Anachronistic Drawing Final

For my Life Drawing final we were told to do an anachronistic piece that transformed the original state of an old master drawing by putting ourselves in the scene as a fully modern player.  I chose a well-known drawing by Albrecht Durer (top) titled Adam and Eve and replaced the apple in Eve's hand with a different kind of Apple... It works as a pun as well as a commentary on the cultural and societal impact of technology (Mac in particular, which is the preferred operating system for most visual artists)  I'm sure there are a half-dozen other interpretations you can make from a piece like this, but I'll leave it at that.  Overall it was a fun project, and I learned a lot trying to integrate my style of drawing while keeping true to the meticulous air of a Durer engraving.  That man had an extremely steady hand and a lot of patience!

Midwest Holiday

It's good to be home--my flight was delayed, but I got back in time to sleep in my own bed on Friday night.  Saturday morning I grabbed my boots, my dog, and my brother's camera and ventured outside for a hike in single-digit temperatures.  While Rohan ran ahead, I snapped a few pictures and enjoyed some fresh air.  I like experiencing the contrast between living in a metropolitan area like Baltimore versus a rural environment like Dexter.  They each have their own advantages and opportunities--deep down, though, I think I'm more of a small-town girl. 

 When I come home I am reminded of the importance of tradition, of community, and of fellowship.  It's a feeling that is hard to articulate to someone who has never experienced the spectacle of hunting season; who has never heard of a buck pole or been to a cider mill; who has never fished off a dock; who has never woken up one morning and known it was springtime solely because of the strong smell of manure hanging in the air.  There's a sense of comfort living in a place where you can have a conversation with the bag lady at the grocery store and she's not rushing to get to the next person in line.  I love going to school in Baltimore, but I think I'm starting to appreciate the people and places of my past more now that I've been away.  It's a deep respect and reverence that I can't deny, no matter how much I think I've changed.  The experiences I've had growing up in the Midwest are ones that I'm grateful for, because they've given me a rooted confidence and sense of peace wherever I go.  Sounds pretty cheesy, I know, but nostalgia has a tendency to evoke cliches.  

I'll be home for a month, so look forward to posts on the finished mural in my basement and the start of a collaborate project with my room mate Rachel:  http://threadedletters.wordpress.com/ as well as images from the semester's final projects... 


Cicada Summer

Finals, finals, finals!  That seems to be my excuse for everything these days--be it lack of attentiveness, cause of illness, or reason for insanity.  There are projects to complete, portfolios to revise, papers to write and exams to study for....along with the frantic planning of holiday get-togethers, scheduling and re-scheduling of flights, and frenzied emails coordinating possible job opportunities for the summer.  I feel like I'm walking in a cloud most of the time. 

 Anyway, I thought I'd post my final for Narrative Illustration, which is now over and done with (I have a one-on-one portfolio review with my professor this Wednesday).  For our final project we had three weeks to write and illustrate a story of our own.  I decided to write a children's story about the Great Southern Brood, a large swarm of periodical cicadas that emerges every 13 years.  The story follows a young girl who discovers the existence of the cicadas while they are still in the ground, and speaks with them each year as she grows older.  Ultimately it is a coming-of-age sort of story; feel free to read the full text below--not a fully revised draft, but solid and readable.  The illustrations are executed in ink and watercolor.  For the scene in which she is building a snowman I experimented a little with filters in Photoshop--I didn't have the time (or money) to print all of the edited illustrations, so I stuck with the originals for my final.  Here they are, in the order they appear in the narrative...enjoy!

Cicada Summer---unrevised draft:

It was late summer in a sleepy little hollow of a sleepy little town in Illinois when a young child first felt the rumblings of another world.  She was sitting alone outside, digging with her sand bucket and bright blue shovel when she heard a tiny voice whisper from beneath the ground.

           “Wait, little girl!  Don’t unearth us from our beds…we are sleeping here.  Wait!” 

The child was so surprised she dropped her shovel and sat frozen, listening. 

How had she never heard it before?  Thousands upon thousands of tiny little snores, echoing from beneath her feet.  The constant steady hum of life made her fingers tingle when she touched the ground.

 “Who are you?” the girl asked, captivated by the sound. 

