"The Calling" Comes To Life

I am both delighted and slightly terrified to announce that work has begun on the illustrated edition of Tales of Rhohin: The Calling.

Here, you can see a sheet of the thumbnail sketches I’ve started drawing:

Thumbnails are little drawings that begin the process of thinking through larger pictures. The ones above are meant to capture the basic concepts. Later, I’ll begin researching, collecting reference photos, and working out the final product.

The kind welcome that the un-illustrated e-book edition of The Calling received from readers gave me confidence that I’m a good storyteller and I don’t need pictures to prop up the words. And yet, most of the words I’ve written have flowed out of the pictures in my head. I’ve known for a long time that I wanted to eventually publish The Calling and all the Tales of Rhohin in illustrated editions.

I have no idea how long this project will take, but, by God’s grace, I hope to give it my best and enjoy it.

Begin Again

I used to believe in the magic of new beginnings.

"Winter Sun" oil painting

New Year’s, my birthday, the start of the month, and even the first day of the week all held special significance for me. Each was a symbolic moment. I would assess where I was going wrong, attempt to reinvent myself, and start all over again. I went about my life, and art, that way.

But the old me never quite disappeared.

Dozens of first chapters (or at least first pages) of books, several unfinished paintings, and a multitude of other stalled projects hide in the dark corners of my studio.

     I used to think that making a new beginning would save me from the pain of failure, but now I know that it only makes it ache and sting as long as the root of the problem remains. My problem was that I had a fantasy of someday being “perfect”. A perfect person, artist, and storyteller, who would create perfect things on the first try.

No, I don’t need to go back and finish all those old projects to find closure. Many of them have fallen far behind my current skills:

     Stories that have plots so bad it isn’t even funny.

     Characters who speak in clichés.

     Drawings I did when I was child.

     I can’t go back there—I’ve grown beyond those projects. Some of them were just plain bad ideas. It’s okay to abandon a fatally flawed piece now and then. As long as you’re in this world, it’s never too late to start over, but please be aware that it’s sometimes too late to finish.

If I had finished those projects back when they seemed cool, sure they would make me laugh (or cry) now, but the character-building endurance it took to see them through to completion would have been something I could still carry with me. Maybe it isn’t so much the project as the finishing that really counts for something.

Lately, I’ve been discovering the down-to-earth, tough, gritty goodness of sticking with it. When the brush slips, the scene won’t come, or I just feel restless, I’m faced with the old, instinctual question: fight or flight? The answer to that question seems to be in knowing who you are and why you’re doing what you’re doing.

I am a redeemed child of God. I am an artist-storyteller. I make beautiful things that glorify my Creator and give something to my fellow people.

So, I’d better keep at it.

Some artists and storytellers may think they’ll never have that kind of drive. They rely completely on a capricious “muse”, and when the feelings run out, so do they. I’ve been there.

    I have to fight the urge to flee constantly. Even while writing this blog post. Each time it gets hard, I have a choice. I’m learning—messily and sometimes painfully—to push on through, because this is worth finishing.

    I wish I could teach every creative person to be disciplined and live up to their full potential—I wish I was better at it myself! (The myth of perfection, again.) But I can’t give you my determination, and I don’t think I gave it to myself, either.

"In the Middle of it All" used card and wrapping paper collage enhanced with GIMP

There is one “new beginning” you shouldn’t go without for even another moment. If you have been trying, up until now, to do life and art on your own, then please…stop. This won’t end well, I promise you.

    At Christmas last month, we celebrated the one and only perfect Person who came down into the middle of our mess so He could make us truly new.

    Begin again this New Year, trusting the One who gave you life and your gifts—including the ones you haven’t discovered yet. He will stick with you, He promises.

He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ. (Philippians 1:6)

Poetry: A Silent Night

Used Christmas card and wrapping paper collage enhanced with GIMP

Jingle bells

And fresh-baked smells

Santa hats

For dogs and cats

Yards of tinsel

Inches of snow

Take a deep breath

Okay, let’s go

Long store lines

And cheery signs

Shining balls

And well-decked halls

Is this Christmas?

