I find the healthcare debates/rants by the Republicants a little nutty. They want to take away things that are not bad. Repeal and Replace! That will be the slogan for the 2010 elections. But they need to think. They really want to let insurance companies cancel policies because the sick person actually starts using something they paid for? They want to let the insurance companies tell someone with cancer or diabetes that they will not get insurance because they have cancer or diabetes?
The Tea Party people need to calm down. Bricks are being thrown thru windows and before the vote black congressmen were spat on and called racial slurs. The sky did not collapse. There was no armagedon. Look at what is in the bill to protect people.
But it's Socialism! Not really. And if you don't like the government programs that help people refuse your Social Security check every month. Refuse Medicare.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
Shameless Plugs
I am all for actors doing self promotion of a project that they feel passionate about but might play to an empty house if no one knows about it.
However,
When someone posts on Facebook 37 times in one week that they "are doing a play" or "come see my play" or "hey, you should be in the audience of my play", I'm going to get tired of you. Self promotion is fine. We all want to get people's butts in the seats, but for fuck sake, moderation would be a good thing. Do they really think that I am so addle-brained that I cannot remember they are doing a play? If you look on the right hand side of the FB screen, there is an space that says "events".
I get it. But the more I get it the more I am inclined not to attend your play. Or maybe I'll work on a Quid Pro Quo system. You come to see my show, and I will come to see yours. If you never have seen me in a play, then good luck. I'm not going to show up.
I do Shameless Plugs for the shows I am in: Once a week for 3 weeks of the run. I don't innudate the shit out of my friends. I know people are busy and have real lives. If they see me perform, cool. If not, maybe next time. I act because I love it. I'd be up there whether there was anyone in the audience or not. I don't need to know anyone in the house. That is kind of a bonus if I know someone.
One person has told me about the show they are in. Fine. But going from that posting I also got messages from the director of the play and the writer of the play. I don't know these people. But I'm not going to the show. I suddenly don't want to go to the show that has been a fly buzzing around my head for 4 weeks.
And I'm taking a break from FB for a bit. I may even hide the people that are constantly posting things about their shows. MODERATION. DON'T ANNOY THE AUDIENCE.
However,
When someone posts on Facebook 37 times in one week that they "are doing a play" or "come see my play" or "hey, you should be in the audience of my play", I'm going to get tired of you. Self promotion is fine. We all want to get people's butts in the seats, but for fuck sake, moderation would be a good thing. Do they really think that I am so addle-brained that I cannot remember they are doing a play? If you look on the right hand side of the FB screen, there is an space that says "events".
I get it. But the more I get it the more I am inclined not to attend your play. Or maybe I'll work on a Quid Pro Quo system. You come to see my show, and I will come to see yours. If you never have seen me in a play, then good luck. I'm not going to show up.
I do Shameless Plugs for the shows I am in: Once a week for 3 weeks of the run. I don't innudate the shit out of my friends. I know people are busy and have real lives. If they see me perform, cool. If not, maybe next time. I act because I love it. I'd be up there whether there was anyone in the audience or not. I don't need to know anyone in the house. That is kind of a bonus if I know someone.
One person has told me about the show they are in. Fine. But going from that posting I also got messages from the director of the play and the writer of the play. I don't know these people. But I'm not going to the show. I suddenly don't want to go to the show that has been a fly buzzing around my head for 4 weeks.
And I'm taking a break from FB for a bit. I may even hide the people that are constantly posting things about their shows. MODERATION. DON'T ANNOY THE AUDIENCE.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Fluffy Puppies
This is probably going to be the meanest harshest blog entry I may ever do. So, warning, stop reading now. But I don’t give a shit.
A friend of mine is dating an alcoholic. Boyfriends for her are projects. One needs a job, she finds it for him. One needs help with a business, she creates websites and more. One needs to figure out how to be human, she helps the tin man find a heart.
Now she is onto a BIG project.
She's fixing an alcoholic. Awesome!
