Colorizing the Graphite

I've gotten a bit of feedback about my portfolio, and more than one person has suggested I run with my graphite drawings. One of those people (an art director) said if I could figure out a way of colorizing those drawings, it would be awesome. An agent pointed out one particular graphite drawing and said, "I'd like to see this in color."

Awesome.

Here you go.

The original drawing:

The colorized drawing (click to see biggie-sized):

Me likey.

Frankenbot

Got a commission for the cover of the fall The Link magazine, the magazine for Carnegie Mellon University Computer Science alumni. The story is about how Comp Sci students don't just code anymore; they have to build things by hand, too. For example, they build prototypes of the things they are working on like touch screens and robots.

My idea was of creating a robot, Frankenstein-style. I wanted it to have really dramatic lighting, and I wanted to see if I could pull off a colorized pencil drawing. I hope it worked.

You know what? I'm still proud of this drawing.

I submitted this and a few other drawings to a certain industry newsletter (I won't mention names) over a year ago, and I'm getting the impression they aren't interested. I found all those submissions lying around recently and realized I'm a little proud of the work. I think she's cute, and I think she wants to be seen.

So here she is. Her name is Paula, and she's really into books.

Desperately Seeking Tim Burton

Dear Mr. Burton,

I've found myself in a desperate rut, the likes of which you've managed to retrieve me from in the past, and I'm hoping you will be available again sometime soon.

January a year ago, I made a trek to the Museum of Modern Art, specifically to view your work on display there. I bought a membership just so I wouldn't have to stand in line with all the other saps who had to wait to get in.

The rooms that housed your exhibit were terribly crowded; I'm sure we were well beyond the building's fire code. Sardines, as it were. But I managed to see everything, just to make sure I didn't miss anything that might later turn out to be something I would have liked to have seen.

After I squeezed my way through all the rooms I took a breather. I bought some stuff. I ate some stuff and, in spite of the sardine thing, I decided I needed to get myself back in the middle of that exhibit.

So I did.

This time I knew exactly what I needed to see again, so I jumped out of the line that snaked around the rooms and headed straight for the drawings.

The drawings, as you know, were watercolor outlined in pen, so there was really nothing out of the ordinary there. Using the media in that way was nothing new, and had never been a source of inspiration for me. So that couldn't really have been the attraction.

Why was I still there? Why couldn't I take my eyes off these images? Why were these images so much better than what I conjured in my own sketchbooks?

I think what sucked me back into those rooms and set my sparks flying was that unrestrained childlike imagination. How does an artist allow himself to let everything fly out the window like that? The caricatures were well beyond caricatures. Arms and legs and tails and horns and whatever other body parts that could conceivably be conceived as a body part were attached to shapes that weren't really bodies until simulated body parts had been attached.

But you knew that.

Stripes and checkerboards and spirals and dipping horizons added to my acute sense of instability, and all I could do was stand in front of them and try to soak in as much as my little brain could soak in, in the hopes that some day that freedom would spew out in my own work.

On the train ride home I drew. Over the next few months I drew some more. I was inspired and ready to take on my own sketchbook demons and wrestle them into something I could proudly show the world.

Things seep away over time, however. It's been another year, and I seem to have lost that thing. That permission you had given me to create outrageousnous. Those weird images that had been crisscrossing around in my head. And, ultimately, the hope that somewhere down the line it would all be worth it.

Dear Tim (do you mind if I call you Tim?), please send me a sign. Something. Anything. Something to get me back on track. Something to help me find my monsters. I'm afraid right now they're lost, and I'm also afraid they're scared. And hungry. I know I am. I desperately need to bring them home.

Please help me bring them back home.

Signed,

Nora

P.S. Thank you kindly for allowing my family to give me your art book last Christmas, and I'm eagerly awaiting your and Danny's CD box set, as my Alice in Wonderland soundtrack is quite possibly wearing thin.

Drawings I did 20 years ago

I've scanned in photos I found of some old drawings I did a long, long time ago. These are way before I ever went back to school for art, so everything you see in this album was self-taught.

You can tell I was still tight with my lines and basing everything on realism, but you have to get that part down before you should ever try to move on. I didn't know that at the time; I was just feeling my way, and I think art school came along to loosen me up at just the right time.

You can see more current drawings at www.norathompson.us. Click on the "portfolio" link on the left and then "drawings" right below.

Sneak peek at a new sketch for a promo illustration

Everybody, meet Dexter.

He got here because of a doodle that was originally meant just for me. I started drawing one night, and consciously convinced myself not to censor. I finished him and turned the page, but I found that I kept turning the pages back to take another look. I couldn't figure out what it was, but he kept getting cuter every time, so I decided to do something about it.

The biggest problem I had was trying to figure out what he was looking at, and it took a long time before I finally finished a sketch of the scene. I had lots of ideas, but I liked him so much, I didn't want him to get hurt in the process of telling his story.

And, oh yeah, sorry. You'll have to wait until I finish him in color to see how that turned out. I'll post him after the digital paint dries.

Dead Line

Here's one of the latest things I've been working on. It's a five-page graphic novel that follows a stumped graphic novelist as he is faced with a deadline "in five pages." I used graphite (powdered and in pencil form) and Photoshop to get the effects I was looking for. The image posted here is page one.

For those interested in how I'm working it, I had separate postcards made of each page and I'm sending them out to art buyers once a month (for the next five months) with a super-secret invitation-only Web page address on the back of each one. On the site they can download the graphic novel page as a printable pdf.

Jeeraffe

So we did a SketchCrawl at the Pittsburgh Zoo a couple weeks back. I didn't get a lot of drawing done, but I did learn some things, mostly about myself.

Things I learned from the SketchCrawl at the zoo:

1. The animals at the zoo tend to turn their butts toward you when they realize you're trying to draw them.
2. It's hard to draw when the humidity is, like, 120%.
3. I can't draw so much when there are people everywhere. Screaming. And running.
   
4. By the time we got to the bears, all I could see were animals being forced to exist in confined spaces so humans could gawk.
5. If I owned the zoo, I would let all the animals go.

Anyway, I was inspired by the animals in spite of their situation (and mine), so I painted "Jeeraffe," the first of (hopefully) an extended series of "Rotty" animal paintings.

Violins on T.V.

I don't want to come across as promoting fighting, I just want to acknowledge that it happens so I need to document that part of life.

Please don't fight. It's really not going to solve anything.

Strype

Here's a girl I actually drew, I don't know, maybe a month ago? I finally got around to scanning her in and posting her to my site. Her name is Strype, for somewhat obvious reasons.