So loud and bright

I think we need

A silent night

Peace, be still

And now you will

Hear the song

Played all along

God came to us

That holy night

Born in straw

The King by right

Oh, peace

Be still

And know

That His grace

Covers us like snow

Dawnna Jean Pearson ©2014

The Penny-Pinching Artist: Framing Need Not Be Murder (By Price Tag)

I have it from the mouth of a professional framer: Michael’s frame jobs are overpriced. Smaller shops like his don’t exactly run cheap, either. So, can artists with limited budgets really do quality framing on their own? My reply:

  

Full disclosure: a year ago, I didn’t even know what a “mat” was, nor did I have any concept of framing as an art unto itself. To me, a frame was a utilitarian object with which one could attach artwork to the wall more efficiently than with putty or nails. I have since been reformed, thanks in large part to being lovingly nagged into doing a solo art show.

Since I’m not able to make frames from scratch, I rely on second-hand ones from Goodwill and other thrifty sources. On average, they cost about $6. I prefer wood or wood composite for look and overall ease of use. (Have you ever tried screwing something into a metal frame?) My experience is limited, but here are some things I’ve learned:

What You’ll Need

Pliers and hammer—many uses in removing old contents of frames and putting in the new

Lemon oil furniture polish—improves appearance of wood frames

Mat—that cardboard-y frame thing that goes between the art and the glass

Backing (my name)—that cardboard-y sheet that goes behind the artwork to protect and hold it in the frame

IMPORTANT NOTE: Canvas artworks like oils and acrylics generally don’t need glass, mats, or backing, but more fragile ones like watercolors, pastels, and pencils do.

Offset screws—a delightful invention that can be flipped around to attach an artwork that sticks out of the frame or sinks down into it

Electric drill—for the screws…unless you have fingers of iron

Dust cover (my name)—the sheet of brown (or whatever) color paper that covers the entire back of the frame and artwork

Elmer’s glue or double-sided tape—for attaching dust cover

X-acto knife and/or scissors—for cutting paper

Vent hole (my name)—a small hole in the dust cover (only necessary for canvas artworks like oils and maybe acrylics) that lets the canvas breathe

Eyelet screws (my name)—screws with looped heads that hold wire

D-rings—screws with rings attached, more “high-class” than eyelet screws

Picture-hanging wire—multi-strand wire, more durable than baling wire or string

How to Pick the Right Frame

Bring a tape measure. If framing a canvas, measure the back inside edge of the frame. If working with a piece that needs glass and mat, measure the inside edge of the mat. Mats are particularly difficult to find in the right size. If you have the ability to cut your own, I applaud you. Mine usually turn out looking like chainsaw art. Sometimes I buy a frame just to get the mat inside.

Test the solidness of the frame by tugging the sides to see if the corners are loose.

Ask yourself some questions:

Does the color and design of the frame and mat match or compliment the color and design of the artwork? Wood can be stained a new shade, and mats can be painted a new color, but it’s nice to be able to work with the original.

Does the size/color/decoration of the frame and mat overwhelm the artwork?

(Not my art) Too much frame and mat

(My art) Better balanced

(My art) Too little frame--and no mat

Assembly

Because there are plenty of helpful instructions on the Internet and elsewhere for how to frame things yourself, I won’t do a step-by-step. I’ll just mention a few handy tips you might not learn on the Internet.

Scratches in a frame can be corrected with markers or a dab of acrylic paint.

Make sure the frame is thick enough so the screws don’t poke through to the other side, and wide enough so nothing hangs over the edge.

Drill carefully; some wood might crack.

Double-sided tape is the cleanest way to apply the paper dust cover, but sometimes it doesn’t adhere properly, so test a little piece before you lay it all the way around.

If the dust cover is curling crazily and you can’t get it to stick, try pressing it against a flat surface like a table or door, and rubbing it down with a wet cloth to smooth it out. This will also help it dry tight. A friend of mine recommended completely soaking the paper in water, but I haven’t gone that extreme yet.

I was told to use an x-acto knife to trim the edges of the dust cover, but that ended up looking messy most of the time. I find it easier to just use scissors. The main goal is to make sure none of the dust cover shows over the edge of the frame. An x-acto knife is good for making the vent hole—just don’t cut too deep!

