They're only echoes...

It feels like years since I started this (it's actually just a couple of weeks) and back then I had a reason for it, something definite had inspired the idea, it meant something. But it coincided with a bout of repetitive strain (I think, but it's in both hands so I'm not so sure) and then trapping my thumb in a collapsing washing maiden, which stopped all fine detail for a bit and made me forget the point.
So let me view it retrospectively and try and impart some meaning to the art...This is my hand, the one I draw with, so I suppose it's a kind of self portrait. I did post an earlier version on Instagram (@hollyholtart) with a description along those lines but I've refined it slightly since then and added some pencil (of all things), which I actually quite enjoyed as the delicacy of the drawing required something less...dense. This is one of those drawings that would have gone on forever so I just had to decide to stop. I'm even going to be so bold as to say I quite like this drawing. It's a description of the part of me that's close to nature, the part that likes to pick things up and explore them, the part that has to translate thoughts into pictures. The part that hides in a shell. Right, I've said too much, I'm outta here!

Hidden treasure...

Sometimes I just have to prove to myself that I still can. It felt good to do something observational, to think about negative space and form and light and shadow and really look at a thing rather than dreaming it up. To actually draw a thing that's there in front of me. So the victim of choice was these tiny bones and the weapon, biro. I've had the bones for ages, I found them and keep them in this little box like some kind of psycho killer. I'm not. I just love their bleached beauty and their reminder that everything is finite. We'll all be bones in a box one day I suppose. I wonder what people reading this think I'm like in real life...

Like a moth to a flame...

Or in this case, a light bulb. These are the moths that flutter around in my brain when I have an idea for a drawing. They flit aimlessly, bouncing off the walls of my skull. Some of them get fried up and die but every now and again one settles on something half decent. 

That wasn't the intention of this drawing, I just wanted to draw a bigger light bulb. The thought only occurred to me as it was nearly finished that it was quite a nice metaphor and that something subconscious was at play. I like light bulbs as an image, they're quite harsh and give a strong contrast between the darkness and the light. I did tell myself I wasn't going to do any more intense blackness with the biro for a while but all too soon I returned to it, like...well, you know the simile. 

Flying too close to the Moon...

A while back I drew the Minotaur, hesitating over the agonising decision of whether to make a break for freedom or stay a prisoner of the only home he'd ever known...a sort of mythological Stockholm syndrome. So here's another subversion of the original myth. I had the idea of drawing Icarus and I was going to keep it simple but then as my over active imagination assumed control, Icarus became a woman...then the Sun became the Moon (of course)...then obviously nothing but the infinite blackness of space would do for a backdrop. I could never be accused of cutting corners, that's at least (I stopped counting) six layers of crosshatched and scribbled black ballpoint, the fine kind not even medium! Why do I put myself through it? 

The Moon proved quite troublesome too but I ended up experimenting at the eleventh hour with pigment marker blender over the biro which turned out quite nicely, just smoothed some of the harshness. The image above is a black and white version, below is how the drawing actually looks in real life. The blender turned the biro a bit blue, which I do like but I think the whole drawing would need to be a bit blue too. Another experiment for another time...

You can either run from it or learn from it...

A little slice of history...Quite some time ago I used to draw a lot of pencil portraits, both of humans and animals. I hadn't really done much drawing for a long time and then some colleagues and I started to draw pictures of each other during slow afternoons at work and it turned out that mine were a pretty good likeness. Once people got wind of the fact I could draw, I started to get a fair few requests for them and very quickly became thoroughly miserable. I was enlarging photos, sketching, tracing the sketch onto nicer paper, checking and double checking every last detail...it was mentally draining. It had to stop.

So here's what I dislike about drawing portraits: Firstly, they take such a soul destroyingly long time. I used to spend hours painstakingly rendering every precise detail as best as I could until I wanted to cry. Secondly, I don't get peoples fascination or love for them, I'd rather die than have a drawing of myself up on the wall. Thirdly, when done like this, although it is a skill in itself, it only ever felt like copying, there's no room for error or scope for creative licence. And finally, I began to really dislike drawing in pencil. Everything about pencils started to annoy me, I didn't like sharpening them every five minutes, I didn't like how many different grades were needed just for one drawing and I could never get a dark enough shadow. 

So I started doodling about with a biro and the rest is history. There's many, many brilliant portrait artists and styles out there and I'm not discrediting their work (or their customers) in any way, it's just not for me. I don't regret doing them, they brought people happiness and quite often brought tears to their eyes which is a high accolade indeed and I might not have developed the style(s) I use today without them. I'm not exactly an overnight success and could probably have carried on and made a business out of them but it just felt wrong. It lacked creative integrity. But I wanted to share the story, thanks folks, I feel cleansed of the past now. 

The keepers of our secrets...

Another little skull that kept pecking away at my own until I finally got round to drawing it. I love doing these strange little skeleton drawings every now and again. They aren't exactly what you'd call anatomically accurate but their tiny bones seem to exude personality more than flesh and feathers do. The intention was for the Blackbird to be contemplating his skeletal reflection but to me, the skeleton seems more taken aback by what it's seeing. Once I start these things, they really do take on a life of their own and the picture in my head is never quite the picture you see here, but think of that as an enhancement. I did have more ambitious plans for the design of the mirror but I really don't have the patience, I think you can have too much agonising detail in your life and smaller than life size bones in ballpoint pen is plenty for me, thanks. 

Out there in the deep...

A blue shark, in blue biro. That worked out quite nicely didn't it? I was asked to draw a shark and here he is. I don't really think he looks ferocious but I'm sure he's a swift and agile predator. 

I've recently decided that I don't draw in blue pen enough, it suits certain subjects perfectly and makes them glow with electricity (which is just what I look for in creatures of the deep). This is quite a simple sketch really but there's something about the bleak, stark page with the shark hovering there. Brings to mind The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall. I like backgrounds, setting a scene, creating shadows...but sometimes, there doesn't need to be a narrative. And am I really going to argue with this guy?