's about working hard and challenging yourself, not worrying constantly about being unique. That kind of thinking leads to paralysis.
I guess the basic issue here isn't "digital versus analog." The whole thing just plays upon a really basic fear that I (and I think most artists) have--whether the stuff I do is unique or, you know, good.
Whatever the hell that's supposed to mean.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Talent versus Ambition
by Rose David
So, I wrote a comic script, which is unusual for me because I tend to get over-eager and just try to skip that part.
But I wanted to do it right with this story. It's an ambitious project for me. I'm going to have to draw a lot of things I'm not comfortable with just yet, like detailed backgrounds and crowd scenes and, you know, dudes. And the tone of the piece is really challenging because it's kind of subtle and slice-of-life, and I tend to feel more comfortable with silliness.
I'm still playing around with the script, but I'm starting to think that I'm dragging my feet a little. Because when I'm done (or done-ish) with the script, then I'm going to have to start drawing this freaking thing, which is pretty intimidating.
I have serious doubts about whether or not I'm a good enough artist to see this project through. As you can probably tell, my visual work tends to skew toward the simple and cute, which is great for random diary comics, but maybe less effective for quiet little stories about loneliness and empathy.
So, yeah... This is me, freaking the hell out.
I know I shouldn't worry... because why SHOULDN'T I be the one to bring my characters to the page/computer screen? I ought to be the natural choice for artist because I know the characters best.
And because, you know, I don't have any money to PAY anyone else to do it.
I realize that the only way to tame this fear is to just keep working. But knowing that doesn't stop the pre-work jitters.
So, I wrote a comic script, which is unusual for me because I tend to get over-eager and just try to skip that part.
But I wanted to do it right with this story. It's an ambitious project for me. I'm going to have to draw a lot of things I'm not comfortable with just yet, like detailed backgrounds and crowd scenes and, you know, dudes. And the tone of the piece is really challenging because it's kind of subtle and slice-of-life, and I tend to feel more comfortable with silliness.
I'm still playing around with the script, but I'm starting to think that I'm dragging my feet a little. Because when I'm done (or done-ish) with the script, then I'm going to have to start drawing this freaking thing, which is pretty intimidating.
I have serious doubts about whether or not I'm a good enough artist to see this project through. As you can probably tell, my visual work tends to skew toward the simple and cute, which is great for random diary comics, but maybe less effective for quiet little stories about loneliness and empathy.
So, yeah... This is me, freaking the hell out.
I know I shouldn't worry... because why SHOULDN'T I be the one to bring my characters to the page/computer screen? I ought to be the natural choice for artist because I know the characters best.
And because, you know, I don't have any money to PAY anyone else to do it.
I realize that the only way to tame this fear is to just keep working. But knowing that doesn't stop the pre-work jitters.
Friday, February 28, 2014
February Review
Okay, so as you may or may not remember, February was the month where I decided it would be a really good idea not to look at myself in the mirror. I also avoided photos of myself.
The goal was to jolt myself out of all the superficial evaluation I put myself through on a daily basis. I didn't think it was such a big part of my life until I had to consciously think about just how often I checked myself out on reflective surfaces.
It'd be one thing if I was like...
That's a problem, too, but it's not the problem I struggle with. It was more like...
So yeah, overall that state of affairs was pretty bullshit.
The first week or so, I kept messing up. It was hard, breaking a habit that had been instilled in me since before puberty. It's the end of February and I'm still messing up, but I've gotten better. Now, I don't seek out my reflection, and if I do accidentally get a look at myself, I make sure not to dwell on the image.
Has this had a positive effect on me? Oh, maybe. It HAS helped me be more mindful about self-judgement, which is a big problem for me and pretty much every person I know. And I've also gotten the pleasant surprise of accidentally seeing myself in a photo and being weirdly non-critical of my appearance.
Normally, I would have thought, "Oh, gawd. Look at the size of me!"
Instead, I actually wondered, "Who's that girl who looks like a slow loris?"
Which I guess is kind of a good thing, more or less.
I'm kind of weirdly excited about getting to look in the mirror again. Not because I want to go back to judging myself all the time, but because... I mean, I haven't seen myself in a month. When Kjerstin Gruys didn't look at herself for a year, she said that seeing her reflection was like reuniting with an old friend. I guess that's how I feel right now.
The goal was to jolt myself out of all the superficial evaluation I put myself through on a daily basis. I didn't think it was such a big part of my life until I had to consciously think about just how often I checked myself out on reflective surfaces.
It'd be one thing if I was like...
That's a problem, too, but it's not the problem I struggle with. It was more like...
So yeah, overall that state of affairs was pretty bullshit.
The first week or so, I kept messing up. It was hard, breaking a habit that had been instilled in me since before puberty. It's the end of February and I'm still messing up, but I've gotten better. Now, I don't seek out my reflection, and if I do accidentally get a look at myself, I make sure not to dwell on the image.
Has this had a positive effect on me? Oh, maybe. It HAS helped me be more mindful about self-judgement, which is a big problem for me and pretty much every person I know. And I've also gotten the pleasant surprise of accidentally seeing myself in a photo and being weirdly non-critical of my appearance.
Normally, I would have thought, "Oh, gawd. Look at the size of me!"
Instead, I actually wondered, "Who's that girl who looks like a slow loris?"
Which I guess is kind of a good thing, more or less.
I'm kind of weirdly excited about getting to look in the mirror again. Not because I want to go back to judging myself all the time, but because... I mean, I haven't seen myself in a month. When Kjerstin Gruys didn't look at herself for a year, she said that seeing her reflection was like reuniting with an old friend. I guess that's how I feel right now.
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