D-rings are the “official” hanging apparatus, and art shows and galleries are likely to require them. However, eyelet screws are much more economical. They can be a little hard to put in. My method is to pound a small nail into the spot (maybe 1/4 inch deep), pry that up, then twist the screw in with my fingers and the rest of the way with pliers.

I think there might be some disagreement in the art-framing world as to whether vent-holes are necessary, but I figure they can’t hurt. The professional framer I referenced earlier didn’t think dust covers were even necessary for canvases. I take objection; I’ve had to clean them.

There’s a basic concept that applies to all framing jobs: the frame is there to enhance the artwork. The frame can command attention, but only so it can draw the eye inward toward the picture. If the frame retains attention, then it has failed its purpose. It might seem unfair after all the work—and sometimes physical pain—it took to put that frame together. But the truth is that a frame is most beautiful when it is barely noticed, except as a seamless piece of the greater work of art.

“He must increase, but I must decrease.” –John the Baptist, speaking of Jesus (John 3:30)

…That they may adorn the doctrine of God our Savior in all things. –St. Paul, in a word to servants (Titus 2:10)

Crunch Week: Pros and Cons of being 100% Focused

My trademark self-portrait.
Note that I have two things in hand at once.

Last Monday, I finally emerged from my cave and began to feel sane again.

I had spent the previous week trying to work exclusively on one project. I had a deadline to write a synopsis of my current novel-in-progress, which was complicated by the fact that I still hadn’t quite figured how I was going to work everything out in the end.

So, I gave myself completely to getting it done. All my free time, all my mental energy, went into the pounding, grinding, hair-pulling, eye-rolling, excruciating task of coming up with a story worth reading. All lesser concerns were pushed aside. If I took something out of a drawer, it got tossed to the side. Clean clothes piled up on the end of my bed, looking dejected. I didn’t cut my nails. Purses were dropped in corners. Papers lay in haphazard piles. I snapped and grumbled at family members who dared interrupt me. If I had to be away from the novel for a while, I was still thinking about it, running the possibilities through my head, testing scenarios. My brain ached. One time, when I woke up at midnight for no apparent reason, I powered up my laptop and did a few more hours of work. Small wonder I felt a bit like the undead the next morning.

So, that was Crunch Week.

Interestingly enough, it was on the one day I rested from my work (because I believe in the principle of taking a Sabbath), that I had some of the best ideas come together in my mind. I emerged from the ordeal of Crunch Week with one thought: “I’m so glad that’s over!” I felt wretched, my room looked like the aftermath of a small tornado, and, oh yeah…I didn’t even make the deadline.

I finished the synopsis this week at a more relaxed and happy pace.

The good parts of Crunch Week were:

1. I never had to wonder what I should be doing. I didn’t waste any time lapsing into daydreams while considering the twenty different projects around me.

2. I did make some significant accomplishments. This novel has been my love/hate project for the last, what—six years? So, to FINALLY have a DECISIVE version of the plot is a huge relief.

3. My normal lifestyle feels so sweet now.

I have to conclude that I have a scattered mind and I like it that way. I seem to function best in multi-project mode—if I have several plates spinning, I feel more alert, competent…and it’s just plain fun. If I overdo it and start dropping plates, a day or two of intense focus on doing just one thing ’til it’s done can be helpful, but a whole week makes my mental machinery start to overheat, the gears screeching and smoking. I like having the freedom to go from wielding a paintbrush, to typing out a suspenseful scene, to sketching a few humorous pages for a sometime-in-the-future graphic novel, to making a get-well card—all in the same day. It can be a chaotic and exasperating life sometimes, but that’s the point: it feels like life. Not like being a growling zombie fortified in her woman-cave.

Maybe I should do a Crunch Week once or twice a year—just to remind me why I like being scatterbrained.

Meet My Desk

Let me introduce you to my primary workspace:

My desk area is a pretty good picture of my personality and lifestyle—colorful, controlled chaos. It’s nearly impossible for me to work in a sterile environment, because as soon as I start doing anything, creative clutter results. Extra space is a luxury I’ve never had much of. Every corner is filled, every inch utilized, and, amazingly, I more or less know where everything belongs.

