The Binding of Fenrir

Hello again! I'm back, and much sooner than you expected, no?

The past few posts here on the Roost have been very much life-updatey, which is totally fine. There is a lot of life stuff going on right now that I feel a great need to set down on digital paper. But I claim to be the proprietor of an art blog, so I think it's time to talk about some art as well! To be honest, talking about the art/philosophy side of things scares me a little bit more, cause it takes more thought and preparation to write, and sometimes I just don't want to put in that kind of effort :P

But today is different. Cause today I have something to show! So let me give you the pitch and origin story for this piece I'm calling The Binding of Fenrir -

It's a little bit more grim than your average Daniel Haycox piece, and perhaps not as grim as it should be (I'm aware of my limitations, somewhat) but I'm pleased to present it to you and to have made a substantial piece of personal work despite being home with the ever-present temptation of the Nintendo Switch. For those wondering, it took about four days of sporadic work.

This piece is my entry in March's Character Design Challenge. For those unfamiliar, the Challenge is an international contest/facebook group where everyone can contribute one design a month based on a particular theme. Although I don't anticipate becoming a character designer someday (many others are much more gifted for that task) the Challenge provides some helpful structure to my personal work and a reason to create other than "just making something cool." Which, ironically, was essentially my motivation for making this piece. I've given up the idea of winning the challenge - I have no idea how they judge this thing, winners are sometimes far better and other times about as good as what I can produce (I'm aware of my limitations, somewhat). But the Challenge nevertheless provides an arena where I can display work in a community, and that is still worthwhile in my book :)

The Challenge theme for this month was Norse Gods - which I was excited to try. Despite my familiarity with the myths, I don't think I've ever actually drawn one. Due to my recent study of Anna Scott's work and canines (seriously, I'm working on an uncommon amount of dog projects right now) you probably could have guessed that I wanted to do a take on Fenrir, the monstrous wolf doomed to gobble up Odin and be A Pretty Big Deal In General during Ragnarok. But I wanted to depict him at his lowest moment, when he's finally bound by the gods using the magic ribbon Gleipnir. It's this really cool contrast between a delicate, unassuming ribbon that's holding back the strongest, baddest monster. And although that's where I began, the emotional element of the piece started to become about betrayal. Even though Fenrir probably would have eaten Odin anyways (that's the problem with prophecies) I imagine that the gods' betrayal and treachery is actually what cemented the badness in Fenrir's heart. This idea runs through Neil Gaiman's telling of the myth, which I referenced a lot while making this piece. Although the story should be a moment of triumph over a monster, Gaiman's telling is pervaded by sadness, especially because he builds up a friendship between the god Tyr and Fenrir. (That's Tyr's hand in Fenrir's mouth btw. Hard to recover from something like that.)

There were several things about Gaiman's telling that I could not use, and I took significant artistic license in general when concepting the piece. For one, Gaiman describes the ribbon as nearly invisible, which would obviously not be a great pick for a visual representation. I chose a light pink ribbon instead because it more directly communicated the delicate idea I was going for. Also, Fenrir should have been bound into the ground, not hung, but I felt like the hanging symbolized Fenrir's helplessness in this moment a bit better.

And from there I was off to the races! And by that I mean the incredibly daunting task that is Making the Thing. I tried to find some sad music to listen to while I drew, but my music taste is so incredibly upbeat that the closest thing I could find in any of my playlists was Jess Ray's "Humble Heart." So I listened to that a couple times and then just tried to make do with other stuff.

I've been in an interesting place with regards to style recently, and I wanted this piece to be a real step forward into something new. I've been most influenced by Saira Vargas recently which has been a huge help to my art, but also leaves me feeling like I ought to branch out and do more detailed, rendered work. So I've been studying Anna Scott, who has such a natural sense of detail and texture without losing simplicity. In particular she has these glorious wolf characters with such rich and subtle hair textures - which you may very likely see some callbacks to in this piece.

The problem is that rendering terrifies me. I don't really know how to do it, and I'm worried about over-doing it. I also like knowing if the piece is going to work pretty early into the process, which is actually doable when working very simply. But rendering pushes that "yes, we're not gonna die" moment later into the process which is very uncomfy. But I can't stay in the boiled down, simplified zone forever. Time to move. So this piece ended up becoming a fusion of Kole, Vargas, and Scott influences, which hopefully produced something very Haycox by the end - but you'll be the best judge of that. I've prepared a couple graphs to show what I mean:

It also does this:

Which maaay prove a problem as I try to enter the industry. I just love the simplicity of TV and the richness of feature design! And perhaps in personal work like this I don't need to try to fit myself into one of the two hirable boxes, but just explore a little and figure out what the Haycox style should look like. And draw some wolves with dude's hands in their mouths. Cause I guess that's what I do now. That's my brand. 

Just kidding. Style's a weird thing, and the best metaphor I've found for it comes from a Nicholas Kole interview in Character Design Quarterly:

"I like to think of artistic style in the same way as dress-sense: with clothes, you give yourself permission to go through phases. You might try new looks as your tastes change, and shed old age-inappropriate items as you grow. All the while there will be colors, cuts, and looks that you continually gravitate towards even as things change, things you just know feel 'like you.'"

