Hi all!
I have been putting off this post for much too long, but as I don't want to be talking about January's news in February, I figured it was time to type a little something up. Even if it ends up being on the shorter side. (Edit: It doesn't.)
I want to talk about this sucker of an image.
Yet this piece really did a number on me.
For starters, the theme for December's CDC was "Robot Arena Deathmatch," which was about as far from my usual subject matter as possible. But I resolved to stick it out, combed through a ton of reference, and even came up with a concept that I was excited to draw - a semi-haunted, goofily-proportioned chess knight robot. I also was planning on returning to a more dimensionally rendered style a la Nicholas Kole. It's a style I used to work in a bunch, and one I used in some of my earlier CDC entries.
Yet when I reached the rendering stage, everything just kind of fell apart. I struggled to figure out where to place shadows. I couldn't figure out how to add tight details without using linework. A technique that I thought I had a handle on now seemed impossible to grasp, and what seemed to be a routine character design now promised to be a battle to the end. So I tried to adjust, adding back in some lineart to clarify the image a bit, but the shadows still felt wrong. After messing with the design a bit, and showing it to my Discord art group, I realized I had a choice. I could struggle to stay the course, ditching the linework and really trying to figure out the shadows, or I could retreat into a comfortable style of stylized, angular shadows.
As you can see, I decided to go for the easier route. I just couldn't figure out how to make accurate shadows, and I wasn't having any fun with the image trying to do so. It just seemed to make more sense to do something I knew would work, even if it meant abandoning my grander original plans. And although I finished the image and made something satisfactory, I still felt defeated, and even ashamed since I opted for the easy way rather than striving for something tough and new. As a result of making this image I lost a ton of confidence in my ability to draw. I worried if I had hit a wall, or if I could even make a good drawing again.
Of course, these negative self-thoughts were not true. But I figured I would share them with you in case you are feeling (or have felt) something similar. I think this kind of self-doubt is something many artists feel, even if we don't talk about it openly. I for one fear that I'm getting worse at art, or that my next project won't be any better than my previous one, or I just can't make anything good in general. And after making this particular character design I felt those fears very acutely. I was almost afraid to see what would come out of my pencil the next time I started drawing.
If you're feeling this way I've got two tools that often help me out of such a place. First, I'll look back at my library of work. Usually there's something in there I'm proud of. I'll look at that piece(s) as proof that I can make good things, and that I'm not a failure as an artist. I may have made a particular piece that felt like a failure, but the journey that I'm on is not a failure and has been in fact full of breakthroughs and good art.
Or (as in the case of this particular bout of art-doubt), I'll make a new piece simply to prove to myself that I still got it in me. I had been reading The Chronicles of Prydain over Christmas break and wanted to do my own version of the the pig Hen Wen. I was afraid to start, but I knew I had to make something to remind myself that I was still a good artist, and that my work was not done. So to rid myself of doubt I drew a pig. And unlike the horse, I was really pleased with the result. The shapes felt strong. The lines looked good. And I felt like I could do (and had done) good art again.
This piece did not do as well on Instagram, but it really doesn't matter. Its primary purpose was to be an encouragement and ebenezer (stone of remembrance) for a time when I thought I didn't have it in me anymore. Art is a struggle, but God is faithful. And here on the Roost I want to be candid about that. It's a fact disguised by social media, which perhaps isn't really the best place to discuss it anyways. But as they say, the struggle is real. I've been rewatching this four-part documentary on Miyazaki which is a timely reminder that even geniuses like him can feel despondent, wracked by frustration and doubt. He says "I can feel it every day, the limit of my ability," which is just how I feel while working on my thesis film. Sure, he's talking about the limits of his 70-year-old physical ability, but as a new artist I feel my limits of my artistic ability - particularly in animation, drawing on model, and rendering. Part of the frustration/joy of pursuing an art is that there's always more to learn and improve. Which means that if you're honestly seeking to grow, you may often find yourself bumping up against your limits. I've definitely been encountering my own recently, and I'm hoping for that breakthrough moment when I can move beyond them into something better. But for now, all we can do is show up each day ready to work, and ready to fight.
Into the breach!
-dh
Music Recommendation: I've been listening to Think About You a bunch recently - it's perfect for biking across campus, thinking about that special someone, or any other time you're feeling really happy.
