Meanwhile, Back At The Quad

______I told you darling little sea slugs a long while back about that most splenderrific opportunity that my supercalifragilisticexpialidocious of a professor got me at the beginning of the Spring semester, the opportunity where I could illustrate something for the Department of Religious Studies at my university (and get paaaaaaaaid) (insert sparkly saucer eyes.)

______During one of the final weekly meetings with the man who heads the department, he asked me how things were coming along. I told him in all honesty that it was much more work than I had expected, though still very enjoyable! He proceeded to ask how much I thought the project was worth now, and I thought about it for a second and told him. He took a minute to think with a deep, "Hmmmm," then casually tossed out a number larger than the one I did; you can imagine my heart pounced in my chest like a leaping grasshopper on stimulant drugs, 'cause it did.

______I tried to stay cool as a frozen cucumber but it might not have worked. It probably didn't work. I'm just not cool. I melted. Melty cucumber Ali Hval.



______This was my first time being paid for something art related that wasn't snapping scenic family portraits or taking a series of photos of my neighbors' kids for senior yearbook pages. The idea is that opposed to a newsletter blatantly stating the department's current happenings, there are two students walking around discussing what's going on, like some omniscient mind-reading students that lurk in the shadows of the department. Thus, it may make no sense to all of you guys. 1,000 copies of this have been printed and sent out, which is shocking and exciting!





______This newsletter led to what is now my art job this summer, which is curating a hearty set of comics based on happenings within the department and critical thinking problems. Plus, all the professors have not-so-sneaky superhero disguises; it's fantastic seeing professors who have written complex books and articles get pumped over thinking what their disguise should be: a Zorro mask? A bandana? A tiny cowboy hat and cape? People rock, guys.

______I can't post the actual comics I'm currently illustrating until their department blog has them live, but a sneak peak of the all the professors' secret lair wouldn't hurt. How about that coffee maker as a centerpiece?

Wonders and Blunders

______Drawing.  Illustrating.  Art.

______What I have yearned to do my entire life, what I knew I wanted to pursue since I could put a crayon to paper, and yet almost all the time, my mind is plagued with one thought about it: was it meant to be?  I still can't classify myself as an artist; I feel that's too kind of a term for my skill set.  Am I even creative enough to be an artist?  Should art just be a side thing, a "fun thing" that people know me by?

______Will I ever be able to reach that checkpoint of artsy awesomeness?

______Sigh.

______It's my fault, I know.  I should draw more.  I should try new things.  I should get better!  I see all these rad artists around me, ages and occupations varying like the nuances of pink in the sky as it sets, and their skills both frighten and propel me: some are middle school art prodigies who paint swirling landscapes in a few brushstrokes, some are straight out of college and have already secured rad art jobs, and others are artists who are known in their area and teach in the comfort of a university with a close-knit art department.  I just wish I could share a level of their talent and artsy knowledge.




______There's doubt lurking in my mind that I wasn't cut out for art.  And it comes and goes every now and then, like ominous storm clouds, and somehow hasn't sucked me down into the core of the earth yet.  I'm all right, I'll give myself that.  But I'm definitely nothing spectacular.  Sure, to people who aren't an art major, or not the most creative, even a doodle of a turd with a little fly rising from it will cause them to gasp in awe.  But to me, even what I'd call my loveliest works don't seem to be satisfactory enough.



______With that in mind, I've been intimidated (in a totally good way) into illustrating a little story that I'm nearly done editing.  These drawings began as a whisper of scribbly lines on my biology notes and were quick to develop into something more defined in my sketchbook.  With my story plastered in my brain, I got to it and finally sketched out and inked these bad boys.  The lines are already being filled with color as you read this!  The characters and locations are mine, and I was pleased to note that as drawings, they match the writing and what was in my head.

______So here's the result of the past two or so weeks of my brain sobbing over how "meh okay decent" of an... artist... I am.  I must improve and I must try new things and I will!  That's what I'm going to work at the remainder of the summer and with my art classes next semester.  And uh, being more positive and junk.  YERG.

______Viking screeeeeech!



______And a color update: Pretty happy with the first three, but the last one gave me fits; though I do understand that it should be much less bright and much more murky in lieu of the story!

The Bottom of the Well WIP storyboard panels, ink + copic markers, Summer 2013

Human Beings Are Just Outlines

______Some time ago, my darling friend and fellow wonderblogger, Amber, contacted me via carrier pigeon for an artsy opportunity.

______The carrier pigeon she sent came as a whirlwind of flapping feathers through my window, swirling alongside my ceiling fan until finally slamming into my bookcase.  I scooped the awkward creature up and plucked the note from its scrawny leg, a little peeved about his messy landing.  In curly burgundy handwriting, the note read:

______"Dear Ali, pls o pls draw me a thing and we shall rejoice with fancy lemon-enhanced sparking water and tootsie pop bouquets."

______Immediately after I read the note, a second carrier pigeon smashed beak-first into the previous one.  This new pigeon was quite pudgy and his leg was equipped with an even lengthier scroll of paper.  The chubby bird limped toward me, each hobble-step more agonizing than the previous, and I concluded that he had been emotionally eating upon the realization that Windex would never again employ him as a model in their window cleaner commercials.

______And how effortlessly he crashed into any window, too!  Whether diamond-paned or slightly reflective, pummeling into a variety of windows was one thing he could never get wrong.  The fat bird sighed.

______I detached the note before the poor creature could hobble any further toward me.  The bird  flopped over in exasperation, too tired to move or think about his future employment any longer.  And so I sat at my desk, two restless birds by my side, and I began to read.




______Since my dream job is to be an illustrator, I inhaled the opportunity to illustrate Miss Amber's short story, which paints the musings of a man who romanticizes those around him to unrealistic expectations.  People adored and were enamored with him; however, since he held himself back so much, he was never able to feel and connect with those around him, so the affection was rather one-sided.

*note: no pigeons were harmed or even existed before or during the creation of this post.