(no subject)
I can't believe how far my drawings and art have advanced since high school. Hell! Even since the beginning of college! I found an old sketchbook... I had once thought it was a wicked cool sketchbook that put my others to shame... damn was I oh so wrong.
I started paging through it looking at past assignments from my art 100 class, the same very class I'm a teacher's aide in, and I'm in utter shock and horror of my work. Stuff I would strut about then is shameful compared to stuff I'm doing right now. It's so funny, I use to think I was hot shit and my work was superb! Now, after the sketchbook has been buried for over 4 years, I look back and cringe at my work. Holy crap this shit sucks!!! I mean, yeah, I had to go through that to get to where I am today, but on the same note... omigod it's bad! I mean, I guess in comparison it's total shit, but it's still better than some people's stuff too.
I mean, sure, there's some fun stuff in there... nothing I would show off to anybody now... but when you've gone through over 9 sketchbooks in the past 6 years... there's bound to be shit and there's stuff that's getting better and instances when I look back and say 'How the fuck did I forget how to draw clothing?! I did before! Why can't I now! I guess my people are meant to be nekkid! W00T to teh Nudity!"
So in paging through this sketchbook, I have seen some crap and I remember drawing half of that crap. It's funny really... I look at each picture and can see myself sitting there, or laying there, or standing, or any combination of the three drawing. I remember what the room looked like, what my hair looked like, and my environment. I then came across a sketch of CB I'd done.
It was eerie. I could see them playing cards, CB next to Rob who was next to Dave who was next to Joe with Crystal on the couch watching some anime. I was laying on the floor with Trinny cat lying ontop of me doing what she does best. The table set was this hideous sea green wicker set that CB had gotten from his mother or a relative of some sort. the table was a glass top, the carpet was that ugly beige color that they put into apartments that 'go with everything'. There were grease stains on the carpet from moving stuff where the joints of the metal objects left stains. The ceiling fan was turning, creating a semi cool breeze in the hot apartment, and the soft yellow glow of the 75 watt bulbs shining down upon the game. I lay there watching my husband as he smirked. He had a lousy poker face. I then drew him with his smirk. Laying on the floor with my cat on my back and pencil in hand, going to town.
Sadly, it's one of the few sketches in that notebook that are decent. It's kind of a pain looking back when you don't really want to, remembering a scene of a point in your life you want to be forgotten. This makes me think now, in 6 years, when I page through my sketchbooks, what will I think? What memories will I see? What ones will I grin at and what ones will I cringe to? What memories will be bittersweet in my mouth at that point in time? What will my work be like then? It's hard to tell, but in time, I will be able to look back and remember, and when I do remember, what points in my current will I not want to remember?
I started paging through it looking at past assignments from my art 100 class, the same very class I'm a teacher's aide in, and I'm in utter shock and horror of my work. Stuff I would strut about then is shameful compared to stuff I'm doing right now. It's so funny, I use to think I was hot shit and my work was superb! Now, after the sketchbook has been buried for over 4 years, I look back and cringe at my work. Holy crap this shit sucks!!! I mean, yeah, I had to go through that to get to where I am today, but on the same note... omigod it's bad! I mean, I guess in comparison it's total shit, but it's still better than some people's stuff too.
I mean, sure, there's some fun stuff in there... nothing I would show off to anybody now... but when you've gone through over 9 sketchbooks in the past 6 years... there's bound to be shit and there's stuff that's getting better and instances when I look back and say 'How the fuck did I forget how to draw clothing?! I did before! Why can't I now! I guess my people are meant to be nekkid! W00T to teh Nudity!"
So in paging through this sketchbook, I have seen some crap and I remember drawing half of that crap. It's funny really... I look at each picture and can see myself sitting there, or laying there, or standing, or any combination of the three drawing. I remember what the room looked like, what my hair looked like, and my environment. I then came across a sketch of CB I'd done.
It was eerie. I could see them playing cards, CB next to Rob who was next to Dave who was next to Joe with Crystal on the couch watching some anime. I was laying on the floor with Trinny cat lying ontop of me doing what she does best. The table set was this hideous sea green wicker set that CB had gotten from his mother or a relative of some sort. the table was a glass top, the carpet was that ugly beige color that they put into apartments that 'go with everything'. There were grease stains on the carpet from moving stuff where the joints of the metal objects left stains. The ceiling fan was turning, creating a semi cool breeze in the hot apartment, and the soft yellow glow of the 75 watt bulbs shining down upon the game. I lay there watching my husband as he smirked. He had a lousy poker face. I then drew him with his smirk. Laying on the floor with my cat on my back and pencil in hand, going to town.
Sadly, it's one of the few sketches in that notebook that are decent. It's kind of a pain looking back when you don't really want to, remembering a scene of a point in your life you want to be forgotten. This makes me think now, in 6 years, when I page through my sketchbooks, what will I think? What memories will I see? What ones will I grin at and what ones will I cringe to? What memories will be bittersweet in my mouth at that point in time? What will my work be like then? It's hard to tell, but in time, I will be able to look back and remember, and when I do remember, what points in my current will I not want to remember?