I came to draw

A Tale of Two Towers

2012-01-24T21:48:00.011-05:00

I had seen it coming. The old management here at New Horizons Tower, a residence tied to the Dovercourt Baptist Church, had been in place since its foundation in the seventies of the previous century, and they had managed to forge a pretty close community, where seniors, students and staff lived together in good harmony.

I do not even know whose stupid idea it was to bring students into a senior residence, but it worked. Most of the seniors seemed to appreciate the energy of the students, some of whom had only started to explore their own talents, while the students were kept more or less under control by a happy platoon of grey-haired grandfathers and grandmothers, armed with canes, riding their walkers.

Having lived here for almost four years, I saw them coming and going, both the students and the seniors, in the morning and the evening of their lives, and me being somewhere in between, around lunchtime, I think. Things started to change about one year ago, when the Administrator of New Horizons Tower retired.

The new administrator introduced a new style of management, which was obvious from the moment she crowned herself CEO. While her predecessor was found among his staff, seniors and students, the CEO rules the tower from her office. The old management was quickly replaced by her trustees: an army of blackshirts for whom management is a matter of time and money, instead of people.

The old marketing director will probably kill me for calling him old, but I will stick to the term anyways. My intake into the tower started a little stiff, but he managed to provide me a smooth entrance. The irritations that arose once or twice were quickly ironed out through a personal meeting, and his good sense of humor and fatherly words made me leave his room in a better mood. When I once expressed my worries about the ability to stay at New Horizons Tower for the full length of my program, he reassured me that "Student presence alone causes happy and bright feelings among most of the seniors living here. [...] Students interested living at NHT will find accommodation at NHT at any given time." It felt good.

The former head of housekeeping was usually whirling around in what looked like a white laboratory coat, which not only screamed "This place is clean" but also provided an unusual contrast with her beautiful afro-american looks. More than once, she hurried to bring clean towels or sheets, and informed every now and then whether things were okay now.

The head of the kitchen reminded me of an old teacher of mine. I still do not know what the man did, or how he did it, but he ran his business smoothly, and the self-service buffet for students always perfectly suited the needs of young people who usually have no time or clue when it comes to healthy food. To be honest, the combinations were not always brilliant, but my complaints were usually answered with the willingness to improve.

A precious place in the dining room was reserved for a sweet old lady who served the students. She knew everyone by name and school, and had a wonderful memory of who liked to eat what, and a magical instinct for what kept people alive. I can only speak for myself, but it was she who really made me feel at home here.

As a neighbour of mine used to say it: "We didn't even know how good it was here". To be honest, I feel a little uneasy that only now I feel the need to express my gratitude towards the old staff: Danish, Joan, Leonard and, especially, Christine, I miss you all.

It started in the dining room. The student facilities were quietly removed: within a few days, the steam tables, the microwaves and the fridge were all gone. Only after my protest that this made it impossible for students to warm up their late dinners, kept in the fridge at their request, was it admitted that the late meal service had been cancelled. During a blazing hot summer, it was no longer possible to get a pitcher of ice cold juice from the fridge, and drinks were reduced to one glass per meal. Although this regime was recently relaxed a bit, during the heat of the summer, requests to get a pitcher of juice at my table, were bluntly refused. The regime extended to the floor lounges, where fridges, once kept stocked with juice by kitchen staff, were now only restocked twice a week, with tiny little packages of juice, enough for everybody to have two drinks a week. Personally, I do not care so much, as I am an ardent Coca Cola drinker and buy most of my own drinks anyways, but for seniors who need to stay hydrated during a hot summer, the situation was dangerous.

From that moment, students had to wait at their tables to be served, which often took too long for those who start at 9:00. More than once, the selection of bread during breakfast and lunch was limited to cheap white bread, so after a while I started to buy my own. The quality of meat degraded quickly, and the seafood served at times was so scary that I did not even dare to touch it. At the same time, the monthly rent was raised by $50.

It became apparent where the money was spent. An ambitious plan to renovate the tower was presented, and it went much further than tackling the usual wear and tear of a building that is more than forty years old. To the contrary. Maintenance was no longer a priority, so my room now has a broken thermostat, the toilet keeps running and the door opens barely wide enough to enter, which is not so much a problem for me, as for the somewhat heavier built cleaner. The new CEO goes for looks and status.

I guess I was one of the first to complain about the new situation. Whereas the old management usually saw this as an opportunity to improve, the new management was pretty blunt: "If you don't like it here then why don't you leave?" And leaving is what people did. I especially remember my neighbour, who left with tears in her eyes. She had a good friend to go to, and felt really sorry about all seniors who have nowhere to go.

A few seniors told me they had issued complaints on the internet on a review site http://www.n49.ca, but these had been quickly removed by the new management. A quick scan learnt that this site is more about advertising than about reviews, as places under review obviously have the freedom to remove reviews they do not like. The single positive reviewer there finally admitted she represented the tower, and stressed that founders and board of New Horizons were so happy with the new situation. Another reviewer correctly summarized this as the new situation: New Horizons Tower is no longer about serving seniors and students, it is about founders, boards, status and money.

Last weekend I was once more reminded about how things have changed. The cleaner had taken my old bar of soap, and forgot to bring me a new bar. No big deal, so I reported the issue at the front desk, expecting them to solve it there and then, either by improvising a new one, or by calling the head of householding. To my astonishment, I was told the relevant manager had gone home at 5:00 pm, and I had to wait till Monday. When on Monday, the responsible blackshirt bluntly entered my room to tell me not to make a problem of a bar of soap, her empty gaze made me realize that, for her, this a nine-to-five job, not understanding that seniors and students do not come and go when she does.

The Director of Resident Service laughed me straight in the face, and told me, once more, to leave if I did not like it here. Well, this is definitely going to happen, as I hope to graduate in a few months, and the terms of my contract do not allow me to stay after that; I am looking for a new place, to stay the rest of the year. What happened tonight made me think.

When I came home at a somewhat unusual time, I found the blackshirt who poses as a Student Liaison sneaking from door to door on my floor. When he noticed me, he jumped up high, and pushed a sheet of paper into my hands, without even looking me into the eyes. By the time his rat-like appearance had sneaked into the emergency staircase, the essence of the writing dawned on me: students are no longer welcome at New Horizons Tower, and rooms must have been vacated by April 30.

It does not really hit me, as I hope to move out soon. However, I really feel sorry about the seniors here, the other students, and the Bloorvillage neighbourhood, which will loose a unique community to the greed, status and money that has threatened much of what connects people in a big city of Toronto. I am also worried about the Dovercourt Baptist Church, who either do not care about the residence once founded, or adhere to a Gospel which is not mine.

The new management has claimed that the only people unhappy are those who hide the anonymity of the internet. Well, I'm too honest for that. You will not see me sneaking around the building, pushing letters of intimidation underneath doors, like Ian Anderson. You will not see me laughing into your face from the safety of my office, like Sylvia Teasdale. I have the courage to stand up straight and to defend my opinion.

Loose ends

2012-01-14T13:37:00.003-05:00

I just entered my final term here at Max the Mutt, which consists mostly of building a portfolio with work gathered over the past three years, producing my final film and preparing a board for presentation at Industry Night.

Over the past years, I have been working on a fistful of stories, and I picked one to use in my graduation project. Last term, I completed the character design, this term I will be developing the storyboard, and by the end of the term, I hope to produce the film. Originally, the school had a clear-cut idea of how this should be developed, but a last-minute decision was made to produce this traditionally, which means that, at least in principle, students should be able to get better results, although it implies the production will take longer. It also means that two of the courses slated for this term, i.e. Storyboarding and Toon Boom, have lost much of their purpose, as a storyboard will have been completed earlier, and most of the Toon Boom software will not be used in our production. We will see how this turns out.

