notes from a seminar

It was a great seminar, designed to boost our creativity.

Brilliant ideas, tons of interactive fun, loads of chocolate biscuits during intervals - the lot.

I could elaborate on this, but it wouldn't make an exciting blog entry, would it?

The LEGS on the other hand might do.

Yes, legs.

And here is the connection:

The seminar atmosphere was delightfully relaxed.

Dress code didn't apply.

Fair enough. For us, struggling artists, "haute couture" may as well not exist. Besides, creative use of op-shops is much more fun.

Likewise a formal sitting mode didn't apply either, thank God.

That's where we come to the LEGS part.

Due to my staring obsession, I had a time of my life observing my fellow students ... from the waist down, so to speak. The landscape beneath those table tops.

What do we actually do with our legs, while our bums are firmly planted in one place for a few hours? Does taking the shoes off or wrapping our limbs any which way around chair legs help us to concentrate? You bet.

Here, see the evidence above.

A word of caution here: all similarities to real participants of the seminar are not exactly truthful, certainly not intentional. So, please don't rush to the next Devonport seminar, looking for your favourite pair of pins.

And yes, we had a lot of fun during those three days, as I'm sure you can see.

But we also left with plenty of new ideas in our heads and plenty of notes (and sketches) in our diaries.

The only thing I can't remember in fact, is what MY legs were doing, tucked underneath the table for three days.

decisions and choices

Nobody likes them, and I'm no exception.

But here is what annoys me the most: after 20 plus years of illustrating I have piles of pictures.

Just like pencils, pictures are everywhere in this house.

Every now and then I hear about some establishment looking for freelancing illustrators to add them to its pool (more like waiting list). The requirement is to send five (!!!) of my best pieces, on basis of which I'd be judged, selected, discarded - whatever.

It makes me want to scream!

FIVE! Which five? What style? What topic? What medium? Why ONLY five?

My offers of turning up with my well trimmed and carefully selected portfolio are usually declined.

We are these days not represented by our names and faces. We have www. identities, easier to deal with, less biased, and non-personal. This is all apparently a time-saving strategy.

So how come I just spend the whole weekend scanning dozens upon dozens of my pictures into the computer?

Then I'll have to select the most suitable bits for a particular purpose (in my opinion) and email them in batches, waiting for each attachment to process. This is, of course, when I want to create a decent collection, which represents my skills. Not just five random images.

On the receiving end someone will have to spend a lot of time opening each batch, each image, only to discard 3/4 of the pictures as unsuitable for their publication style. This assuming, that this particular person won't run out of patience half way through the process of sorting out my offerings.

The alternative scenario could be pretty simple: a scheduled appointment, in person, portfolio in hand.

We finger through the decently filed stuff. This is OK, that we could use, while that over there is not our cup of tea.

Half an hour plus MY trip across town.

OK. Having vented my frustration I'm inclined to look at the positive side of virtual self-promotion. Come on, let's be fair. Read on:

- I'm saving on petrol.

- I can fiddle with my scanner till the cows come home, and until I make my pics look much better, than they really are.

- I can do all this work in the middle of a night, if I choose to spend the day shopping (what shopping?) or gossipping with my friends, if I still have any, considering my time-consuming affair with the computer.

- I can deal with those prominent people while wearing my pyjamas, with a beauty mask on my face, while a dye is turning my hair into a smashing shade of auburn.

- I can have my favourite music playing in the background, while a glass of wine waits, strategically positioned next to the keyboard.

Does the same apply to the recipient of my mail in his/hers executive office? Probably. Hence the popularity of this whole idea.

- And, of course, nobody is going to spill their coffee (hair dye? cigarette ash?) onto my original artwork.

- I also don't have to look at my "enemy's" disappointed face, if he happens to be disappointed

- I'm learning new stuff, borrowing tools which in fact belong to the next generation.

So, perhaps this digital communication isn't so bad after all?

The proverbial glass with only some liquid in it comes to mind ...

Speaking of which, the appropriate picture is right below.

As for the one next to the title - this is what I'm feeling like right now. Yes, it's getting dark outside. Time to harness my stallions and vent my technology-related frustration.

Who knows - I may come back convinced, that the glass is definitely half-full. That my illustrations actually look pretty good on the screen and my face feels nicely exfoliated.

Yes, it's all good.

sickness benefit ...

...is not what you might think it is, not in this case.

It is about looking east from the 9th floor of the North Shore Hospital window, on a cloudless spring morning.

Lake Pupuke, a green strip where Milford shake hands with Takapuna, then the sea melting into distant horizon, with misty islands competing for attention.

If you live around here, you know what I mean.

If you don't ... well, this is the stuff the dreams are made of.

That's the BENEFIT almost worth getting SICK for.

I'm not going to help you with a picture here, although it can make you feel a bit cheated.

Instead I'll take you inside the hospital room.

It is my 85-years old neighbour, who ended up here yesterday - Doreen.

A tiny Girl (I could probably lift her up with one hand), with a pretty big personality. Brave, gutsy, independent, certainly not a typical NICE old lady.

When you are 85, alone and every little task becomes a challenge, I guess your capacity for being nice gets somewhat diminished. You become a battler.

This doesn't change my admiration for Doreen, even though we have our share of arguments to our credit. And, I'm sure, we are not done yet.

But right now I left my neighbour there,on the 9th floor, equipped with her favourite Vogel bread, a jar of Marmite and those sea views to die for (excuse the punt) from her hospital window.

It doesn't get more Kiwi than that, does it?

Good on you Doreen.

Life may not always feel like your friend these days, but perhaps I can try to be one.

not much of anything

I don't really have time for writing right now, although a lot has happened today, not all of it good, and I'd love to make a note of it.

But, what I'm going to do instead is to try to stick here one of my favourite pictures.

It is a happy one, just what I need today.

And as for my visitors , I'm sure they can do with a smile too.