I’ve known a number of addicts and alcoholics in my life. I learned a long time ago, you can’t change them or their behavior. For an addict to change, they have to get to a point where they want to change. It comes down to they change or they die. There is no middle ground. If an addict is forced into rehab before it’s going to take, they relapse. Multiple times. DUI means nothing. They are not the ones at fault. Going to jail, being beaten to a pulp in a bar fight means nothing. They are misunderstood. The world doesn’t understand them.
I do understand you.
You’re a DRUNK. You love alcohol more than you will ever love a person, a family member, anything on this planet. You have a genetic predisposition to destroy yourself and take down the people around you who might care before you drive them away. You are self centered and so full of self-loathing that you need to anesthetize yourself or you would blow your fucking brains out.
My friend is dating this. She’s a smart girl. But she’s like a cult member. She has cut herself off from every friend she had before the drunk. Maybe the problem is she has never been alone. She doesn’t know who she is. And she uses the guys she dates as defining factors. Example: One boyfriend liked motorcycles. She planned to buy one. They broke up. She doesn’t have a motorcycle. But she now drinks like a fish. Most people who date alcoholics end up being emotionally and sometimes physically abused. And tend to become alcoholic themselves. It’s a co-dependency thing. You do what the partner does.
She thinks she is a force that restrains his behavior. But his bad behavior is there as a control thing. When he misbehaves, treats people like shit, she is there to smooth it over, make excuses for his rude and stupid behavior. “Oh, that’s just the way he is,” she’ll say. How much time does she spend placating him, talking him down from his crazy drunken rants? Telling him that everything is all right and that people like him and that he is just misunderstood?
He’s a DRUNK.
Self-destructive behavior is not cute. Dealing with the highs and lows of his drunken Viking Emo self-loathing mood swings cannot be worth it. The drama he is does not make him special. It’s not that he’s a misunderstood artist, HE’S A DRUNK! You can’t change him. Alcoholics are too common. DUI convictions are a bad thing, but killing someone while driving drunk is worse. How long has he been tempting fate while the world got lucky? He’s had 3 or 4 drunk driving arrests. Richard Burton was brilliant, but he was also a drunk who dragged Elizabeth Taylor into addiction.
I can only take so much of the alcoholic. Maybe 15 minutes. Dude, it's not necessary for me to be as effusive and "Wow!" about everything that his drunken brain gets excited about. And when I don't get as excited, he's hurt. "Why do you have to be that way?" It's my fault. Right. I forgot that part. Why do you have to be drunk every night? Why do you have to be an asshole?
I know him: He's Don from college. A small prodigious alcoholic who would lie about drinking, get vicious and black out.
I know him: He's Reggie from Arizona. The life of the party who drove all his friends away within a year.
I know him: He's Roger who is enabled by his wife and has switched his addiction to weed.
I know him: He's Thumper. Who drank himself to death outside at his home in the outskirts of Tucson. When his body was found 5 days later, he'd been half eaten by coyotes. (Not kidding)
And now my dear friend is his emotional liver cleaning away all his toxic drunken shit. But diminishing herself in the process and pushing away all the friends who were always there for her. Enjoy your time in his dramatic and diseased world. I hope you come out of it alive.
I hope she comes to her senses and leaves him and everything he represents.
A friend of mine is dating an alcoholic. Boyfriends for her are projects. One needs a job, she finds it for him. One needs help with a business, she creates websites and more. One needs to figure out how to be human, she helps the tin man find a heart.
Now she is onto a BIG project.
She's fixing an alcoholic. Awesome!
I’ve known a number of addicts and alcoholics in my life. I learned a long time ago, you can’t change them or their behavior. For an addict to change, they have to get to a point where they want to change. It comes down to they change or they die. There is no middle ground. If an addict is forced into rehab before it’s going to take, they relapse. Multiple times. DUI means nothing. They are not the ones at fault. Going to jail, being beaten to a pulp in a bar fight means nothing. They are misunderstood. The world doesn’t understand them.
I do understand you.
You’re a DRUNK. You love alcohol more than you will ever love a person, a family member, anything on this planet. You have a genetic predisposition to destroy yourself and take down the people around you who might care before you drive them away. You are self centered and so full of self-loathing that you need to anesthetize yourself or you would blow your fucking brains out.