The items on my desk tell a lot of stories, and they tell a lot about me.

The desk itself was the best thrift store find of my life. I had been about to spend fifty bucks on a brand-new model that was inconveniently shaped, but my cheaper-is-better father advised holding out a little longer. I was sorely tempted to buy it anyway. I’m an impatient person, and there’s a point when I HAVE TO HAVE IT NOW!!! Plus, I like good-quality stuff. But, for once, I chose to listen to Dad. We checked Goodwill, and what would you know, but there was a twenty dollar desk, ready-made and in perfect condition, aside from some scuffs and stickers. Once I got it into my room, I saw at once that it was the perfect size and shape—as if it had been made for me.

Notice the sleek black office chair? That’s probably the most expensive piece of furniture in my room, aside from the bed. My generous grandma took me shopping for it, and I spent a while at Office Depot planting my hindquarters on various chairs, swiveling, adjusting, and leaning back, trying to find that perfect feel. Since my creative calling requires me to spend about half my waking life sitting down, it made sense to go all out to find a good seat. When I sit down in this chair, I feel like I’m buckling in for a ride to another world, and it can become a throne from which I observe a peaceful kingdom, a car headed down a dark road, a horse trotting over the grassy hills…and so on.

I always keep water close at hand. I’m kind of a water nut, actually. I prefer well-water, specifically ours, and extra-specifically from the sink in the main bathroom. I don’t know—it just tastes better. And yes, that’s a lid on the cup. I hate dust.

That mound of paper in the background is my deal-with-it box. Story ideas, newspaper clippings, salvageable scraps, and everything else that I don’t want to immediately file away, get dropped in there. Believe it or not, I just emptied a bunch of it (as it had started to climb out of the box and across the books).

See the mug with the pink roses on it? I found it in a hole in the ground. Years ago, I was playing on a hillside near our house, when I looked into a hole that was an opening to an underground trickling spring. I noticed something white sticking out of the mud, almost like a bone. It was actually the handle of the mug. Dad thought maybe it had been left there by someone who liked to drink from the spring. It’s a mystery, and now it has the honorable duty of holding my collection of bookmarks.

My art-books are in the background. Most of them were handed down to me, and a large portion came from an elderly artist whom I very much admire, and who has since moved away. This distinguished lady had a history of working in graphic arts and was also a fantastic fine artist. She did everything well. She would come to art meetings and show off professional quality doll dresses that she made as a hobby project, and a huge quilt covered with pictures of native plants that she had drawn. As she was cleaning out her old art supplies, she made sure I got a few boxes worth of things. She often let me know how good an artist I was and how I could “make it” in whatever I pursued. I heard tell that she visited my art show at the Sandy Chamber of Commerce and announced to the staff that she was proud of me. I will probably never have time to read most of the art-books, much less do the activities, but they give me something interesting to flip through and get inspiration. Someday, I’ll likely pass them on to another artist.

That big binder titled "Face Book" is my reference source for many of my characters. I collect pictures from clothing ads, magazines, and other sources. Turning the pages, you’ll find a clean-cut young man with nice blue eyes and the name “Dr. Soren” penciled beneath him, a girl with a pert smile whom I’ve labeled “Saffron”, a lovely black lady called “Eden Day”, and many more whose stories I hope to tell.

Beneath the “Face Book” is my fledgling movie collection and all the CDs I couldn’t fit in my CD rack. The amazing Christian film “Faith Like Potatoes”, the true-life hockey drama “Miracle”, the dream-like anime “Howl’s Moving Castle”, and the fairy tale “Ever After” sit next to music by Gungor (folk/contemporary), The Afters (Christian pop), Clannad (Celtic folk/contemporary), and Al Denson (early 90s Christian rock).

Above is a rough collage I made on the desk cupboard to cover the old stickers. The pictures represent mankind’s inventions: writing on parchment, the abacus, a page from an illustrated manuscript, the printing press, glasses, and the light bulb. Underneath a picture of the telegraph machine, I wrote the first words purported to have been sent over it: What hath God wrought? We do well to remember that our creative gifts have their origin in Him.

