There's a wonderful children's magazine that hosts an annual two and a half day bash for its illustrators. It is ENORMOUSLY fun and it's incredibly generous of the magazine folks to entertain about 300 people in a delightful and often very silly way. The party always has a theme. The theme is reflected in all of the decorations and signage and even the food, sometimes, but most prominently in what one is supposed to create for the Big Costume Party. And -- given that this event is entirely devoted to and attended by very, very talented artistic types -- there is ABSOLUTELY NO PRESSURE WHATSOEVER to be dazzlingly creative, either in interpretation or implementation of the theme.
Said no one who ever goes to this party.
I was reasonably successful (and actually felt a little pretty -- this was back when I had long blond hair) the first year I went, when the theme was "Days of the Year." I wore Blair's custom-made Renaissance costume (thoughtfully constructed with grommets and lacing at each side of the bodice, so that even middle-aged mothers can fit in to their pencil-thin daughter's toppie thing) and a crown of fake flowers, carried a little straw basket of same, and I was...May Day!
The second year I went the theme was "It's Silly!" Exclamation point necessary. I decided to repurpose my "Mad Libs" dress -- a nice purple shift with all kinds of crazy words heat-pressed all friggin' over it (some favorites are "termagant" and "lawnmower" and "Jerry Jeff Walker") from our Mad Libs-themed Endasummer Party. And then I carried some Mad Libs blank sheets -- which I made myself and thought were absolutely hysterical, so people could fill them in. Of course nobody seems to have agreed with me about the hilarity aspect, because nobody wanted to fill them in. But I did give away samples of laminated words (also recycled from the party), and people seemed to be pleased to be gifted with "alligator" or "digression" or "nocturnal." So that was okay.
The THIRD year I went the theme was "Hidden Pictures." Hidden Pictures, as all of us who grew up reading it at the dentist's office well know, is a beloved staple of the magazine. I have never done a Hidden Pictures illustration for the magazine, though I did do an ENTIRE BOOK of "Seek and Find" pictures for another publisher, called "Cars, Trucks and Things That Go" -- this was a truly bizarre assignment for someone who sucks at drawing vehicle-type things. Draw a recognizable garbage truck? A helicopter? A CRANE? Please. I will admit within the context of this blog, since nobody actually reads it, that I was perfidious enough to trace some photographs, grabbed from the interwebs, of some of the trickier vehicles. It was that or just break into wracking sobs. And miss the deadline. Plus, everybody does it, more or less, It's called "reference." So, anyway, I had no personal experience with the magazine's own hidden pictures (tm) hidden pictures, but as we've just acknowledged, I have some facility with, um, gently stealing pictures from the internet. So that's what I did. I had to use the snipping tool to copy their online HP's because they are protected, but -- hah! -- that never stops ME. And then I printed out a ton of the pix and made myself another heat-pressed shift dress, this time covered with lots of the pages and then scatterings of the little pictures, hidden, along with them. (Oh, and by the way, while wearing the dress, I was given permission by the magazine to wear it again! In the real world! And yes, I've done that.) Anyway, this was a very weak costume compared with what those other wildly creative people did, but again, sufficient to avoid sheer embarrassment.
This year is a challenge, though. The theme is "Super Hero." Tough enough to conceive and (one imagines) construct, but then the nice and funny folks at the magazine thought it would be cool to have everyone fill in a "Super Hero Worksheet." Which IS a fun idea, totally. The plan is to put everybody's contributions together in a bound book and (I suppose) give each illustrator a copy. It'll be great to see what everybody does, but again, NO PRESSURE WHATSOEVER to be enormously witty and draw exceptionally fabulous pictures on this worksheet. Again, said no one. Or actually maybe some of the uber-talented artists did just rub their gifted hands together, charge up the extraordinary brain cells, and dig in, easily whipping out a worksheet of the height of artistic cleverlry (rhymes with revelry...)
I, on the other hand, was panic-stricken. I was also mired in a huge illo job requiring me to do finished art on something like 96 pictures in two and a half weeks. So, armed with a creative block and no time, I proceeded to procrastinate for several weeks. The deadline to send the worksheet in, by snail or email, was Friday the 7th. I finished picture #96 on Thursday, the 6th. So of course it wasn't until Saturday EVENING that I started working on my worksheet.
And here's what I have to say about creativity. It is fueled by fear and deadlines. I mean, sure, the muse can be persuaded to appear and make nice with you for other reasons, but I maintain that the survival instinct for not screwing up is truly a handy motivator for the actual creative process. On Saturday I did some scribbling on a rough copy of the worksheet. And then I let it alone, to simmer. On Sunday, I pulled up my Big Girl Panties and addressed the drawing table. There lay the rough scribbles and incoherent scrawls. But -- after a few minutes of musing -- hey, thought I to myself, hey, this stuff is Not Bad. It's, like, workable. So (as all good creators who offer advice to those who wish to create do advise) I applied butt to chair and got to work. A mere six hours later, I was done. I had a name and a personality for my superhero, and I had finished the worksheet in time (sorta) to email it in on time (sorta). So here's the worksheet, for your viewing pleasure. Or even just your viewing curiosity. (Caveat: it's not fabulous, just -- we hope -- not feeble. It will most certainly be WAY outshined by the other artists' contributions, but at least it's a record that I lassoed my fear and rode around the ranch on that ol' nag we call creativity.)