My friend is dating this. She’s a smart girl. But she’s like a cult member. She has cut herself off from every friend she had before the drunk. Maybe the problem is she has never been alone. She doesn’t know who she is. And she uses the guys she dates as defining factors. Example: One boyfriend liked motorcycles. She planned to buy one. They broke up. She doesn’t have a motorcycle. But she now drinks like a fish. Most people who date alcoholics end up being emotionally and sometimes physically abused. And tend to become alcoholic themselves. It’s a co-dependency thing. You do what the partner does.
She thinks she is a force that restrains his behavior. But his bad behavior is there as a control thing. When he misbehaves, treats people like shit, she is there to smooth it over, make excuses for his rude and stupid behavior. “Oh, that’s just the way he is,” she’ll say. How much time does she spend placating him, talking him down from his crazy drunken rants? Telling him that everything is all right and that people like him and that he is just misunderstood?
He’s a DRUNK.
Self-destructive behavior is not cute. Dealing with the highs and lows of his drunken Viking Emo self-loathing mood swings cannot be worth it. The drama he is does not make him special. It’s not that he’s a misunderstood artist, HE’S A DRUNK! You can’t change him. Alcoholics are too common. DUI convictions are a bad thing, but killing someone while driving drunk is worse. How long has he been tempting fate while the world got lucky? He’s had 3 or 4 drunk driving arrests. Richard Burton was brilliant, but he was also a drunk who dragged Elizabeth Taylor into addiction.
I can only take so much of the alcoholic. Maybe 15 minutes. Dude, it's not necessary for me to be as effusive and "Wow!" about everything that his drunken brain gets excited about. And when I don't get as excited, he's hurt. "Why do you have to be that way?" It's my fault. Right. I forgot that part. Why do you have to be drunk every night? Why do you have to be an asshole?
I know him: He's Don from college. A small prodigious alcoholic who would lie about drinking, get vicious and black out.
I know him: He's Reggie from Arizona. The life of the party who drove all his friends away within a year.
I know him: He's Roger who is enabled by his wife and has switched his addiction to weed.
I know him: He's Thumper. Who drank himself to death outside at his home in the outskirts of Tucson. When his body was found 5 days later, he'd been half eaten by coyotes. (Not kidding)
And now my dear friend is his emotional liver cleaning away all his toxic drunken shit. But diminishing herself in the process and pushing away all the friends who were always there for her. Enjoy your time in his dramatic and diseased world. I hope you come out of it alive.
I hope she comes to her senses and leaves him and everything he represents.
I Sing The Body Cumulative
A body is cumulative.
All the injuries and illnesses leave behind marks of some kind. Broken bones show traces on X-rays. Pnumeonia can scar the lungs. Torn ligaments and popped tendons plague the foot, hand, leg, arm that was injured long after the injury heals either on it's own or with the help of surgery.
It's a weakness or twinge of pain that reminds you that the body is not what it was. Or maybe it's a tendency to favor/baby a former injury. It's a cough or cold that settles into the lungs and takes a long time to leave. Because the scars in the lungs left by the pnuemonia leave the lungs a bit weaker and more suseptible to problems.
When I was 9 I was indestructible and jumping off of things.
When I was 20 I was indestructible (with a few qualifiers) and walking places way too high to jump off of.
I am still indestructible, but let me adjust... Uh, there, that's better.
All the injuries and illnesses leave behind marks of some kind. Broken bones show traces on X-rays. Pnumeonia can scar the lungs. Torn ligaments and popped tendons plague the foot, hand, leg, arm that was injured long after the injury heals either on it's own or with the help of surgery.
It's a weakness or twinge of pain that reminds you that the body is not what it was. Or maybe it's a tendency to favor/baby a former injury. It's a cough or cold that settles into the lungs and takes a long time to leave. Because the scars in the lungs left by the pnuemonia leave the lungs a bit weaker and more suseptible to problems.
When I was 9 I was indestructible and jumping off of things.
When I was 20 I was indestructible (with a few qualifiers) and walking places way too high to jump off of.
