The Fickle And Insecure Nature of Painters
So I finally got painting again.
The fear of screwing up all the work I’d done on my portrait of Matt by royally f-ing up his tattoos made me afraid to start, but it turns out my fears were only half warranted. I did end up painting the tats a little too dark, but I’ll just keep trudging on and then go over them with a flesh colored wash at the end to lighten them up. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.
“Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?”
By Waylon Jennings
First I drew the tattoos out with a charcoal pencil. I used a 2B pencil, thinking it would rub off pretty easy once I got started. Well it did rub off easy, just in my paint. So I probably won’t do that again on the next painting. I’m thinking a white charcoal pencil might be better. Or maybe I’ll just wing it and not draw any guides. The photos are a little yellow. The lighting in my room is horrible.
My fern Gorgeous George has become home to some little critters. Mainly, a cricket and this little green bug that was hanging out with me while I painted. He flew over from George and landed on my painting, then he decided to hang out on my hoodie, and then he moved to my desk right beside my easel. When I needed him to move I just put my finger out, he crawled onto it, and I dropped him off at a more convenient location where he could continue to oversee my painting progress. I felt like Dr. Doolittle. I am sad to say that my green friend passed at 11:04 on Sunday night however. I thought he was being awfully quiet and still, so I blew a gentle gust of wind his way only to find that his spirit had left his body. It felt like a real time example of “Memento Mori.” He was a friend, he was a mentor, he was a great bug. He will forever be remembered.