Blackboard Wisdom: Semester Recap

One of the best ways to start a day is to open the door of the drawing studio and see some anonymous doodles left behind upon what I can only guess is the last remaining blackboard on campus. Most "smart classrooms" have long since evolved with dry-erase paneling and/or digital projections of virtual blackboards. But this is entirely in line with my presumably also being the last professor using those iconic little green grading books.

There was also a recent day when I was introducing Beginning Drawing folks to the usual unit on figure drawing, and all my demos just crashed and burned, as in nothing was working out, and I was having the quintessential "bad art day."  

Rather than be overly embarrassed it served as a meta-lesson in both perseverance and tacit acknowledgement that shit happens, and it's far better to be open and honest about what happens to everyone, even to the best of us. That might be a reason why there some instructors that either/or don't ever do public demonstrations so as to avoid potential displays of failure. Be that as it may, I resorted back to my comfort zone, ie what works fastest and bestest: “Whattaya wanna be: Beaver? Moose? Bear?” “Bear” “Polar, Grizzly, or Black?” “Dealer’s choice” "Done."

My favorite exchange occurred whilst working again from models in the morning Beginning Drawing classes, and while sitting one-on-one with a few students through a 5-minute gesture and after talking them through the process from building up loose, simple underlying shapes, slowly dialing it in & refining a basic contour line before dropping in some value etc. I then asked:

"And what did we learn from this demonstration?"
"Just keep scribbling until it looks like something”

"no lies detected"

Pastel Demos

"Basquiat Bears" 18x12" pastel

As of late, it seems that the less I care, the more fun I’ve been having with these demos. And by “not caring” I mean ignoring the fear, bypassing that little voice inside that says “you suck,” which doesn’t mean stop learning, stop trying to improve, but don’t be shy about putting up a signpost by which to measure your progress. Another way of saying it is “first make it exist, then make it better.”

First time in looong time trying to use oil pastels (+ colored chalk, and mix-media w/wash, marker) and experimenting on black paper and also charcoal + pastel papers. These were largely from some donated supplies, playing in different media than I used to, so some fun & unexpected results. Like most artists who sometimes eventually plateau, I tend to “stay in my (art) lane” which can eventually turn into “stuck in a rut.” Picking up and playing with new toys, and staying humble – if not outright amused by your own attempts - is the meta lesson learned from years of observation + personal experience.

"Moosehead demo" 11x17" oil pastel

Have always loved pastels by other people, and it seems every year there’s at least one rising star art major in our department that creates stunning work with them, so I get to cheer students on when they go where I can’t lead – or even follow. As a medium I absolutely hate using them, one practical reason being I’m so damn ham-handed I inevitably bust up every one after a few minutes of use.

"Demo Salmon" 11x17" oil pastel

Another is I simply know for a fact that I haven’t spent any time developing my skills with them. As is the case with every single thing you pick up in the studio, you’ll need to practice. A lot, if you want to get any better at it. And teachers in general are somewhat comparatively constrained by the volume of work they have to do when school is in session. It’s a matter of routine now that I will feel the frustration at having to stop/suspend working on my own stuff, and instead take the time and energy to critique, advise, demonstrate, and any number of other departmental and professorial tasks. Note: Worth it, and damn lucky to have such opportunities.

Office door notes

And I deal with that observable, demonstratable fact almost every day with students in the classroom, anxiously gripping their pencils or pens or charcoal and tackling exercises, assignments and critique pieces. I am competing with a wide range of other priorities; life in general (eating, working, relationships, taking time off and spending it on entertainment, reading, recreational activities etc.) + other classwork. It’s why I relate more to Beginning students than anyone, as I face the very same inner critic, nomatter how long I’ve been doing it. And at the other extreme, seeing professional artists hit that plateau and never color outside their lines again, once they’ve reached their respective pinnacles. And to be honest, fucking up in front of people comes with the territory too.

"Muzzle Nuzzle" museum demo w/Sharpie + Watercolor

And as has been mentioned many a time before on this blog, if they can’t learn from my example as to how to do a good job, then they’ll get to learn from my mistakes. And those are the equally valuable lessons: showing how important it is to not take yourself so seriously, to fail, and remember to keep playing anyways. The discipline and practice is the same with sports, sans teamwork (though the support network of encouragement from peers is invaluable).

