Monday, August 30, 2010

Whilhelm & the Bicycle

Whilhelm (Willie for short) had dreamed about riding a bicycle since before he had ears, fantasizing about the feeling of the wind ruffling his red fur as he flew down hills, the bike's bell ringing out a cheery tune.



One day, he came across a beautiful bike just sitting on the street as if it was waiting for him to happen upon it. Excitedly, he hopped up on the seat, but soon realized the fatal flaw in his long-desired plan...





...Willie had no way of touching, let alone reaching the handlebars.

It was a tragic blow to poor Willie, his dreams dashed upon the street as he clinked away from the beautiful bike and back to the freak show from whence he came, where he spent the rest of his jarred existence being ogled by the curious.



THE END

{This sad little merfox - who is thisclose to being finished - was made from wire, masking tape, fake fur, acrylic paint, paper and watercolour. He'll be starring as one of the main curiosities at the Farther's Freaks exhibit.}

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Containment

In keeping with my Victorian theme, I've decided to, instead of having all my paintings framed in matching frames, seek out a whole parade of interesting (and sometimes antique) frames.

Thankfully, I live near a large number of antique shops, one of which provided me with four lovely additions to the frame-collection:









I also purchased a couple of gorgeous jars to house some curiosities at a nearby hardware store:



As you can see, things are chugging along - there's still a whole list of things to do, but at least I'm making progress!

Never Look a Gift Cicada in the Mandibles

Last week, as I was wheeling my bike out onto the porch in the morning so as to leave for work, I noticed that one of my plants had been dug up. Bending down to right the uprooted cactus, something caught my eye, something I'd been wanting for ever so long -



- a cicada! The creature was already quite dead, lying on its back with its legs folded in that ubiquitous, almost prayerful pose typical of recently perished insects everywhere. I screwed up my courage and picked the thing up (hoping, as I fumbled to unlock my door that it really was dead), laid it carefully in a jar, closed said jar and left for work.



It's a pretty amazing little beast, that cicada, with its delicate wings, strange, square head, wide-set, bulging eyes and Shredder-esque face-mask. I'd never seen one in real life - only heard them buzzing away in the trees and seen them in segments of nature shows, so getting to finally (gingerly) hold one in my hand was pretty thrilling.

To make the discovery even more fantastic, this little bug has inspired another curiosity! What exactly his wee body sparked in my mind shall remain a secret for now, but man...if I can work out all the logistics, it's going to be AWESOME.

Thanks, cicada-dude. Thanks a bunch!

Items of Note

In conjunction with some absolutely lovely wall space, the gallery at which my show will be up has also given me free rein of their front window. The moment I was told I'd have a window display, I started (a) dancing around in excitement, and (b) planning out the design.

Due to the Very Victorian nature of the show, the window, as it currently stands in my head, is starting to look like a deliciously jumbled, curiosity-full exhibit fit for a Victorian museum. Since November is approaching ever so quickly, I'm starting to amass a collection of potential window-items (and gain inspiration from some of the items - and displays - in the antique stores on my block).

Here are some items of note that I've accumulated thus far (some of these have been decorating my apartment -and past abodes - for years already. Hooray for curated clutter!):



Moth carcass found on cottage windowsill (currently gracing one of my typesetting drawers).



Butterfly who perished tragically in the windshield wipers of our car many years ago (with beautiful but rickety brooch).



Seagull skull, found at cottage.



Mystery skull - maybe from a tiny carnivore?



Harold Rooster Jr. III, esq, my glorious puffer fish friend.



A dress that once belonged to my mom (that has a beautiful patina of age that makes it look much older than it is), and a very circus-eqsue shirt, found at a junk shop on St. Clair West.

Brobdingnagian Progress

It's always interesting to snap photos of a piece as it progresses through the various stages of completion, and since this fellow's beginnings date back to my sketchbook (a rare occurrence - I more often work from a picture in my head, but this one's a complicated piece to say the least), I thought I'd walk you all through the first few pupal phases (well, since I accidentally forgot to photograph both the ink-outline and initial-washes stage, it kind of jumps into near-butterfly stage more suddenly than it's meant to).

First off, the roughest of rough sketches in my book:



Then I move that layout on over to the watercolour block:



And refine the pencil as much as possible:



And then (after the unphotographed inking/washes) it's time for the colour (!):







From here, it continues to be all tiny brushes and millions of layers of colours and a VERY sore neck, but satisfaction at completing my first ever group scene (hooray!).

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Cataloguing

Whew. Where the hell did August go? Suddenly autumn is creeping in (something about which I have no complaints - I'm done with summer's humid heat), the nights are chilly and I spotted a few early-bird leaves donning their fiery coats when I was up north last weekend.

