Well, the site is now 'live' and I am running an active webcomic for the first time. It feels a bit odd after three years of failed attempts. My friend Ariane called me earlier and asked if I was excited, but it's been so long coming that excitement has been replaced by a strange apology of relief and trepidation. It feels like the start of a long journey and I'm expecting a few blisters.
Ever on the lookout for ways to improve my work, I purchased a book called 'Anatomy for the Artist' today. I'm a lot better at drawing people than I used to be, but a lot worse than I'd like to be. I don't think the book is intended for comic artists - well of course it isn't - but my characters have reasonably realistic proportions (or at least they're supposed to), and I thought it would be a useful reference. So I picked up my copy from the shelf. On the front cover is a naked man. On the back cover is a naked woman. I suppressed a foolish sense of embarrassment and marched confidently to the till. After waiting an eternity for some divot to order a book from another branch, I handed over the book and tried not to look like someone who would buy a book full of naked people for reasons other than artistic ones. Given that I was wearing a football shirt, having just come from watching a match, I don't think that I was very successful in assuming the air of an artist. I was also a bit hoarse (we won the match) and so when the guy on the till asked me something I sounded like a wrong-un who doesn't get out much. All in all it wasn't a great experience. To top things off, he smirked when he asked if I wanted a bag for my purchase. Had he uttered the words 'brown' and 'paper', I may have run away.
3 comments:
No, you didn't sound very excited. But it is exciting nonetheless. Well, I'm excited anyhow! What are your stats for today? Any from my blog?
By the way, your picture on the Doormat Picnic site is approximately a million times better than this one, which makes you look like a 57-year-old who hangs around playgrounds. (Sorry, but it had to be said. Well, it probably didn't, but I wanted to say it.)
Under the weight of overwhelming public pressure (ie your nagging), I have changed the photo.
This is democracy in action! Now I'm excited!
hello graham,
upon reflection, realised i posted this comment in the wrong place (on Ms Sherine's post re you and not your own), so am now rectifying.
apologies, and feel free to use it as a testimonial for the healing power of wickerwork if you wish...
many, many years ago, my little cousin charlotte (who's now all grown up and who got married last month) wrote a thank-you letter to my Ma for some eastery frippery that involved tiny chocolate eggs; fluffy little chicks constructed around a core of metal spikes and twisted wire that even the chinese can't get away with these days; yellow paper ripped into shreads in a passable (to those who are blind, deaf and have no sense of smell or touch at least) imitation of straw; and, supporting this ensemble, an elaborately shaped contraption crafted from finest basket...
The letter read:
'Dear Auntie Barbara the basket
you gave me was nice.'
For the want of a comma, charlotte almost lost a close relative that day and, since then, I've had a profound fear of wickerwork in general, and especially both peacock-backed chairs and those flimsy occasional tables that certain people insist on buying to grace their conservatories, but which buckle and collapse the moment a cup, book or even a fly rests atop them...
having said all of this, doormat picnic has brought me round to the joys of wicker -- when enjoyed responsibly in the right setting -- and i plan to skip off merrily today, my own basket loaded down with provisions, until i find some empty doorway in which to have a slap-up feast...
nice one graham(oo?)!
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