Completing my education also means completing another phase of Operation Switch, and starting a new one: finding a job. I decided to put this to rest until graduation, in order to concentrate exclusively on my portfolio and my final film. It also means finding a new home, as the place where I am living now is a combined senior and student residence. Despite my age, being no longer a student does not automatically make me senior. So, lots of exciting things to look forward to, I hope to keep you informed...

Blowing and sucking

2011-06-16T21:04:00.003-04:00

As some of you know, I came into this world with a cleft lip and palate, called a harelip by some, which, in my case, means a split upper lip, upper jaw and palate, a slight handicap which was mended in the first two years of my life, through three operations. About ten years ago, a dental surgeon accidentally pulled open a minor channel between my mouth and nasal cavities, which makes it impossible for me to build up significant air pressure in my mouth, or, in daily language, to suck or blow. Now, don't worry, ladies, this opening is adequately covered by the upper shell of my dentures. And, yes, it seems to be easy to close this channel, which involves taking out a little piece of pelvic bone, and inserting it into my palate. To sum it up, I am happy with what I have, and I had more or less forgotten about this little issue, until yesterday.

My dentist suggested to realign my upper denture, which involves my biting into a big spoonful of green paste, to take an impression of my upper jaw and palate. Afterward, the man started to pick forcibly into my palate with a set of pliers, to remove a piece of the green stuff left behind. As his attempts were quite painful, as the place essentially is one big scar, he decided to leave it there, to not hurt me any further.

I had expected to find a little 'pearl' of the green material in my mouth or nose, but I could not find anything, so I did not bother about it. However, tonight, while having dinner, I all of a sudden felt something in my nasal cavity, and in a matter of a minute or so I felt it sliding into the back of my throat, where I managed to catch it and work it out with my tongue.

To my surprise, it was a considerable lump of the green paste, which had been pushed through the channel into my nasal cavity, where it hardened out. I now realize why it was impossible for my dentist to pick it out, as the lower tip, which extended through the channel into my mouth, was only the proverbial tip of the iceberg! So, now I am the proud owner of a perfect cast of my handicap. You must be jealous!

The Tooth Faery

2011-06-10T15:34:00.002-04:00

For as long as I can remember, I've had a warm relationship with dentists. Having developed a panicky fear for these professionals, I managed to stay out of their chairs for more than 10 years, which finally resulted in a year of renovation and finally, dentures I am perfectly happy with.

The remaining elements have always been a cause of worry, the molars that keep my dentures in place have had a root canal extraction, but one of them kept rotting away.

My dentist here in Toronto made a last-ditch effort to save it, screwed it firmly into my jaw, finally decided to remove it, and cap the remaining two molars. I had more or less expected the extraction would be a piece of cake, as I felt the stupid thing was sitting loose, but today I discovered that it was only the top part which came out easily. The root had to be cut out, dug out, drilled to pieces, etc.

The good news is that nowadays I am able to experience this pleasure in a more or less relaxed state of mind, hanging upside down in the chair, the skin of my cheeks carefully folded back over my ears, waiting while the good man puts back my lower jaw in its hinges. At least, it feels like that.

Everything is stitched up, the anaesthesia is still working and next Wednesday I will get the actual caps and, hopefully, a new denture. I kept the extracted molar to put it under my pillow, together with the dentist's bill. As we all now, tonight the Tooth Faery will come by...

The Doctor is Dead, long live the Doctor!

2011-02-16T00:57:00.002-05:00

Today I stumbled across the sad news that Dr. Sketchy's Toronto is no more. After four years of anti-art school in the famous Cameron House, the organizers have called it a night, and I learnt that the last session of 2010 was actually the last session ever. I had not had the opportunity to go there since last Summer, so this sad news had totally escaped my attention.

I visited the Doctor every now and then, more often during the summer, and less and less during the school's season, with classes on Monday night, but I always enjoyed to spend another night with totally deranged idiots. With Dr. Sketchy's, the Toronto art scene lost a bit of its colour.

So for now, Brett, Katherine and Brynne: thank you so much!

More Coffee!

2011-01-30T14:17:00.003-05:00

Being a creature of habit, I usually sketch with a cup of coffee by my side. Usually, that is a small French Vanilla, so when I decided to put some more effort into my sketching, it was a logical step to scale up to a medium size.

The girls at the coffee shop around the corner know about my habit. When I line up before their counter, they usually start up my French Vanilla for me, so that it is ready when it is my turn. Well, they start up my small French Vanilla, that is.

So, recently they gave me this bewildered look of "but I thought a small French Vanilla!" and today they even gave me the now obsolete small one for free, with my medium shot. Bob Dylan already saw it coming: the times, they are a-changing!

The proof of the pudding

2010-12-20T11:56:00.003-05:00

It is the time of the year to take stock, and it is not just the time of the year, but also the time of my animation program to evaluate my progress. Believe it or not, but last term was the last full study term: what remains is tying up loose ends, building a portfolio and a demo reel, and doing a final film. However, the nagging feeling that bothered me last year, grew stronger and stronger over last term, and finally made me conclude I am not ready yet for the real world.

I generally feel that my drawing skills are good, but not at a professional level. This holds for life drawing in general, but for anything cartoony in particular. I feel I am missing a native ability to freely draw, for instance, Looney Tunes characters like Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, but I acknowledge this ability is essential to succeed in animation. This feeling is reflected by comments of some of my teachers, who expressed their opinion that I am not strong enough to be competitive yet. Although I do not agree with all of the details, I have to agree with the gist of these: I am not ready yet.

Also, I feel that the overloaded program does not leave a lot of space for students to develop themselves, and to try what works for them, and what not. For instance, I feel I am a strong background painter, but I still have not found time to complete some pieces of my own hand, which is essential for a strong portfolio. In particular, the range of animation exercises completed so far may look impressive, but the majority of these are really too basic to fit a professional reel.

As a result, I will not graduate next Spring, but take one more year to develop as an artist. Next term, I will stick to basic courses, like Life Drawing, and Drawing Heads and Features, and continue to work on animations that eventually may go in a demo reel. Over the next summer, apart from strengthening my skills, I will see if I can do some freelance illustration projects, to test my skills and, most important, to make some money. I have always kept in mind that I may need an extra year, but I do not think it is wise to totally exhaust my resources. For me, the motto for the year 2011 will be "The Proof of the Pudding is in the Eating"

Bones

2010-10-23T13:55:00.004-04:00

The Animal Drawing course has entailed the drawing of, mainly, animal skeletons, so far. That is, we have to draw a dog skeleton from three angles, a dog skull from three angles, and one of these has to be worked out as a tonal study. A horse will receive a similar treatment. On two occasions, a live dog will come to pose, and a visit to a horse stable is on the agenda, and we do some miscellaneous exercises with dogs and horses in various forms. I am happy with the tonal study of a dog skeleton, but I am not very thrilled by the idea of having to do the same with a horse. We will see...

The Great Four

2010-10-10T15:52:00.020-04:00

This week, Piet Wijn passed away. I read somewhere that Hans G. Kresse, Pieter Kuhn, Marten Toonder and Piet Wijn are considered The Great Four Dutch comic creators, and although I have not found any proof of this claim, it feels true enough to mention it here.

Hans G Kresse (1921-1992) is best remembered as the creator of 'Eric de Noorman' (Eric the Viking). His oeuvre spans a wealth of other comic series, like Vidocq and a series about native North-Americans, and illustrations in books and magazines.

Pieter Kuhn (1910-1966) created 'Kapitein Rob' (Captain Rob), who had a long series of adventures with his dog Skip on his ship 'De Vrijheid' (Freedom), more than once trying to counter the evil genius of Prof. Lupardi.

Marten Toonder (1912-2005) is considered the founding father of Dutch animation and mentor of a whole generation of illustrators and animators. His 'Ollie B. Bommel' and 'Tom Poes' (Mr. Bumble and Tom Puss) were born as main characters in a comic series for children, but ultimately grew up as mature characters, attracting a large audience of adult fans. Marten Toonder enriched the Dutch language with various words and expressions like 'minkukel', 'denkraam' and 'wees een heer in het verkeer'.

