My feet stink.
Not my actual feet (though they probably do reek most of the time), I mean the feet I draw. Mostly feet are difficult for me because I draw every little bone and tendon and knobby thing that I see in my reference photo and the feet end up looking like monster feet. Also, for some reason, I think that feet are smaller than they actually are in real life so I have to concentrate on purposely drawing them larger, but if I go too large... BAM! monster feet again. This can be dangerous business.
I had decided that one of the feet needed a bit of a redesign so I taped some tracing paper to the canvas and set about getting a proper shape started. The tracing paper is useful because I can safely screw around with the sketch while still seeing the painting underneath, while not actually fucking up the painting itself. If you click on the picture, it will enlarge and you can see my first sketch of the new foot (below), the second sketch with much more foot showing that I ended up using (middle) and a crappy unused sketch for how the top of the couch might have looked (above).
I wrote those two paragraphs last night and as fascinating as all that is (and I know that it isn't), I couldn't really find a satisfactory way to make this post entertaining to my legions of 'normal' fans, not just the couple of artistic types who skulk around here late at night. After all, not everyone cares about my creative process. Or do they?
This is a list of the steps my brain takes, over the course of an entire evening, trying to find a way to end this goddamn post:
1. Think. Think. Thinkthinkthink. Nothing. Dammnit.
2. Look around the room for a while. Maybe admire the ceiling for a bit.
4. Tell myself that having a glass of whiskey will help clear my head and give me some focus.
5. Realize that I am fully an alcoholic and I better fucking get back to work writing something so one day I can afford to go rehab.
6. It's time for Thinkasarus Rex, baby! GRRRAAWR!
7. Look at my own foot hoping that it's somehow funnier than usual. It is not. ...Hey, my toenails are really long!
8. Arrange the Prismacolor markers on my desktop into a rainbow so I'll be super-efficient and not waste any more time if I do any amazing Stick-Figure Andrew drawings later.
9. Stare at the Prismacolor rainbow for a few minutes.
10. Remind myself that thinking is what separates you from your moron co-workers at the day job so GET TO IT RIGHT NOW! ...hmmn, still nothing. Truly, I am 'moron' personified.
11. Scroll through the iTunes playlist I'm currently listening to thinking that Ben Folds released 117 songs this week and I can't even write a halfway decent paragraph. To be fair, he's ridiculously talented and I am easily hypnotized by pen rainbows.
12. Begin to make a chronological Ben Folds 'best of' playlist in iTunes.
13. Realize that a glass of whiskey would really help me collect and understand my thoughts about the true destination of Ben Folds' creative journey as I organize the single greatest playlist ever. Ben will probably be fairly impressed with my effort. Maybe he will help pay for my rehab stay!
14. Maybe I'll look out the window for a while.
15. Think-a dink-think-a-dink-think-a-dink (This is the sound my brain makes as it tries to do it's thing.) Think-a dink-think-a-dink-think-a-dink CLUNK! (Well, that doesn't sound good at all!) ...think-a-dink-think-a CLUNK! CLUNK! CLUNK! (Goddamnit.)
17. Look through iPhoto again to see if somehow I missed a really spectacular photo of this stage of the painting that I could use for the post instead of the one I'm struggling with currently. Most likely, this is all the photo's fault! Remember that I started trying to write this fucking post because I thought this was the interesting photo and people would be fascinated with all the intricacies of my process. Just look at that motherfucker up there at the top of the post, mocking me with it's blandness. I am wasting my life.
18. Tell myself that it has been scientifically proven that a glass of wine a day is good for you and whiskey has got to be twice as strong as wine, so theoretically it should be twice as good for me. Especially if I drink twice as much of it!
19. Notice that somehow, through absolutely no fault of my own, my brain has become slow and sticky, rendering me unable to form a cohesive thought. It's like my brain is submerged in marshmallow fluff.
20. Make a little drawing about the only way that you can think of to get that sticky goo out of your head...
21. Chuckle to myself about how I'm a sophisticated adult.
22. Give up on my dreams and go to bed.