I did another Walker pic. I decided to do a perspective and pose thing, so this one can fit in with the other two better. I kept seeing skeletons on Pinterest where the angles between the torso and hip pieces were really stark, and the silhouette didn’t look exaggerated. I did a little of that here, and I think it contributed well to the pose. I still want to do something more extreme or explicit, play around with that element more. It can be too easy to assume that the base elements in a figure are sitting along the wrong line when you’re looking from outside-in. I’m also at a point in my story planning where I think I may need to change Walker’s name. It’s an artifact from the previous draft, and I’m now feeling that it’s outlived its usefulness.
I think a lot about differences between expectation and reality. There are so many things in my life, growing up, where I face value accepted what people told me about the world and what things are important and how they relate to other things. It’s taken a long time for me to figure out how to look with my own eyes, because there’s that stubborn part of me that holds onto everything. It’s something I heard, so it’s part of the world, and I feel compelled to make everything make sense together; if everyone says it, seems to believe it, then how could it be a lie? It’s less that I want to believe whatever I first learned, so much as it is that I need something in that space, and whatever is there is important, and so I’m reluctant to let go. Plus, I can’t personally decide to act a certain way or say a certain thing and then do so without believing it, so it’s hard for me to wrap my head around the idea of other people doing that. I’ve heard it happens, and it’s completely wild. But I also know that there are many cultural myths and misconceptions that people either accept and act upon at face value, like I have, or truly believe no matter what reality they face.
All of which is to say, I think a lot about romanticization and mundane experiences, especially with art. There are all sorts of romantic notions about art being this magical, spiritual process. The artist’s real medium is the human soul. This artist’s work completely changes how you see yourself and the world. Artists have a third example, you get it. I’ve seen a lot of critics and speakers who really buy into the trappings of The Art, as well as a lot of artists themselves. That idea of The Art was actually a huge roadblock to me embracing creativity, because I felt such an intense obligation. I have to live up to all these masters, I have to say and do something important, I have to be this visionary figure inspiring others. Nothing I’ve ever done, or ever will, can live up to that, because it’s never going to be good enough, important enough, visionary enough. I hated it, and so I tried to run away from it. A career in the arts is such a longshot, I might as well just be a normal person, work a job, enjoy my hobbies. I already know I failed, no matter what year or what opportunity you’re talking about.
One thing that did make me feel better and helped encourage me, at least for a while, was seeing the way comics authors could make amazing things and also be the silly weirdo in the room; I haven’t read every interview, but I think it’s safe to say the average comics writer or artist won’t be the one saying they’re real medium is the human soul. Among the many things I love about comics, I loved that you didn’t have to be the most important person on Earth to make them. But that had its limits. After all, it’s easy to be the person saying, “Oh, I’m just fart noise, we’re just having fun, and this is one thing I really wanted to do here,” when you’re so incredibly good and making such amazing books. I would look at what I was capable of and see such a long road ahead, and I didn’t understand how anyone got to that point by my own age or just a few years older. I still kinda don’t get how that happens, really.
But I have come around the other side on that framing, as well, in some respects. I was attracted to this idea of being humble and authentic, but there’s the big social element of comics that I wasn’t considering appropriately. Comics aren’t respected as a serious artform by most people, so of course comics professionals actively remove more airs than the ones they don’t put on. You sometimes hear it from comedians, too, this idea that, because your artform isn’t supposed to be the one people respect, you neither put up a respectable front or ask for the amount you deserve. Like, there’s always this subset of people who view entertainment purely in terms of their own enjoyment and don’t give any consideration to the work, love, and intention that goes into it. People who look at the Mona Lisa and shrug because it doesn’t do it for them. I heard these loudmouths in a movie theatre (who were talking the whole time) complain that Godzilla Minus One was bad because the protagonist ejected from his plane at the end. So, there’s always people who don’t get it and experience things individualistically. I think there are social pressures in society, typified by the concepts of high and low, or pop, art, that make most people default into that sort of dismissive attitude with a lot of mass entertainment, especially comics. The humble attitude and approach to being an artist that I want isn’t going along with the dismissive opinion of some yahoo who can’t explain what a theme or metaphor is. Or the disrespectful attitudes of classists and normies who refuse to interact with comics in an honest manner.
I sometimes think about what I would want to do if I ever got famous for my art. I feel silly talking about it here because I don’t think I’m a great prodigy waiting to burst on the scene. I know I’m very average and inexperienced, and I have a long way to go. I am going to get somewhere eventually, though, because I know I’m not going to stop. I tried, and it didn’t take. I could take a vacation from art, but I’ll always want to make it, and I’ll end up back there eventually. It’s happened a few times now. And every time, it’s been amazing. I’ve felt more active and alive, I’ve found this motivation and optimism, and I’ve been reminded of what kind of person I really am. And yet, I always get challenged by the difference between my desires and my actual capabilities. I see great art and the thought occurs to me again: This person must have some special secret thing that they do that I don’t because they’re a Real Artist, with muses and stuff. What really lights my fire isn’t the idea that if I keep learning and working, I’ll find that Real Artist secret. I love that the talented artists I look up to are doing exactly what I’m doing. It’s just drawing, this kinda tedious, mundane activity.
Like, we’ve all heard someone say something like, “Modern art is dumb, they’re just gluing trash together, anyone can do that.” Like, try it out. See how easy it is to “just glue trash together” and get a whole gallery dedicated to you. You’ll find out real quick how incredibly difficult it is, and you’ll appreciate what that artist actually accomplished. Because, as it turns out, yeah, anyone can “just glue trash together.” Art is very accessible and worth your time exploring, and always contains multitudes no matter how simple. That multitude can and, in many cases, does start with the shallow motivation of, “wouldn’t that be totally sick?” Art is this simple thing that anyone can “just do,” and yet it’s also everything wonderful and extraordinary you’ve ever felt while listening to music, or reading a novel, or watching a movie. It’s a wonderful, magical experience because it’s so pedestrian, and yet it elicits these grand emotions and experiences that we need in our lives, and that we can’t get anywhere else.
So, if I ever got famous for my art, or as famous as any comics artist has been, then I want to come in with a real, honest face. I don’t want to put on airs about how important this all is, and no one understands. I don’t want to self-deprecate about nothing I do really mattering or being “real art” or any of that fake crap. I want to go in saying, “I do this because I don’t have any other choice, and I’ve tried making that choice. I made this because I thought it would be totally sick. When I was making it, I thought about all these things that make my head spin, and I think I got a gist of it, at least.” You know? I want to be direct, and I want to talk about what I do in a serious, but not serious, way. I’ll gladly and proudly defend the merits of what I do against any “more respectable” media, and I’ll preach about the accessibility and mundanity of creativity. One of the coolest things about comics is the basic mental trick by which it works, after all: Closure. You see two panels, and you assume what happens in the middle, even though that part “never happens.” All art is like that. Art is the experience, not the process by which its made or the physical result of that process.
Or, to put this whole essay another way, there’s the Ed Parker quote that was in my karate class growing up (paraphrasing): “When I first started, a punch was just a punch, and a kick was just a kick. Then I started learning, and a punch was not just a punch, and a kick was not just a kick. Then I became a master, and a punch was just a punch, and a kick was just a kick.”
Weekly Art Blog 10/13-10/19/2024
Life in the Gutters 