red ass sock monkey

I just saw this on my deodorant. I think I’m going to change my brand.

Contains odor-fighting “atomic robots” that “shoot lasers” at your “stench monsters” and replaces them with fresh, clean, masculine “scent elves”

I love humor in advertising, and an attempt to break with old traditions and grab a new audience has my complete support. Old Spice is an old tradition. My dad used it, and I’m 60. Grabbing new market share with something outrageous, something tasteless, hilarious, or risqué makes excellent sense, and I’d go out of my way to support it. But this? Not just the content, but the use of all caps, and quote marks around the silliness as if it’s a, what? a wink? Seem poorly done. The text is embarrassingly stupid.

I did a search for the phrase on line and it turned up quite a few hits, but rather than pointing out the complete juvenility of the thing, they all think it’s hilarious. One news columnist praised the text in a review. “I want my deodorant to shoot lasers!” someone shouted. To them all, it’s a great campaign. I don’t see it. Does age really do that? Like the high pitched whistles that only kids can hear? It seems so. The humor in this is a few octaves out of my range.

It’s been a while since I’ve put something here. Lately I’ve been helping a friend, which gave me the chance to do some work in Flash. I think it’s the first time I’ve had the app open on this machine. Although I really love working in Photoshop, there’s something about using a wacom tablet to draw in Flash that’s so satisfying that I can do without Photoshop for a while. I’m currently doing without my sketchbook, too; so maybe it’s a good thing I don’t spend all my days in Flash?

I’m thinking that continuing to post without a scanner is just silly. The first image here is along a road I can remember doing pastels of years ago; the layout of the more contemporary homes along the hillside is unique. The entire rendering is satisfying, but lacks the feel the more ornate buildings provide. IT’s just an errant balloon, running out of ‘lift’ and making an emergency landing. Nothing special.

The second image has more of what i want, though I need to work on it a bit- I stopped to do it on the way here and haven’t given it a second look. Till now.

I sat in the park early this morning, intent on drawing the interesting skyline dark against the morning sky. The variety of spires and trees in this view really grabs my imagination.

As I’m focusing on the drawing I’m surprised when I see a large fog bank has drifted down the stream with the morning commuters. It didn’t stay long, and was quite dense; it appeared solid white at a few points. Pen and ink doesn’t allow for (or should I say, rather, my current abilities don’t allow for) the diaphanous rendering the scene really required. But it was fun till it burnt off and the sun started to blaze.

As I was shooting the image, I found this one too, from a week or two back. It’s very close to the same view, to me even surprisingly so. It’s very stylized; I like it, but I like where I’m going more:

I posted several of these sketches in Facebook, but this is new this morning. The air traffic is subtler, barely a part of the visual field. I still need more practice, but I really love the direction. I should find a scanner, too; shots done with Photo Booth just don’t come close.

There are many levels to the Bellefonte landscape, and many ornamental faces for the buildings on each level. There are balconies around fourth story bay windows, stairs from rooftops to upper story porches. Decorative filigree and ornamental windows, doors and arches cover the larger buildings and even show up on homes. Street level facades could be anywhere, but looking up, there’s a fairytale architecture on the third story and above. I can see the traffic: steam powered lighter than air taxis and buses, privately owned personal balloons, docking on rooftops, discharging passengers at parties on balconies. It’s beautiful.

More mouse drawings will follow, but it’s hard to be excited about Millheim when I’m awestruck in Bellefonte. I wish I had the patience to animate- I can see it all so clearly.

I use ring binders to hold sketching paper. When I’m out and about, it doesn’t look much like I’m sketching – I could be doing a survey (“Stay away!”) or writing notes. I hate the performance aspect of sketching outside. I don’t relish working in front of people and will always move to the edges. These sketches are the first in a long time. There was some sketching last summer as I sought clarity, but far too little. I’m sticking these images here mostly as a demonstration of where I am as I’m starting out this new journey. A bit shaky. My intent isn’t to publish everything here, since I’m doing this just for me; this process – sketching, capturing an image, scaling – will give me milestones that may help.

So I’ll see where this goes. I took a break for 15 years, but I’m finally back at it. We all make mistakes…

My books are packed in boxes, so I have no easy access to Malraux’s Voices of Silence; I’m left to my own speculation. So when, and maybe more importantly why, did early man start to make marks? Shamanism is important, and the cave paintings in Europe are clear milestones, but before that, someone discovered they could make marks. Was it the personal sense of making that pushed them on or was there a witness and reaction to the mark or the act of marking that somehow made us do it more? Whoever painted the beasts at Lascaux must have come from a tradition of craft. Was there a need among early hunters to record, to worship, or to build teams? Were paintings a purposefully developed solution? Or did a vision and skill exist that was called into use as an application arose?

I guess what I’m really looking for is a handle on understanding my own mark making. What ever that has developed in my behavior patterns has its roots in something that feels primal. Dragging a soft pencil across a piece of clean toothsome paper feels good. Building tones and controlling the line satisfies something in me. Experimenting is fulfilling whether the act brings about a desired result or not. If someone sees the result, everything changes. If they watch the act, it causes other changes. If there’s a performance or a communication, there’s outside expectation to be addressed. That’s fine, and sometime necessary. But what about my primal intent?

What if it came about as an early way to refocus the consciousness outside of the self? I disappear when I draw. There’s a definite flow; a fugue state. I’ve read artists who call painting a religion; others claim it’s a deeply spiritual activity. They’re the words we have now. Before we had religion, could making marks have been early man’s first meditation? The first attempts to touch something larger?

I think I need to dig out that Malraux. And go out in the woods and make some marks. Clearly, working for anyone other than me would be wrong for now.