Cats, etc
Blogmom got an email from someone wanting a hellfeline doodle and being unsure what to ask for. So I thought I’d run through the rough doodle guidelines again—beginning with the fact that while the book sale and auction ends on Sunday, the doodle option will remain open a while longer.*
So the first rule is: Don’t worry. Doodles aren’t rocket science—especially not the way I draw—and there’s no hard deadline.
Second rule: this is where the ‘rough’ and the ‘guideline’ part starts. I was talking to another friend who draws about the awkwardness of trying to explain to non-drawers what’s possible in this instance. The other night on the blog I said ‘single strong image’—so the Mona Lisa yes, The Fairy Feller’s Master Stroke** no. Think nouns.*** But think simple nouns. I can do a teapot. I can do a teapot and a mug. I can even do a Japanese teapot with little Japanese cups.† I cannot do a Japanese tea ceremony.††
Third rule: I can certainly do a hellfeline. I can probably have a run at pretty much any critter, although I’m saying that looking nervously over my shoulder for the stealthy approach of the Thing That Can’t Be Doodled.††† But if there’s a nice clear picture of it through google somewhere, I’ll have a go.
This is pretty much a portrait of the ex-hellkitten who has grown up to enjoy his food. I wish a little of this would rub off on hellhounds.
Um. Cats. Um.
Burgandy Ice wrote in response to EMoon’s guest blog on writing speed:
. . . My husband restores classic cars and “how long have you been working on that?” is like a horror question – or was for the bit of art in progress that sat under cover for a few years.
I think sometimes these questions are just clueless attempts to keep the conversation going: oh, how long does it take to write a novel? But certainly sometimes your interlocutor is either thinking ‘why is she getting paid for fooling around?’ or ‘I could do it faster than he is’. And there’s also the crucial question of exactly what you’re paying for. Horsehairbraider posted about a client not wanting to pay the hourly rate for a design she’d ripped off in a minute. But the client isn’t paying for the design minute, he’s paying for the expertise that made it possible for a design to be produced in a minute. I was trying to make google find this story for me, and I can’t. I think it was James McNeill Whistler who refused to lower his price on something he’d done, and the outraged would-be buyer asked how long it had taken him to paint it. Oh, about half an hour, said Whistler-if-it-was-Whistler. But you’re paying for the years I’ve spent perfecting what I do.‡
It seems to be human nature to look for the easy way—both from the buyer’s and the seller’s end. But the truth is that just about every frelling thing requires work, even when you’re doing it at a pretty low level. Singing in a small local amateur choir, for example, or doodling. I’m aware of the energy and concentration requirements for both of these because they’re new on my list, and I have a more intimate relationship with my energy level than most people because of the ratbagging ME. Putting time and energy into something you enjoy is exhilarating—but it’s still time and energy.
CathyR wrote:
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danceswithpahis wrote on Tue, 04 October 2011 06:49 |
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This totally reminds me of dancing (having been taking dance lessons for the past few years). I find that if I just brush things off and don’t bother trying, the dance doesn’t usually go so well no matter who my partner is. On the other hand, if I give it my best and try to use my best technique while adapting to my partner’s technique and skill level, we usually do well, enjoy ourselves, and hopefully both learn something. |
And I think the same applies to bellringing. Doing the best I can may be simply concentrating furiously on sticking to the blue line (the squiggly pattern that tells me when to pull my rope in relation to everyone else) of a complex or unfamiliar method, and doing that correctly so that the ringing doesn’t sound awful or collapse in a heap. But if I’m ringing “only” plain hunt, or “only” bob doubles (the very first things learnt as a bell ringer), then if I don’t bother trying, or if I let my mind wander, it’s likely to result in me striking poorly and/or going wrong thru lack of concentration. End result – unsatisfactory and unenjoyable. Whereas if I try to always think about ringing the best I can, in terms of technique, striking, rhythm, bell control, etc, then I and everyone else (including those for whom “only” bob doubles is a new and complex method) will all enjoy it far more and get more out of it.
Yes. I’m very conscious of this because I spend so much of my ringing time trying to be one of the steady ones—steady not being one of my gifts, in bell ringing or anything else—for people who can ring even less than I can. I confess that I long for three Venerable Quiddity ringers to join the New Arcadia band so I can get brought on—I’d settle for learning Grandsire and Stedman Triples and Cambridge minor and major, thanks—but it is undoubtedly satisfying to hew successfully to your own line, however simple, when all about you are chopping theirs to splinters. It’s also the best for the band—if only one person goes wrong, chances are the conductor will set them right—or the band will simply shove them back to where they should be by emphatically only leaving gaps where the miscreant should put their bell. If more than one person goes wrong . . . well, you’d better hew like mad, and the conductor had better know what they’re doing. But it’s really your responsibility to do your best, you know? Which sounds a whole lot like life. Ugh.
Even when what you’re manifesting is doodles.
* * *
* I’m still thinking I might leave a doodle window up indefinitely, but we’ll see how sane I still am/am not after I get the bell-fund doodles done.
** http://www.tate.org.uk/servlet/ViewWork?workid=2979
*** Think visible nouns. I do not want to doodle hegemony or jurisprudence.^
^ I could do honour. Or nausea.+
+ Honour would be very doodlier. Nausea is simple.
† This would be a doodlier doodle, you understand.
†† At least not unless you want to pay me a lot of money. And furthermore I’d probably keep it. And buy chocolate and champagne and books and yarn. For me.
††† I was trying to think of a critter I know I could not doodle . . . velociraptor? No, I could doodle a velociraptor. Duck-billed platypus? Sure. Giant squid? Oh, probably, although I’d rather not^ . . . but it’s also late at night (as usual) so I’m probably just blanking on The Thing That Cannot Be Doodled.
^ And it would be a friendly giant squid
‡ Speaking of Whistler and doodles: Arrangement in Grey and Black, yes. Nocturne in Blue and Gold, no.
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