Piet Wijn(1910-2010) worked on a variety of comic series, but his most renowned creation is Douwe Dabbert, a happy old character, wandering through a fairy tale universe. He is sometimes referred to as the Mage of Dutch Comics, because of his great liking for magical fairy tale creatures.

Digital Backgrounds

2010-09-06T12:47:00.004-04:00

Last week I completed the Digital Background Painting course. To be honest, I had not expected to learn a lot, as I know about digital, about background and about painting, but I was happy to learn how to use Photoshop in a way that does not distract so much from foreground matter.

The first three backgrounds are based on layouts and colour keys provided by my teacher Vladan Ignatovic. The last two are originals.

Update (December 30th): today I learnt I passed this course with honors.

The final countdown

2010-08-20T16:48:00.005-04:00

This is my 'piece de resistance' from last year's Background Painting course. For this assignment, both the layout and the colour key were given, so it is really nothing more than an extremely neat copy. Well, it is good to know that, should I fail as an artist, I can still start a career as a fraudster or a xerox machine.

Halfway this summer I finally got my grading chart. I passed Life Drawing, Cartooning and Storyboarding, high passed Animation Basics, but was really surprised to learn that I high passed Layout and passed with honours for Storytelling. To sum it up, I passed my Second Year in Animation.

Next Monday I hope to start my Third Year, with an intensive two week course in Digital Background Painting. The other courses for this term are Life Drawing, Animal Drawing, Character Design, Animation Basics, Drawing Hands and Feet, and Drawing for Animation. Let's see what happens.

Looking back on Noda

2010-08-20T16:34:00.004-04:00

It felt like a place of magic, and I was not really surprised that it was hard to shoot pictures there, as it was dimly lit and I could not stand where I had wanted to stand, to get the composition right. Years after, I decided to turn this Atago shrine from Noda, Japan, into an animation background, and I was quite happy with the result. Here you can see the original picture, the rough and clean layout and, finally, the gouache.

He, buddy, can you soak my head?

2010-07-09T16:40:00.002-04:00

I was cleaning the school's entrance with a garden hose, in an oppressive heat that felt like 40° C, and the man took of his hat and bent his head, red-burnt and bald. I hesitated for a moment, wondering whether I would really do him a favour by aiming the powerful jet from my hose on his scalp, and right when I thought I would ask him to close his ears, I noticed. He had asked me to soak his hat, and he had not been bending his head in anticipation: he was looking down into his hat, waiting for me to wet it. So, I aimed my jet at his hat, he thanked me and walked on.

I still wonder what would have happened if I had missed that momentarily clear mind...

Forgotten

2010-07-05T13:46:00.003-04:00

A bad memory has its advantages. It helps to forget bad things, to forgive bad people and sometimes it surprises me with good things I had forgotten about. The following sketch falls in the latter category, I did it during my first Christmas break here in Toronto. I called it 'Candle Magic' and still like it. Help me remember I paint this one day.

Quickies with Hawthorne

2010-07-05T13:17:00.006-04:00

It is already more than one year ago that I did a series of quick studies in Hawthorne's style. Charles Hawthorne (1873-1930) taught painting as the 'mechanics of putting one spot of colour next to another', an approach which is brilliant in its simplicity. The school's introduction to painting builds upon exactly this foundation, and students spend most of their time scanning and comparing colours. I believe that Hawthorne played it a little rougher than our teacher, and he encouraged his students to do quick studies with the painting knife. I decided to follow his suggestion with one change: I painted digitally in Photoshop.

It is extremely good practice, and I hope to do a few more this summer. And yet, from an applied art perspective there is so much more to learn about painter, and it is itching more and more that I currently do not have a chance to develop more as a painting. I would love to play with brushwork, to study specific oil techniques, like glazing, and to study the old masters. I am afraid one life is too short to do what I want to do.

11 Seconds

2010-06-16T19:13:00.006-04:00

Last month I finally found time to join the '11 Second Club' , a monthly animation contest where competitors create an animation which fits a given sound fragment. My education focusses on animation exercises, and the Club gave me an opportunity to do a short movie from start to finish. Although the final score for my entry 'Office Hours', 45th out of 127 entries, was a little disappointing, it was really rewarding to see how the various parts of my education, i.e. storytelling, storyboarding, layout, animation, cleanup and inbetweening and background painting, fit together. I hope to give it another try in July.

This effort was even more rewarding because I used my own software, dubbed 'Sweatbox', to assemble the various parts of my movie. I was never really happy with the available products for line testing, like Flipbook, Toonboom Pencil Test and Monkey Jam, so I decided to write my own. Now, Sweatbox needs a lot more polishing before I even consider publishing it, but being able to combine old and new expertise gave me a lot of satisfaction.

The Kettle of the Family

2010-06-15T22:53:00.003-04:00

Sometimes I am starting to believe it has always been there, standing on a small table in a corner of our living room, but I know my father had found it on a dunghill, where it had been used to transport the excrements of the cows. The owner had told my father he could keep it, my father brought it home, my mother almost got a seizure, but days of cleaning and polishing finally revealed a beautiful copper kettle. After more than 40 years, my mother still keeps it in her home. It feels like an icon.

I finally got a chance to portray it. Last year I had hoped to do it during my holidays, but I found there was no place in the big city of Emmeloord that carries oil paint. This year I returned, bringing my own oils, and spent a few days to do the job. I do not say this easily, but I like this portrait.

Some more anatomy

2010-05-15T10:45:00.003-04:00

I stumbled across some of my anatomy work: enjoy.

Warning: contains nudity

2010-04-27T17:24:00.002-04:00

Now that school is over I have finally time to return to my beloved Dr. Sketchy's and The Keyhole Sessions. Yesterday, Dr. Sketchy's featured Lena Love in absolutely extravagant outfits, which reminded me of things I thought I had already forgotten. Enjoy. You have been warned.

Two years

2010-04-11T14:44:00.008-04:00

The second year is over: it was a year of struggling. While I felt I learnt an awful lot in my First Year, I have this nagging feeling that this Second Year did not bring me where I had hoped to be.

A number of courses just did not work for me. I had really been looking forward to 'Storytelling and story development', but where I feel that storytelling is a skill that needs to be practiced, the course mainly consisted of theory on characters and story structure, watching a lot of cartoons to illustrate the theory, and three ultra-short story assignments, each aiming at 30-60 seconds of screen time. I had always wanted to do a course on storytelling; it is still on my list.

Anatomy was not really bad, but the 7 hours per week spent with it made me expect to learn a lot more. In those hours, consisting of a class, a lab and a video lecture, we got a rough overview of the skeleton and the main muscle groups, everything restricted to the torso, upper arms and upper legs, we spent a lot of time drawing the various bones, and plaster models with muscles, and drawing live models with attention to the various anatomical 'landmarks', where the emphasis seemed to be more on producing nice drawings, than on gathering accurate anatomical knowledge. I studied anatomy before, but I am still puzzled by how muscles interact and change in action, so I will continue to study this on my own.

Cartooning was the biggest disappointment for me, mainly because I firmly believe in how it should be based upon life drawing skills, while the teaching in no way connected to these underpinnings. A good deal of time was spent on material that is really worth studying, like trees, clothing and shoes and furniture, but for me it makes no sense to study it in a cartooning context. The school defends 'From the general to the specific' as a guiding principle, which to me really means to first study the real thing, and only then to move to its abstraction. Next year we will learn about heads and features, hands and feet, and the clothed model, and a good deal of Cartooning should build upon that. I still have not passed this course, will spend some more time on it during the summer, but it is in the same category as Storytelling and Anatomy, in that it did not really work for me.

