Or cookies, as we say in America. Took me a long time to get to where I called things by their American names. I lived in London for 3 of my most formative years and came back a proper little toff. Bread and butter with cucumbers. Preferring tea to coffee. Happy with malt vinegar on my fish and chips (ie, french fries) instead of tartar sauce. Having no one understand when I wanted a bag of crisps (potato chips). Over there, I was learning French in 3rd grade; in the US they didn't even think of offering languages till you were in High School and nine times out of ten, it was just Spanish. It was all very disconcerting, to say the least. I think that's half the reason I began to read so much -- so I could ignore the real world and fill my life with my own version of how it should be.
The same goes for sketching and painting -- re-imagining life around you into something that feels properly in order. Then for a long time I rejoined the world and tried to become as one with it...and didn't do so well. Wrote 30 screenplays, none of which has been produced...and while I did sell two of them, it was only after I'd started doing them for other people and reached the point where I couldn't make them work for the clients. My comedy wasn't funny enough and my kids' script was dissed for not having an adult male lead. Even in my rewriting jobs, I've not been able to fully satisfy my clients or their backers.
So now I'm back to weaving my own little reality in stories that drag me along, sometimes on an adventure, sometimes kicking and screaming because I'm not sure what the hell's happening with it. But this time...I'm not off-setting that with my art. I haven't sketched anything since I've come to Buffalo, and prior to that, during all my time in SA I only worked up a couple of faces and the beginning of a graphic novel for a magazine that was never published. Sometimes I want to sketch or paint...but the demands of the writing take preference, and I get farther and farther away from my best abilities in that.
I once did a self-portrait in acrylic, using the mirror in my bathroom. Did it in a couple of hours and it worked. I slapped into it, no structure worked out prior to the initiation, and what came up was this.Of course, it was ten years ago. I've changed a bit. And I haven't done anything as detailed since. My first couple of posts have some work I did after this -- my favorite being a very moody India Ink in the first one that truly depicted my thought process, albeit with a much better-looking model. But now I want to do something artistic, again, and all my paints and materials are back in San Antonio...except for some colored pens I got from a friend in Houston. Maybe I'll use those tomorrow night instead of editing or reading or writing. Be interesting to see what I come up with.
Hmph...I've come full circle...back to where I was as a child. I wonder what that means?