Alone and creative
Feb. 3rd, 2002 11:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
janestarzIt is really creepy to read back what I have written last night. I think it was a combination of me being sleepy, low lights, and inspiration.
It is amazing how much my mind has been focused on the creative part of me. Last year when I had to make it, when those 2 subjects were all that mattered, when my efforts could be the difference of life and death, diploma or failure, I never once picked up the pencil.
I have drawings from 1994 to early 2000 and then from late 2001 onwards. But almost none from beginning 2001. It has not been my creative year. Not when I was in school anyway.
In that year I must have regrouped, reorientated. My subjects have slowly changed from that normal everyday life I used to paint, to the magic behind that life. Special occasions, wonderful details, and fantasy and sci-fi.
Now I have looked around, and I think my eyes are opened. I can tell the difference in styles. Not because I have Picasso posters on my wall, but because of Elfwood mostly.
I know there are things I probably cant master. The superb way people like Alex or Henning see how a cloak falls and instantly draw that. I have to put my fingers on the paper and feel the cloak before I can determine how the cloak flows in the wind. It is like drawing is an exploration. A combination of excitement and logic. It cant fall there because there should be a shoulder there. Luckily, since I have played Tetris for years and years and years, my insight in shapes and 3d has reached a high level with which I am very pleased. But I must see how I want to let the cloak fall or glide before I can draw its final momentum.
That still doesnt explain why in my mind I had a distinct picture [to myself I call it a vision] of how the Black Mohawk Elf would look. I couldnt draw it like that vision looked. I dont know how I should have done that. It was Hennnigs style, in an idea from me. *sigh*
Ive never had such distinct pictures in my mind about how a drawing should look or what a poem should say. It is one of recent developments. Like the trance. Somehow I am both pleased with as afraid of these new things. What if its not a good thing, or what if theres something wrong?
Anyhow, I like this form of Journal-writing better than describing what boring things I did that day. Ofcourse, I can tell you (the reader, the journal, the stranger and the friend) that its Sunday, that Ive woken up at half past ten, that I didnt go to church but fed the cat and watched some tv before I sat down and typed. But isnt this much better?
[thats a rethorical question. You dont really need to answer that]
It is amazing how much my mind has been focused on the creative part of me. Last year when I had to make it, when those 2 subjects were all that mattered, when my efforts could be the difference of life and death, diploma or failure, I never once picked up the pencil.
I have drawings from 1994 to early 2000 and then from late 2001 onwards. But almost none from beginning 2001. It has not been my creative year. Not when I was in school anyway.
In that year I must have regrouped, reorientated. My subjects have slowly changed from that normal everyday life I used to paint, to the magic behind that life. Special occasions, wonderful details, and fantasy and sci-fi.
Now I have looked around, and I think my eyes are opened. I can tell the difference in styles. Not because I have Picasso posters on my wall, but because of Elfwood mostly.
I know there are things I probably cant master. The superb way people like Alex or Henning see how a cloak falls and instantly draw that. I have to put my fingers on the paper and feel the cloak before I can determine how the cloak flows in the wind. It is like drawing is an exploration. A combination of excitement and logic. It cant fall there because there should be a shoulder there. Luckily, since I have played Tetris for years and years and years, my insight in shapes and 3d has reached a high level with which I am very pleased. But I must see how I want to let the cloak fall or glide before I can draw its final momentum.
That still doesnt explain why in my mind I had a distinct picture [to myself I call it a vision] of how the Black Mohawk Elf would look. I couldnt draw it like that vision looked. I dont know how I should have done that. It was Hennnigs style, in an idea from me. *sigh*
Ive never had such distinct pictures in my mind about how a drawing should look or what a poem should say. It is one of recent developments. Like the trance. Somehow I am both pleased with as afraid of these new things. What if its not a good thing, or what if theres something wrong?
Anyhow, I like this form of Journal-writing better than describing what boring things I did that day. Ofcourse, I can tell you (the reader, the journal, the stranger and the friend) that its Sunday, that Ive woken up at half past ten, that I didnt go to church but fed the cat and watched some tv before I sat down and typed. But isnt this much better?
[thats a rethorical question. You dont really need to answer that]