I am still indestructible, but let me adjust... Uh, there, that's better.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Healthcare Passes!
Tonight the House of Representatives passed healthcare reform by a vote of 219 to 212. They made it by 3 votes. Guess how it shook out. Straight down party lines. Wow, that is unexpected. Actually, no, that was completely what I expected.
I didn't watch the vote. I looked briefly at CNN and saw John Boehner spewing his hateful rhetoric about the bill and what will happen. I couldn't watch that guy. He makes me so mad I want yell at the TV so loud he can hear me. So I turned the DVD player and watched Dr. Who. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen. I'd watch the news later.
For Republicans I wanted to tell them there already are death panels. They are just run by the insurance companies not the government. Whenever they turn down a life saving procedure, there's your fucking death panel. When they cancel someone with a pre-existing condition, there's your fucking death panel. Because if the condition is bad enough to cost the company a lot of money that they cancel the policy, it's probably bad enough to kill you eventually.
I would have liked a public option so I could do it myself. I now have Kaiser, but I'm new. I don't know if they are good.
The thing I find funny, programs like Social Security, Medicare, are long established federal programs, which by a Tea Bagger's definition, would be Socialism. But if you asked the Tea Baggers who were out there protesting to give up the program or return all the money they get every month from Social Security I bet they would say "no." Damn Socialists! Given time, after the kinks are worked out, "Obama-Care" will probably become as expected and valued as Social Security.
What other big thing will the President do next?
I didn't watch the vote. I looked briefly at CNN and saw John Boehner spewing his hateful rhetoric about the bill and what will happen. I couldn't watch that guy. He makes me so mad I want yell at the TV so loud he can hear me. So I turned the DVD player and watched Dr. Who. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen. I'd watch the news later.
For Republicans I wanted to tell them there already are death panels. They are just run by the insurance companies not the government. Whenever they turn down a life saving procedure, there's your fucking death panel. When they cancel someone with a pre-existing condition, there's your fucking death panel. Because if the condition is bad enough to cost the company a lot of money that they cancel the policy, it's probably bad enough to kill you eventually.
I would have liked a public option so I could do it myself. I now have Kaiser, but I'm new. I don't know if they are good.
The thing I find funny, programs like Social Security, Medicare, are long established federal programs, which by a Tea Bagger's definition, would be Socialism. But if you asked the Tea Baggers who were out there protesting to give up the program or return all the money they get every month from Social Security I bet they would say "no." Damn Socialists! Given time, after the kinks are worked out, "Obama-Care" will probably become as expected and valued as Social Security.
What other big thing will the President do next?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
St. Patricks Day Memories
Of all the Drinking Holidays, I think St. Paddy's Day might be the worst. You aren't celebrating anything you really have a cause to celebrate. It's a chance to drink after a long cold winter and things start turning warmer. I don't really partake of the holiday. I'm not in bars much anyway. But March 17th is amateur hour. When all the people who don't drink much go out and get lit. Then they drive.
One St. Paddy's day when I was still living in Scottsdale, I had been at a bar in Tempe called Casey Moore's. It's a college bar/ Irish pub near ASU. I left after midnight and was driving home. While waiting for the light to turn green, the car next to me was rear-ended. It shocked the hell out of me. There was no brakes immediately before the accident. Just a metallic WHAM! Seconds later the light changed and the car that hit the one next to me backed up and sped away down the street the direction I was driving.
I had been rear-ended in a hit and run years before so out of a sense of cosmic justice, I went racing after the guy. I caught up with him a the next light moments before it turned. I got the first 3 numbers of his license plate. The light changed and he accelerated like a guy running away from an accident. I sped after him and caught him at the next light again. I got the last 3 digits of his license plate. I wrote down the number on a slip of paper with the make and model of the car, and noted where he was headed. Into Phoenix.
I got home, looked up the Tempe Police phone number, and called.
"Was there a hit and run reported at Curry and Mill about 20 minutes ago?" I asked.
"let me see," the woman on the phone said. After about a minute or two she came back and said, "yes, there was."
