Bachelor Exercise No. 1

Bachelor exercise number one: a list, of the songs in our iTunes library that I'm pretty confident I could sing all the words to, if someone were to put a gun to my head and instruct me to (in alphabetical order, by performer):

• Take On Me, A-ha (see above)
• Already Yours, Bahamas
• A Day In The Life, The Beatles
• Because, The Beatles
• I've Just Seen A Face, The Beatles
• Maxwell's Silver Hammer, The Beatles
• Norwegian Wood, The Beatles
• Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, The Beatles
• Rocky Raccoon, The Beatles
• Taxman, The Beatles
• Stand By Me, Ben E. King
• Oh Alberta, Elliott Brood
• I'm Popeye The Sailor Man, Face To Face
• Business Time, Flight Of The Conchords
• My Daddy Was A Rock N' Roller, Jason Collett
• Back Dirt Road, Oh Susanna
• That Was Your Mother, Paul Simon
• Jeremy, Pearl Jam
• Big Time, Peter Gabriel
• Even Better Than The Real Thing, U2
• With Or Without You, U2
• Our Retired Explorer, The Weakerthans
• One Great City!, The Weakerthans
• Virtute The Cat Explains Her Departure, The Weakerthans
• The Hardest Button To Button, The White Stripes

Technically Speaking

Me and tech, we begrudgingly share an OK relationship. I've warmed to it in recent years but by no means do I chase technology. Case in point my Canon Rebel. It's responsible for taking all the lovely pictures you've seen here since the fall of 2005. Technically, anyways; if it hadn't been swiped from me in the ballsiest of brazen swipe jobs almost two years ago to the day, I wouldn't have upsized to a newer model like I did out of necessity a month later (in the thick of my photo-a-day challenge).

And that's my point: if it hadn't been stolen, I'd more than likely still be content with my 2005 camera, rather than salivating once a year (or more) for a newer model. That sounds like crazy-talk in 2012, but it's how I roll. The old Rebel did the job of capturing, and I could handle things from there. And like my friend Ian I think once said, or typed, or something: the best camera for you is the camera you have. Truer words were never spoken.

The newer, replacement Rebel takes pictures X times larger, and that's come in extremely handy. And it has the ability to attain a higher ISO setting, which is great in the dark (even though the noise levels suck). And it shoots HD video, which I frequently forget when I'm trying to nab a tricky moment all the while not realizing hey, I could shoot a video of this. Like I managed to convince myself with the above snippet.

Consequently, it bugs me that my second-generation iPod sits behind me collecting dust simply because my computer doesn't have the proper Firewire ports to sustain it anymore and our sound system's dock doesn't configure with it. The thing works like a charm, even if it holds a charge for an hour (tops). If my Touch lasts anywhere near as long, I'll be a happy digi-camper.

It bugs me that the immediacy of iPhone cameras and Instagram filters makes my habit of uploading photos the next day seem archaic. It bugs me that a well-planned and wordy blog post, like this one, seems archaic – because I could tweet it (which I will, later) or find a near-identical diatribe someone else wrote and share it and say yes, this is how I feel too.

So I dig tech, to a certain degree. When it suits my needs – just not when I need to suit its needs. I can be amazed that, for example, right now as I type I'm waiting for Kerry to arrive, knackered, at her hotel in Córdoba, Spain, so I might catch a glimpse of her on Skype or hear her voice via GoogleChat. And I can suitably relax knowing the money I don't spend on gadgetry and upgrading will go handily towards that plane ticket that will have me there with her in a few quick weeks – camera and iPod in tow.

260: Brushing Up

Up late-late at night, dickering with a recently-doodled office-meeting doodle and trying out some freshly downloaded freebie Photoshop brushes from Chris Wahl (I think it's set seven, if you're scrolling through his wares). Please click here for a crisper, better view.

And now I am zonked. Good night, all.

259: Holy Canadiana

There was a recent and amazing stretch of winter that almost made the season's dearth of snow worthwhile. First there were four consecutive days of hoarfrost-birthing fog, captured at work with my camera in an earlier post – and then again here, and here, and here.

And then, when it finally lifted and the sun returned, there was a single brilliant Saturday morning where the frost and crisp blue sky coexisted. I took the camera down to the river to scope things out, and stumbled on a kiddos' outdoor hockey tournament. Much Canadiana ensued.

On the next day we went skiing at Grand Beach. We'd hit up the trails at Birds Hill the previous four weekends because it was the only park nearby reporting decent conditions. But the artificiality of Birds Hill was beginning to wear, and the thicker forests and lack of highway noise of Grand Beach was a decent tonic. It's a beautiful trail network. Next weekend we're heading even farther afield, to Pinawa and the Whiteshell, and I'm excited. I hope the winter doesn't turn on us.

258: "I Want To Draw A Bird."

