Monday, 1 September 2014
Our Man survived his Saturday soiree with the Abiko’s artistic elite. His take away from it all was: it’s not a question of sucking or not, it’s more about expression. He thinks. And also having an artistic vocabulary to play with. And there’s only one place to get that: by ripping off other folk. (Er, surely you mean practice -- Ed.?) So here’s Our Man’s latest rip off, er, inspiration from those rofftop climbing selfie ruffians that the Washingrton Post doesn’t know whether to celebrate or castigate. All Our Man knows is that those shots give him the willies. But the perspective is pretty wild.
Wednesday, 27 August 2014
Our Man is a bit nervous. See, it’s all very well to show his sketches online to his, er, fan(s), but it’s quite another to meet a couple of artists for drinks this weekend. Proper artists, not piss ones like Our Man. They told Our Man to bring his sketch book. Yikes. After he had removed the shopping lists, he realised it’s a bit thin on his own work. So he has a couple of days to add Proper Art and Such. Hmm. His latest how-to-draw book (Playing with Sketches) recommends practicising by copying the masters at an art museum. But the only proper museum in Abiko is devoted to birds and Our Man didn’t fancy sketching the stuffed ones on the third floor. So he commandeered a weighty tome of black and white photographs (left on his shelves by a fleeing ex-pat) called The Family of Man (hey, guess that title worked in 1955) and ripped off, er that is to say, paid homage to p183 (below). Our Man realises he got some of the proportions wrong and he is a bit frustrated with his lack of technical abilitiy, but while not many of the sketches actually look much like their subjects, they do capture how they look to Our Man pretty much. Which is a start.
Wednesday, 20 August 2014
Our Man sketched these sights of the Shinto shrine halfway up Mt Tskuba, about 50 km from Abiko, but a world away from the cares of the bunker. The overnight trip was a welcome respite from the shock news received on Friday that a good friend of Our Man’s has been diagnosed with stage four cancer. There is no stage five.
|An 800 year-old tree.|
|This took me an hour to finish. So many lines to put in, but each|
represented an individual piece of timber. Must have taken the carpenters
quite a bit longer to put the real thing together.
|Now wash your hands.|