So I got into the studio, unloaded my art supplies, looked around at the clutter and the wreckage of con prep, and said "This place is a sty! I should clean it. I should clean the house. I should frame all this cool new art. I should overhaul my entire decor (and I use the term loosely) so that I have space to put it all. I should do a solid wall of 8.5 x 11 prints. Yeah. That'd be cool! I should...STOP AVOIDING WORK BECAUSE TRINOC IS IN THREE DAYS, IDIOT!"
But I've gotten an 8 x 10 done! (Entitled "Happiness Is A Warm Turnip." Not as weird as it sounds.) So far, so good. I have an assload of errands to run this afternoon, including depositing the Wad 'O Cash, but hopefully I'll be able to crank out another piece tonight. Madness!
And then, when it's all over, and my motivation is nonexistant, I'll clean.
I will give Anthrocon--and one specific sketchbook commission, the Flaming Jerboa--credit. It rekindled my interest in sketching.
You know. With a pencil and stuff.
I've been relying more and more on the computer, and this is really not a bad thing--I'm not a purist by any means, and I love sketching digitally for sheer manipulatability. But I was doing a sketchbook commission, and did a small, big-eyed animal--on fire, with a dying fire extinguisher--and gazed at it, and thought "Man, if I had better pencils on me, I bet I could do even more..." and this, combined with some of the really neat sketchbooks I saw, and some of the really fabulous art by other artists, made me think "I need to do more sketching."
My sketchbooks over the years have dwindled from places where I drew the bones of a painting (and scanned and painted it digitally) to a sort of dumping ground for thumbnails and ideas when I'm away from the computer, or awoken in the middle of the night. Ironically, now I do the bones of a painting on the computer, print it out, and paint it physically. My process has eaten its own tail, and my sketchbooks went from 11 x 14 to pocket-sized.
I can't imagine not going through a digital stage, even still, for a painting--I do too much tweaking and wiggling of compositions--but sketches themselves have a real charm that I'd half forgotten. And graphite, as a media, is one I haven't improved my skills with in...shit, probably a decade.
And I can always sell sketches, too, says the art-mercenary.
So when I was swinging by A.C. Moore for mats, I grabbed a sketchbook. 8 x 10, nothing fancy. And I grabbed some 6B pencils to go over the top of my trusty, but limited mechanical pencil. And we'll see if this is merely a passing fancy or if it actually goes somewhere.