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March 17, 2008

New Experiment

So, since we don't have anything else to do with our lives, we decided to start a new project. I had been lamenting the fact that I don't do much plain old illustration anymore. That my days are wrapped up in the anxiety of producing the next Idiots'Book, which seems to require a lot of headwork on my part. I spend lots and lots of time mulling over ideas, trying to figure out what the stories are all about, trying to figure out what style is most suited to the general concept, and then hoping hoping hoping that when I put pen to paper it all comes out the way I wanted it to. Matthew does too, but he is energized by it rather than exhausted. I'm not complaining, though - I realize that most people don't get to just sit around and think about silly little stories and then draw draw draw all day long. But I have to admit to some amount of performance anxiety. If only there were a little purple pill for THAT.

At any rate, we decided that it would be good for me to just have a no-strings-attached sort of illustration exercise every day. And on the days that I really am feeling uninspired, I can just scribble on a post-it and call it a day. So - on the odd days, matthew will send me a written prompt and I'll respond to it. On the even days, I'll send him an illustration and he'll respond to it. My allotted amount of time daily is fifteen minutes, unless I get totally into it, in which case I'm allowed to spend as much time as I want on it. In three days we'll probably get behind and never do it again. But for the time being, Day 1 happened, and I ended up spending a joyful afternoon on it, without any anxiety at all.

Don't expect me to post them all (you see what a miserably inconsistent blogger I've been of late). And also don't expect them to necessarily make any sense or be relevant or anything. Just free association. But here's Day 1.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Boneman Travis cut a stark profile among the pretty girls of Evars Street. He was thick as a tree and mean like two snakes. He ate daydreams and laughed. He coughed and favorite teacups flew from narrow shelves and shattered. He was a big man in a small space and that was how he liked it.

Sally "Frito" Jones saw his game from across the river. She bribed a man to get a boat, put on a red mask to make herself seem dangerous, and set out to sell the Boneman some swampland. The years away from the old neighborhood had changed her such that he could not now recognize the crumpled features of the girl he had once ruined.

It was a crooked tango that they danced.


Posted by ribbu at March 17, 2008 06:05 PM