"It was a silver or gold Ford Taurus, license plate number..." I said reading from the paper. "It was headed west into Phoenix on Van Buren. I followed him to get the license. "
She was quiet for a second. "That's car that was reported leaving the hit and run."
"Yes it is. Please go put that fucker in jail." I said. "Have a good night."
"good night."
She didn't ask for my name. The car would be evidence enough, I imagine. I don't know what happened, but I hope they got him. I hope he was thinking he got away and the police came knocking on his door moments after getting home. Hit and run, driving while fucked up and stupid, fleeing the scene of an accident. Go directly to jail.
This memory is one of the reasons I am very wary of the Drinking Holidays.
One St. Paddy's day when I was still living in Scottsdale, I had been at a bar in Tempe called Casey Moore's. It's a college bar/ Irish pub near ASU. I left after midnight and was driving home. While waiting for the light to turn green, the car next to me was rear-ended. It shocked the hell out of me. There was no brakes immediately before the accident. Just a metallic WHAM! Seconds later the light changed and the car that hit the one next to me backed up and sped away down the street the direction I was driving.
I had been rear-ended in a hit and run years before so out of a sense of cosmic justice, I went racing after the guy. I caught up with him a the next light moments before it turned. I got the first 3 numbers of his license plate. The light changed and he accelerated like a guy running away from an accident. I sped after him and caught him at the next light again. I got the last 3 digits of his license plate. I wrote down the number on a slip of paper with the make and model of the car, and noted where he was headed. Into Phoenix.
I got home, looked up the Tempe Police phone number, and called.
"Was there a hit and run reported at Curry and Mill about 20 minutes ago?" I asked.
"let me see," the woman on the phone said. After about a minute or two she came back and said, "yes, there was."
"It was a silver or gold Ford Taurus, license plate number..." I said reading from the paper. "It was headed west into Phoenix on Van Buren. I followed him to get the license. "
She was quiet for a second. "That's car that was reported leaving the hit and run."
"Yes it is. Please go put that fucker in jail." I said. "Have a good night."
"good night."
She didn't ask for my name. The car would be evidence enough, I imagine. I don't know what happened, but I hope they got him. I hope he was thinking he got away and the police came knocking on his door moments after getting home. Hit and run, driving while fucked up and stupid, fleeing the scene of an accident. Go directly to jail.
This memory is one of the reasons I am very wary of the Drinking Holidays.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Movies
There are some movies I see once and that's enough. Don't need to see them again.
Then there are some movies I see and I'll remember the dialogue and major scenes. Young Frankenstein and Blazing Saddles are that way. Airplane too. That happens with comedies mainly. I don't really remember the dramas that well unless it's something that everyone quotes as part of a societal zeitgeist thing. Everyone quotes the Godfather, but how many people have seen it more than once or twice? Everyone quotes it, that's the shared experience.
There are some movies I have seen dozens of times for various reasons. Star Wars, The original where Han shoots first, thank you very much, Reno. That's the first movie I think where I actually thought of acting as a profession. You get to pretend to fly spaceships and shoot stormtroopers and blow shit up? Awesome! How do I get to do that?
Other movies I have seen dozens of times connect with me on some level. Spartacus. (Well, not dozens of times, but duh.) A Knight's Tale. (It's on cable all the time.) To Catch a Thief. (How fucking cool is Cary Grant?) Love Actually. (Great flick.) You've Got Mail. (Nice smaltzy rom com.)
Some movies are great, but I never want to see them again. It's just too much as an experience. The Pianist. (I would have blown my head off if I were him. Too painful to endure.) Saving Private Ryan. (Wow. Good movie. Just once, thank you.)
Am I watching Fellini films? Not really. Horror movies? No thanks. I want to be entertained. Transported for the 2 hours I sit watching it. Don't preach to me or try to change me. Move me, inspire me. Please do not depress the shit out of me. And if you try to scare me I'm going to react with the "fight" part of the fight or flight response.
