I decided I wanted to be a penciler this summer. For the longest time it seemed inevitable. I knew that I was absolutely going to be one. Then my drive slowed down. Christmas was coming and there are lots of little joys involved in that like baking and telling stories while snuggling with the kids that can push bigger thoughts out of a person's mind. A thought of being a comic book artist sometime in the future really loses it's immediate grip when you're feeling fullfilled by the accomplishment of baking a damn good gingerbread (damn good!).
So coming out of christmas I was in danger of shifting goals again. I really like being a housewife after all, isn't that enough for me? And then, in January my husband I decided to shift focus in our homeschooling. Up until now we've been radical unschoolers meaning no lessons and simply taking learning for granted as a part of life. Our basic philosophy on learning hasn't changed but we've picked up a math curricullum for our 8 year old and I'm getting into planning some more focused studies. So again, drawing is put aside as I search for activities and downloads on ancient Greece for my 8 year old (She loved the Illiad, such a sucker for gore, and today we're making tunics, pelos and himations (ancient greek garments) for her Barbies). It's exciting and fun stuff. But it has it's dangers.
It's a problem of immediate pleasure and joy trumping the longer term goals. It's a matter of trying to find the balance between enjoying what I'm doing right now and putting work into goals for the future. Putting aside the plans for the mini trebuchet (middle ages next month!) and picking up the pencil and paper.
That damn discipline thing now that the sense of being destined to be a penciler has faded a little.
I'm not sure how much sense that made but I thought I'd write it down anyway as it's been frustrating me for awhile.
Anyhow, here's a sketch I did after a Frank Franzetta picture. No comparison of course but good lord, that man loves his booty.
