Teaching a Dinosaur New Tricks

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(Not a dinosaur)

I’m not afraid of technology, but I’ve never been an early adopter. I resisted digital cameras, digital music, and ebooks for what my techie friends would call an embarrassingly long time. It’s not that I don’t trust the digital versions of analog technology — I just like to have physical objects that I can hold in my hands. They seem more real: I feel more connected to them.

I’ve been especially reluctant, even by my standards, to experiment with digital illustration. Of all the things I’m willing to compromise on — ebooks are more portable, digital cameras more immediate, streaming music doesn’t clutter up my house — there’s something about creating art that just needs that connection between pencil and paper or paint and canvas. It’s just inherently physical to me.

But old-school paint-and-canvas art is also sloooooooow. More often than not when I get the urge to make something I either don’t have the time (like between work and picking the kids up from school) or can’t muster the energy (after the kids go to bed) for the whole set-up and clean-up. The prospect of portable art that can mimic a variety of analog media and be created in small chunks of time started to look more and more appealing.

And then I played with the Apple Pencil and iPad Pro and I was smitten: So fast! So many options! So easy! Well, not that last part. While it’s incredibly easy to make dramatic changes to a piece in no time at all, making it look good is another story. Some tools don’t work at all the same as their analog counterparts. Drawing (see the goofy fire dragon up above) feels pretty similar. Drawing with digital pens/markers is weirder (but erasable!):

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“Painting” with a digital pencil is nothing like actual painting. (I won’t subject you to an example because I still haven’t even worked out the basics.) Using a variety of textures and tools (like this drawing/painting/airbrushing/every-damn-thing-I-could-throw-at-it mess) is fun, if sloppy:

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And I’ve just started trying to manipulate photos, but it seems like it could be pretty satisfying:

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Once I get the hang of the tools I’m sure it’ll be easier, but now I feel like I’m re-learning skills I thought I’d at least had a basic knowledge of since elementary school. For now I’m just experimenting with the tools until I feel more comfortable. No doubt everyone who’s been using digital tools all along (which is probably pretty much everyone but me) finds all this easy, but I’m apparently a dinosaur. Specifically a T. rex with useless tiny arms that can’t hold the iPad properly.

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Painting Progress

I’m working on what I think is an important step in making stuff for other people: stopping when they’re happy, rather than giving in to my tendency to keep messing with (and sometimes messing up) something until I like it.

In this case, the third of the Seasons paintings for my kids. I’m not entirely happy with Summer (I like the top half, but I regret adding the wildflowers in the middle), but the kids said it’s done. So (deep breath) it’s done.

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Here’s the (very badly hung) series so far in their room:

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Next up, Spring. I’m slightly terrified of the sunrise-over-a-flowery-meadow palette…

The Girl With Birds in her Hair

A wedding gift for friends who recently got hitched — one of those utterly-perfect-for-each-other couples that warms the hearts of even their most curmudgeonly friends and gives others hope that true love is real and attainable. Sure, it might sound nauseating to read about it, but you wouldn’t think so if you knew them.

The bride, the girl with birds in her hair, is an old friend (who has indeed worn birds and all sorts of odd things in her hair). She’s a real character in all the best ways, and the more I thought about what I wanted to make for them, the more I realized that she really ought to be a character in a children’s book. She’s adorable, charming, quirky, talented, and always sparkling. I don’t know her husband as well, but I know I’ve never seen her so happy. Even saying his name on the phone I can hear the grin in her voice.

Here’s how I imagine their story as a kids’ book.

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The words are pretty unreadable in the image, so here’s the text:

The Girl With Birds in her Hair

There wandered once a sparkling girl with songbirds in her hair,
Who trekked and traipsed and traveled far by stars and sails and air.
Her eyes they pined for foreign sights, her heart it longed to roam.
Her birds weren’t migratory, though, and begged her to stay home.

“The bags are packed,” the girl laughed. “The adventure’s just begun!”
So off they navigated by the map upon her tongue.
For though her birds might have preferred a less unsteady roost,
Each sparrow, rook and starling wouldn’t dream of being loosed.

For everywhere they wandered their girl found them souvenirs,
Like bouncing bits of ribbons, shells, and tiny, shiny spheres.
With chirping cheers they thanked her as she gussied up their nest,
And all the while she sang them serenades with zeal and zest.

Sometimes she sang a sad lament or wistful, warbling trill.
More often she sang joyous songs with unrepentant thrill.
At night she sang soft lullabies all nestled in the dark.
She crooned hymns for a cardinal, wailed shanties for a lark.

But her songs were always stories, based on all that she had seen,
Starring acrobats and robots and raccoons and dancing queens.
She sang tales of stars and shipwrecks, of pugs and parakeets,
And her melodies were met with her birds’ happy cheeps and tweets.

As land to land their travels spanned she added to their tales,
The sights and sounds and characters they met along their trails.
Each place was filled with wonders, and such people they would meet!
But never would they settle, for the girl had yearning feet.

Some didn’t want to see them go. They cried out, “No, not yet!”
And tried to put them in a cage or catch them with a net.
But “toodle-oo!” the girl would sing and once again they’d fly,
Glimmering and shimmering as they streaked across the sky.

But then one day in her travels, a most unexpected twist:
A boy, who when she traveled on, she quickly found she missed.
“Go back,” the birds beseeched her. “Go back and find your love!”
“It’s time to roost,” cried one loud and persuasive turtledove.

And it was true, the girl knew, with just a quick reflection,
So she reversed her course for a more northerly direction.
Back they sped by roads re-tread from far-off Zanzibar,
Until they heard the humming, thrumming strum of his guitar.

And there the boy sat playing with a smile wide as the moon.
The gallivanting girl sat down and said, “I like your tune.”
Then her birds went all aflutter as she flashed a fearless grin,
And the tune became a chorus as the songbirds soon joined in.

The boy cooked a feast for girl and beast, and birds began to crow,
As miles around folks heard the sound and spied her gleaming glow.
At last the girl who’d seen the world saw it was time to rest,
And like her birds she truly knew that she had found her nest.

So, voices joined, the girl and boy began a new duet,
As they composed a cozy home of twinkling twigs and nets,
With space for all their feathered friends to roost up in the rafters,
And there the boy and girl lived, harmoniously ever after.