Post by Arrats Calanthe on Nov 12, 2019 4:51:11 GMT -5
Sketching, New Faces, Death By Glamour.
If it was up to him all his sketching models would be like this. Quiet, composed and without a trace of moving or regarding him as some sort of weirdo. Truly this person was all he’d ever wanted in a sketching partner. It was like they knew exactly what his was thinking. Truly a perfect muse. Then again, it wasn’t really a human he was mentioning but an advertisement of one. This one was for jewellery of some sort. Arrats hadn’t paid much attention to the label instead he looked it over. The colour composition of the woman posing regally was quite interesting. So interesting it had earned this unknown person a spot in his notebook. Though, before he’d gotten to this point he had perched himself on a small pillar upon which he could watch the area around him. It appeared that he’d made a habit of being perched atop places like this. He was almost like a rat, scurrying up and down to find better perches to hide or watch from. An accurate comparison if ever there was one. He often felt like a rat around others, usually scurrying or slinking around instead of in the spotlight unless invited. It was pleasant to some degree though. He was free of people and could instead watch and document from a distance without keeping himself in range of them. As much as he was overjoyed to actually converse it wasn’t really something he did often. People weren’t something he did well, or at all really. He was too strange, or odd. Maybe that was because he in some way didn’t consider himself much of a human. He was content to sit and observe. That was it really. Though, his internal monologue did take up a lot of time anyway. He was still busy and if he wished to get a colour sketch done by the end of the day he’d have to snap out of his state of pondering self reflection and get back to it. Pencil in hand Arrats began again, attempting to bring about an outline of this character. His lines were strong and the strokes easy enough but once he got to the colouring he began to focus intently. He wasn’t always the best at replicating colour. His sister did it far better than he did and her time was mostly spent on weapons and the application of such. It wasn’t often he had to focus to do something like this but the design of this advertisement proved a challenge to replicate, the patterns were delicate and regal. A nobility overflowed even from the name. ‘Descartes: For the distinguished.’ Something so promising and amazing sounding truly had to be fake. Perhaps it was an elaborate scheme of some sort to trick people into a cult. Whatever it was he’d have to give kudos to the presenters behind this piece it looked intrinsically valuable.
After a few more minutes of intense sketching his hand began to ache and for a few minutes he paused allowing himself a brief respite from the surely terrible arthritic problems he’d be experiencing down the line. A brief sigh escaped him as he wondered if he’d ever actually complete this ‘little’ sketch. His little sketch had slowly and surely become something much bigger than the usual rough pieces he’d done before. It had become something that occupied not a quarter page, nor half a page. But a full page to capture this image. He was determined to make something out of it. Even if his hands gave out- which considering the speed he’d been drawing at was a definite possibility- he’d keep going for this artwork and for his own dogged sense of artistic determination. After all, he couldn’t give up. Not when he was so close to finishing it off.
(644/644)
If it was up to him all his sketching models would be like this. Quiet, composed and without a trace of moving or regarding him as some sort of weirdo. Truly this person was all he’d ever wanted in a sketching partner. It was like they knew exactly what his was thinking. Truly a perfect muse. Then again, it wasn’t really a human he was mentioning but an advertisement of one. This one was for jewellery of some sort. Arrats hadn’t paid much attention to the label instead he looked it over. The colour composition of the woman posing regally was quite interesting. So interesting it had earned this unknown person a spot in his notebook. Though, before he’d gotten to this point he had perched himself on a small pillar upon which he could watch the area around him. It appeared that he’d made a habit of being perched atop places like this. He was almost like a rat, scurrying up and down to find better perches to hide or watch from. An accurate comparison if ever there was one. He often felt like a rat around others, usually scurrying or slinking around instead of in the spotlight unless invited. It was pleasant to some degree though. He was free of people and could instead watch and document from a distance without keeping himself in range of them. As much as he was overjoyed to actually converse it wasn’t really something he did often. People weren’t something he did well, or at all really. He was too strange, or odd. Maybe that was because he in some way didn’t consider himself much of a human. He was content to sit and observe. That was it really. Though, his internal monologue did take up a lot of time anyway. He was still busy and if he wished to get a colour sketch done by the end of the day he’d have to snap out of his state of pondering self reflection and get back to it. Pencil in hand Arrats began again, attempting to bring about an outline of this character. His lines were strong and the strokes easy enough but once he got to the colouring he began to focus intently. He wasn’t always the best at replicating colour. His sister did it far better than he did and her time was mostly spent on weapons and the application of such. It wasn’t often he had to focus to do something like this but the design of this advertisement proved a challenge to replicate, the patterns were delicate and regal. A nobility overflowed even from the name. ‘Descartes: For the distinguished.’ Something so promising and amazing sounding truly had to be fake. Perhaps it was an elaborate scheme of some sort to trick people into a cult. Whatever it was he’d have to give kudos to the presenters behind this piece it looked intrinsically valuable.
After a few more minutes of intense sketching his hand began to ache and for a few minutes he paused allowing himself a brief respite from the surely terrible arthritic problems he’d be experiencing down the line. A brief sigh escaped him as he wondered if he’d ever actually complete this ‘little’ sketch. His little sketch had slowly and surely become something much bigger than the usual rough pieces he’d done before. It had become something that occupied not a quarter page, nor half a page. But a full page to capture this image. He was determined to make something out of it. Even if his hands gave out- which considering the speed he’d been drawing at was a definite possibility- he’d keep going for this artwork and for his own dogged sense of artistic determination. After all, he couldn’t give up. Not when he was so close to finishing it off.
(644/644)