This is my hardware. These machines, modest as they are, serve me well. Note the wires that look like a pile of writhing snakes. Only I know how to untangle this stuff, which I do every Sunday when I take the laptop in to my grandma’s house to use the Internet. I consider myself very blessed that I have no web-access from my desk (or anywhere else in my house). I’m too easily distracted as it is.

My close-at-hand supply shelf is perfect for pencils and pens (though not quite tall enough for the glue bottle). Those little black boxes hold woodless Koh-I-Noor color pencils that have brought the whimsical characters in Please Don’t Tickle the Tiger [link] to life, roughed out covers for fantasy novels, and been a part of fine art pieces. They’re incredibly easy to sharpen and have a nice texture. My only complaint is that I always run out of brown ones long before the rest!

Clipped to the box of markers is the envelope holding my ballot, reminding me that I have a patriotic duty to perform. Voting is important to me. Flawed as our political system might be, I was recently reminded by a poignant little comic by Will Eisner (bio) (from his book Graphic Storytelling and Visual Narrative) that it’s sure a lot better than the alternative!
In the story, a small country that used to have democracy has been taken over by a military dictatorship who say they'll clean up the messy system and make everything run smoothly by taking away choice. They allow one final vote, for what symbol will be on the national flag--the old flower image, or the new image of a mace. The citizens have a "who cares?" attitude, except for one frail old man who stubbornly insists on exercising his right to vote this final time, even though it kills him. His death helps wake the people up.
Everything run by humans is going to be messy, but I believe that God delights in turning messes into beauty.

The very top of my desk is the domain of knickknacks. That little frog used to glow with flashing colored lights—a prime example of the kind of thing Dad puts in my Christmas stocking. The dolls in the background are from my mom’s childhood, back in the pre-Barbie days. My eldest cousin made the wooden sculpture of my name for me long ago. Behind it is my pop-up leprechaun, one of those stupid things I bought just because I had to prove my love of everything Irish.

  

On the other end, you see one of my dozen or so porcelain dolls, which my sister Starla thinks are terrifying and once made a short horror film about. She shut me out of my own room while she did it, too. The bucket with the sailor on it is an antique that came out of my late grandpa’s shop. As you can see, I have a lot of brushes. I actually only use about ten of them, and the rest are there just in case. In the above background is my color-clock. You may have noticed that the theme for the desk area is BRIGHT COLORS.

Between the knickknacks are my writing books and spiritual/devotional books. In scanning the titles, you can see a glimpse of the unique environment I grew up in. My parents have the ability to find common ground with a wide variety of Christian denominations, while not conforming to the man-made rules of any. They taught us to always ask questions, compare things with scripture, and not sweat the small stuff if we agree about who Jesus is. This eat-the-meat-and-spit-out-the-bones approach has passed to me. I’ve got The Case for Christ next to Blue Like Jazz, and Debi Pearl (Created to be His Help Meet) on the same shelf with Madeline L’Engle (Walking on Water).

And here, just where my eyes tend to go whenever I look up from my work, is a little reminder of what I’ve been called to do.

 Sometimes I feel confused and overwhelmed, the colors of my many projects running together into a muddy mess, and the chaos is out of control. What am I? What am I supposed to be doing?

I hope these words will pull me back to the simplicity and joy of my God-given calling.

The Season of Clarity

Come mid-September, I’m desperate. Like an old pair of jeans fraying apart at the seams, I’ve reached my limit. The heat, chores, parties, events, and activities have worn me out. Summer keeps trying to push on just a little longer, and I can almost hear the threads snapping. My energy is low, my creativity drained.

Then, all of a sudden, I smell it on the breeze. That rich, crisp scent that announces Autumn’s arrival. I walk through the woods and rejoice to see patches of orange and red amongst the green. This season of beautiful death brings my creativity to life again. The nights grow colder, making the warmth of the days precious. My body and mind are refreshed.

Perhaps the sweetness of Autumn comes from the clarity that death brings. In the haze of Summer, I only want to get through one more day. But in Autumn, I am aware of the big picture again. I remember how the seasons turn, and how death brings about life.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. (2 Corinthians 4:16)