Sméagol

“Tundra God/Miyazaki ‘Boo”

Another class demo done for the Pen & Ink course (similar to a recent one of a buffalo), where I experimented with more tools + techniques; using India ink with brush, dip-pen, also Micron/Copic markers + Sakura Gelly Roll white ink pen, and wash with Derwent brand Inktense water-soluble colored pencils, and lastly a dose of varnish to bring out the details and lay on some luster. Since the evening class is after hours and most of my usual go-to community resources are closed (like the Museum of the North, Fish & Game etc) so for the first time in a decade I took the class on a safari field sketching trip to capture some textures in the wild at an alternative site Sportsman's Warehouse. I first focused on one mount on display in the store, then kept incorporating multiple other animal's antlers so as to evoke Miyazaki's iconic creation the Forest God from my personal favorite Studio Ghibli movie ever, "Princess Mononoki." I was obviously still under the influence of seeing only a couple days earlier the official 4k remastered IMAX version that was re-released and ran for a few days in Fairbanks. Having never before seen it on the big screen it was a thoroughly transcendent experience, on par with "Flow" and "The Iron Giant," which incidentally rounds out my top three animated movies of all time.

Plain Ol' Wood Bison (demo)

Here's the breakdown of the process, from the initial light pencil sketch, a basic contour (done with a dip pen + India ink), then a couple hours of rendering volume with value through gradations of texture for tone (playing with a new set of Microns for the hatching). I also experimented with using a varnish on the finished piece, after prepping it with regular fixative. This added some luxurious depth + luster, and restored the blacks which got dulled after smothering under the watercolor. PS: This was a tip I always meant to follow up on from Sandy, and so this is dedicated to him.
And then, at the end, I did what I so often do in life; what has marked my artistic deviation from drawing normal illustrations and consequently securing my fate as a cartoonist: I had to go and goof it all up by adding some smartass commentary. This was in part inspired by the lame joke "What did the father buffalo say to his kid on the first day of school? Bye son." And yeah, there wouldn't be any grass around the winter solstice up in our neck of the woods, but that's okay because buffalo also don't think in English, I think. Update: I eventually edited the JPEG caption to say "summer" solstice instead, but then again, there wouldn't be any snowflakes in June, but so what (see above). Then the "Nuggets" header was affixed and the image got used as an unexpectedly classy crafted cartoon - probably a few subscribers that are unaware of the different styles I can draw in.

Recently my Beginning Drawing class decamped to invade our local state office for the Alaska Department of Fish & Game to take advantage of an opportunity to gather reference sketches for their upcoming pen + ink assignment. I decided to get a jump on not only this class but dovetail the demo as an example to show the Pen & Ink group, as we will be taking a different field trip to Sportsman's Warehouse - it can take some logistical planning to accommodate the wildly divergent times for these studio courses this semester (an early morning session bookends every week with a late evening one, neither of which happen to coincide with the operating hours of my normal go-to resource on campus at UAF Museum of the North).

They had slightly redesigned the facility since last year/last time I visited, having taken out the big fish tank in the visitor lobby, and most notably, adding a Plains buffalo mount to the diorama. It brought to mind the recent efforts to reintroduce the native Wood bison to Alaska (albeit in a region that there isn't any record of them being present, according to the overlooked opinion of the affected Native groups). Last summer on another field trip my class got to go behind the scenes at the Large Animal Research Station and we got a bonus sight of the transplanted herd being held temporarily in their pastures. Quite a sight seeing them charge around, with "little" babies gamboling about.

While technically there are largely cosmetic differences between the two subspecies, it's akin to the aesthetic variation between most big, hairy mammals of the north. Which I got permission to quickly grab a couple snapshots of their hooves (hidden from view so I had to jump the ropes), and the moment was captured in turn by a student. As a result I think I now know exactly I want my body to be used for when donated to science, but preferably housed in a closet in the art department, right next to our classroom skeleton.

Family Day @ Museum of the North

Whoops I went and totally spaced out posting about this Family Day gig up at the Museum of the North - but that brings up the rumor there'll be a cartooning day (hopefully with a few other friends) at least once, maybe a couple times - especially now since the show's been held over until through next April, making the run last a whole year up on display due to it's popularity.

Special thanks to the staff whose hard work behind the scenes made this possible, and really appreciated the kind invitation to participate in such a great community event.