The main struggle was Life Drawing, my favourite course in every respect, and also the course I spend most of my time with. I had expected that the variety of exercises I have went through in the past two years would have resulted in a useful skill set, but for now I am a little disappointed to see how gestures, contours and box forms have remained just gestures, contours and box forms. On the other hand, life drawing is complex matter, maybe I am just expecting too much.

I came to the conclusion I am more of a painter than a draftsman, seeing the world as in colours, light and dark, and not so much in lines. My linework, consequently, seems to be a little underdeveloped, so this is definitely an area to work on. For an animator, lines are fundamental!

It also was a year of technicalities, with a sea of time spent on those parts of the process of creating a movie that do not necessarily deliver 'nice' output. I learned a lot in Layout, Storyboarding, Cleanup and Inbetweening, but really nothing worth showing here.

Of course, there was Animation Basics, which step by step teaches the fundamentals of animation, like squash and stretch, anticipation and overlapping action, through a series of exercises, like the Bouncing Ball, the Rollercoaster, the Profile Walk, the Splash, the Cannon Blast and the 3/4 Walk. I showcase these on youtube. And, finally, there was Background Painting, one of my favourites, which I mentioned earlier in this blog.

I will conclude with two 'reductive drawings', which were started with an eraser on paper that has been chalked grey. These are part of a series of four, with model clothed and nude, in lines and grey. Enjoy.

Two years (almost)

2010-03-17T21:02:00.003-04:00

It is almost two years ago that I came here at Max the Mutt. That is, two years of study and practice. Exercises. And more exercises. Gestures. Blind contours. Modelling. Quick contours. Silhouettes. Extended gestures. Reductive drawings. If I may compare learning to draw with learning to sing, we spent two years on breathing exercises and scales. And never do we sing a song.

At the end of Year 1, with two years to go, the notion that we were just doing exercises, helped me relax. However, now, at the end of Year 2, it makes me slightly nervous. Am I on the right track? Will I ever be the skilled draftsman I want to be?

My teacher took some time to explain the rest of the curriculum to me. Where we are now and where we will be next year. He told me that we are actually doing in 3 years what is normally done in 4 years. It takes 10 years to polish these skills. I still need to talk to next year's teacher, to get a little more insight in what is expected.

For now, I can only find comfort in my sketchbook, which every now and then shows me drawings that I really like. And these drawings do not show up there automagically. They are mine.

Today it happened again. At Starbucks. The little girl next to me had quite a temper, and not too long after I had finished my sketch did she start to scream. She made my week.

More background information

2010-03-08T03:12:00.004-05:00

This week's assignment for Layout was a tonal background, in graphite on paper. I found it hard to control the values of the pencil on animation paper, but this comes as close to background painting as I can get.

The funny shape of the background is because the camera moves across this background in a curve, following a monkey running across the trunk in the foreground...

Wisdom for Dummies

2010-03-06T10:19:00.002-05:00

It must be the age, or maybe just Spring, but I more and more value the words of wisdom typically found in booklets with mushy titles like "Wells of Eastern Wisdom", the billboard of the Church around the corner, and the Bible. Don't worry, I still think that lots of it is cheap gibberish, but every once in a while I find something I carry with me in, usually, my heart. And yes, it is safe there, but not readily accessible for the people around me. So, I'll try to share a bit more of these.

A quote that echoes throughout the Bujinkan, a school where I used to train, is Robert L. Humphrey's Warrior Creed:

Wherever I go, everyone is a little bit safer because I am there.

Wherever I am, anyone in need has a friend.

Whenever I return home, everyone is happy I am there

I love its simplicity, just three lines, simple words, and it does not even rhyme! And yet, I must admit I recognize myself only in the first line. It's a start, but there is a lot more work to do for me...

Daniel 1

2010-02-27T21:40:00.005-05:00

This week, I was reminded of the biblical Daniel, who had refused Nebuchadnezzar's royal food and wine and asked "Please test your servants for ten days: Give us nothing but vegetables to eat and water to drink. Then compare our appearance with that of the young men who eat the royal food, and treat your servants in accordance with what you see."

The Max the Mutt weblog apologizes "I hadn’t realized that soda pop had snuck into our vending machine! I’ve asked that it be replaced with water and juice".

We are so lucky to have this school which really cares about our health, and you know what, I'm not the only one, the convenience store around the corner is happy too!

And then, there was animation...

2009-12-17T10:43:00.001-05:00

It all started with a bouncing ball. It is simple animation exercise which teaches you about basic animation principles like 'squash and stretch'. Not too exciting, neither were other exercises like falling paper, waving line, rollercoaster, pendulum clock, until we did a profile walk.

A profile walk cycle is one of the more advanced beginner exercises, where things learned in the earlier exercises are tied together. I choose to animate a simple 'Chaplinesque' character in a nice and speedy walk, with a small prefix, just for fun.

The final exercise of this term was a flour sack exercise, which frees you from the burden of keeping a more or less anatomical character alive. Your character is a flour sack, where the four corners play the role of hands and feet, which is simple enough to draw, allowing you to go wild on acting. We were to animate a jump, but I find inspiration for some more walking and, finally, a real Fosbury Flop.

Driving my horses at once

2009-12-11T11:38:00.003-05:00

For a year and a half we have been studying the basic concepts of life drawing, i.e gestures, contours, modelling and masses, emphasizing the underlying process, without much attention for the product. One of our directors tends to explain that 'the pregnancy is more important than the child', and although I'm not totally happy with the comparison, the message is clear.

It is only in our second year that we are learning how to use these tools, integrating these into a process that is ignited through gesture, channelling this energy into more and more concrete masses, polished with delicate outlines. We have got the chisels, hammers, sandpaper and a nice piece of wood: let's make something beautiful!

Although a fine and sharp chisel is essential for a skilful carving, it is no guarantee. Yes, I do have a basic understanding of gestures and masses and contours, but the use of these tools still puzzles me: all too often the creative impulse of the gesture gets lost in my attempts to get things Right, or the final result still consists of shapeless energy. This requires a lot more training.

My main achievement of last term is a small breakthrough in my gestures. All of a sudden, I noticed how I made a lot of observations in my head, without ever entrusting them to the paper, which meant they all too often were lost forever. Realizing this allowed me to be more intuitive, loosening up, which really shows in my work.

Background information

2009-12-05T16:05:00.003-05:00

The end of the term is near, it is time to wrap up. One of my favourite classes was 'Background Painting', and it makes me a little melancholic that this is already the last painting course of my program. Maybe I'll grab the opportunity to learn more about painting at the Academy of Realist Art, but for an animator, drawing is much more important, so for now, I'm done.

Background painting consists mainly of painting someone else's layout according to someone else's colour key, so although it requires true craftsmanship, I did not find it really exciting. My favourite piece was based on my own layout, but I left it at school for the end-of-year show. So, all I can show here are some pieces that did not make it into the expo. Enjoy!

Royal Winter Fairy Tales

2009-11-21T23:18:00.004-05:00

Max the Mutt paid an annual visit to the Royal Winter Fair. I discovered too late that the official name is Royal Agricultural Winter Fair, which spoiled part of the fun. It is an exhibition of live stock and everything associated, and, yes, that is sheep and horses and cows and, most exotic, a lama and, no, I don't think it was the dalai variety.

What made my day was the fact that freshly shaven sheep were protected against the cold by a funny one-size-fits-all hooded suit, with big holes for eyes, ears and nose. The hood made them look like the good old-fashioned executioner, which gave them an evil look and feel. These creepy creature really looked like sheep in wolfskin...

9999999999 luftballons

2009-10-06T20:58:00.006-04:00

It must have happened in Primary 1. We learnt to write from a book suspiciously titled 'First clear, then fast'. For each of the letters of the alphabet and each digit, we were first to trace them, then we had to complete a dashed version and, finally, we had to write them completely, neatly between four lines in our notebook, following the correct order of lines the mistress had shown us. I hated it.

