In thinking about character drawings and referencing some of the work from the Fire Emblem game series, I decided to do a little more research into the artist behind those illustrations (research here of course meaning a series of google searches). The responsible artist goes by the name Senri Kita as a freelance illustrator, and is typically referred to as female (though there seems to be some uncertainty in that regard). What struck me most about her known work in character illustrations for video games is the incredible diversity that she manages to bring to the characters while making use of the anime-style. One common criticism of anime characters is that they all look the same: tall, impossibly thin, an abundance of hair in the color of your choice, all perfection and formulaic. Senri Kita has a much more interesting way of adapting the anime style to a varied and diverse cast.
This is a fairly typical example of the style-- thin, fair skinned, effeminate (this character is male, if you can believe that).
A little more masculine, somewhat atypical of the style. Still fairly idealized.
These kinds of characters are the ones that really catch my eye with Senri Kita. It may sound silly to those outside the industry, but characters from anime, video games and so on -- protagonists and antagonists alike -- tend to be absurdly idealized (to the point of extensive criticism); hence the willingness to make a truly unappealing character is admirable to my mind. Tomorrow I really ought to get out of the nerd-bubble, huh?
I have to apologize here for my slight obsession with Gotye's music videos. This is just another one that I find very worthwhile in its sincerity and power:
Well, this freeze-frame may be a bit of an unsettling image to start with. The disjointed, grotesque figure that the video begins with progresses toward completing and building itself as he sings about the healing relationship he has with this person. When their hands finally touch, you get an incredible feeling for the connection between them. It's powerful imagery which I would argue does greater justice to the song than a live-action video would.
The latest critique held in Thesis Prep got me thinking about a few things. It occurs to me that I don't see myself as much of an artist. To back track a little, I'm reminded of some key ways in which I've always seen myself compared to "artists." It first became apparent as I was applying to colleges. I attended a portfolio review at Syracuse university, and while the reviewer was flipping through my sketchbook, she would make a view vague approving remarks regarding the (in my opinion at the time) boring hand sketches. Then she reached one page on which I'd dared to doodle a few anime-style characters. I could practically feel the condescension when she told me that no school would be interested in "these little characters." A while later, I toured RISD. Great school, but it was about the time I realized how difficult it might be to find a cheeseburger among the fifteen different vegan bars in the food court that I decided it wasn't for me. For the record, I see nothing wrong with hand sketches, or with vegan food, or any of that (or either Syracuse University or RISD-- they're both excellent schools!). What I'm saying here is that I'd firmly developed a fairly stereotypical view of artists as snobbish and distinctly different from myself. As for attending Providence College, the art department here has suited me fine thus far. My classes gave me enough structured instructions and assignments that I knew what to do, and enough freedom that I never felt stifled. Rather, I saw the assignments as a challenge, and a way to prove that I could do what they were asking of me. I got really good at being in school. Now, in my senior year, I have to think about what I want to do. I find myself sitting and staring at my sketchbook at a standstill for literally hours at a time. "I want to draw __________." I have no idea. If I had my way, I'd just design characters all day, then play with ink and colors, then splatter paint around the walls, cover my hands in graphite, spend a week using every single tool and setting in photoshop, learn about every medium known to man, then come back and meet some knew characters on the next page of my sketchbook. But I suppose that's not practical right now. I suppose what it comes down to currently is that I know a lot about what I am not, what I want to avoid, and how I see myself as "non-artist." The next step is to work on what I want to do, and in what ways I might actually be able to consider myself an artist. /rant.
Last year at Providence College I had the opportunity to go to an Artist Talk given by Miwa Matreyek. Her work is incredibly beautiful and fascinating to watch. I would call her creations performance art pieces which center around her live interactions with her previously made animations. These pieces blur the line between imagery and physical reality, and constantly surprise and catch you off guard every time you think you have it figured out. A great example of her work is this piece she performed in a TED Talk in the following video:
It occurred to me today to post some slightly older work (relatively speaking). This is the kind of work I sometimes gravitate toward when I have time to do what I like, free of class assignments or particularly directed projects or commissions. They're essentially character drawings, aimed at a very simple and straightforward portrayal of a character, giving some basic information about them and their context.
These were conceived of by friends of mine for a fairly traditional fantasy-type setting. Explaining each one would take paragraphs, so I'll just leave it at that. Though, it is interesting to think about what I take for granted, knowing a lot of "nerd-culture" as I do; there's a sort of visual language in some character art for video games, comics, etc. I tend to only notice this when I take a chance and show these character designs to people who aren't very familiar with that visual language. It's only when I get questions like "why is her hair green?" and "why is that sword so wildly impractical in design?" that I remember that I've been taught to read and portray characters a certain way.
Fabian here is fun for me to draw when I just want to unwind. Mostly because I like playing with his hair. But also because his flamboyant personality lends itself to a good range of poses and expressions. But mostly the hair thing.
I suppose a good example of my inspiration for these types of drawings would be the official character art from the Fire Emblem game series (a turn-based strategy series of games, the plots of which tend to be very character-driven).
Maybe I'm giving to much significance to these images, but I've always found something really beautiful in the work on these characters in particular.
I did a little more work in my sketchbook with silhouettes.
Also decided to tone things back a bit and return to basic gesture drawings for a few pages.
Meanwhile, I did my first actual screen print today. Not sure how I feel about it. I can't say I'm a huge fan, but maybe it's just one step on the way to better things.
"No man is an island" is a fairly well-known cliche, but it is the first thing that came to my mind in considering the matter of the artist as a part of his or her modern day world. In my opinion, the question is not whether or not any given artist gives off an impression of their "now," but rather, how the "now" manifests in their work. We are surrounded by our time period and culture, and no matter how boldly a person might proclaim that their work is their own, free and untouched by influences outside of their own brave and brilliant individuality, they will nevertheless be influenced by their context. That probably sounds like a given to some people, so then the next matter is what our current times request and inspire in artists today. On the whole, I would say that our modern day zeitgeist encourages a sort of playful experimentation and openness to possibilities. Particularly in North America, it could be argued that we are a people unaccustomed and violently opposed to being told something can't be done-- particularly in this age of incredible and rapid technological advancement, which permits so much more to be done. Regarding my own work, I have to admit, while I'm sure it does reflect the times in some ways, I can't quite pinpoint how. Perhaps the fact that I feel comfortable maintaining my cartoonish influences while also pursuing some more classical methods of study and artistic development is reflective of the aforementioned atmosphere of experimentation and freedom. To a large extent, I feel that I won't be able to determine exactly in what ways my work is "current" until time as gone by and I can look at it retrospectively. In addition, I always feel that in many ways, it is difficult for me to assess my own work, for fear of misinterpreting out of bias, and so it would be difficult to accurately form an answer to the question. I suppose the best conclusion I can draw right now is that working in today's environment allows me to feel free to "play" and experiment, however, I won't really have significant perspective on the current world's influence on my artwork until it is no longer current.
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