Though I'm eager for it to be fall, the onset of a new season has kicked me into panic mode regarding the show. I forced myself to sit down last night with a giant piece of paper and a calendar and wrote out a giant to-do list, complete with (shudder) DEADLINES. Due to the fact I'm planning a catalogue to go with the show (featuring the full stories of all the characters, the history of Farther's Freaks, etc.), I have to be finished all my pieces by the end of September, as they all need to be scanned for the book.

Cue unadulterated PANIC. Agh.

Thankfully, the internet is a bastion of inspiring images, regularly spurring my brain into new flights of fancy, especially when it comes to the catalogue.

This lovely blog entry both reminds me of the long 'animals in silly clothing' tradition of which I am a part and makes me want to create some ridiculous endpapers for the book, kind of like this:



Besides the fantastic endpapers, the creature-characters are, in general, completely mad and hilarious. Proof:










I completely agree with the original poster that those creepy cats up there are some of the weirdest clothed animals I've ever seen. They will probably haunt my dreams.

She's got a few more page captures over at the original post, plus a link to the whole book in the Gutenberg archive (tasty). Check 'em out!

Dang. Now I'm all fidgety and wishing I was at home so I could keep working on the catalogue. Oh well. Coffee break over, back to my real job!

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Chicken, Chicken, Swan

I've started working on the 3D curiosities that will accompany the watercolours for the show, starting with The Really Big One - a two-headed, "taxidermied" black swan (life-size - I actually looked up the average size of Cygnus atratus - 110-142cm long, for the curious - before starting to build).

To begin with, I had to wrangle some chicken wire, which is always a painful process. My arms and legs are still host to a myriad of little scratches doled out by the vicious stuff.



Oh look - six feet of aggressive, injury-causing swan-skeleton!



After much bending and wire-cutting and being stabbed, I ended up with a roughly swan-shaped conglomeration of wire:



I attempted to do the whole 'two swan necks making a heart' cliché. Ended up with a pathetic, wonky shape. Tragic.



After the creation of the base, it was time to add some substance to the bird. Since I'm not a fan of the mess (and drying time) inherent in the whole papier maché process, I opted for the easy way out - newspaper and LOTS of masking tape. After an evening of paper-ripping and tape-application, I ended up with a cream-coloured swan mummy. Spooky.



As much as I enjoy the ghostly visage of masking-tape swan, more steps lie in the future for this curiosity, as it will wind up covered in paper feathers, in the style of Sir Percival IV (a dapper raven-fellow I made a few months ago).




And yes, I do look forward to hours of cutting out feathers and battling the perils of the dreaded Hot Glue Gun. It's all worth it, I swear.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Poster'd

So I started working on the poster I blabbed about in this post - I was surprised to find that the huge expanse of paper hardly frightened me at all, and the layout of the thing progressed quite smoothly.

Here's the initial pencil sketch:



And a close-up of the mysterious Josiah Carp, an extremely fishy fellow:



Since I neglected to photograph the ink alone, we now skip to a couple of terrible phone-camera shots of the first layer of paint:





I'm pretty darn thrilled with this so far - it's crazy sometimes thinking about how far I've come since last summer, when an 8" x 10" piece scared the crap out of me.

Workplaces

One of the very best things about working in watercolour is the portability of my 'studio'. Thanks to my handy little box o' paints, small paintbrushes and light paper blocks, I can pack up my whole operation and plunk it down just about anywhere - as long as I can get at some water (and maybe a scrap of paper towel for blotting), I can keep working even when travel is on the cards.

This weekend, being a holiday, saw me escaping the sticky city and trundling up to my cottage for a few days. I packed up the necessary materials, wrapped a bunch of half-finished pieces carefully in plastic (one must take a boat to get to the cottage and traveling over water with wholly soluble pieces of art is exceptionally nerve-wracking if they're not protected in some way) and, after arriving, taking a refreshing swim to wash off the hours of car travel, and chatting with the parents, I set up my workspace. On the dining room table, where I had to move it nearly every meal.



On the much brighter side, this was my view from the table (the weekend was rather grey, but the lake is gorgeous no matter what the weather):



And sometimes I worked by the light of a kerosene lamp (the creature in question there is Mr. Alonzo Purcell, who first appeared in this blog a while back):



Of course I eventually had to reluctantly pack all my things back into their bag for the long trip back to the city. On the way back, I stopped off at my parents' house (for their washing machines are much more free than the laundromat down the street), and, while waiting for loads of laundry to finish, I worked on another piece. This time I ensconced myself on the couch in front of the TV, proving I don't even need a full table on which to work (knees do the trick in a pinch).



Wherever will I be found painting next? Only time will tell.