I will never forget the day we learned to write the digit '9' and the mistress demonstrated a series of '9's, each starting inside the top curl, ending at the tail. In a flash of genius, I spotted the flaw in her performance, and immediately devised an optimization: I jotted down a fast series of curls, adding the tails in a second sweep. Needless to say, I was done before my classmates had even started, and I spent the rest of the class beaming with pride.

It did not take too long for the mistress to notice my exceptional skills, and she told me to come and stand in front of the classroom, as an example: "Look everybody at what Izak has done! He did not write 9's as everybody else, no, he has been drawing balloons!" And I promised myself to never ever develop a clear handwriting. Fifteen years later I went to University to study Computer Science.

And now I am a Second Year Art Student. Whereas the First Year at Max the Mutt is very much process oriented, teaching the tools of the trade, the Second Year is more and more product oriented, producing decent stuff. One of the things that will one day make me break my own fingers in agony, is a phenomenon called 'line quality': clean and smooth lines, that express the nature of whatever they represent. It is very much tied to motor skills, which is one of the things that develops only slowly once you have reached my age. This is not going to be an easy year.

On the other hand, I feel that my teachers will make me push harder, lifting my art to new levels, chasing me out of my comfort zone (that's where the pillows are). My Life Drawing teacher has more or less forbidden me to use the hatching style I came to admire, forcing me back to basics. And I am doing as I am told, curious as I am where this will lead me.

As a 'Farewell to Hatching' I visited The Keyhole Sessions Girls.Grease.Rope event during Toronto's Nuit Blanche. Two chicks on a motor cycle lured the crowds that came in to watch and draw six adorable models posing in a girl's Fight Club scene. I joined from 22:00 till 0:30 to jot down some quick group poses.

On top of this, I paid a visit to Dr. Sketchy's for a night of burlesque life drawing.

And for now, back to work!

Pigeons in retrospect

2009-09-12T17:23:00.007-04:00

The pigeons have grown up and left the nest. Time to look back...

Who is afraid of black and white?

2009-08-24T22:13:00.004-04:00

The first painting exercise for school, almost one year ago, involved doing a collage of a painting by Vermeer, 'The Astronomer' in my case. The exercise taught us to see the world around us as an abstract black and white painting, as meaningless shapes in various shades of gray.

Keeping the original, or actually a xerox of the original, upside down, I spent a few days identifying the various shapes, finding a matching value in my set of pre-painted sheets of paper, cutting out the shape with a razor-sharp scalpel and glueing it into position. And this was only the beginning...

Tadaaaaaaaa!

2009-08-13T13:07:00.003-04:00

This week's Dr Sketchy's featured Wrong Note Rusty, a young man doing outrageous things with his trombone, an umbrella and a cute little seal. In the final contest, Rusty choose my submission as his favorite, so I was proclaimed winner, and received an otherwise scandalous book with male pin-ups. One day, wealth and fame will be mine...

AJ

2009-08-08T10:35:00.003-04:00

One of the students in our residence passed away unexpectedly. I did not know him very well, he was not a Max the Mutt student, but I will always remember him as a kind young man.

A beautiful bird, flying up to New Horizons.

A pleasant surprise

2009-07-24T17:27:00.003-04:00

Today I got back the last painting I did in the first term: an egg painted in cool and warm, that is blueish and orangish, grays. Although I had known about warm highlights and cool shadows, I only came to fully understand the principle in the course of Representational Painting. In this exercise I applied it more or less intuitively, without giving it much thought, which resulted in a pleasant looseness I had never appreciated until today. The rest of the term was more of a rational struggle with the notion of temperature change, and I can only hope one day you will see this painterly quality back in my work...

It's a shame! (heheheh)

2009-07-22T22:49:00.005-04:00

In a local bookstore I had found a flyer of The Keyhole Sessions, dubbed 'The raciest life-drawing class you’ll ever experience.' I could not let this go by unchecked, so yesterday I paid them a visit. Racy indeed.

Due to the fact that its location is not a public place, they have some more options to make things... ahem... well... interesting. This week we had a model of somewhat dominant character, and after the break she was joined by a girl, stylishly wrapped up in Japanese kinbaku bondage.

At the other side of the frontline, I found the usual crowd of artists, armed with the usual sketchpads, pencils, crayons and even one tablet pc. I discerned some fellow students and Dr. Sketchy regulars. All in all, a well-spent evening.

Brush your teeth three times a day!

2009-07-19T11:45:00.003-04:00

I am afraid of the dentist. At least I thought so, until a psychologist told me it is not so much the person I'm afraid of, more so the actual treatment. My dentist from Gouda at least did one thing right: he introduced me to Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema.

On the ceiling, right above The Chair, he had tacked a reproduction of a painting which had kept me mesmerized, if it had not been for the drilling. At home, I could not wait to look it up on the internet, and I did so after the pain had gone. The painting was 'A Coign of Vantage' by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, a Dutch artist who never got much recognition in his home country, and only gathered fame after he had left for Victorian England. I loved this man! Or rather, it was more his work that I loved, especially the scenes from Classical Antiquity, with marble and grotesque and robes and women and everything.

For the course 'Color and Water-based media', I had to choose an existing piece of artwork to reproduce in a monochromatic color scheme. So, I took my chance and did 'A Coign of Vantage', with the result shown here. It still reminds me of my dentist.

When I visited my dentist last summer he had replaced 'A Coign of Vantage' by some lame sunset with beach and palms. It was my last visit. I guess I'll have to find another dentist.

Plaster cast study

2009-07-11T10:49:00.002-04:00

I had always wanted to do a plaster cast study, but it was not until a few weeks ago that I found a suitable cast (for those interested, it is an eye from Michelangelo's David). The study of plaster casts is a traditional exercise in art education, which forces one to observe and replicate the values of light and shadow.

Had I been younger, I probably would have chosen to go to a traditional atelier to spend years on studying the nuts and bolts of representational art. However, I severely doubt whether I will ever be able to sell these traditional skills, so therefore I decided to go for Animation, as a field of applied art. But whenever I have the chance I will continue to do something traditional.

A second chance

2009-07-08T18:50:00.003-04:00

You remember the pigeons? Well, I thought the mother of the two was hiding in a flower box at the other side of the balcony, but it appeared this was a second pigeon, with its own set of eggs. Today, they hatched out, and the little babies are quite adorable!

A tribute

2009-06-29T23:26:00.003-04:00

Tonight, Dr Sketchy paid a tribute to Michael Jackson. I must say I'm by no means a fan of the man, although I recognize his role in the history of pop music, so I was a little reluctant to join. Fortunately, our model Katherine brought us an interpretation of the phenomenon gorgeous enough to count me among her fans. Here are two 5 minute quickies and two 10 minute poses.

Just her mother

2009-06-19T11:58:00.003-04:00

I had hoped to cover the whole development from snug eggs to cute little chicks to nice young birds etc., but during my vacation in The Netherlands in the last two weeks, the eggs hatched out.

In retrospect, I think my expectations were somewhat colored by the modern Eastern industry, and what I found in our flower box were not exactly sweet soft and yellow balls of plush in a bed of flowers and chocolate eggs.

Boy, they are downright ugly. And they smell. Their mother is hiding at the other side of the balcony, which is quite understandable. My guess so far is that some evil person has replaced the eggs by ostrich eggs, which promises some nice scenes in the next few weeks. I'll keep you informed.

Today

2009-05-29T00:49:00.002-04:00

With your long and tender hands you lifted it, careful not to break it. With your loving eyes you took your time to see how beautifully it was made, admiring all of its details.

I don't even know how long I had been watching the woman who had picked a flower from the trash can on the street. Yesterday I had ignored her when she asked me for some small change, and I had recognized the bewildered look of someone who had escaped CAMH on Queen Street West. Today she caught my attention, and I saw the eyes and hands of an artist.

They say that one man's trash is another man's treasure. Let me add that one man's idiot is another man's artist and that one man's day is another man's tomorrow.

