Before reading my comments, please click on the image. The full size image looks so much better.
My last two Illustration Friday entries were made using only PhotoShop. However, my intent, when I decided to participate in IF, was to only do hand drawn images that maybe would be painted in PS. I spend all day teaching digital art and crave working with traditional media. So Friday night, I once again picked up a pen and pencil. What is it about holding a real pen, wiping eraser goobers away, and the sound of making marks on paper? I find just making marks does something to my psyche. It feels so right. It puts me in a zone especially when accompanied by music. This is my cocoon and also my metamorphosis. Time away from my work-a-day life when my spirit can be set free from the needs of 150 high school students. Maybe this is also the impetus of this image. If meditation is being in the moment and not thinking about the past or future, then drawing is this for me.
A little bit more about metamorphosis… This morning Mike and I (Mike is my rat terrier dog) were finishing up our morning walk by Lake Chabot when we met up with a golden retriever, a big friendly dog. You could just tell. Anyway Mike and this other dog did the nose kiss and the butt sniff, and then Mike being on a leash, does his growl thing to let him know enough was enough. Around the bend, the owner of the other heard this, though he couldn’t see it was just a friendly exchange. The owner started yelling at his dog like a drill Sargent. You know that loud in your face kind of shouting where the volume is supposed to get the right response and it continues even when the dog submits. We’ve met up with this guy before. He never has a kind word for joyful dog. I want to tell at the guy to, ” Just stop it. Let the dog be just a dog. Enjoy who he is. Can’t you see his gentle, kind self.” But being strangers, I walk on by. Behind us I can still hear the guy yelling at his dog
The funny thing is a few hundred feet down the trail, a bicyclist passes us and in a very condescending voice he says, “Thanks for having your dog on a leash.” Well, in my head, I turned into the drill Sargent yelling “Thanks for riding slower than the 15 MPH limit on the trail instead of speeding around the curves running over dogs and walkers a like.” It’s problem on the trail. It doesn’t excuse me from becoming the Sargent. I continued to rant in my head until I realized that I had transformed into the very guy that ticked me off. How was I to know that the bicyclist wasn’t sincere. It gave me pause. How often we criticize someone and then turn around do the same action? More often than we like to admit?
I think we go trough a continuous metamorphosis through our days transforming into different personalities that live for a short while then on to another. Maybe reincarnation doesn’t just happens after life, but continuously through out our days. Our task is to figure who we really are under all these personas that we project to the world and to ourselves.