Today I made an attempt to photograph some of my pen and ink stuff in ways that are less gray and gloomy.
This pen and ink scene is entirely from my imagination. Both the gnarled tree and the castle were taken from doodles on throw-away newsprint. The Buffalo was an exercise in capturing an animal from a photo in pen and ink. The whole thing is much too big to fit on my little scanner. Last time I photogged it, it came out as mostly a pool of murky gray with black tattoos all over it. This time I used my 300 Watt light and bounced it at an angle to get this less murky pastel gray photo of the scene.
I am definitely not the world’s greatest photographer. I am ranked somewhere in the top 3 billions, maybe, on a good day. This blasphemy in pen and ink is Animal Town with its jarring forced perspectives and two-dimensional silliness. Last time I photogged it, it came out looking pretty much the same as it did here. Even photogging in natural Texas sunlight tends to make this composition into flat gray wallpaper.
Here is an even worse experiment. This one is an unfinished drawing of a nudist beauty pageant being hosted in Toon Town. Besides being stupid and in poor taste, the pencil lines tend to totally disappear in the gray fog. But, truthfully, I probably should have thrown this thing away long ago rather than trying to photograph it.
This pen and ink is enhanced with colored pencil. It looks better in many ways even though I didn’t change the light source, the filters, or the camera. Color, I guess is the answer for me and my inadequate photography skills. We shall see what we shall see as I continue to experiment and learn. Maybe I can rise up to number 2,999,999,999… with about a million years of practice.
Well, my family is packed up in the RV and headed to Florida, looking for beaches and fun, and going to see my eldest son graduate from his Marine MOS schooling. I would’ve gone too, but my lungs have been very naughty and I can’t get that far away from doctors that my pirate health insurance will actually pay for. So, I am stuck in my room. It sucks (in the sense of a vacuum cleaner, because as a former middle school teacher, I am not allowed to even think about a less G-rated meaning; my teacher brain would blow a bad-word filter-gasket). My family members, of course, are concerned about leaving me here alone, but I don’t want one of my six incurable diseases to be victorious over any of them. It is enough that COPD can ruin my life, and it does not need to impact them. Besides, I have the consolation of staying in my room with the carefully conditioned and filtered air and playing with my toys, like the old days when I was a kid (the really old, old days!) and got to stay home with Captain Kangaroo and my toys to play all day, even though I felt like regurgitated dodo-bird food… and I have a lot more toys now than I had then.
You can plainly see in the picture of my bedroom studio that I have stuffed animals all over (left over from my 2007-2008 online store days when I sold repaired and reconditioned stuffed animals from Goodwill), plenty of dolls… erm, action figures, a cardboard castle, a DVD player, laptop computer, books galore, and lots and lots of drawing paper. I am prepared to be home-bound and left out of things. I can draw and write stories and blog and draw some more. And I will, too. Besides sulking about having to miss out on the fun the rest of the family is having, something I am not only good at and thoroughly practiced at, but very efficient at producing words and ideas at the same time I am hurting, or woozing, or gasping for air, I intend to advance at least two of the three novels I am working on rough drafts for at this time. I am working on When the Captain Came Calling, and Star-Dusters and Lizard-Men. The first is about learning to see through lies, an invisible man who comes back to Iowa from a cursed voyage in the South Seas, and how a family deals with unthinkable loss. The second is a star-faring science fiction tale of a planet dying of both pollution and corporate abuse that can be saved if the species of intelligent lizard-men living there are actually worthy of being saved. So while I sulk and pout and feel sorry for myself, I have plenty to do. And I will continue to make light of the situation even after it kills me. Death won’t know what he did wrong to get hold of an ornery old Iowegian-Texas transplant like me who will laugh in his face until the old Bonehead is properly and resolutely perplexed.