Having “interesting introduction” as the first layer of my sandwich is putting a whole lot of pressure on this first sentence. Oh well. Sometimes you’ve got to cook not by the book.
I made this diagram based off the National Archives Cocktail Construction Chart, and while I obviously don’t follow this chart to write all my posts, and as my introduction illustrates, I often don’t abide to all of its aspects, I thought this was a pithy way to present my general format. I guess the movie magic is broken now; maybe I’ll switch it up a bit and try something a bit unexpected and–
As far as true stories go, this one’s rather false. The specifics at least are rather contrived, but I guess “the essence” — if I can use that word without being branded pedantic and pretentious — is true … in a way. Also, I definitely bit off a bit more than I could chew with this project, and I was most definitely influenced by the plethora of experimental flicks I had to watch for my FILM 270 class this past week, so looking back on this crazy creation, I don’t know how proud I ought to be; probably a very minuscule amount, if any.
The story I chose to tell, that of a reader noticing the words on the page reflecting his life before his eyes, was chosen primarily from my want to experiment with the growing size of the panels that this project required. The increase in length from Panel 1 to Panel 2 (the visuals appear the same online, but each panel doubles in size as the comic goes along) reminded me of opening a book, and the following increase in height from Panel 2 to Panel 3 mirrored the act of looking up from said book. I tried to make the reflective nature more abstract and slightly more disturbing as the comic goes along, with the plot becoming uncomfortably illogical and peculiar as the panels grew. Furthermore, the final panel shows a mix between the once lower-words and upper images, as if the two sides finally had no choice but to come together as one. I know I have, to put it lightly, artistic limits when it comes to creating clear, complex visuals, so I tried to adapt by accompanying these images with reflective words and making the blurry uncertainty a goal. It kind of got a bit too crazy by the end, but I guess that’s what makes it “The Book of Life.”
When replacing batteries earlier this morning, I had a spark of inspiration: electric jet planes. So after gathering up a few Duracells and one AmazonBasics, I sat down with some colored pencils and prepared to craft a masterpiece that fired on all cylinders.
Those cylinders, however, must have been feeling the groove of Marcia Griffiths, for they were electric sliding everywhere; I’d place one down with delicate precision, and then another would go for a party ride across the page! It took a long while, but when the stars and batteries aligned at last, I finally began to draw.
First came the flames of fiery yellows and reds, which were closely followed by the wings and cones of our soaring vessels. I know it doesn’t make sense that electric jets have exhaust, but since I myself was exhausted while drawing this, I’m going to chalk it up as a metaphorical discrepancy.
With the batteries in place on my pencil-scratched page, I took out my phone and lined up the shot, and to sum it up in two words, it’s electric!
Today I sat down with my Ticonderoga #2 pencil in hand and gave my first attempt at drawing my website’s banner picture, and despite my history of artistic ineptitude, I nailed it.
The problem, however, was that I made my magnum opus on a sheet of lined paper. I thought there was no way I was going to create a slam dunk of a stick figure on my first go, but lo and behold, I had, and now my handmade masterpiece was tragically unusable and forever marred by four horizontal blue lines.
33 imperfect circles and weirdly drawn eyes later, I finally recreated those exquisite strokes, and this time around, there were no Blue Meanies to be found. I guess lightning does strike twice.
Scribbles by Dean Criser
The resemblance between artwork and artist is uncanny. I, too, have two eyes and a mouth, but more importantly, my portrait possesses the pencil and paper upon which I write. Yes, I may have forgotten the nose, but though my nostrils are absent, my essence is enshrined in this stick figure nonetheless. It’s nothing flashy with a dash of unnecessary exclamation, and that’s me in a nutshell.
This may look like simple stuff, but my ever-constant ability to draw one arm longer than the other was only the start of my troubles in crafting this graphite graphic. Painting apps were partially installed and scanners were both successfully and unsuccessfully used, but in the end I resorted to the questionable image quality of the iPhone camera. Cropping photos of pencil drawings won’t produce the highest of resolutions, but anything looked better than the PDF from that scanner: a gritty, grainy, no-good mistake. In hindsight, a pen would have probably scanned better, but it’s no matter, for through the magic of iPhone filters and clarity edits on the computer, I was able to make my alternative-means masterpiece somewhat presentable.
In a world of prodigy painters and top-notch artists, there’s no way I can use aesthetics to stand out among the myriad of blogs, so hopefully my lack of color or quality catches the attention of one or two someones scrolling through the internet. In the end though, this blog is for fun.
the life stuff 