Then there are some movies I see and I'll remember the dialogue and major scenes. Young Frankenstein and Blazing Saddles are that way. Airplane too. That happens with comedies mainly. I don't really remember the dramas that well unless it's something that everyone quotes as part of a societal zeitgeist thing. Everyone quotes the Godfather, but how many people have seen it more than once or twice? Everyone quotes it, that's the shared experience.
There are some movies I have seen dozens of times for various reasons. Star Wars, The original where Han shoots first, thank you very much, Reno. That's the first movie I think where I actually thought of acting as a profession. You get to pretend to fly spaceships and shoot stormtroopers and blow shit up? Awesome! How do I get to do that?
Other movies I have seen dozens of times connect with me on some level. Spartacus. (Well, not dozens of times, but duh.) A Knight's Tale. (It's on cable all the time.) To Catch a Thief. (How fucking cool is Cary Grant?) Love Actually. (Great flick.) You've Got Mail. (Nice smaltzy rom com.)
Some movies are great, but I never want to see them again. It's just too much as an experience. The Pianist. (I would have blown my head off if I were him. Too painful to endure.) Saving Private Ryan. (Wow. Good movie. Just once, thank you.)
Am I watching Fellini films? Not really. Horror movies? No thanks. I want to be entertained. Transported for the 2 hours I sit watching it. Don't preach to me or try to change me. Move me, inspire me. Please do not depress the shit out of me. And if you try to scare me I'm going to react with the "fight" part of the fight or flight response.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
After I Die
I want to be cremated, the ashes taken to a foundry, mixed with molten steel, and have that steel made into a sword.
Kinda weird, hunh?
I came up with this idea after my friend Lisa Jacobs died. She was an artist that worked with iron and steel; she took red hot metal and formed it to her will with an anvil and hammer. She made some very cool stuff. Her death was long and tragic. After it I was thinking about the shell left behind.
Almost every religion, every society, has a thing they do with the body. Whether it's burial, burning, leaving it out for vultures, something is done with it. So what to do with a body? People keep urns of ashes of loved ones. They sit on mantles in urns or boxes. Some throw the ashes into the ocean, or sprinkle a bit at Disneyland without Disney's knowledge... Or you can be buried in the ground. Bodies don't really decay like they used to. A grave has a plastic lining and cement top to keep out the elements, the coffins are not made of wood any more. So the body is not recycled into the environment, it just lays preserved...
What would be wrong with being turned into a weapon? Or two or three depending on how many kids I have when I die? It's possible to make a sword that is beautiful. To be placed on a wall or in the corner of a room. It doesn't need to be handled reverently, it's a sword. Albeit, infused with the carbon that once made up me... Carbon makes steel stronger.
And when the zombies come, I can help keep my kids alive. Swords don't run out of ammunition...
Kinda weird, hunh?
I came up with this idea after my friend Lisa Jacobs died. She was an artist that worked with iron and steel; she took red hot metal and formed it to her will with an anvil and hammer. She made some very cool stuff. Her death was long and tragic. After it I was thinking about the shell left behind.
Almost every religion, every society, has a thing they do with the body. Whether it's burial, burning, leaving it out for vultures, something is done with it. So what to do with a body? People keep urns of ashes of loved ones. They sit on mantles in urns or boxes. Some throw the ashes into the ocean, or sprinkle a bit at Disneyland without Disney's knowledge... Or you can be buried in the ground. Bodies don't really decay like they used to. A grave has a plastic lining and cement top to keep out the elements, the coffins are not made of wood any more. So the body is not recycled into the environment, it just lays preserved...
What would be wrong with being turned into a weapon? Or two or three depending on how many kids I have when I die? It's possible to make a sword that is beautiful. To be placed on a wall or in the corner of a room. It doesn't need to be handled reverently, it's a sword. Albeit, infused with the carbon that once made up me... Carbon makes steel stronger.
And when the zombies come, I can help keep my kids alive. Swords don't run out of ammunition...
Monday, March 1, 2010
Life Class
I'm talking about a sketching class where you draw a nude model. Though sometimes it would be awesome to have a class about Life and how not to fuck it up.
