Summer sketches

I hope you’re having a good year so far. This is my first blog post in a long time. Last summer, I started writing a new book. I just recently finished it and published it on Amazon in April. Anyway, I tend to have a one-track mind. I usually pour all my energy into one project at a time and neglect everything else. This blog is normally the first thing I abandon.

Sorry about that.

Since Starlight Desperado is finally completed and published, I decided to buy a little sketchbook at Dollar General and start drawing again. Here are a couple of pictures I drew the other night. I photographed my sketchbook in the grass. I got the idea fromĀ a wonderful artist known as The Crazy Bag Lady. Sadly, my grass is not nearly as pretty as hers.

 

Copyright 2018 Matthew David Curry

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Indra

I’ve been busy writing for the past several months, so I haven’t drawn much. The other night, my new friend Indra asked me to draw her picture. So I did. It felt so good to draw again.

Alara

Lately, I’ve been watching a new show called The Orville, a comedy version of Star Trek: the Next Generation. It’s one of my favorite shows now. The other night, I drew a picture of Alara, a character played by Halston Sage.

Happy Thanksgiving.

My latest drawing binge…

I spent my early childhood in Tampa, Florida. The local TV station, WTOG, aired a show on Saturday afternoons called Creature Feature. Dr. Paul Bearer was the host. He played “horrible old movies,” as he called them. He introduced the movies and made jokes during the commercial breaks. Dr. Paul Bearer’s real name was Dick Bennick. He passed away in 1995, but I still like to watch him on YouTube.

Lost in Germany

We found an auditorium where a heavy metal band was playing. Thick smoke floated above our heads. Red laser beams flashed in the air. People danced with their eyes closed, waving their arms in slow motion, grasping at imaginary objects with their fingers. I watched them with nervous curiosity.

After the show was over, I stumbled into the street with Greg and Jesse. It was time to return to the youth hostel. We walked down a staircase in the sidewalk, into the concrete labyrinth where the subway trains lived. We boarded a train and rode through the tunnel a few minutes. Then we stepped off and climbed another set of stairs.

When we reached the top of the stairs and looked around, we didn’t recognize the signs and buildings around us. We had gotten off at the wrong stop. We didn’t know where we were. It was almost eleven o’clock. And we couldn’t call our teacher on our cell phones because we didn’t have cell phones. It was 1998.

So we rambled through the streets, asking strangers for directions to the youth hostel where we were staying. Most of them were friendly and polite, but they had never heard of the Jump In Youth Hostel. We even found a black taxi cab parked indiscreetly on the sidewalk, a common practice in Germany. The driver sat behind the wheel, sipping coffee and listening to the radio. We eagerly asked him to take us to the Jump In Youth Hostel, but he shook his head and started pointing, giving us directions in German. None of us understood German well enough to know what he was saying. We mumbled “danke” and walked away, disappointed and discouraged.

We walked through the subway and found a group of policemen playing cards in a small, dirty room with pictures of naked women plastered on the walls. We explained our predicament to them. They also gave us helpful directions in German.

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You’ve been reading an excerpt from How to Make an Artist Miserable. The Kindle version is free May 19-23. The paperback version is $5 plus shipping and handling as always.

You can click here to order a copy.

Copyright 2015, 2017 Matthew David Curry. All rights reserved.

Solitude

I hate it when people stand behind me, staring down at my paper and invading my personal space. I don’t know how other artists work, but I spend a long time building the basic shape before I flesh out all the little details. If I’m sketching a face, I might spend ten minutes forming the outline of the head and the curves of the hair around it. But if spectators are gathered around me, I feel obligated to hurry up and work faster in order to keep them entertained. This hasty scrambling always leads to a sloppy picture.

People also love to yell out brainless comments as I draw. If I’m drawing a face, for instance, I will loosely sketch the eyes, make some rough marks representing the nose, scribble in the lips, and then return to the top of the face to add detail to the eyes. As soon as I direct my attention to the eyes, some bonehead will blurt out, “You forgot the give her nostrils! She needs nostrils, don’t she? Are you not gonna give her no nostrils?”

They don’t understand that I’m building the picture in layers. They just think I’m forgetting important details, so they like to point at the paper and remind me to add this and that. Sometimes, they’re deliberately being rude. Sometimes, they’re truly ignorant. Whatever their motivation, it drives me insane. If you don’t know what you’re talking about, don’t open your mouth and spew criticism.

This is why I prefer to draw in the privacy of my apartment, spinning a Miles Davis record on my turntable. Or sitting in a cool hotel room, drinking coffee and listening to the soothing music of The Weather Channel.

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How to Make an Artist Miserable is free on Kindle May 19-23. The paperback version is still $5 plus shipping and handling.

You can click here to order a copy.

(Copyright 2015, 2017 Matthew David Curry. All rights reserved.)