But the only answer, faint as a breath, was “Wait…” 

Each day the little girl sat outside in the shade and thought about the creature that had spoken to her.  What did he look like? How many of his friends and family were sleeping in the ground?  When the little girl stepped on the grass she stepped lightly as to not disturb them, and when she sang to herself she sang softly so they wouldn’t wake.  Summer drew to a close, with fall close behind, then winter and then spring.  When the snow melted from the ground the girl was another year older.  She played outdoors all summer, climbing trees and throwing rocks in the pond, catching fireflies in a jar and sleeping out on the porch when the air was cool and pleasant.  Sometimes the little girl would whisper back and forth with the creatures underground, who would only say a few words before drifting back to sleep. 

Year after year the seasons changed, and the girl grew taller and stronger.  She was not so little anymore.  The little friend she had made so many years ago spoke less and less. 

“When will I get to see you?” the girl asked, frustrated and impatient. 

“You will meet me soon.  The time has almost come…wait…” replied the creature softly, joining in the steady hum of his underground companions. 

Fall, winter, spring, summer.  The girl waited, listening.  All summer she waited.  There was no little whisper to reassure her, only a soft hum.  After a while the girl wondered if she had only imagined the voice from before.  And what was this soft hum? Perhaps it was just a buzzing in her ears.  The girl was sorry she had ever believed in tiny little creatures that spoke to her from beneath the soil.  The idea seemed so silly and childish.  When spring came again, followed by the heat of summer, the girl did not even bother to press her ear to the ground.  She played inside with her dolls or helped her mother in the kitchen.  She learned to sew and practiced writing her name in cursive.  The girl almost forgot about the voice she had heard so many summers ago. 

One night, as the girl slept soundly in her bed, the creatures woke from their long slumber.  Quietly, quietly, they burrowed up from underground.  Silently, silently, they stretched their little legs.  Without a sound they moved by the hundreds, tiptoeing up into the branches of the tallest trees. 

When the girl awoke in the morning the air was filled with the loudest song she had ever heard.  Rushing from her bedroom, the girl ran outside into the woods and looked up into the trees, where she saw a most miraculous sight.  Hundreds and hundreds of little creatures, too many too count, adorned the branches and flitted from leaf to leaf.  They had bright green and yellow and black bodies with golden wings and big shiny eyes.  All of them were singing at the top of their lungs, a great big buzzing that made the trees resonate and sway. 

“Hello!” the girl shouted, and watched as her small friends waved back. 

They were in constant motion, shedding the delicate shell of their sleeping body and emerging with glassy wings.  The girl was so happy to meet the tiny creatures that she spent every day in the woods listening to them sing as she played in the shade.  As the weeks passed, the sound of the creature’s voices grew softer.  The girl started to notice fewer of them nibbling on grass or resting lazily on a flower petal.  One day the girl awoke not to a chorus of voices, but a single melody.  Frantically she searched to find the source of the buzzing, and at last she found one lone little creature, resting atop a tall blade of grass. 

“What is happening?” the girl asked, “Where are all of your friends and family?  Where have they gone?” 

The winged creature stopped his singing to look up at the girl.

 “The summer is drawing to a close, and so are our lives.  When the first leaf changes color, it is time for us to pass on.” 

The girl’s eyes filled with tears, “But I don’t understand!  You spent year after year sleeping underneath the ground, only to see the world for a few short weeks!  Why?  Why did you waste your life dreaming when you could have been singing in the trees?” 

The creature nodded and thought for a moment before speaking. 

“Our years spent underground are not wasted years.  While we listen and dream we grow wise, so that when we finally emerge we can fully appreciate the beauty of the world above.  We are content to sing and warm our backs in the sun for the few weeks that we have.”  

“I will miss you,” the girl said softly.  “I never even learned your name.” 

“My name is Cicada.  Don’t worry.  Our family is very large; you will see us again.  Wait…”

The girl smiled as the cicada resumed his singing, and slowly walked back to the house, thinking quietly to herself. 

That evening, as the last low notes of the last living cicada echoed in the trees, the girl gathered a few things and set off into the woods. There was just a hint of coolness in the air as the sun set, orange and bright.  Finding a small clearing in the woods, the girl took her little blue shovel from so many years ago and began to dig.  


