… or prehistoric times, rather.
I don’t know why I keep winding up with griffins, but I guess I should just accept it. Seventy percent or so of the time, this is the Variety Griffins blog. Today I was thinking of what the oldest griffin might look like — you know, the ancient ancestral type that might figure in the griffins’ own history/mythology. I wound up with the sort of archaeopteryx/sabertooth fella we see here; he’s a bit wispy around the edges since I didn’t have an eraser, but he worked out better than I’d expected after realizing that the only pencil I could get to was a no. 2 2/4 (because apparently calling it 2 1/2 would be too predictable?) pencil that apparently hails from a census conducted a year before I was born. Nevertheless, here he is, for better or worse. He appears to have just one wing, but I assure you that is only because I am too lazy/nervous to go to the risk of adding a background element I forgot to sketch in in the first place. On an unrelated note, I seem oddly fond of forward-slashes today.
I know this looks suspicious, two weeks in a row, but this time it’s different — yes, this time I don’t have any picture at all for you, not even a lame attempt at filler. Whatever is “going around” this week is rather unpleasant; at least it’s not stomach-related, small mercy, but it does involve rendering pretty much the entire middle of the face (the area I seem to recall having contained a nose and some similar structures) completely useless, as well as making one’s voice — previously a reliable form of communication — a source of entertainment for others, at best.
One would think this would result in more drawing, not less, as the other senses have been rendered fairly useless, but that would bring me to the eyes, which function well enough on their own, but don’t feel entirely connected to the brain-part of the head that would normally tell me, oh, where to put lines and things rather than creating a giant black scribble of despair.
As you may have noticed by now, even my typing skills, relying though they may on non-face-related body parts such as the fingers, have fallen a bit into shambles this week. No worries, though; I’ve an entire week (well, rather less than that now that I’ve waited so long to type this) to drain the empty spots in my skull of unnecessary fluids and to patch my larynx back into something resembling a human vocal apparatus again. Until then, I’ve discovered instant cocoa with rainbow-colored mini marshmallows; while not strictly the best choice nutritionally, it is working wonders for morale.
Well, until then,
Yep, this is yesterday’s post. Be a lamb and pretend it showed up yesterday, ‘kay? I had a ton of schoolwork, and — okay fine, I was playing with my animation software I ADMIT IT.
The observant and/or not-blind of you may notice that today’s picture is in fact the same goose that has been my profile image since I started this blog. Therefore, I’m not even going to try passing it off as new material. But you were wondering what the rest of goosie gander looked like, right? Right?
Well, either way, it’s finally autumn here and raindrops are finally falling; we’re much less perplexed about it than goosie. The first person to look at this drawing, by the way, asked “why does the goose have scales?” I maintain that it is some rare variety of laced-feathered breed of goose. Without a tail. I should probably get more sleep.
Actually, I lied to you right off the bat. It’s on the bag, not in it. With “it” referring to the week’s drawing, that is. This is another golden oldie, a bag I just went crazy with Sharpie on. I guess that makes it a second No Erasing Allowed (a little exercise I do on my page to stave off CTRL+Z addiction), for the week; it also makes me miss this bag, as I feared for its washability and retired it once it began to get grimy.
Funny thing about the drawings is, they’re not technically originals despite having been pretty much drawn freehand on the bag. They’re hand-picked from even older ink and pencil sketches of mine. Back in the day, me mom wanted to make a bag with the drawings, but had no good way to transfer them faithfully. She tried copying them herself, but I rejected this method almost instantly and claimed the Sharpie for my own.
I didn’t do too bad a job, if I say so myself — mainly because these are my own personal ridiculous mind-monsters, and I could draw them with my eyes closed anyhow. Some of them I may have — I periodically go through an “OMG WHAT IF I WENT BLIND” phase and try to see how well I can draw without looking. It generally does not bode well for my abilities should that become necessary, but I suppose there’s always sculpture.
Okay, it’s not purple and (probably) doesn’t fly, and on top of it all, it has TWO eyes. Well, theoretically at least. You can only see one from this side, which as I recall is one of the theories floating around regarding unicorn mythology in general (two-horned beasties rendered in profile), and I needed a title, so this is what you get.
This is another drawing from the vaults, several years old, but until mid-October I can plausibly use classes as an excuse for posting shoddy and/or ancient work here. My main beef with this one is the mismatched leg length, and of course the fact that I am incapable of putting backgrounds on these things. I do like the warm colors.
The idea itself was to make a sort of “steppe unicorn,” going back to the more traditional image of fierce, sturdy, somewhat goat-like animals with cloven hooves and brushy tails. I kept the mane, of course, but went with something more “shaggy” than flowing, and topped it off with a less-than-traditional spiral horn — both in homage to the Markhor, a gorgeous Middle Eastern caprid that I was a bit enamored of back then. I still think they’re pretty nifty — but I’m a sucker for things with ridiculous manebeards and crazy spiral horns. I blame it on being an Aries. Well, actually I generally don’t, but it sounds like a good idea now.
So, there’s my goat-horse-unicorn from 2010. Happy Labor Day weekend!