Dr Sketchy

2009-05-25T23:51:00.004-04:00

They are idiots, but I came to believe they are mostly harmless. Dr Sketchy organizes life drawing sessions, and to ensure a pleasant ambiance, the sessions take place in a local pub. To compensate for the fact that nude posing is not legally allowed there, they invite extraordinary models 'from burlesque entertainers to the transgendered to the just plain fabulous!' I had to look up 'burlesque' in my dictionary, still don't get it, but let's summarize it as 'interesting'.

Tonight our model was Dew Lily from Boylesque, posing as Easter Bunny with eggs, rider with crop, and toy boy in corsetry. What I learned from the experience is that it is much easier for me to sketch in pen, while before I went back to school I felt so much more comfortable with pencil. I really love pencilwork, so I really need to spend more time sketching in pencil.

Here are some of the longer 10-15 minute poses.

Pigeon

2009-05-23T12:41:00.004-04:00

One of my neighbours drew my attention to a pigeon having a nest in the flower box on our balcony. There seem to be two eggs, and I hope to get a chance to shoot a picture of these while mommy is shopping...

Your majesty

2009-04-29T09:49:00.003-04:00

As I told you last year, I will not be able to attend your birthday party at April 30. I hope you appreciate my portrait, instead of me singing our national anthem with orange ribbons in my hair...

Year 1 Show

2009-04-27T13:43:00.020-04:00

It is over. I gathered some loose ends, helped painting the school and setting up the Year 1 Show and that was it. My first year at Max the Mutt is over. What a year...

Setting up the Year 1 show was a great opportunity to review all student work submitted: there was a lot more work than could be shown at the exposition. The school had a video made, which will be shown at the school's website, I believe that all work will be photographed, and yours truly shot an impression of the opening. For those of you lucky enough to live in the GTA, the show will be open during this week, for opening hours please see the school's website

In the meantime, I will show you some of my personal favorites.

Representational Painting teaches to paint what you see, through a time-consuming process of meticulous scanning and comparing values and colors. Though I had painted before, I had never learned it the proper way, and I really loved this class. Above are shown the main still life and homework paintings from the first semester (black and white) and the second semester (color).

Principles of Drawing teaches the basics of the basics, that is, the systematical construction of a drawing through the careful measuring of distances and angles, using construction lines and plumb lines. Shown are a self portrait, a drapery study and a copy of Dürer's 'Study of the Robes of Christ'.

Beginning life drawing teaches the foundation of life drawing from Kimon Nicolaides' 'The Natural Way to Draw', through exercises that challenge you to perceive the model through all available senses. Above I have shown modeling exercises in Conté and ink, and a compilation of gestures.

Design and composition teaches how to seduce, entertain, charm, guide and teach an audience through the smart use of visual design elements like grids, cantilevers, triangles, curvilinear and color, both through analyzing existing designs in a journal and through applying these principles in new designs. Shown is a color design for a CD cover.

Perspective and Structural Drawing teaches the basics of one-point, two-point, three-point and four-point perspective. This was my least favorite class, probably through a clash with the mathematician inside me and the artistic approach taught here. Above is shown a city scape in three-point perspective.

Color and Water-based Media introduced us to color theory, through Itten's seven color contrasts, and the use of gouache, water color and acrylics. I did not learn a lot new concepts here, just got another opportunity to play with color, which is always welcome. Here I show an exploration in the contrasts of value, complement, hue and simultaneous.

Also, we had lessons in History of Animation, and Acting and Improvisation. Both were a pleasant experience, but they did not yield anything that I can show here.

This past semester, I received a High Pass for History of Animation, Principles of Drawing, Perspective and Structural Drawing and Representational Painting, and I even got a Pass with Honors for Life Drawing and Color and Water-based Media. It was a good year.

Operation 'Switch' - Finale

2009-04-07T10:25:00.003-04:00

I bought a ticket and picked a date, three days before departure, to leave my apartment. It left me a few months to reduce my belongings to something that could be stored and transported to Canada, if needed. That is, no furniture and nothing with a power plug. The clock was ticking.

I put a whole series of advertisements on Marktplaats, and waited for potential buyers. Selling all I had appeared more time consuming and frustrating than I had ever expected, because not only was most of my furniture not worth a dime, but, moreover, the vast majority of prospective buyers was either not serious or downright unreliable. Most of them did not respond to emails, with some I reached an agreement, but they never showed up, and some changed their mind last-minute. There were a number of pleasant surprises which kept me up and running, like the gentleman who bought my nice Stokke Peel fauteuil for €1000, and over the summer I saw my apartment getting emptier and emptier. I kept one option in reserve: the local thrift store was willing to come and get all leftovers.

Two weeks before departure I had a farewell dinner with my family, for whom I had written a book 'Over mijn Schouder' about me and my art, to leave them something personal for the time they would not see me. They loved it. When I arrived in my almost empty home I realized that the final phase of Operation 'Switch' had started. That final week was a killer week.

It started with removing the carpet throughout the apartment. Twelve years earlier I had instructed the men who installed it, to make sure it could be removed easily, because one day I would have to restore the apartment into its original state, and at that day I would no doubt be very busy, in the middle of a removal. I had never expected that these words would ever prove to be prophetical. Neither had the carpeteers, so in my study and bedroom they had glued everything to my concrete floors with their strong super glue. While it had taken me four hours to remove the carpet from my living, where it was glued onto felt-like under-carpet, it took me one day to clear the study, and I did not even have time to clear the bed room.

Two days before I had to leave my apartment I sold my bed and I had a farewell party with friends, and one day before leaving was a day of total madness. The thrift store came to pick up my washing machine, lots of small stuff and my fridge. That is, weeks earlier they had told me they would take it, but that very day, they refused to take it because it was twelve years old. My explanation that I had to completely empty my apartment that day did not impress the men at all. However, when they discovered the small cart I had used to move things around, I told them they could use my cart to move everything down to their van, if they took my fridge, which they finally did. The man who bought my computer arrived at the same time as the man who bought my monitor, so they could both see everything working, and in the evening I sold my car and moved a stack of boxes to a self-storage facility.

The day I had to leave my apartment I first hired a car, and then drove two car loads of trash to the local rubbish dump. It had started to rain so hard that I was soaked by the time I returned, and it appeared to be impossible to load all things I had wanted to bring to my family into the car. And just when I realized I would not make it in time, my landlord called me to apologize he would be late. I accepted his apology and we arranged that I would leave my keys in his office next day.

With one more day to go, I took my time to load the car, clean up the last things, post a few letters and make a few last phone calls. That night, I went to my mother to leave a car load of things like a printer, a vacuum cleaner, a three-piece suit and all other things I had kept for those interested, and the next day I returned the car and the keys of my apartment.

After a real short weekend with my family, it was time to say goodbye and my brother-in-law brought me to my hotel in Amsterdam. The next day I took the bus to the airport, and the rest is history.

Operation 'Switch' had taken more than one year to complete and, to quote Dickens, it was the best of times, and it was the worst of times. It exhausted me, physically and psychologically, and it made me realize once more I had turned over a new leaf. A whole new leaf.

Never too old to be young...

2009-02-13T09:32:00.004-05:00

This week we watched the classical 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs' in our 'History of Animation' class, preceded by a 'Making of...' which featured a number of scenes and songs which never made it into the final cut. It's a must for all animation students, and I'm really happy our school takes time to screen it!

One of the songs which did not survive is 'You're never too old to be young' and it was exactly this song which triggered old memories. It must have been my seventh birthday when I got a single with songs from Snow White, and this week I recognized that 'You're never too old to be young' was one of them. That is, the melody was the same, but the text was 'translated' as "Ik ben maar een dwerg, is dat erg?", which means something like "I'm only a dwarf, ain't that bad?"

Those days my parents had bought themselves a new stereo set, which featured a rather primitive changing mechanism for singles, and I had never seen it working until a friend of the family dropped by, who spent some time to get it working. And right when the first single moved into position, my mother interfered with a hurried "Ah, yes, it's okay now, I see how it works, thank you very much" but it was too late and she turned deep purple when a cheerful "I'm only a dwarf, ain't that bad" filled the room.

