Thursday, April 26, 2012
Where Cometh the She-Robot
posted this image from my sketchbook. I had entertained myself, and was intrigued by the result. About a month after that, I turned the sketch into a school assignment and this is what it looked like. I took it to a critique session and saw its potential and its flaws. I promised myself I'd go back and "fix" it, but never did, mostly because I got busy with other assignments. On the brink of graduation from art school, I decided that was one job I could'nt leave unfinished. So the image at the top of the page is what I would say is my "final" version of the She-Robot, except ... Who's to say what's final? Funny thing: I hadn't looked at the original sketch in a long time. As I do today, I see things I liked that got lost on the way to a more finished piece of art. But here's what has always been so satisfying about artistic endeavors, including writing. It's the great mystery: One day, there's nothing there. The next day, you're fiddling about with a piece of paper, or an open Word document, and something arrives from ... somewhere. And then it grows. And when it grows into something good, we can pat ourselves on the back for being creative geniuses, I guess, but that's not completely honest. We know in our hearts that whatever it is, it has arrived because of collaboration with some mysterious source that mostly hides and winks at us from behind a closet door.