inktober 14th

i am liking doing journal like inkings.
writing & drawing & spilling & splattering.

i’m not sure what i wrote made sense. it was mostly train of thought. randomness. talking to myself.

my approach is kind of that i don’t think anyone is actually paying attention, so i am just seeing what comes out of me. that’s actually pretty much my approach to life. i mean, i feel invisible most the time, so i don’t really worry what anyone thinks of me. you know what they say, there is no such thing as bad publicity.
so on i go.

and my self-portrait is all gunslinger. but no gun.
after i posted it i saw today’s prompt is “fierce.”

i’m fierce.
every day.

 

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a lack of enthusiasm for inktober

so october 7th i drove the minions through the flatlands of illinois to collect this new member of our homestead:

we left in the morning and did not get home until almost five when poultry has to be fed and sheep watered all while trying to get the new baby to eat (he was pretty pissed off about being taken away from his family–no wonder–and it was a day before we could get him to accept the bottle.) plus i had to relocate the bunnies to a puppy pen so i could use their dog crate for quixote’s “stall” in our sunroom.  as well as feeding the minions, collecting eggs, putting poultry away….
so it was after seven before i got a chance to catch my breath.

and i just did not feel like doing inktober. so i phoned it in and used an inking in progress as my seventh day:

inktober7

which i then finished for the 8th of inktober.

which brings us to yesterday, the ninth. i wasn’t sure what to do. i decided to just do some journal inkings.

my first one came out like this:

inktober9

and i was all like, “what the fuck, em?” i thought about posting it…but felt really conflicted about it, for some reason.
art for me is a meditation and an exorcism.
what is going on here then?

so i tried again:

inktober9(2)

and ended up not posting this one either. i was convinced people would hate them and be, like me, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.

i want to keep doing inktober–because it is fun for me and keeps me creating….
but i’m not sure i want to share anymore.
it feels like i am putting myself out there…to no avail.

i’m just weird.
misunderstood.
a misfit toy.

…a strange lady.

inktober fifth

okay.
i’m tired of what i have been doing with ink brush painting.
yesterday i used some leftover ink to make random panels on a sheet of paper.
today i pulled a comic out of my ass…
about panels.

inktober5

and then i ended up spilling a bunch of black ink
so in the spirit of sustainability and not wasting and taking lemons & making lemonade,
i did a quick sketch using the spilled ink…which is the inking showcased at the top of today’s blog.
full moon long shadows.

i like it.
i like my art.
i like being me.

so there, world of no recognition…or very little recognition. i like my stuff. i know i am good. i don’t need your fucking “likes” (but, you know, they are nice)

on a personal note
because it has been too long without me over-sharing…
i had half-invited dusty to live here–as a paying lodger…but now i am re-thinking that. i mean, it sounds like a recipe for disaster.
he just won’t grow up.
and it’s not like i am so good at being a grown up…but i manage.
meanwhile, he pays a minimal child support…occasionally.
he has a crap job because he won’t bother looking for another one.
he lives with his crap-ass mom because he won’t bother finding his own place–nor does he have the money to do so.
and he has a crappy car that does not run because he just stored it in a garage for seven years while he made me give him rides.
and now he is dependent on him mom for rides.
and i keep thinking…why?
why won’t he just get up off his ass and do something?

well, i guess he’s just waiting for me to pick him up again.

so what happens if i don’t?

pages 18 & 19 AND INKtober 1st

i am pretty happy with the last two pages.
and they were a lot of fun.

i’m not sure about my first INKtober contribution. it was a doodle. no plans. that’s just what came out.
hmmm.
whimsy.
i am hoping to do some experimenting with just using a brush. it might be difficult for me. i do love my pen lines….
i am in a group of INKtoberists on facebook. it is awesome seeing all the different ideas and uses of ink. i have to keep reminding myself that it is not a competition–and that i am not the other artists.
i am me.
and this is what i do….

pages 12, 13, 14, and a do-over page 1

IMG_5449

after taking this picture, i looked up about how messy desks are a sign of genius. i mean, wow. look how smart i am.
ha!

i am enjoying this project. it allows me to experiment.

page 14

and being–once again–optimistic about my art, i spent money i didn’t have on more art supplies.
but, in my defense…art supplies!
i don’t buy shoes, clothes, or technology.
but i do splurge on art supplies
seeds & plants
and
of course
livestock.

i dunno.
i think i have my priorities straight.

pages 10 & 11 and a do-over

page 10

two new pages…and then i had to do another version of this page:

page 7

for a laundry list of reasons that i put already in another blog.

page 7(2)

and i like the new version better. i do. but i wish i could stop hating my work. i try really really hard to look at it like someone would who isn’t noticing every little mistake. i try to look at it like i would if it weren’t mine.

that’s the trick, isn’t it?

this has been a difficult project for me for that reason. knowing that it is for someone else and that i can’t just squirrel it away and say, “well nevermind” is difficult for me. if it is a picture only the artist can love–fine. but since i am going to be putting this out in the world, i have that added vulnerability of knowing someone else is going to be looking at it–judging it.

moses jones once received a review from some comic blog. it was not a good review. but i was able to brush it off because i didn’t care what the review said and moses is my baby so who cares what other people think?

do i sometimes care what other people think?
no. i really really don’t.
i mean, i want people to like it…but if they don’t, it’s no big deal.
just like i want people to like me
but i really don’t care what people think of me.
however, i’m still aware of what people might be thinking….
i mean, i don’t live in a vacuum
no matter how hard my shell is
or how tall my walls are
criticism still hurts…

and compliments still confuse me….

my mom liked to tell me, “no man is an island.”
and i would answer her that i was a peninsula.

pages seven, eight, and nine

i’m feeling a bit crappy today.
i didn’t get morning sleep, which is where my good dreams are–the ones that speak to me. and then light bulbs burned out and my camera left out in the rain by a belligerent 11 year old and all i can do is worry about money to replace these things and i don’t have any money and i am so so tired of people treating me like crap….

so here are my latest illustrations.
i like them & i hate them & i just want to go back to bed.

and i have no beer & no coffee
and, again, no money.
poop.