Have you ever had one of those experiences where you do something so perfectly that it scares you? Well I haven't had one of those but I've had something remarkably similar.
When I draw a comic, there's usually a rough sketch in pencil, followed by another overlay in pencil and finally a layer of ink; after inking, the original pencil is rubbed out and I'm left with a permanent image. Although I could use a computer to achieve the same result, that would mean that I'd have to a) buy a better computer and b) lug the thing around - for the old pencil and paper is still very portable indeed.
In general after I've rubbed out the pencilwork, it feels as though something has died inside the image. A little like it's heart and soul being snuffed out and all we have left is a facsimilie. Although you can try to add value back to the picture and reclaim a little life, it's never quite the same. This was odd:
My ultra-crappy scanner at work doesn't do this justice. Although there are obvious cheats in here and my perspective is probably most obviously faulty, there are two details which I wasn't expecting.
1. The roof of White Hart Lane's East Stand has taken on a drab almost sombre look, which is exactly what I was going for. The roof is looking quite magnificent in its crapulence.
2. The bald man and his mate weren't in the original sketch. They sort of wandered into shot (perhaps they'd bought tickets to the West Stand?). I think it's quite twee and especially the bald chap how they're conscious that the camera is turned on them. Yes they're breaking the fourth wall, but have I achieved that elusive fifth point of perspective where the audience actually interacts with the story?
Most frames I draw tend to be mid to close up because that's where dialog lies. When you take the "camera" back for an establishing shot, it's just possible that sometimes and just like in real life, there'll always be that one (or two) loons who has to get in shot.
I know, I'm often that loon.
No comments:
Post a Comment