"Where does the line start?"

The riff-raff at the Guild Hall waiting for their assignments.

Letting go.

I'm at a really important stage of my artistic growth, I think. It's not that crow-quill pen I bought, or going to a life drawing session, or anything like that. It's learning to let go of my absolute control over every aspect of my work.

I have always had a bit of that diva streak in me. I identify with people like post-Jedi George Lucas, who want what they want and they're going to get it (we also have in common a long-running, um, penchant for dialogue). Really, I've spent a lot of time isolating myself and my fragile ego because other people just "got in my way". Asking for critique on anything sent me into, honest to God, anxiety attacks. I always told people that if I did a comic book, I'd write, pencil, ink, color, and publish it all myself; if it were a movie, I'd write, direct, score, costume design, and potentially star in, it. I'm at an age now where I realize that's how you turn into Tommy Wiseau... and, in short, make bad art.

Looking at the process of a video game - especially when I have spent so many years trying - and failing at - many different ventures all on my own... I'm realizing that things have to change. I have handed off some music duties to a friend and asked a local guy to hook me up with programmers who might be interested in coding such a project. This is ENORMOUS for me. Collaborating?! With PEOPLE!?!? Even more, I'm letting my composer go wild and will see what she comes up with. If I find a programmer to work with, I will look to them for a battle system and further input as to gameplay. True collaboration. People bringing their own talents and ideas to the table. Creating something that isn't an inbred, wretching reflection of someone's sick isolation.

I am also learning, slowly, to let go of the idea that everything I do has to be 100% unique, influentially untraceable, and blessed by some kind of godly intellectualism. It was like this when I was writing music, too. I swore I'd never use this or that chord progression because they were "too easy" and I had to find some other, much smarter-looking way to accomplish what I wanted musically. "Hey! I'll be atonal! That'll be nifty!" But do you know what? There is a reason that throbbing Hans Zimmer riff comes back to movies again and again: because it works. And when you are an artist trying to express something, for God's sake, you have to use what works. All that high-minded, narcissistic overachieving does nothing but constipate the creative process. You get clogged up with boundaries and self-loathing - if you have a soul - and end up sitting in front of a blank canvas, too petrified by your own instincts to truly accomplish anything.

Yes, that is lemon balm; lavender; ginger; aloe; mint; echinacea; chili; and nutmeg. I don't have to invent 100% of the botany of a fantasy planet to produce an interesting and emotive story. I want the player to procure an item that prevents illness, so, hey, echinacea. Is it really worth the whole Tolkien approach and inventing something called, I don't know, "Thoriandalalaladell Root" to get the same effect? Am I trying to bring people into my world or expel them with confusion? This is another blessing that comes from a 128-color, 3x pixel size interactive medium... forcing limitations. I. Need. Limitations. I need to let the hell go and just tell the story that needs to be told. I have 40 pixels to express a character, and that's it. Once I do all I can do with that, I can move on.

Moving on!

Wolfenstein moment.

For the status screen and potentially dialogue boxes, I thought it'd be a good idea to be prepared with avatars - representing our heroine's current physical/emotional state.

It's like I keep saying: "A couple of pixels changes everything".

Back on task.

Lifting (or "come on!" and "woo-hoo!") hands; riding at full speed; a flintlock pistol; a painted foal; bats of a sort; cardinals.

And a sunset couldn't save me now.

I love baobabs. So, since the beginning, I've imagined them as a part of this saga.

Scale is important!

Someone important...

Fanfare for the common dress.

I am going to a performance of Copland's Third Symphony in a little more than a week. I have literally waited a year for this. Really, though, I've wanted to attend such a performance for five years. So I thrifted a dress for the event, which I like. But as the date draws nearer, it really does not seem sufficient. I want to make a dress just for the occasion.

Right now I'm arranging pieces and trying to figure out how to make it work. Flowy salmon-colored polyester with a lovely black sash that will be sewn into the waistline. The teal thread was actually what my aunt happened to have in her serger, which I was toying with. So I'll take the extra little "surprise!" burst of color. It's a set of modern colors for a great modern classical composer.

Oh, Aaron. I love you so.

If you hear someone sobbing loudly from the mezzanine, it's me.

Animating! Using a reference video I shot myself, I sketched up a color-coded skeleton - red for front legs, green for rear - and tested it in Photoshop. Looks excellent. The weight is distributed and the legs move in the proper phases, alternating with their partner(s). I did an earlier walking yak, but its legs looked rubbery because I was just shooting from the hip (har?) and the main joints were hidden under all the fur. So, animation tests are good.

Video game goals.

I have mentioned to friends that my last therapy session was actually very enlightening on an artistic level. (I've gotten a lot of insight into my art through my regular therapy sessions, so there you go. They're good for coaching and bouncing ideas off of.) We talked about the parallels between fantasy and real life - overlaps as well as the need for a "safe" realization of wishes and desires. So when I dream up a video game where you ride a yak around, pitch a tent, weave your own clothes, and work in the fields, I think that's some concept of a life I envision working out pretty well for me.

One thing that always bothers me about fantasy video games is how you can often carry 99 small glass bottles of potions, as well as several cabins, swords, suits of armor, etc... and still see a character wearing scantily clothes with nothing on their back. Where is all of this STUFF? Don't get me wrong - I find those 99 Cure2 potions infinitely useful, but it takes away so much of the worldwide travel feel of the game when there's no positive or negative consequences for the act of taking basic necessities with you. (I've enjoyed/hated Earthbound for the relatively small inventory slots, where you carry things like bubblegum, baseball caps, and sandwiches.) The horse/horse analog is always an upgrade but does nothing much but make you pass up monsters and satisfy the estrogen levels people like me, who squee at every mount like a 7th grade girl.

So, as I [pretend to] learn to code some Python and draw up sprites, I want to keep in mind the romanticism of lightweight travel - the intimacy of the goods you carry with you. How everything has a place, it gets unpacked, it sits in your campsite. I've spent some time studying nomadic lifestyles, specifically of north and east Africa - the sticks, reeds, and hides atop camels as people move from place to place. I love it. Your possessions become sacred to you, being repaired and re-used, and they are a comforting constant in an otherwise changing landscape.

Home base.

All packed up and ready to go!

My little green babies.

I am totally shocked that I haven't killed my starter seeds. In fact, I have at least one of everything sprouting after 9 days. These are vivacious, eager lemon cucumbers, which I will try for the first time out of my own garden. I'm also sprouting snap peas, lettuce, zucchini, yellow squash, cantaloupe, lime basil, lemon balm, and stevia. For later in the summer I'll be planting pattypan squash, kale, and a gorgeous red specialty lettuce. All this is going in a 12 x 12' plot graciously allotted by my landlady. This is really big, except for when you're standing inside it and wondering how you're going to fit your dream garden in this tiny speck of earth. Moar. MOAR!

Why is this in my art blog? Because... it's an art? Ha? Ha? I don't know. 'Cause I'm totally gleeful every time a sprout pops up and have to SHARE THE LOVE.