Lately it seems that every new character doodle I work on with paper and pencil ends up looking kind of the same. (Read: ugly and lame.) So I decided that this weekend I would do "sketches" in 3D, using clay, instead.
I have a pile of oil-based clay from the mid 1990s (when I took a cool Anatomy of the Head class), so yesterday I set to working on a little head about the size of a clementine. It was stickier than trying to make a sculpture out of Hubba Bubba.
Some people sweat about a blank page. I was probably worried about making the first mark at one point in my life. Not now. These days I'm comfortable with blankness. Too comfortable.
I have a long list of hedonistic pleasures (more on that another day), one of which is allowing myself to get lost in what's possible, and to let the thinking-about-doing completely eclipse the actually-doing. I hide it well, but my brain thinks about making and doing and drawing and living—plotting and scheming, as I like to call it—approximately 1430 minutes out of every day.
Welcome to the accountability area of my life, where I will be posting process sketches and other important stuff I let myself avoid when I'm "busy."