Illustration Friday's current theme of green couldn't have come at a more oppertune time. I've just finished a lengthy and arduous reading of Tim Flannery's alarming The Weather Makers, which at times made me equal parts angry, despondent and depressed. But I can take some comfort that at least the term "green" is back in the headlines these past few months, and looks to stay around with a heavy presence for some time.
Frogs and other species of amphibian are strong and early indicators that more-rapid-than-helpful climate change is occurring. They are especially susceptible to pollution and other environmental ebbs and flows, and as such their health and numbers are, as a whole, taking a harder hit than most critters you'll see kicking about on any given day.
Coupled with my sincere admiration of Jim Henson's Kermit The Frog, this hard fact helped direct my little tribute here to amphibians everywhere. So chins up, amphibians (if you have 'em – technically, I'm not sure) – some of us are doing our best to help your cause.
Sketched in pencil and then inked in pens of various thicknesses. Shaded with both pencil and charcoals and coloured in Photoshop. Total time, about four hours. Click here for a more detailed look.
Top row (left to right): dwarfed by the Steller's sea eagle; a fox makes the rounds; male snowy owl. Middle row (left to right); a seemingly cheerful female snowy owl; irked flamingo in the tropical house. Bottom row (left to right): an owl shows off her good side; fox fight!
Last weekend I borrowed (and eventually bought) a Sigma 70-300 4/5.6 APO Macro Super lens for my Rebel and took it to the Assiniboine Park Zoo for a few hours of playing about. Early spring at the zoo means not much is doing, but the critters who can relate to our climate here are indifferent to the temperatures and some were more than willing to stare down the gut of my lens as I figured out how to use it. Others were not as cooperative, like the cougar that paced and meowed and the giant bull elk that bared its teeth and hissed. But as you can see above, I had some decent moments with the arctic foxes, snowy owls and the formidable Steller's sea eagle (an eight-foot wingspan – I'm glad I was on the right side of the fence). And now I can't wait to go back when it warms up and more becomes available.
Better looks at these photos are slowly being added to my Flickr page. And incidentally, the cheery-looking owl in the middle is my submission for PhotoFortnight's upcoming theme of "happy" – go and vote!
... something that does not belong.Go ahead. Take your time.
In the meantime, I'll mention how this illustration was inspired by a number of people's work, chief among them the geometric wiz-work of vector-strator Von Glitschka, the equally intricate and jigsaw stylings of Michelle White (aka rottentuna) – and finally, for his own quite-fine vector work and penchant for random shouts of "underpants!" on the HOW Design Forum (and possibly elsewhere), the talented Nathan Santistevan at Doggydoodle. I myself don't dabble in the world of vectors that often, but there was definitely something in the direction this one-time pencil sketch was going that lent itself to an attempt.So, figured it out yet?
Regardless, below is a view at some of the detail – but be sure to click here for a full-blown view of the whole deal. It's worth it for this one to see it bigger.
This image I've searched out for Photo Friday's current theme of heat is from an interesting time and place. Manitoba is not known for unrelenting heat, even though it's a region of extremes – and at times in the summer it can be quite sweltering. But this picture is from a different time of year, my favourite time of any year – a rare, hot, dry day in September, this one in 2004 to be exact. I'm not certain what kind of flower this is to be blooming so late, but this is the Spirit Sands in Manitoba's Spruce Woods Provincial Park, a unique relic left over from the Ice Age (listen to me, I sound like the brochure here). It may not have even been that hot that day, I can't remember, but I still like the illusion it provides. This also happened to be the day my niece was born, which just made for a great day all around.
Click here for a better look, if'n yer interested.
Top row (left to right): Underwood typewriter in Sunday's newfound "spring-ahead" evening light; Kerry's on the ball. Middle row (left to right): Shelley Marshall singing at the CD release concert for Nathan's Key Principles; coaster pattern; Keri Latimer on the theramin, also of Nathan. Bottom row (left to right): a whole lotta good fortune; cookies that are not as yummy as you would think.My friend Allan occasionally spouts what he refers to as a "photo backlog" on his Flickr base. In a sense, that's kind of what this is – unclassified photos of all makes and models from the past couple of weeks. There's a tease of spring outside; on Sunday I tested my bike in anticipation, and even as I type this I have one eye on the window watching the icicles disappear and puddles grow. And I suppose it's one reason I can't concentrate on creative ventures these last few days.