Honestly I didn't set out any of my cartooning stuff to demo at this gig, put it all back away during setup saying to myself "now, now... this is gonna be serious sketching today, no funny stuff... this is Fine Art." Didn't last long.

Just like the recent Demo Day down at the newspaper, where it took me all day to finally get a walrus done right, the twelfth time was the charm in this instance. But seriously that is a crucial meta-lesson for any folks learning how to draw: the simple trick is to just keep at it until it happens. It will.

In fact here's proof you always get better with practice. These were from 2018 - 2019, while on field trips with Beginning Drawing classes. Of course this little fella had previously been enshrined behind a wall of glass as he was in another long-running display, so it was great to be able to sketch him 360°.

Best of the Show: This dude cracked me up... and I'll have some serious competition in cartooning when he comes of age. Which will be a challenge since I haven't grown up at all. Also, that's not "Muscle Milk" it's "MARMOT MILK."

 

PS: And the whole time this little ditty was running through my mind...

"The Lodge"

"The Lodge” (18x24”): Sneak peek at a new poster panel that’ll be tentpole/centerpiece for a few upcoming gigs + summer show. About once a year I’ll tackle a concept that requires sustained focus/multiple sessions to complete… comparatively rare to not be able to bang something out in one sitting (see "Yukon River Traffic Jam,""Hibernate With a Good Book," and also "The Many-storied Cabin" for example). Not to mention finally getting around to the, er, backlog of projects on the proverbial back burner after the first year of full-time teaching. The scale+ scope of this put many other things into proper perspective, as deadlines were missed for many competing interests, but it felt good to stick to my self-imposed priorities, even at the expense of a lot of missed activities – more of this in an extended rant/whine later, below the fold.

Figure Demos

In line with recent supplemental posts as of late (pen & ink here and comics poetry here) I never have any of the originals as they are all rolled up and given to whoever is modeling, since they don't make nearly enough to do such a hard job. In a couple of these posted pics (the triptychs) there is a progression from quickest to most developed, value-wise. There's still significant residues of underlying pencil marks to show the initial attempts at dialing in the gesture. That expressive line-weight variation is the finesse I see lacking in the majority of digital drawings - with some notable exceptions (Peter Dunlap-Shohl and Fiona Staples), and it's been a growing concern and regular occurrence with students who want to work digitally in drawing classes. I had an epiphany recently to just limit all drawing students to analog in meatspace. There's something about the spatial experience and tactile aspect plus depth on the pictorial plane. The oft-repeated excuses "it's easier/faster/cheaper" is a profoundly ignorant thing to say to an art teacher by the way. That laziness is quite often reflected in the quality of their work. Similar lessons in focus is behind a peer in the department's exercise in limiting the number of exposures a student can take as opposed to the infinite number of digital snapshots available.

After cresting the 50-hour per week threshold it becomes a logistical impossibility to do my job as good as I should ie get everything done I have to do esp. paperwork, emails etc.), especially if you insist on adhering to the no-fly zone around the two days of the weekend reserved strictly for Significant Otter or my own work (including blogging/social media). Nevertheless the cliche that I am inspired by my student's work is at it's most evident when my tired ass still insists on getting up early as usual - more the cat's fault than my own personal morning habits - and making my own art. The most humbling of all is seeing folks so much more better than me, and/or accomplish more than I wish I could get to if I weren't so damn busy teaching. Also there's the humbling experience of seeing firsthand truly amazing art being made by someone who will in all likelihood never draw again after the class is over. Folks like athletes and science majors who the Beginning Drawing class is a three-credit requirement for the degree or as an elective. Paradoxically they are comparatively far less needy than an art major, and hockey players and volleyballers the like know the value and crucial importance of discipline & practice.

Some teachers don't do demos in front of everyone, maybe worried they'll undermine their authority by making some mistakes. Fortunately I have no shame, and think it's invaluable for them to see someone screw up. I often deliberately try to switch things up and experiment outside of my comfort zone ie using the normal tools of the trade. Even tricks like holding the pencil during doing 1-minute gestures in a different grip so as to effectively short-circuit the tendency to draw from the wrist + gripped tightly with fingers. It also enhances the extension of vision of pose to paper, working from the arms and shoulder, while standing on one's feet at an easel. Plus then grabbing a chunka charcoal and "see what happens" - the mantra I use more & more. Not caring anymore can be creatively liberating.

