Happy Tuesday! I can do things, I swear. Actually there have been a lot of thing-doings, just mostly things I’m cuddling close to my generous bosom; some work on Shadowplay that I’m very excited about but can’t show you yet, and about half of a rant about names that I’ll probably have finished later this week. But today I spent some more time with my new fancy-ass pens (not to be confused with fancy ass-pens) and I have two new pages of Sects I’m pretty happy with. The dialogue may make more sense if you read the rest.
All right. We’re all set! I’m super excited to share this with you, but because of who I am as a person, it requires a little explanation. And because I live in Colorado, it starts the way most Colorado stories start, with “This one time, while I was high…”
So. This one time, while I was high, I was trying to have a conversation, which is fairly challenging under such circumstances, as you’ll know if you’re consuming this site under the conditions it was created. I can’t remember what I was trying to say to begin with, but I do recall that I was interrupted by a failure of memory.
“I haven’t been to a Baskin-Robbins in forever; they don’t seem to have them as much here. I think I’ve seen one. Hold on… how many flavors is it? Their whole deal. Is it 31 flavors or 51? Fifty-one seems high. That’s a lot of flavors.”
My wife stared at me with ready enthusiasm but little sense. She was also very high.
“Never mind. Whatever. From now on it’s Baskin-Robbins, THE EVERFLAVOR.”
Many of my ideas come from misunderstanding or misremembering what someone said to me, or from offhand things I say myself. One idea collides with another in my head, sloshing together, bubbling in the barrel of my brain until the right words pound a tap into my skull and liberate a brew that knocks me flat. This was one of those moments.
I saw a Baskin-Robbins, and through the glass of the freezer, I saw things that were never meant to be frozen. I saw a little girl totally at home in a world where her ice cream might have tentacles in it. She’s too young to really understand that the world she barely remembers, the world of school and newspapers and governments that didn’t all worship a different unknowable horror, is gone forever.
Her older sibling Johnny understands that very well. They’re the only family they have left, and sometimes it’s tough putting the rent together, but the glowing thing that lives in the router seems to like them, and the cults that make crossing the city such a thrilling all-day activity have a strange aversion to the little girl they call “the Terrible Child.” Which is good, because Johnny can’t make her sit still long enough to finish a sentence.
Instead, Johnny’s been working on a book that maybe someday their sister will deign to read. They write down the answers to questions, advice of the right shape to drip right out the ear, rituals to live by and to avoid. They write down what the world was like before. Someone somewhere should remember.
So here it is. I give you… a pile of pastel dust and a cheap pun! Ahem. I mean, I give you:
Sects: A Young Girl’s Illustrated Primer
The pastels are getting more fun and more interesting to use as I work with them! I’ve got a bunch of pages to scan and tart up in Photoshop, most of which I’m pretty happy with. Been sticking them up on the corkboard so they don’t smear. I guess people probably use some kind of fixative on pastel work they want to keep? But because of who I am as a person, I just scan it immediately and then assume the originals will melt away, like dreams after breakfast. Yes, all this agonizing over googling “pastel fixative.” If I didn’t have to contemplate the cosmic significance of every little fucking thing, I would get a lot more done around here.
I’m going to mess with the little pages you see here over the next few days and then I’ll put ’em up. For now I give you the third page of our little prayer for wi-fi.
Gonna have to figure out how it’d be best to display these all together and arrange a page for them, as it seems likely there’ll be a lot more. New keyboard should arrive today or tomorrow, which will be lovely as it will almost certainly arrive a fraction of a second before I have chewed off my own arms in frustration with my current keyboard (which is working orders of magnitude worse after I meticulously cleaned it, of course). The up side is, I could smoke all of you out on the pile of ground bud I found under the keys. Apparently the keyboard needed that and now it’s suffering. But I don’t permit weakness in my peripherals, so its replacement is on the way.
Lots of pain this week. My flesh prison is revolting, in every sense of the word. This pleased me, though – I finished the second page of the cultist thing. I’m gonna get sick of calling it “the cultist thing” way before we get to the title page and I can start using its name.
None of the working stages were worth saving, although some of them were very interesting. I did take some reference shots for this one, which involved dangling a flashlight from a fold of a jacket in the hallway, but hey, if dramatically lit hands are your jam, we got those.
Yep, it’s an ethernet cable our cultist is holding. One more page to clean up still.
I’ve been doing some pastel drawings around an idea I had the other day, something about cultists and ice cream. Anyway, this is the first page of a longer story. Figuring out how I want to depict it is interesting, between various traditional media and digital effects. Here’s the finished first page.
Working with pastels helps me get to a more simplified form of whatever I have in my head – just the places the light touches, the fewest possible strokes to use while retaining all the information. I’m trying to work down to a style I can do quickly and easily, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever get there. I’m growing less and less certain that it’s even necessary, ultimately, but the goal is teaching me a lot, so whatever.
After the pastels I went back and tried to draw the same scene using only a black marker – trying to work out how I could use the shadows and negative space to get all the shapes in, even while making it clear that the room’s mostly dark. That came out a lot better than I expected; markers are a lot less forgiving than pastels, but it’s also easier to achieve a gritty kind of feel that I like for this project particularly. To get the same feel with pastels I’m having to layer in charcoal pencil. So it’s been very instructive!
One of the stages along the simplification route ended up with this more abstract angle on it which I also like.
I’ve got two more pastel pages to mess with in Photoshop and then I have to get my hands dirty again. Stay tuned.