October is usually my busiest month but I was looking forward to experiment on a daily basis. This year, I decided to give @mabgraves‘ Drawlloween prompts a go! The amazing amount of work I stumbled across #mabsdrawlloweenclub is outstanding! I love waking up to new art, it takes me back to art school. These are my sketches and illustrations from Day 1 to Day 13.
Here’s a new addition to the characterization series I’m working on where I treat my own skin as a sketchbook.
I create characters based on my drawings and sketches by designing the make-up and styling, as well as the atmosphere in which they live. Finally I take these creatures in front of the camera, where they manifest.
From an impromptu process that I recorded for you (video below), Red was born.
Digamos que mi mayor sueño en la vida es escuchar la historia de la criatura monstruosa que se educa. Quiero escucharla de la boca del Moderno Prometeo; el angustiado doctor que no renunció a la búsqueda de su suerte. También asumamos que estoy ciega pero que la cura a mi ceguera está escondida en algún par de botas dentro de mi armario.
Es impresionante como alguien que apenas conoces pueda ayudarte a que tu mismo te conozcas. Sin juzgar, sin paños tibios, tomando en cuenta los puntos expuestos pero explicando con detalle todo eso que tus ojos ven pero no enfocan. La persona es tan sabia que incluso te explica como puedes mejorar.
¿Cuantas personas han visto mi cuadro y han podido señalar ciertos factores? Varias. Pero que tengan el poder de convencerme de que ya es hora de quitarle la piel muerta de encima a la dama ilustrada en el, pocos. Las respuestas, esas siempre han estado dando vueltas en mi cabeza. La motivación está dormida en un vertedero, en el agujero de mis emociones aturdidas. Aparentemente hay un vinculo con el miedo al futuro pero si no tengo nada ahora, ¿que podré perder mañana?
La comida es un gran confort, pero hoy descubro que su amistad no aporta comentarios sabrosos, ni ricos en proteínas de astucia. Mas bien se queda dando vueltas en el sistema digestivo, produciéndome problemas gástricos adicionales. Al final, lo suculento solo me da la espalda. Silente y sin regalarme una advertencia. Palabras sazonadas dijeron muchos. Fue mas amigo el desconocido que lo que pude agarrar con la cuchara. Un comentario minimalista de alguien analítico demostró las profecías que ni el desayuno diario discurría.
Encontrar las botas correctas, esas que contienen la pócima para abandonar los pretextos había sido la adversidad. Algo sensato sucedió, porque he aquí las botas en mis pies.
No es que ya sea hora, es que si no me monto en el barco que está por zarpar, jamas conoceré al Dr. Frankenstein y por ende, mi vida no tendrá sentido, jamás.
I was the type of girl who wanted to avoid other people (at least on my head). Always carrying conspiracy theories against those that were my friends. Even if I liked them, sometimes I wanted to get rid of them. Surely these where not my thoughts as a child. I started this way of thinking once I reached thirteen. Before that age I was too busy drawing and writing on many of my little notebooks.
I wanted to skip high school because I hated those “lame and vain experiences” that I would come across in those years. Most of those years I spent reading and painting, trying to avoid humans because I thought most of the people my age were imbeciles (and I was right). A few people got attached to me somehow. Many simply wanted to be my friends because they though I looked “cool” and luckily I met people with which I could share different points of views. As the years went by I decided to socialize more often, reading less.
I didn’t want certain facts to become part of me. I stood fighting over certain matters that surrounded me those years. As vain as many things seemed, they affected my ways of thinking. Today I realize everything (good or lame) has shaped me into the monster I am today. But I still live inside my notebooks and colourful chiaroscuro reveries.
I never post “dreams” because I hardly remember them, sometimes if they are weirdly good enough I write them for my self to develop other ideas. I’ve always thought it is my own brain the one developing the plot while I “sleep”. I felt like sharing… >.<
Dressed in the traditions of an executive decadent-dandy male, prepared physical and mentally to persuade in all ways possible Mr. Vayo Rune, the owner of the big house I was visiting. I was there to make some kind of business with him. He was a bit suspicious about me not being the proprietor I claimed to be. Silently I felt vengeance in my blood but I was acting like a very severe man, as if no one could deceive me on the underground job I was about to close. Our eyes met a few times with antagonism… And so we shook our hands to close the deal, while I continuously cleared my throat.
Admiration and dishonest adoration:
From Anatoli Zverev 1933-1986, russian painter whom i love. I can’t find much on the net from this artist but I scanned two works featured on a magazine I own Literatura Soviética 1989, one of them titled “Natasha” and also my favourite.
I don’t know why I can relate the word forever to tombs, death and such. Maybe I’ve read too many stories in which the beloved person dies and the lover says “I shall love you forever”… sort of.
It could be related to the fact that when someone dies it keeps it’s death forever. 😀
So the word and the idea mingle in my mind.
I’ve always felt an arousing love for Art and architecture concerning graves, vaults and tombs.
I can imagine myself visiting these exquisite places, imagining beautiful songs and painting faces in my head.
I found an image that captures the feeling I had as a little girl. That I could float over my sleeping body as if “I could see my self with the eyes of my soul”.
I know that this work from William Blake is not dealing with what I’m talking but… it makes sense to me. I just wanted to post this image here anyway. 😀
Yes, William Blake is admirable… His illustrations for Blair’s grave are astonishing.