So, when I really want to draw something – and know at the end of it all I want to be happy, I draw a bird. Anyone who's visited here in the past eight years knows this by now. Writers are told to write what they know; illustrators, I'm not sure if they live by this creed or not. Lots do, I'm sure – really good ones don't have to care. I do. I started this site all those years ago to venture forth and see if I had a style. Or could develop a style. And as I drew and drew and struggled and tried different things, I came to the realization it was this, this technique all wrapped up and on display in single drawing of an evening grosbeak. My style has found me, rather than the other way around.

Not to say this drawing is any sort of revelation. It's not. I knew I hadn't genuinely drawn something for quite awhile (as is often the case). When this happens, and I want to make sure I still 'have it', or a semblance of 'it', I draw a bird. It comes to me often like a craving (or a nagging): I want a brownie. I want to get out of the city. I want to draw a bird.

And I get to work drawing the bird. I pencil-sketch it, so lightly you'd think I was confident enough to go straight to pen and ink. I draw a basic framework with a thin-nibbed pen. Go over the more integral lines with a thicker pen, and again with a chisel-tip pen. A patchwork of short strokes in small fan shapes, over and over, and over again, for feathers and texture. Finally, a go-around with a brush pen, to rid the thing a bit of its careful, calculated feel and add some spontaneity. Big, brush-penned needles to cover for my disinterest in adding feet (yes, even with this amount of detail there is laziness peeking through). Then, I scan and I colour.

I've also noticed over time that many of the birds I particularly enjoy – and enjoy drawing – share similar characteristics, textures and tonal ranges. That might be the designer in me talking, but I made this Kuler-style chart anyways, and realized it was the case.

257: What Tangled Webs We Weave

It's been a strange winter here. Jinxes be damned, there's only been a single week of legitimately cold weather. There's been so little snow that all the energy I typically expend on shoveling has been transferred largely to sitting on my duff. Our days out skiing have been limited to areas with enough forest cover to nab what snow has accumulated.  

And, quite miraculously, the past two days have seen wadges of thick-as-borscht fog descend on the city and – to a much greater extent – out where I work, in the country.

So after the news crews out to see Manitoba Merv prognosticate an early spring (as if winter ever really arrived – again, jinx) wrapped up their on-site reports, I took a short walk.

I went over to the clubhouse, a locked-up out-building on the premises used by school groups in warmer seasons. Under its eaves is a network of cobwebs and barn swallow nests. Because of the fog and damp, the webs were all coated with a thick beading of hoarfrost.

256: Grounded Down

In a concerted effort to prove to myself that any drawing can be fruitful drawing, I'm posting this doodle. Doodled among other doodles during a department meeting at work yesterday afternoon, I scanned and brought these fellows home, where I proceeded to meticulously transform them into an ever-so-slightly more interesting doodle. And then, respectfully submitted to Illustration Friday to also exemplify their theme-du-jour theme-de-la-semaine of "grounded" – showcasing the unfortunate reality that some people are genetically more, um, grounded than others.

255: Show And Tell

How am I feeling? It's a new year, and my eighth year running this site. And while I abandoned the place for a great wadge of time, it was by no means indicative of what type of year it's been.

2011 started off on a high. Literally. On January 1, 2011, I attained a higher altitude than on any other day in the calendar year.

There were other notable highs. I gazed at high art. And hoisted my own art fairly high, at my first (co-hosted) photography exhibit. I started getting my name out there. I spread my creative wings more, and began getting paid for it more.

I witnessed high returns attained in our brand new backyard garden, which in itself was a highlight. Despite laying claim to some of the worst corn grown by man, it was a veggie season like no other.


I got to see things of great beauty.

I got to see my family.

I got to see some amazing things…

Head-scratchingly amazing things…

And other amazing things.

I saw an inordinate amount of sheep and goats in 2011. Definitely an anomoly.

Traveled to places of great bustle and hustle…

And to places devoid of bustle and hustle.

 

Also to places so devoid of bustle and hustle, it was spooky.

But like in most years, there were also a great many days where nothing of note happened. And that's OK. I've never been one to stuff the calendar.

Where is all this leading? Unsure. Technically it leads to 2012, and there will be much to speak of this year. I know that I still get a little high from coming to this place, showing and telling you about these types of things. I hope that you do as well.

Merry Animated GIF-mas

A snippet of decorating, as Kerry and I got ornamental Sunday night before getting our nog on. This year's star is a Fraser fir, a fine piece of coniferous-ness procured once more from the good chaps at Scouts Canada 66/67th Winnipeg A Troop in River Heights.

254: Felt Love

Kerry recently needle-felted these four birds.

 

I have no idea where they're headed next.

 

But I'm sure they'll land in the hands of loving recipients.

 

I'm just happy I had the chance to photograph them; give myself something constructive to do other than stare slack-jawed in amazement.