Tag Archives: we artists have tough lifes

Another Year Older

When I published my 1,000 post a couple of months ago, I included this drawing:

Some of you were less than complimentary. Pseu reckoned it was a fuzzy fez, Viv thought it was a hairbrush, Tilly said it was a steaming dog bowl. All quite insulting and, even more annoyingly, funnier than anything I had written in the actual post.

It’s what started my Weekly Drawing Challenge, where I resolved to draw WordPress’s photo topic each week.

This is the first chance I’ve had to draw something for a second time, the first chance to see if I’m getting any better. So you can decide for yourselves whether this cake (yes, cake) is better than the last one:

Before you all get your evil commenting pens out, let me be the first to admit, now that I look more closely at it, that it does resemble the Titanic after a heavy lunch.

Anyway, why have I set myself up for a good slagging again?

Because my blog is four years old today.

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Weekly Drawing Challenge : Regret

As Tilly Bud said when this week’s challenge was announced “I know what you’re regretting now…”

And she wasn’t wrong. My heart sank like a stone


when I saw the topic.

Still, it wouldn’t be a Challenge if it wasn’t a challenge, so here we go …

This (and I have to admit I’m quite astonished at how uncrap this drawing is)  is a man regretting forgetting to buy his wife a Valentine Card:

I must point out that the above picture is in no way a reflection of life in the Tinhouse. We do not have a dog.

This is a little more esoteric:

It’s a drawing of Napoleon in the snow, regretting invading Russia in wintertime instead of summer.

And finally I offer you all this:

This may look remarkably similar to the drawing above, but it is totally different.

It’s a picture of Edith Piaf, and she isn’t in it, because she ne regrets rien.

Weekly Drawing Challenge: Ready

I was on the bus when I got the idea of meeting the above challenge by drawing the collection of pencils and markers that I have assembled for this task, all sitting beside patiently beside my computer ready for action. This is what they look like:

I knew that I had exactly the colour red that I would need for the mug. I knew that I had the colours for each of the markers because, well, I had the markers.

I was aware that as I worked there would always be one marker missing from the mug and that I would never remember where exactly to replace it, so that what I was drawing would keep changing. I knew that I would feel as if I were trying to catch a cloud and pin it down.

This caused me to wonder how artists used to paint those battle-scene paintings that take up whole walls in art galleries. They must have painted awfully fast.

I was ready for all of those challenges, though. And genuinely it was only when I sat down in front of the mug that the really big problem occurred to me.

In only my second venture into art I would have to draw Betty Boop.

I doubt that DaVinci painted the Mona Lisa on his second day at the job. I’m say he worked up to her via landscapes, sunflowers and the traditional bowl of fruit. I’m sure that before Warhol painted his Campbells Soup can he practised on tins of dog food, cans of Spam (same thing, really) and pots of Pot Noodle.

But as a mere novice I had to take on one of the most famous women of all time. Not only that (and this is a phrase that I never thought I would ever find myself writing) I would have to take on her bosom.

Anyway, this is my attempt:

You’ll notice that I didn’t bother colouring in the mug. When you have a true superstar in your picture who cares about the background.

Drawing It Out

I’m sure you’ll all agree that it’s time for a post that doesn’t mention my Drawing Challenge. This, sadly, will not be it.

I have discovered a small problem with the task. My normal blogging modus operandi is to write something on the bus on the way to work, and then on the way home hone it, refine it (I’m still trying to decide whether the bit of Latin makes me look like a twerp), or decide that it’s shite and scrap it altogether.

This does not work with the Drawing Challenge. It has to be done in two stages, the text on the bus and the artwork (no, seriously) at home. This is because my fellow passengers (and they are pretty well the same people every morning) already suspect that I’m mad, not just because my typing seems to consist mostly of hitting the backspace button at the speed of a machine-gun, or because last year my hair was blue, but mainly because every few months I get off the bus six stops early, right outside Dublin’s best known mental institution.

I have no intention of confirming their suspicions by taking out a notebook and a load of child’s markers, and trying to draw the Titanic.