Meanwhile, I still have to come up with an actual costume...
Said no one who ever goes to this party.
I was reasonably successful (and actually felt a little pretty -- this was back when I had long blond hair) the first year I went, when the theme was "Days of the Year." I wore Blair's custom-made Renaissance costume (thoughtfully constructed with grommets and lacing at each side of the bodice, so that even middle-aged mothers can fit in to their pencil-thin daughter's toppie thing) and a crown of fake flowers, carried a little straw basket of same, and I was...May Day!
The second year I went the theme was "It's Silly!" Exclamation point necessary. I decided to repurpose my "Mad Libs" dress -- a nice purple shift with all kinds of crazy words heat-pressed all friggin' over it (some favorites are "termagant" and "lawnmower" and "Jerry Jeff Walker") from our Mad Libs-themed Endasummer Party. And then I carried some Mad Libs blank sheets -- which I made myself and thought were absolutely hysterical, so people could fill them in. Of course nobody seems to have agreed with me about the hilarity aspect, because nobody wanted to fill them in. But I did give away samples of laminated words (also recycled from the party), and people seemed to be pleased to be gifted with "alligator" or "digression" or "nocturnal." So that was okay.
The THIRD year I went the theme was "Hidden Pictures." Hidden Pictures, as all of us who grew up reading it at the dentist's office well know, is a beloved staple of the magazine. I have never done a Hidden Pictures illustration for the magazine, though I did do an ENTIRE BOOK of "Seek and Find" pictures for another publisher, called "Cars, Trucks and Things That Go" -- this was a truly bizarre assignment for someone who sucks at drawing vehicle-type things. Draw a recognizable garbage truck? A helicopter? A CRANE? Please. I will admit within the context of this blog, since nobody actually reads it, that I was perfidious enough to trace some photographs, grabbed from the interwebs, of some of the trickier vehicles. It was that or just break into wracking sobs. And miss the deadline. Plus, everybody does it, more or less, It's called "reference." So, anyway, I had no personal experience with the magazine's own hidden pictures (tm) hidden pictures, but as we've just acknowledged, I have some facility with, um, gently stealing pictures from the internet. So that's what I did. I had to use the snipping tool to copy their online HP's because they are protected, but -- hah! -- that never stops ME. And then I printed out a ton of the pix and made myself another heat-pressed shift dress, this time covered with lots of the pages and then scatterings of the little pictures, hidden, along with them. (Oh, and by the way, while wearing the dress, I was given permission by the magazine to wear it again! In the real world! And yes, I've done that.) Anyway, this was a very weak costume compared with what those other wildly creative people did, but again, sufficient to avoid sheer embarrassment.
This year is a challenge, though. The theme is "Super Hero." Tough enough to conceive and (one imagines) construct, but then the nice and funny folks at the magazine thought it would be cool to have everyone fill in a "Super Hero Worksheet." Which IS a fun idea, totally. The plan is to put everybody's contributions together in a bound book and (I suppose) give each illustrator a copy. It'll be great to see what everybody does, but again, NO PRESSURE WHATSOEVER to be enormously witty and draw exceptionally fabulous pictures on this worksheet. Again, said no one. Or actually maybe some of the uber-talented artists did just rub their gifted hands together, charge up the extraordinary brain cells, and dig in, easily whipping out a worksheet of the height of artistic cleverlry (rhymes with revelry...)
I, on the other hand, was panic-stricken. I was also mired in a huge illo job requiring me to do finished art on something like 96 pictures in two and a half weeks. So, armed with a creative block and no time, I proceeded to procrastinate for several weeks. The deadline to send the worksheet in, by snail or email, was Friday the 7th. I finished picture #96 on Thursday, the 6th. So of course it wasn't until Saturday EVENING that I started working on my worksheet.
And here's what I have to say about creativity. It is fueled by fear and deadlines. I mean, sure, the muse can be persuaded to appear and make nice with you for other reasons, but I maintain that the survival instinct for not screwing up is truly a handy motivator for the actual creative process. On Saturday I did some scribbling on a rough copy of the worksheet. And then I let it alone, to simmer. On Sunday, I pulled up my Big Girl Panties and addressed the drawing table. There lay the rough scribbles and incoherent scrawls. But -- after a few minutes of musing -- hey, thought I to myself, hey, this stuff is Not Bad. It's, like, workable. So (as all good creators who offer advice to those who wish to create do advise) I applied butt to chair and got to work. A mere six hours later, I was done. I had a name and a personality for my superhero, and I had finished the worksheet in time (sorta) to email it in on time (sorta). So here's the worksheet, for your viewing pleasure. Or even just your viewing curiosity. (Caveat: it's not fabulous, just -- we hope -- not feeble. It will most certainly be WAY outshined by the other artists' contributions, but at least it's a record that I lassoed my fear and rode around the ranch on that ol' nag we call creativity.)
Meanwhile, I still have to come up with an actual costume...
No comments:
Post a Comment