"Between The Wheels"

Maybe it’s another sign of emotional fragility amidst all the accumulated stress from the pandemic, but this little incident merited mention and attention. So I sketched out the impression… making note of the incident by taking notes artistically.

"Literally the little things: While waiting on a light at an intersection, I caught sight of a very small & very soaked vole, slowly creeping across traffic. It disappeared from view a couple cars ahead of me, and I thought to myself, oh no, there's no way it will make it without getting run over, since it had stopped to hide underneth a vehicle. When the light changed and the line started moving I saw the car in front of me move around it as it made its way to safety in the grass. I was so surprised and for just one moment my faith in humanity was somewhat restored."

I flashed back to high school days and my first car, and one day while while giving a friend a lift to school, I accidentally hit and killed my first animal, a skunk. I became quite upset, an my stoner buddy sagely observed that it "was meant to be." So after a brief lecture about the artificial river of asphalt and internal combustion engines running through an animal's environment I kicked him out (hey - it was meant to be) and skipped school for a walk in the woods.

 

“You know how that rabbit feels
Going under your wheels”- Neal Peart

Mullings: Jokers & White Dogs

More than half the time I have no idea whatsoever why certain people are in popular culture. Don't know who, nor care. Guess I'm doing my part fomenting the upcoming class war. What with current events such as they are, things are pretty stressful. Behind the scenes there’s almost like a desperate race to work harder and faster to get out ahead of anything bad. That might be why the faster you go the harder the speedbumps feel.

"Chickadee Cache"

One of the more endearing species to hang around the cabin, and a frequent subject as of late showcasing their fluff and farts and cheeseburgers - not necessarily in that order. Their distinctive song can be heard most hours of the day around this neck of the woods, and it's a hilarious treat to sit on our porch - which is one story up on one side of the house - and watch them at eye level as they do their adorable little bombing runs towards the feeders.

I will say this though: I formerly and publicly disavow any previous derogatory comments I ever made about the rude, voracious behavior of Redpoll hordes. Numbers aside, these chickadees give them a run for the money. Or in this case, bird seed, which I'll have to refill the feeder every couple days when our local gang gets up to speed.

On a side note, I have had the distinct pleasure to make the acquaintance of one Boreal chickadee. Not the first one I've ever seen, but this little fellah has certainly made our home his. I have been able to distinguish his behavior from the others not only by appearance and song, but additionally it is the only one of the flock of regulars that feeds mostly off of the suet hanging off to the side of the sunflower seed feeder. The only other species so far this season eating the cakes are a family of Gray Jays plus the 'peckers (Downy and Harry).

Oh and hey - check out the big brains on this bird: how else can it store so much memory? I had some more scientific data to share with you, but appear to have misplaced the link somewhere and can't remember the exact statistics.

This is an actual photograph documenting the savagery of this species, especially when it moves in large numbers. Think Hitchcockian caliber nightmare material, just much, much smaller beaks (and it would follow that death would take an extremely long time of hundreds and hundreds of pecks.

*Bonus sketch of a relatively uncommon and furtive visitor to the woods around the cabin.

Classroom Demos

First week of linear perspective (Wood Center alley, Rasmuson Library stacks and the Davis symphony hall)

Given the sad state of affairs with the university and the current crop of Republican representatives intent on dismantling and destroying many state institutions and public safeguards, it was a particularly poignant and bittersweet round of classroom exercises this past Summer Session. The looming shadow over every sketch while out on a field trip was the realization that this was in all likelihood the last time I would be shepherding a group through the usual paces out & around campus. It made it really hard to maintain appearances - not that that's ever been a going concern of mine.

I'm tentatively scheduled to teach two more Beginning Drawing courses this upcoming fall semester, but after that, the latest draconian budget cuts will come down and doubtlessly end my many years of employment with the university art department. All told, that'd be forty-four semesters for those of our viewers keeping score at home.

As usual, adjuncts carried the department during the summer when tenured faculty are "off contract" (ie having a life), and as usual, we'll be the ones who take the fall for the next upcoming round of layoffs. And seeing as how the Cartoon & Comics Arts course has officially run its course (stay 'tooned for a recap-to-end-all-recaps post-post), there's no reason to disrupt another season with teaching only part-time i.e. the stacked drawing classes. It's simply not worth it anymore - especially when considering what I've potentially given up by devoting so much time + energy into the relatively short summer as it is.