Hit the links in the captions above for better views of the photos already posted over on Flickr.
About the cookies: these were an unexpected gift in the mail from my friend Maria in Arizona. I bugged her for cookies on and off for some time; these are what I got (they came complete with a plush carton of milk – no foolin'). Kerry and I ended up using them as ornaments on our Christmas tree, and I can safely say they'll be on future trees for years to come.
Storytime, as inspired by Photo Friday's current theme of alone: this is a composite photo, stitched and seamed together in Photoshop from two side-by-side snapshots. The place is Mt. Edith Cavell, in Jasper National Park, taken in May 2004. Kerry went on a week-long work-related trip to Québec, so I ventured out on my own, taking my bike with me on the train to Alberta and beating the Rocky Mountain tourist rush by a couple of weeks. I would spend my days there with no real schedule, riding the trails and highways and seeing what I could see.
On this day, the weather was good and I rode out of town early in the morning. At the park gate, a warden told me the steep, switchbacking road to Edith Cavell was still closed for the season. At road's end in the higher altitudes, everything was still winter and snowbound. Out of sight though, I would lift the bike over the barrier and continue on.
I'm a prairie boy, I won't lie: the road defeated me in minutes. The nagging, constant climb forced me off the bike, but knowing it would (or rather, should) level off within a few kilometres, I began to walk. It was sunny and warm. I had nowhere to be. And I had all day, with no one around to prove my lack of prowess when it came to hills. Following a couple of hours like this, the road did reason with me and I began to ride again. Until I reached the snow line, and then I was back on foot (OK, by this point you can call me a fairweather rider).
The narrow, winding road ran about 20 kilometres to its destination at the foot of one of the country's most popular and picturesque sights (Google it, you'll find many a postcard). On this day though, I was the only person for miles. And when the road became too slippery to even bother with the bike, I left it and carried on, shouting occasionally for bears and what-not else. Nobody knew I was there, and it was deathly quiet.
After what seemed an eternity, the mountain's famous face finally came into view. I may have been only a couple of kilometres from the base, but it was near that point that I sensed the weather turning. Clouds began to boil over the peak, and it smelled of snow. I wanted so badly to make it to the end, but my conscience – and lack of decent clothes – told me otherwise. I took this photo, and headed back to where I dumped the bike. From there, I received my reward: 15 kilometres, downhill. What ended up taking me three and a half hours to reach from the road's barricaded entrance (fine, including a lunch break) lasted a considerably more enjoyable 35 minutes in return.
Click here for a better look at the photo.
I like to think I can understand french, living as I do in an officially bilingual nation. Truth is, I don't. But I also do – somewhat. Working for many years at a national non-profit conservation organization, my knowledge of our second language is limited primarily to the words of the trade: I know my ducks in french (ruddy duck, my fave = érismature rousse). I know a volunteer is a bénévole. And a few other things. So for Illustration Friday's current theme of communication, I present this. Dropped into an actual confrontation with a francophone, it's fair to say I would be equally inept at conversation as this poor guy.
Incidentally, please do not misconstrue that I believe all french-speaking folk to be six-eyed – I was merely trying to better highlight how lost the chap on the left actually is. Click here for a closer, more detailed look at the finished product (then click on the magnifying glass icon).
I haven't done an honest-to-goodness Illustration Friday submission since the middle of December. To be truthful, I haven't had much urge to draw since Christmas – but I'm not bothered that these ebbs and flows happen. It's just like I mentioned earlier, I've been having fun with my camera (which is evident over on Flickr), and primarily at the expense of drawing. But I saw through this sketch I did on the weekend and coloured quickly this evening, and now present my submission for I-F's current theme of gravity.