A facebook friend, occassional acquaintance invited me to a life class where she would be modeling. I wasn't sure if I would go. It didn't cost much, but does it look weird? She doesn't know me well...
I love Art. I think if I weren't acting I would be sculpting things out of steel or bronze or clay. Maybe painting or drawing. Photography? I am in awe of figures that I see when bumming around the museums of Europe. In Scandinavia there was a statue so life-like and life-sized the gloves on her hands had stitching. Astounding detail. For the play QED I did 2 years ago, I created a sketchbook of a few nudes to use as a prop. I hate it when I go to a play and someone holds up and obviously blank sheet of paper and reads a letter. It throws me out of the play. I did 6 nude drawings (tasteful nudes found on line.) for the prop sketch book.
So I went to the life class. I got there just as the 2 models took off the fabric concealing them and they climbed up onto a pedestal in the center of the studio. I felt awkward and seemed noisy as I came in and found a spot. And I felt myself blushing for just a moment like I was caught being naughty.
I had a medium sized sketch pad. Many people had huge pads and were working in charcoal. I had #2 pencils and an eraser... I felt like I was kind of a fraud. I kind of hid what I was drawing. Because even as I was drawing I was trying to find the right proportion and line and wanted to get it RIGHT. I wanted to be Picasso. No Pressure.
I started to lighten up and loosen up as I worked. One model stayed in the same pose all 4 hours (with breaks) and the one I am FB friends with changed every 20-30 minutes with a small breaks in between. I would draw from different angles and sides since I had a small pad and could move around. I looked at the others works. There were some people that were very good. Some that were ok. And a couple that were not so good. But they were there, so kudos. I saw one guy holding 2-4 pencils in his hand as he sketched. It struck me as odd, and the drawings were strange lines at the beginning, but they would eventually come together in a picture that had some similarities to the model. An interesting technique I never would have thought of.
I stayed for almost 3 hours and got a few drawings I liked out of it. I think I will come back to sketch. It was a fun challenge to try to get what was in my head out on the paper. It'd be cool to practice sketching, but I don't know any nude women.
A facebook friend, occassional acquaintance invited me to a life class where she would be modeling. I wasn't sure if I would go. It didn't cost much, but does it look weird? She doesn't know me well...
I love Art. I think if I weren't acting I would be sculpting things out of steel or bronze or clay. Maybe painting or drawing. Photography? I am in awe of figures that I see when bumming around the museums of Europe. In Scandinavia there was a statue so life-like and life-sized the gloves on her hands had stitching. Astounding detail. For the play QED I did 2 years ago, I created a sketchbook of a few nudes to use as a prop. I hate it when I go to a play and someone holds up and obviously blank sheet of paper and reads a letter. It throws me out of the play. I did 6 nude drawings (tasteful nudes found on line.) for the prop sketch book.
So I went to the life class. I got there just as the 2 models took off the fabric concealing them and they climbed up onto a pedestal in the center of the studio. I felt awkward and seemed noisy as I came in and found a spot. And I felt myself blushing for just a moment like I was caught being naughty.
I had a medium sized sketch pad. Many people had huge pads and were working in charcoal. I had #2 pencils and an eraser... I felt like I was kind of a fraud. I kind of hid what I was drawing. Because even as I was drawing I was trying to find the right proportion and line and wanted to get it RIGHT. I wanted to be Picasso. No Pressure.
I started to lighten up and loosen up as I worked. One model stayed in the same pose all 4 hours (with breaks) and the one I am FB friends with changed every 20-30 minutes with a small breaks in between. I would draw from different angles and sides since I had a small pad and could move around. I looked at the others works. There were some people that were very good. Some that were ok. And a couple that were not so good. But they were there, so kudos. I saw one guy holding 2-4 pencils in his hand as he sketched. It struck me as odd, and the drawings were strange lines at the beginning, but they would eventually come together in a picture that had some similarities to the model. An interesting technique I never would have thought of.
I stayed for almost 3 hours and got a few drawings I liked out of it. I think I will come back to sketch. It was a fun challenge to try to get what was in my head out on the paper. It'd be cool to practice sketching, but I don't know any nude women.
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