|Big Pile of Waaah
||[Jul. 27th, 2008|11:05 pm]
|[||Like omigod I feel so
|||||whiny as all hell||]|
|[||Annoying crap I'm listening to:
|||||King Missile - Sensitive Artist||]|
Art is nothing more than an exercise in frustration. No matter how many times I draw, it never comes out the way I want. Sometimes I can look at a picture months later and say, "Well hey, that was all right I guess," but that's because I'm no longer in the moment of erasing and redrawing and erasing and redrawing and loathing myself and the time spent in the process. For the most part, it's just a big pain in the ass. Invariably, at some point in any picture I'm drawing, I know I am at the tipping point. The picture looks nice, but amorphous and incomplete, and I know if I continue I will lock pieces in and it just won't work for me and never look as beautiful and full of potential as the rougher image did.
I am not alone in my frustration. I have friends who go through the same thing when drawing. Available evidence indicates that this will never go away either. It seems like every other page of Chris Ware's published sketchbooks, which are filled with the most amazing sketches and studies, are notes he has scribbled inthat are filled with self-doubt and hatred at what he's doing. He is one of the most accomplished artists in the comics field—every book of his is a thing of beauty that I pore over and over and over again constantly—and he hates it. That's what I and others in my boat get to look forward to if we continue. But he still continues, so there's got to be something appealing about it for him. Supposedly da Vinci has few surviving paintings because he didn't know how to mix materials for shit, but maybe he just thought it was all crap and didn't know what else to do. He was a also big procrastinator. Was it laziness, self-loathing, or yet another whiny sensitive artist mixture of both?
I'm certainly not going to stop drawing though. If I don't draw or have some stupid creative outlet, I feel ill. It's a gnawing dread that chews away at me until I put pencil to paper. I guess there's two choices: the soul-killing dread of not doing anything or the frustration of actively making something with the hopes that six months later the final piece won't make me want to stab my hand with a pencil. The latter is more preferable*... I'm much more comfortable with anger and self-loathing than staring at a ceiling late at night wishing I had done more during the day, which brings about a much worse sense of self-loathing.
I certainly can't draw the way I want to, but over the past year I've made peace with that. Everything I do has too much detail whereas I just want to do much simpler work. If I could make everyone I drew look like a character out of something like, say, Venture Bros, I would be pleased as punch. But anytime I try to reduce my work, it looks completely wrong to me. So I do more detailed pictures because that's what I do, and I do my best to just let go of trying to put everything in these defined parameters and go with it. If I try to force things into a neat little package, I just get more upset. If I go with the flow, my angst-filled cranky-pants moods are less severe. The only negative side of that is that I don't think I have my own style. Mez says otherwise, but I just don't see it, perhaps because I'm in the middle of it all and have no idea how to be objective.
Maybe my drawing frustration is why I want to go into design. When all is said and done it boils down to arranging elements (often pre-existing) to look pretty. You know, like flower arrangement.
-- Schwa ---
* - dealing with the frustration, not the hand stabbing