This week, 37 years after, I felt some of the embarrassment my mother must have felt. I can only hope our visitor, a little person himself, did not feel too bad about it...

Operation 'Switch' - Startup

2009-01-09T12:29:00.006-05:00

I started a long list of North-American art schools worth investigating, including Ringling in Florida, CCAD in Ohio, SCAD in Atlanta, Watts Atelier in California, and Sheridan and Max the Mutt in Ontario, Canada. It felt liberating to allow myself to look everywhere, without self-imposed restrictions or preconceptions. The sky was my limit but, of course, I had to be practical.

Right when I started to believe that Ringling, with its tuition of about $13000, might be affordable, someone clarified that this tuition is per semester. Top art schools in North America are expensive, and for most of these I severely doubt whether the education is worth its tuition. From a practical point of view, this made pruning down my long list a lot easier. Also, I had prepared a questionnaire I sent to the art schools listed, and quite a number of schools failed to respond. The Max the Mutt Animation school in Toronto was one of the schools that responded with a genuine interest in me, and I put this school at the top of my short list.

I was able to keep my short list short, mostly because the majority schools are not affordable for me, without any financial support, but also because I'm a bit wary about the political climate in the United States. I soon narrowed my search down to Canada, down to Toronto and decided to apply to Max the Mutt in the Fall of 2007 and, in case I was not accepted, to apply to Sheridan in the Spring of 2008.

In the meantime, my time with my employer had come to an end. A farewell dinner, presents and a farewell card, where my boss wrote that he would remember me when he saw the next Tom and Jerry cartoon. Now, it was portfolio time.

I took a month to prepare the required portfolio pieces, including an interior, an exterior, a drawing of my hand, still lifes, pages from my sketchbook, and cartoons. For the interior I choose Gouda's beautiful St. Janskerk, and for the exterior I went to Rotterdam's old water tower 'De Es'. This was more challenging than I had hoped, in a time of the year when days are getting shorter and colder, and I caught a nasty cold. I went to the Rotterdam Zoo 'Blijdorp' to add some animal drawings to my sketchbook, and I spent a few hours in the local mall to add some more life drawings; it was fun to see how much animals and people have in common. Concurrently, I prepared and passed the required Test Of English as a Foreign Language, and scored a nice 110 out of 120. I submitted the application package and moved my attention towards 'Wullie'.

Wullie was the name of the freelance company I had founded to get the flexibility to alternate between making money and operation 'Switch'. In December I got my first project, which involved programming a robot to cut huge slabs of concrete, which was a welcome diversion for someone who had always spent his time on relatively abstract, financial and logistical programming jobs. And then, I got great news: I was accepted by Max the Mutt!

It meant the start of period of formalities, mainly to sign contracts and to apply for a Study Permit, and to prepare my actual move to Toronto. This moved on quite smoothly and fit in neatly with Wullie. The first project came to an end, I failed to find a second project, because companies are reluctant to hire a freelancer who is ready to quit his job and leave the country. Disappointing as this was, it finally appeared a blessing in disguise: planning to move to Toronto is one thing, but actually moving is another thing...

Joseph Gillain

2009-01-06T15:13:00.004-05:00

The usual colourful cover of 'Robbedoes' had been replaced by a simple black and white image, featuring a circle of cowboys staring at the empty spot in their middle. It was the summer of 1980: Jijé had died.

Joseph Gillain was the founding father of the 'Marcinelle School' of Belgian Comics, characterised by living lines and a great sense of humour. Quite a number of the heroes from my younger days, i.e. Franquin, Morris, Peyo and Giraud, had learned the art of comics from this one mentor, who is not only the spiritual father of Jerry Spring and 'Blondin et Cirage', but who can also be considered the spiritual grandfather of even more popular characters like Gaston Lagaffe, Lucky Luke, the Smurfs and Blueberry.

The special edition of 'Robbedoes' included a short overview of Jijés life and work through interviews with his pupils, radiating a warm affection towards their teacher. One fact mentioned has remained with me ever since: Gillain taught his pupils to draw without looking at their paper. As a 14-year old this grossly impressed me: someone who can draw without looking at the paper must be really really really good. And now, at the age of 42, I still think so.

This week, the second term of my education at the Max the Mutt Animation School has started. Yesterday I got my final evaluation over the first term. I got a Pass for 'Design and Composition' and 'Perspective and Structural Drawing', and a High Pass for 'Acting and Improvisation', 'Beginning Life Drawing', 'Principles of Drawing' and 'Representational Painting'. Of these, 'Design and Composition' and 'Acting and Improvisation' are finished. New courses will be 'Colour and Water-based Media' and 'History of Animation'. The other courses will continue into the second semester, although the teachers are shuffled around, to allow students to get a new view on old material.

Today I had my first 'Beginning Life Drawing' class by Vivian, a respectable lady who follows Nicolaides' 'The Natural Way to Draw to the letter. Other than my previous teacher she encourages us to draw without looking at the paper, in order to train our observation, as opposed to training our memory. This morning I once more felt the wisdom of this approach, and I promised myself to stick to it. It may mean a short dip in the development of my drawing abilities, as my eye-hand coordination feels a little below par, but I believe it is worth the effort in the long run. Let's see what happens...

Sneak attack

2008-12-11T21:38:00.005-05:00

She did not see it coming. Neither she, nor her little girl had a chance. Even the security guard, happily chatting with his colleague, was completely clueless. I doubt he had noticed me, and even if he had, he would never have suspected that I was not just sitting there sipping my mocca. Months ago he had once spotted me, when I was careless, and asked what I was doing there. Just drawing, sir. And I showed him my sketchbook. Just drawing. Right.

I am not sure what made me choose her among the crowd at the Dufferin Mall. Maybe it was her walk, which explicitly involved her hips and shoulders in a rhythmical movement that waved through her body, ending in her beautiful dark brown hair. Or maybe it just was her child, holding her hand, riding the same wave. Two is so much more challenging than just one...

Cat Stevens sang that the first cut is the deepest, and I could not have expressed it better. With a quick confident stroke I made it to her spine, and as soon I felt I tapped her life force, I left her for a while to move to her daughter. Young and playful as she was, she escaped the first few slashes, and it took me three or four more strokes to get that wonderful feeling of life surging through my fingers, hands and upward. Knowing that I had gained control in a few seconds, I moved back to the mother, securing her bouncing hips and, as in one movement, her shoulders, along her arm back to the girl to catch that jumpy curly style of energy. It was over in less than a minute, and the last thing I remember was the soft feeling of her hair and a loosely falling coat. I will keep my trophy.

All that reminds me of that beautiful lady and her daughter is a quick scribble in my sketchbook, or a 'gesture' as it is usually called. Gesture was introduced by Kimon Nicolaides in the 1930s as the primary impulse of subject matter, the emotional response, the unifying element or, more poetic, what the wind is for the trees that it bends. His "The Natural Way to Draw" has been required literature for art students ever since. My instructor Nina teaches to approach the gesture inside out, starting at the core and working from there to the outside, like a sculptor sticking his clay onto a wire frame and I believe there is wisdom in these words.

I still feel myself being distracted by relative details like folds in skin or drapery and other external features, so I really need to urge myself to go for that spine, which gives our brain hands and feet, and to search for the hips and shoulders that make us rock and roll. And yet, I feel this is only the beginning of the story, since the gesture is so much more than just an anatomical skeleton. Years ago, when I first met Nicolaides, I concluded that gesture is that which cannot be drawn, and I still believe this is essential.

As for now, I will keep studying the gesture, through the daily work in my sketchbook. I'm not alone, as this is required practice for all Max the Mutt students. We are with many, lurking from the corners of Toronto malls, subway stations, busses, streets and parks. We want you, your impulse, your energy, your gesture. You will never see it coming, and it is over in a minute. At most. You will never be safe. Nowhere. Your life will never be the same...