Catching Up...

Okay, so my scanner has officially bit the dust, which is the reason why this post is so long overdue.  I have so much catching up to do I don't even know where to start... 

This morning I braved the cold, laden with a semester's worth of lifesize drawings, sketches, and in-class studies to make the (seemingly) long trek down to the Main Building, intent on documenting my work before finals really start picking up.  I photographed around 40 pieces before the camera's battery called it quits...  I'm hoping to get all the images up here in the next month or so, according to relevance and/or theme.  

These two drawings are life size, done in one class period.  It was a little difficult to work on such a large surface, considering we had to tack our paper to the homosote walls, which meant our backs were to the model.  It was definitely an exercise in scale as well as memorization--looking over the shoulder, making a mark, and looking back again.  Overall I'm pleased with the results--it's refreshing to change things up every once in a while.  

Right now I am looking ahead to Thanksgiving Break, which starts this coming Wednesday.  I'm excited to see my family in Michigan, eat home-cooked meals, and not have to climb a ladder to get in and out of bed!   



Two-page spread and one-page illustration for the classic Indian tale of Siddhartha.  


You Hope For Your Babies And This is How They Grow...

For my Narrative Illustration class we had to develop an EP cover/inside for either Feist's "The Water" or Animal Collective's "Water Curses."  (I chose the former)  These works are executed in pen and ink--step two is to color them using Photoshop.  You can listen to the actual song here: http:/www.myspace.com/feist 


Sketchbooks: The Latest in Floor Decor

Soooo...I am back at MICA.  Diving into the third week and already slightly frazzled and a little overwhelmed.  Our dorm ("The Gateway") is absolutely beautiful and I promise to post photos once I acquire the time/necessary equipment (ie, a camera) to do so.  My floor is littered with sketches and reference material--my professors wasted no time piling on the projects, but I've been having fun thus far.  
Unfortunately my financial situation is not all sunshine and smiles--my waitressing job over the summer fell through due to our one and only cook quitting, and frankly the money I have been saving over the years will not be enough to cover this year in terms of supplies and groceries.  I had been counting on 10 hours of work-study like I had last year, but it was not awarded to me this semester.  Hopefully I will sell a few paintings that I have up at Foggy Bottom, but the odds are slim.  Trying not to think about it too much and taking advantage of the extra time to become more involved on campus.  
For the time being, I am focusing on my studies while patiently waiting for a call from the financial aid office...and now getting back to my Illustration homework.


Gracefully Awkward

I took a visit to the Toledo Zoo last week and brought along my sketchbooks and assortment of drawing materials to study the animals.  The pictures posted are from my trip to the Maryland Zoo a few months ago--I still haven't documented a bunch of my recent work lately.  As for any zoo, I enjoy seeing the big cats, as well as the zebras and elephants, but it's always the giraffes that catch my eye and keep my attention.  They have an awkward air to themselves--shy and curious, lanky yet surefooted, an immense weight that balances on long, thin legs. I find them interesting to draw because they maintain an unequaled balance of grace and character.  I hope to incorporate these aspects into a narrative in the future. . .


The Drawbacks of Being a Procrastinating Perfectionist

So I've been working on a mural in the basement for quite some time now. My mother commissioned me to do a sort of "Arts and Crafts/Mission Style" piece about 2 months ago.  She has a tile from Motawi Tileworks that she really likes so I decided on using that for my inspiration.  Realistically I should have finished the whole thing in 10 days if I was really putting in the 2+ hours a day that would be perfectly reasonable for a project like that.  But no.  And now I've been trying to get it done before the construction workers come by next week.  Cement wall + bad adhesion + primer + paint = well, bad adhesion.  Crisp lines are essential for this style and with the painters tape pulling off little flakes of paint each time I use it, I've had to abandon that method and try several others, none of which are working.  So I've resorted to correcting the edges freehand, which is difficult considering I'm 5'4 and working on a 6+ foot high mural on a 9 foot high wall.  You just can't get the greatest continuity of line balancing on a step stool with a can of paint in one hand and a foam sponge in the other.  Alas, here I am--pulling out my hair and trying to come out with an end result I won't despise.  I'll post a photo when it's finally finished.