So it what it increasingly looks like is a total overhaul, switch tracks, try something else for a change. I'm filled with so much conflicting emotions, it's a challenge to negotiate around the hidden mood swings that constantly throw up mental speed bumps. Irony being a frequently mention a mini-meta moment to students as to the why we draw. Reason #563,918 = to keep my mind off of terrible, stressful things. Ha ha, joke's on me - should have stuck with the beaver gags.

It'll be curious to see what and how these changes will be on my own artwork, especially the output. One thing that keeps tantalizing me is the reoccurring fairy tale told amongst many an aspiring talent: just risk it all and believe in yourself and take that scary first step into 100% complete art. I need to either start or complete many projects, not the least of which is at least a few new titles published in book form. That and maybe even get around to posting some of the backlogged material that's been aging in a desktop folder. Sure just as soon as I doodle out one more idea (wash > rinse > repeat).

That's a wash folks

Out Standing in My Field

   So it's always a good sign I'm retreading material when I plug in a term on the Blogger search box (upper left corner of this page), like for instance "Creamer's Field," and get no end of backlinks. But every so often I do occasionally glean a new perspective on a topic or issue. One supposes that might account for the peculiar obsessive traits exemplified by artists. - the recurring chance to make things better. The commitment expressed when saying a work is "done" still doesn't mean a do-over isn't possible (especially when manipulating digital files from the archives) but it might be awkward retouching a piece when it's hanging on someone's wall. Somewhat similar to a chef cranking out their creations in a kitchen you just gotta get used to letting each piece go when it's time to serve it up for someone else's enjoyment and consumption.

   Not too long ago I remember being somewhat astonished at the display of crestfallen looks that appeared on a group of student's faces when I blithely quipped "... and if you mess up or don't like the direction your drawing is going, just trash it and start over on a new one." I realized then that my experience with (comparatively) rapid production has had the side-effect of inuring me to treating my work like it's something special. Sure, it's worth something, but as far as the effort invested in creating it, that's such a given that it doesn't really factor in to the value equation (unless in a freelance capacity under deadline - then there's always a clock ticking).

   So for me to summarily trash something even after wrestling with it for some time doesn't necessarily mean it's worth hanging onto. Any good writer will tell you not to fall in love with any particular turn of phrase or idea in the process of editing a good story. Similarly I have to laugh at the efforts of so many artists who go to ridiculous lengths to recreate something that they initially sketched out and wish to preserve the original spontaneity of the image through an elaborate system of photocopying and/or tracing over light-tables etc. I always just redraw it anew.

   All of this is to say when I led the annual flock of fledgling artists out to one of my favorite places to sketch I dismissed my own efforts at creating a field sketch with this one particular demo. This is both the time and the place where students in my drawing class get a chance to figuratively spread their wings and apply everything we've been practicing on back at the studio out in the real world. Observation skills are coupled with rendering ability and there is also an additional consideration on how to translate reference sketches into finished works, how to incorporate our "visual notes" dutifully recorded in sketchbooks while on our roster of field trips. And just like any other exercise I will always show how (not why - except for the Advanced folks grappling with the big existential questions) to do exactly what I'm asking to be done. And again, just like innumerable instances proving the point, I will frequently crash & burn right there in front of folks. I suppose that is the confronting the greatest fear of any artist who doesn't want to become essentially a performing artist - not just of failure in private. But I personally find it to be an important lesson - one well worth any fleeting public embarrassment: working through failure is of crucial importance. Not to mention this is another practical benefit, besides the practice, of making many, many pieces - it increases the odds that at least one will be a keeper.

   Now this piece in particular was, in my learned opinion, a total loss. At every step of the way past the initial (literal) field sketch I just seemed to keep botching it badly. I thought to myself "well, just add some watercolor,' then that became "well, how about some ink," then "maybe the computer can fix it." The pencil was fine, as it did showcase my frequently lectured-about principles of compositional arrangements of foreground/midground/background elements on the ground plane, and also the concept of visually sampling and then "remixing" these elements for a successful illustration. But the colors - ick. And so on. The final blow is the Photoshoppy filtery result posted up atop. There's always gonna be someone who it reaches though, as evidenced by the positive reaction from some folks - even those whose opinion I normally defer to. So this one's for them.

Indomitable inspiration: Diligently working though beset with disasters (the story of my life)