Happy Mother's Day

Boys

When I was little, one of my favourite things about Christmas is that I could plaster my room with posters – well they were actually wrapping paper I think – but they were these complex pictures involving mice in festive scenes. Each ‘poster’ had dozens of mice. They were skating, skiing, tobogganing, building snow forts, decorating trees.

Each year I would unfold them and pin them up. I could stare at them for hours, soaking in all the stories, admiring all the details.

My own drawings are no where near as complex and story rich. But stories they always are. And the stories that I love in artwork are why I was never able to accept when I was told, in University, and then at art college, that I should be a fine artist. To me, a fine artist did “fine art”. I wanted to tell the tales, not compromise with mere prettiness. Besides, I had nothing to “say”. No great meaning nor protest that I wished to impart on the world with my pieces.

It doesn’t seem like a big thing, but it’s funny how a disconnect like that get into your head and stall you. It’s stupid and lazy, I know. And I see now that there’s just no excuse that can be made. I see now that a person just has to shut out all the outside voices pulling you in all directions – “you’re smart, go to university” “you should be a fine artist” “there are too many great illustrators out there – you people will never be able to make a living at it”…

The teams may be slightly mismatched.

But now that I have a daughter who’s insanely talented and driven to become an animator and illustrator, I wonder how I can encourage her with all good conscious when I’ve failed to inspire myself. I’ve always thought that the number one thing you have to do to be a good parent is set a good example. In all parts of your life. I realize that no one can succeed at this 100% talk is cheap. Kids will see who you are and what you do all day and how you think and talk and interact. They internalize all the lessons presented and then, if you’re lucky, they’ll plant their feet firmly in the base you’ve given them, and they’ll JUMP!

Don't engage drunk bears in conversation.

Everyone is walking

With orange hat

With Dinosaur Hat

Meanwhile, in what limited spare time I have I’m trying to make myself sketch more. I’ve been a back sketcher – and I shouldn’t be, because I really believe that just letting yourself play at something is the best creative outlet.

Don't be mean to your little lamb. Keep it clean.

But sketching has, in the past few years, been just something of a frustration to me. The drawing are never as “good” as i think they should be. They never look like what I plan them to look like. It feels like, unless I work them up with the light table, scan and colour them, they are “finished” and worth looking at. So I end up just not doing it.

Rip off of Mr. Grumpy's Outing

Something in one of the books or blogs I’ve been reading lately just struck a cord with me recently. It was something about remembering what you loved doing when you were little. Well, what I loved doing was drawing pictures. I drew them in lined paper notebooks because I never had access to blank paper. It never seemed to matter to me (though rest assured there are reams and reams of blank paper in my house now at all times, and my daughter, who has inherited my love of drawing, is always supplied with more blank sketchbooks than she could fill in a lifetime.)

The Frog Prince, the angry baby and the snow man...

Flash forward 3 years past a degree in illustration from Sheridan College (and then some) and it seems like I should be able to draw “better”. But when I sit down to sketch, my drawings aren’t vastly different than what I drew as a 12 year old. And that somehow drives me mental. Until I look at all of children’s books I’ve collected over the years, and some of favourites are the deceptively simple looking ones like John Birmingham and Quentin Blake.

Still, when I think about what I’d like to do when I grow up – I can think of only one thing I want to do: I’d like to illustrate children’s book. Maybe my style is simple looking. But … that’s my style.

Aqua fitness

Suddenly it hit me, that my drawing can, and probably should, be just like my Yermit creation… I should just start, and continue and see what comes out and not worry about the “plan” or even the final product. I should just draw.

Round and round

Things are looking up

The cottage

Sean's Yermalike - another eerie resemblance.

Doing Yermalikes is always fun, and challenging, and a bit stressful. I always expect people are going to look at the end result and think it’s crazily off-track, but so far no one has.

Thanks for the photos Natalie and Sean!

I have been trying to draw more though. Among all the sketches I’m doing, I started a small obsession with family dinners. These have been in my head for a long time because, if we remembered to take any pictures at family gatherings when I was growing up, they were mostly pictures of everyone gathered round the table.

Family Dinner

Things started to go wrong around here…

Dinner gone wrong

And degraded further. I can’t show those.

Sean - a bit of a moddish fellow

Sean is a snazzy fellow, a bit mod, liker of old things, wears bow ties and cravats and coats and skinny jeans. He’s been out to the thrift stores in search of old records, and now is dying to show Natalie his finds.

Sean has been out record shopping, and now is coming over with some wine and all his finds.

Check it out. Herb Alpert!