It's magic!

2008-12-06T13:23:00.001-05:00

I must admit I giggled too, as my first association was that of Statler and Waldorf from The Muppets, but our Animation Director asked us to show some respect, as the two men in this documentary were Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston, two legendary animators who were part of Disney's dream team, dubbed the 'Nine Old Men'.

Frank and Ollie talked about their working on an impressive range of classics, from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (1937) till The Fox and the Hound (1981), and the documentary was interspersed with short fragments of these movies.

And then, there was silence. The audience, a happy bunch of somewhat noisy young people plus yours truly, ready to start their education at the Max the Mutt School of Animation, had fallen silent on seeing Snow White's funeral, with weeping and sobbing dwarves all over the place.

A fairy tale princess. Dwarves. Silence.

I had come to this place for the quality of its art education, and until then, I did not really have a strong preference for one program over the other. However, at that moment I made up my mind. If a fairy tale princess and seven dwarves, more than 70 years old, can silence a bunch of chips-eating high school kids in the 21st century, then I want to be an animator!

Some things in life are bad

2008-11-25T20:41:00.000-05:00

I am a born pessimist, but over the past few years I have experienced how an optimistic view on life can make things a whole lot easier. Incidents over the past month reminded me that the pessimist is still lurking in the shadows.

"You're generally seeing things too dark. Way too dark", said my painting teacher Trudy, followed by the advice to compensate for that. So, I struggled painting things lighter than I actually saw them, and yet, my homework painting of a yellow pepper made Trudy believe it was actually orange (now, the pepper had started to rot while I was painting, which did not really help either).

Every now and then I was surprised to find how light a shadow can be, and although my second painting of a tea pot turned out much better, I still got the comment that I was too dark. Until today, when my teacher Nina complimented me that the charcoal drawing I was working on was 'exactly right'. Not too dark? Not too dark.

The first semester is moving towards its completion, what remains after this week is a final week of evaluations. We'll see what happens. For now, I think I'll stick this one onto the wall above my bed: "And... always look on the bright side of life... Always look on the light side of life..."

Eggcercises

2008-11-21T18:18:00.000-05:00

I think it was Freud who said that "sometimes an egg is just an egg." Anyway, we were to draw eggs for homework, so I took an egg for breakfast. One of my fellow students here at NHT had forgotten to take one, so he asked the kitchen for an egg. On his explanation that he needed to draw one for homework, the kitchen lady barked: "Don't you know what an egg looks like?" Well, obviously, we did not, which was why we were requested to study the subtleties of the egg. The lady kindly provided the egg, with a final "Well, let me see what comes of it".

The story reminded me of an old Dutch joke: "Do you know how a Dutch recipe for scrambled eggs starts? Answer: 'borrow one egg'"...

Operation 'Switch' - Prologue

2008-11-14T15:31:00.000-05:00

They were not happy with me and I was not happy with them, so we decided in harmony that it was time to part. I would leave somewhere in the autumn of 2007, which would leave us four months to gather all loose ends, and for me to decide what to do next.

I think they expected me to find my sixth computer job. Over the previous 16 years I had done research in Artificial Intelligence, developed software for fashion logistics and smart cards, done research on software engineering and evaluated smart card security. My employers had one thing in common: either they were not happy with me or I was not happy with them. It was not going to happen.

Years earlier I had began to develop myself as an artist. It had started with a basic course on drawing and painting at De Werkschuit in Gouda, followed by courses on Figure Drawing and Portraiture, at this same art centre, and at De Vrije Academie and Tekenstudio Foppe in The Hague; I became a member at the Open Atelier Modeltekenen in Zoetermeer. I liked it there, and what is more, it had struck a chord in me.

Over the years, the urge to develop my artistic side became stronger and stronger, until it had reached a level where I loved to exploit my skills professionally. However, The Netherlands lack a strong entertainment industry where my skills are needed, while at the same time my skills seemed to be stuck at the level of an enthusiastic amateur. However, going back to school in your forties with no income to keep you going is no triviality, and my lack of enthusiasm about the state of the art at Dutch art academies only made it worse. The frustration grew.

It was not until Spring 2007 that I took what I thought of as a bold step. I asked my teacher Adelbert Foppe for advice: "If I want to be a professional illustrator in four years, what should I do now?" He gave it some thought and, finally, told me to drop this silly idea. Year after year, one hundred or so illustrators graduate from the Dutch art academies, and the vast majority of them fails to get themselves employed. It took me a day or so for my disappointment to wash away, and I had made up my mind: "I will be artist, and I don't care how or what others think about it." Till the present day, I owe thanks to Adelbert for his wise advise.

And yet it took one more year for me to shape my future. It was Maxine Schacker who posed the not-so-rhetorical question of "Why don't you come to Max the Mutt?" and although Maxine had not addressed me personally, it kept me busy for a day or so. As soon as I had concluded I could not answer it, I had made up my mind.

I was going back to school and this school would be somewhere in North America, with its huge entertainment industry, and matching education. While I figured out the details, I would start as a freelance software developer, to have the flexibility to combine making money and working on my artistic future. Operation 'Switch' had started.

My poppy

2008-11-10T19:14:00.000-05:00

War is an exciting episode from a history book or a horror story from a newspaper. That is, I am happy to not know about war from first-hand experience. Yes, I am happy.

The Netherlands were hit hard in World War II, but the generation that suffered is slowly passing away. I am happy to know the experiences of my parents, and although my generation feels the responsibility to pass it on to the next generation, experiences will slowly degrade into stories.

The Netherlands were happy to remain neutral in World War I, and the generation that suffered is already gone. My father, born in 1916 close to the Flanders border, had no personal memories to this period, but his mother had told him about the siege and subsequent fall of Antwerp and about the refugees that found shelter in their home. He lived to write these second-hand memories down in 'Kind Achter De Hont', a book about his happy childhood in Zeeuws Vlaanderen, and as such the story is available for future generations.

I must admit I was struck by the poppies that have flowered in the streets of Toronto since November 1. Old and young are wearing a bright red poppy on their lapel, as a preparation for Remembrance Day, as to explicitly commemorate the sacrifices of war since World War I. None of these has experienced the horrors of the trenches. Most of these have no second-hand memories. And yet, they are happy to wear the poppy.

It does not happen too often, but last week I was happy to join the masses. We were neutral, but we did not look the other way.

Harry Potter In Toronto

2008-11-09T10:41:00.000-05:00

I felt like Harry Potter visiting Diagon Alley when I made my way downtown to a local art store. The school's shopping list showed things like 'sharpies' and 'elephant ear', and while they had brushes instead of brooms, and sketchbooks as spellbooks, the mood was set.

It took my a while to notice the street I was walking was Dufferin, as opposed to Hufflepuff, and the only store that had stuck in my mind was Dervish & Banges, so I decided to pay the school a visit to ask for the name and address of the art store. So, after some more walking I finally found Hogwarts.

"You cannot go there by foot! The First Year Starter Kit weighs more than 100 pounds!" I still believed it could not be that bad, so I walked down the street to Curry's, that's the Art Store, and asked for the 'Max the Mutt First Year Starter Kit'. To summarize, I had them call a cab for me to bring the two heavy boxes, and some smaller stuff, home.

More than two months later, I still feel a bit like Harry Potter at Hogwarts. Some of the stuff taught here is downright magic, I spotted a Professor McGonnagall and we even have a little Malfoy...

Operation 'Switch'

2008-11-08T22:39:00.000-05:00

I don't think anyone had noticed it. The cabin crew of AC849, my fellow passengers, the lady at Immigration at Pearson International Airport and the taxi driver: they had not had a chance. After I had entered my apartment around 3:00 AM I took a few minutes to look in the mirror. I smiled and knew: "Operation 'Switch' had completed"...