I think about this a lot when it comes to discussions of my style or others', and hopefully it's a helpful metaphor for you too! A lot of people stress about style but if you see it as something natural and already a part of you, then you can focus more on nurturing and growing it without a big sense of urgency. Also, Nicholas, if you read this blog, let me know and I'll try to avoid so many fanboy moments in the future :P That's one of the problems with writing for the internet... you just have no idea where this stuff lands! 

Hope this post finds you well, weathering these times with grace, courage, and creativity.

-dh

P.S. Comments should be working now on this blog, let me know if y'all run into more issues. 

Heroes

Be yourself; everyone else is already taken. Oscar Wilde

I've been thinking a lot recently about style, about being good enough, and about my sources of inspiration. As I've been creating materials for a prop design portfolio, I find myself constantly referencing portfolios of The Ones Who've Gone Before - in other words the people who have made it in the industry, and who I hope to become someday. Referencing other artists has been a part of my art-making process for a while now, and I felt it was the time to make a proper post about the importance of "art heroes." And to do that I need to talk about Joshua Gibbs. 

Joshua Gibbs is not one of my art heroes. But he is a philosopher whose work I enjoy reading from time to time on the Circe blog. He writes about current issues with an ancient perspective (that's not a bad thing). His posts are often insightful, humorous, and vaguely smelling of old books. To put it briefly, I think he's a pretty smart dude. Gibbs doesn't talk too much about the visual arts (though he does have the most reasonable argument against modern art I've ever found). He mostly talks about writing. But I find that many of his points about what makes good writing and writers can be rather seamlessly translated into what makes good art and artists. He recently published this post which talks about the making of a good writer/artist. You can read it if you want, but here's the summary - each of Gibbs' points talks more about the importance of an aspiring artist's heroes than the talent or motivation of the artist herself. Here's an example from his first point: "No one may become a good writer [artist] until he wants to sound [draw] like someone other than himself." 

Now this might strike you as odd - isn't art supposed to be about being original, and sharing your unique view with the world? Doesn't this directly contradict the quote I started this post with? Yet at the same time it strikes me as profoundly true. I'd wager that no one who got into art wanted to draw like themselves. They wanted to draw like someone else, and that's what moved them beyond stick figures and into the world of creating compelling images. I don't really want to draw like Daniel Haycox, cause Daniel Haycox is new it this art thing and mediocre at best. I want to draw like Nicholas Kole, like Aaron Blaise, like Celine Kim, like Peter de Seve. Those guys are the pros. They are the guardians of style. And it's through the careful assimilation and compilation of heroes like these that you find your style, and your voice as an artist. It's kinda paradoxical, no? And similar to a maxim that's very important to my heart: to save your life, you have to lose it. To be the best version of yourself, you have to imitate someone else. You are what you eat. Funny how things work out like that. 

I don't really take any issue with this. Cause for me, having heroes is a way to ground and define my art journey while still having so much room to grow. Heroes are both my anchor and my finish line. But to some of you who may have never thought this way before, or have avoided it, I hope I can be at least a little like Gibbs in this way and remind you that this is a valid way of art-study, and of finding originality. It's probably something you're already doing, even if you don't recognize it. This goes for any art field. C.S. Lewis probably wasn't thinking about animation when he wrote 

"Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it." C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

While heroes may not give you the truth, they can give you the skills you need to find it and express it eloquently. In the imitation of someone else, you accidentally find originality. And now we're back to that big old paradox we started with. Which all goes to show we're on to something big here.

Even so, heroes are something we don't usually talk about when it comes to the "good artist equation" (which usually only involves talent, hard work, and maybe focus). I guess having heroes is so inherent that it hides in plain sight. Yet heroes may be the most important part of the artist equation, and the secret to how some artists progress faster than others. Consider this - which would be more destructive: being told your art is bad or that you have the wrong heroes? For me, it's the heroes. Somehow, your choice of heroes seems even more personal and foundational than any particular work of self-expression. 

so much of this episode is about the topic of art heroes, but I don't want to clip the whole thing

I know I'll be able to collaborate well with someone when we have similar heroes, even if our actual drawing styles are different. Cause on a bedrock layer of principles and vague sensibilities, I know we're both drinking from the same well. And I have to try really hard to hold back my pride and/or judgement when I see someone venerating what I feel to be the wrong heroes, or bad art. When I came to art school, one of the reasons why I was able to grow relatively quickly was that I had friends recommending good heroes to me all the time. And I hope that the Roost can be a place where I share those with you, and where I can evaluate whether they're worth following. Over the next few months I'll be doing deep dives into the work of my favorite artists, and analyzing what makes their work so compelling to me. I plan on posting them here on the Roost, in case you'd like to take a peek at my notes. That's no substitution for actually doing some digging yourself though! The podcast I mentioned above has some good places to start. I hope it's an enriching time for the both of us!


I feel like I've said enough, and am feeling an increasing sense of redundancy each time I type the word heroes. So I'm going to call this post here.

But not without some music recommendations!

Vulfpeck has already been one of my favorite bands for a couple years now, but I was recommended this hidden gem, Animal Spirits, recently. It's got some Jackson 5 vibes that are very nice https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qTUnDV3MgVQ

And another update from my incredibly niche love, video game jazz covers. Although this group isn't straight jazz (kinda a pop-y, orchestra, jazz blend) I enjoy their covers and their rendition of the DuckTales Moon Theme is a *ahem* duck-blur. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GewpSQMFvbw (Man I want to work on DuckTales SO BAD)

Thanks for your support! Stay cool -
-dh