The concept? Simple enough: an unfortunate fellow who's lost the battle with gravity. Maybe some of you checking in can relate. I'm not there myself (nor do I ever intend to be), but I can relate somewhat with the gradual fight with getting older – to be specific, a current battle with a sore back that painfully came to light last week in a ball-hockey match with whippersnappers close to ten years my junior.
A closer look at this illustration can be had over on my Flickr base (click here, then hit the magnifying glass icon to view).
Last night Kerry and I saw one of our favourite performers, Idaho singer-songwriter Josh Ritter, on tour and promoting his stellar 2006 album The Animal Years. We first got a glimpse of him opening for Sarah Harmer for a show at Pantages in October 2005, and bought into his craft and style immediately. I brought my camera to the West End Cultural Centre; I've been harbouring a wish to get a smaller camera to accent my Rebel for months, to use for stuff like this, but since it's winter I figured I'd tuck the big thing under my coat. It was dark and I tried about 20-30 shots, of which I think three worked out (they're over on Flickr). It was a great show. He's a strong singer and a sublimely skilled writer, and equally fine and with the banter. I missed his band, but he's a captivating presence on his own and seemed genuinely enthused with the city – mentioning his newfound crush on Manitoba curling champ Jennifer Jones – and talked of bringing his whole crew another time. Next up for us is a show with local alt-hipsters Nathan, a CD release of their new album Key Principles.
My sister mentioned to me that she was looking here for movie recommendations, which I used to do at one time. Since the fall we've seen our fair share of good stuff, including more than a few Oscar hopefuls. For me, The Departed, Volver, Babel, Children Of Men and The Last King Of Scotland come first to mind, though they're all in their own way tough to watch and need a specific (re: serious) mood to appreciate. The Pursuit Of Happyness was what I'd call quality feelgood fluff (toss Little Miss Sunshine in that catagory also). I'd recommend wintertime successes like Borat and Casino Royale, which filled their roles admirably as exqusitely squeam-inducing and revved-up, smart action fare, respectively. Who Killed The Electric Car and The U.S. vs John Lennon were decent, though biased, documentaries. And The Queen was solid, though I felt I needed to be a few more decades older to really feel that one (it's slow-moving, but Helen Mirren is fabbo). We saw one dud that we could agree on, that being The Good Shepherd. Steer clear.
Still cold outside, and dementia is setting in. But instead of simply caving, I figured I'd attempt to harness some of it – specifically through my camera lens. This picture represents some of the results. Rather than describe the mood that inspired this photo session (because there's more, believe you me), I thought I'd detail the process that turned the raw image into this delicately Photoshopped final piece. It wasn't that difficult.
I first set up the shot. Recently I purchased a new sheet of that puke-green vinyl desk covering to protect the soft pine table in our attic. I used it for this shoot, taping it to the wall and flowing it over the desk to help eliminate background edges and shadows. It would fill the screen and allow for easy close-cutting in case I would follow that route (and I did). I used the tripod since I wanted to use the fading natural light in the room.
In Photoshop I cropped it to a square, duplicated the image and set about close-cutting the three animals on the copied layer (simple, since all the edges were so sharp). Once finished, I was able to tinker with the hue and saturation of the background without affecting the animals, mainly taking some sting out of the awful green coloured vinyl.
To get the desired effect on the animals, I pumped up the contrast some – but mostly it was setting their stand-alone layer mode to multiply, and then duplicating it to create even more contrast. There was some dodging and burning involved, to bring back some of the highlights in the elephant's dark body and to keep the armadillo's flanks from completely whiting out.
Back to the base layer, I added a circular gradient (olive-green to white) – set to multiply mode – to create a subtle central background highlight and darken the image's edges. I darkened the frame even more with the burn tool and finally added the edge effects with a myriad of downloaded custom brushes, their opacity set low (about 20 per cent), again set to multiply mode. And like I mentioned, there's more to see over on my Flickr site from this shoot, and closer looks at the detail on them. Below is the original shot.
