Today was the first day of summer classes. I’m taking Basic Graphic Design and Basic Illustration, and I’m a little concerned about passing these classes. Not scared, not worried…just a little concerned.
These are more hands-on classes, meaning that instead of making pictures on a computer, I’m supposed to make pictures with pencils and paint and all that. Aside from a handful of really bad sketches and a shitpile of doodling in margins, I don’t do any of that. “Doodling in margins.” Does that sound dirty to anyone else?
They should make a porno, Roger Rabbit-style, and call it Doodling In Margins. I think that could really be something special.
Anyway, so my classes. I’m also a little worried because we’re supposed to use Adobe Illustrator for the graphic design class, and my knowledge of that software is limited, at best. I hate that my grade depends on software that I haven’t been taught to use. I’ll figure it out, I guess, because it’s either that or fail, but I’m not incredibly happy about it.
The illustration class is mostly drawing, from what I understand. It’s called “basic” illustration, so I wasn’t too concerned at the beginning of class. The professor went over all the projects we’re going to be doing, though, and I almost pissed myself. “Bring in five little items next class,” he said. “We’ll be drawing them.”
I’m assuming that by “we,” he’s including me, but unless I can find five items around my house that all look like slightly crumpled toilet paper rolls, I’m doomed. Because any time I try to draw anything, that’s what it comes out looking like.
He said we’ll be doing a still life in a couple of weeks. And landscapes soon after. Then the human skeleton. Near the end of the class, we’ll be drawing nudes.
Yep, nudes. He said that by the time we reach that point, we’ll be so intent on drawing that we’ll barely register the fact that there are nude models in the classroom. They’ll just be things to draw. I wonder.
Ideally, he’d be right. I’d go in, bust out my pencils and stuff, and just draw the naked people (there’s going to be one male and one female, apparently). But you guys know me—I’d fuck a wall of spikes if it was painted the right shade of pink. To say that I’m not going to register the fact that there’s a naked human being in the same room as me is just silly. Or that I won’t see them as naked human beings. Sure.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you looking at another woman naked,” my princess joked this evening.
“Yeah, imagine how she’ll feel.” You know what would be awesome? If I wore an oversized raincoat to class that day, just to make everyone uncomfortable. I know it’s juvenile. I mean, it’s an art class, right? Not a naked lady (or guy—I’d do the raincoat that day, too, just to be fair), but a nude form.
But I never signed up to be an artist. I signed up to make shit on a computer, which means that I’m characteristically obligated to be a pervert, I think. Or maybe that’s just a handy excuse.
Perversions aside, I think it’ll be really interesting to learn how to draw, even if I never get very good at it. They say that all you need to do it is a pair of eyes, an imagination, and a lot of practice. We’ll see.
Quick aside: a few paragraphs ago, when I wrote I’d fuck a wall of spikes, I originally forgot to add the “s” at the end. So it was just a wall of spike. I cracked up when I noticed it, because the first thing I thought of was that dog Spike from Heatcliff:
If I ever learn how to draw, one of my first works should probably be a picture of me fucking a wall of Spike. As if that isn’t disturbing enough, while I was looking for that picture, I came across this site, which lists all of the characters on the Heathcliff show. And I found this picture:
A skank-ass Jersey cat from the 80’s—maybe I need to go back and watch some Heathcliff reruns. I remember it being mind-numbingly boring, but perhaps I just wasn’t watching with the right eyes. You know, with the eyes of a deviant who doesn’t mind ogling cartoon cats while thinking impure thoughts.
Maybe I could get her to be in Doodling In Margins.
And with that string of potential nightmares, I’m out.