the idea of artists is synonymous with a lot of things. smoking, eccentricity, a sort of laissez faire attitude towards society at large. one of the ones i have unfortunately been a part of is a big one: depression.

it is a sad truth that a good portion of the world, despite saying they understand and are supportive, simply don’t comprehend depression for what it is. it is not “just being sad” and it is not “being moody/seeking attention”. it is not glamorous, it is not edgy, and it is–contrary to popular opinion–not conducive to being a great artist.

a small story to illustrate; last night, i had an episode. what triggered it precisely i can’t be sure of. this is not to say that episodes are due to single points of pressure, but that’s usually when they spill out. my heart was racing and i could not seem to catch my breath. i was shaking violently. the only way i could conceive escape was to lie on the floor outside my friend’s dorm. it was cold, which was soothing for a few moments. i couldn’t bring myself to move for an hour. i just stayed there, still and crying, my curled limbs going numb under me. at least 11 people walked through the halls during that hour. two stopped to ask me if i was ok. one actually bothered to try actively talking to me. all of them left me there. i suppose it’s not that surprising. it was a friday night, people were partying. perhaps they assumed i was drunk. but all i could think was how i was invisible. uncared for. it wouldn’t make a single difference if i just disappeared.

i was suddenly consumed with a need to gather everything i owned and hold it in one place. somehow i felt this was they only way to grasp my slipping control. if only i could have one stable thing. i began furiously throwing my bags together, running back and forth between the friend’s dorm and my own, trying to keep myself from falling apart. it didn’t work, of course, but the need to have something to do, something to cling to, was beyond logic. i was still crying hysterically, simultaneously willing myself to breathe normally, for my heart to calm, and to just drop dead. my vision tunneled, and i fell back, sitting among my piles without closure, and without air.

just a few hours before, i had finished a picture i was going to add to a calendar, made with other friends’ work. the colors were vivid, and though i complained about having to fill in large swaths of color for the background using only marker and chalk pastel dust, i was having fun. i was proud of it. i must have spent at least 10 hours in total on it. my dorm was having a “gallery night” and i put it on the wall among other beautiful pieces.

it was a miracle i didn’t tear it off the wall and destroy it.

as i was sitting, my friends trying to console me, i kept thinking about how much i hated it. i wanted to just throw ink and paper in a pool of chaos. because at that moment, chaos was all i understood. my brain was literally incapable of anything but hurt and disjointed thoughts.

it occurred to me later that night after i was exhausted out of my misery and into a sort of catatonic catharsis that if it were always up to my depressed brain, nothing of my art would ever survive. the moment it would be born into this world, if it were lucky enough to even get that far, it would be immediately destroyed. how could anything made by the empty pile of shit i felt like be anything but a larger pile of shit?

and this was not the first time i’d had thoughts like that. i struggle with telling myself that people don’t hate me, or keep me around as a sort of pity-driven project, or worse, as an outlet for malicious entertainment. i struggle every. single. day.

and so my dear readers, if ever you find yourself watching one of the countless documentaries or movies, reading any of the books, seeing for yourself someone depressed, and had their work glorified, called genius–just remember it is pain and chaos, not genius, that drives the work. it is not fun, it is almost never enjoyable, and the fact it exists is almost always because something more beautiful, more joyous, was struck dead before it had a chance to hit paper. depression does not make a great artist, it makes a broken shell of the art they have the potential for, but not the will of heart.

i like this one a lot better :3

Isolation

Concentration

These were quite fun to do, actually. I may end up playing around some more with different compositions/ideas. (Probably send copies to my family, too!)

third, curved lines. of this set, i chose #9.

last, a combination of all the previous line types. of this set, i chose #10.

first, we did horizontal/vertical lines only. of this set, i chose to do #20.

next were the diagonals. of this set, i chose #15.

these observations shown here, as per my notes from class:

Critique-Lines (Subdivision of a Ground Sheet)

GENERAL:

-Make sure to have clear focal points, especially with “curving” designs

→ steer clear of the center

-best designs make clear, closed, interesting spaces with the negative areas between the lines/subdivisions

-“character” can be achieved with “jagged” or “messy” line-work and is fine/can work in your favor, but be careful to not leave it to sloppiness

-size/material matters: 8”x10”, Bristol

-line v. shapes: close gaps a little, or stretch the squares to fix implied lines so they don’t become squares

-stick to the theme (vertical, horizontal, diagonal, curves, etc)

PERSONAL:

- “pretend” shapes worked

-thick lines in middle worked

-thin lines worked

-finish other 3 pieces

(make outer lines slightly thicker, taper them more evenly; straighten circle outlines)

CRAFTSMANSHIP TIPS:

*keep curves as “perfect” as possible

*keep glue as invisible as possible/don’t use too much

*no ragged edges

*borders must be inked, or cut down. Do not leave it penciled

*remove paper “Strings” and make sure all small edges are firmly pasted down

*if you use pencil on the paper to help in cutting, make sure it is completely erased

VOCAB: Figure-grounding reversal; negative/positive space “swaps” according to our perception depending on how we focus our eyes

While I am a blogging veteran on tumblr, this will be my first time doing any sort of documentation of my art in a public setting. This is both extremely exciting and terrifying as hell, but I sincerely hope it will prove to be fun and educational (if nothing else, it’ll make for great comedy in a few years).

I was going to start by writing a bit about my general stats and hobbies, but upon reflection, I think the best possible way I can describe myself is through this glorious web-cam photo taken 20 minutes after having woken up:

(Take a minute to collect yourselves, I know it’s overwhelming.)

Unflattering pictures aside, I like to think of myself as a fun and generally happy person. I intend on majoring in Sequential Art, and have been drawing in some form or another since I was able to hold a pen. When I’m not drawing, I’m usually wasting time on the internet or attempting to make decent cosplay for the conventions I’m known to throw my money at. I’m not very good at censoring myself, but I don’t really think of it as a flaw since censorship is wrong and stupid. Though it does mean the more sensitive pearl clutchers think of me as uncouth and abrasive.

According to just about every friend I’ve made, I have a “scary” neutral face, but I promise the furrowed brow is just because I’m lost in thought, and is not me giving you the stink eye. So don’t be intimidated! I love making friends.

On that note, I think it’s time to say good bye for now, and to the other bloggers, I wish you luck and success!

Much love,

Sarah