I'm so not a biologist. I know that the previous post suggested it was the perfect career, but that was utter nonsense. You see, we artists have a fear of being artists that's greater than anything. The US culture thinks poorly of us, so when we think that there's another option for us, one that isn't art, we are often distracted and decide it's perfect for us because the thought of art and writing being a primary income is just so scary.
So, as a reminder to myself, I just have to say. OMFG, I'm and artist and writer and that's all I ever will be and I should just make my peace with it.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
I Owe My Life to the Ocean
I haven't posted in a while, but I needed to get this autobiographical piece out there-
The boat hummed as the engine began to turn, and I grabbed to handrail for balance as we all started rocking back and fourth on the waves. The crisp smell of sea-breeze was tainted for most by the harsh smell of sea lions that where basking in the sun on the beach. Sea lions smell like rotted fish, wet dog and squid carcass, yet, much as a rancher grows to love the smell of the stables, I have grown fond of this harsh scent.
I grin as we leave the port, following the tail of the Sea Wolf II, an aptly named boat, as aboard there where two large fluffy sea-dogs. I envied the people on that ship slightly, being so close to those big dogs, but then I noticed the lining of hair that coated the slick walls under the railing, and decided I rather liked being away from the source of all that fluff.
"Hello there, everyone, I'll be the one giving this tour, I just wanted to make sure you saw me once, so you knew who I was," a tiny upbeat woman announced. "During the tour I will point out things, treating the boat like a clock. If I say one o' clock, things will be to your right, near the bow. Most things will appear on the right, because that's where the captain is."
Score! I thought, realizing we had decided to sit right under the captain.
We made it out of port, and ahead was open water. The fog made the water look black... so as the waves rose and fell and rippled it looked like a giant heft bag being spread out. I spent the first mile or so just watching it shift, until my stomach turned. I sat down and leaned back, letting the boat rock me from side to side, peering through the slats in the metal rail.
Then, floating in the water was a shadow, about a foot or two thick.
"Wow," I mumbled. "That's a big fish. Hey Rob, did you see that?"
Rob looked over the railing, but he was too late, the blob had drifted off behind us.
A minute latter there was another shadow, and another, and then, up close to the water, I finally knew exactly what I was seeing. It wasn't a fish, it was a long stinging nettle, riding the waves. A beautiful yellow jellyfish.
"Wow, Robert, do you see? Jellyfish!" I said, pointing over the edge, though me announcing that fact did nothing. It was impossible to have not seen them, there where hundreds of thousands, if you where looking at the water, anywhere in the water, you would have seen one.
But soon we passed through them, and we where back in open water, lazily floating along, being tossed around like a rag-doll by each wave.
And then it happened. This upside down "U" slithered in and out of the water. Like a big black hill had chosen to surface, but then changed it's mind and sank.
It was a whale.... a big humpback whale. I gasped in awe, but assumed that was all I'd see of them, and at first it was. Only the back were visible at first as they'd dive for krill... but then they showed their tail, then there face, and then the calves jumped full on out of the water.
Where do whales get off being that big and that graceful at the same time? It's unfair.
An animal that large should not also posses enough beauty to bring you to tears, and yet, there I was. My eyes watering. Whales jumping. See water mucking up my glasses. My hair trying to beat me to death as the wind blew it around.
I don't think I've ever been so happy... never in my life have I been in such utter bliss.
And as those whales jumped and slapped their jaws on the water, putting on a lovely show, something clicked.
Why I never made the connection, it was so obvious.
Left brain, right brain... when choosing my career, I've always pitted them against one another in a neck and neck battle. Do I live for my passion in comics, bringing these grand stories and characters to life? Or do I better the world and devote my life to the earth's inhabitants, studying animals and spreading awareness?
It was always one or the other, and right brain usually won, but I feared that making art my one hope for survival, in a world like ours, would break me. That my rent and need to eat on a regular basis would kill my art if I made it my only income, which made the already unbearable fear of rejection artists face exponentially worse.
However, I could never to the whole science wrought... I'm too artsy, I'd die without my art.
Never did I think of combining them.
"Robert!" I said, having had an epiphany. "I know what I need to do! I'm going to draw them, I'll be one of those nature artists, that do illustrations for textbooks and anatomy books!"
We continued the trip, seeing dolphins jump from the water, a calf snapping it's jaw open and close, blue whales diving for krill, and some humpbacks making disgruntled huffs as they tried to escape pestering dolphins. All these sights only further proved that my decision was the right one. As we came back, the sun came out, and I was washed over with a wave of warmth. Wishing it would have lasted longer, we turned away from the pissed pod of humpbacks, leaving them to deal with the dolphins in private.
"Wow," I said, sliding down the cabin and onto the floor. "Just... wow."
"Ten years. I'll train, and spend about ten years out in the field, studying animals, and then I'll start my cartooning career. I'll have amazing knowledge of anatomy, I'll have gotten to travel, which was always my dream, I'll be able to be close to animals, which I've always loved... and while I do all this, I'll be able to work on story books, publish reports, work on personal things like my comics and I can take freelance jobs and work remotely... it's perfect for me... I'll just tag along with a research team, travel the world, and live a dream. I mean... if I only get one life... I don't want to spend it doing only half of what I love... I shouldn't have to chose, so I won't. I'll live both my dreams, my art, my science, my travel, everything, and I'll see ever inch of this world," I laughed. I wiped away tears and tried not to show that I was crying. I never cried in public, and I don't think I'd ever cried tears of joy before... it was like every worry had fled, all my world made sense, and suddenly, in that one moment, I had figured out everything, and I knew why I was here.
The sun had come out, the see was bright blue, and everything was right.
The boat hummed as the engine began to turn, and I grabbed to handrail for balance as we all started rocking back and fourth on the waves. The crisp smell of sea-breeze was tainted for most by the harsh smell of sea lions that where basking in the sun on the beach. Sea lions smell like rotted fish, wet dog and squid carcass, yet, much as a rancher grows to love the smell of the stables, I have grown fond of this harsh scent.
I grin as we leave the port, following the tail of the Sea Wolf II, an aptly named boat, as aboard there where two large fluffy sea-dogs. I envied the people on that ship slightly, being so close to those big dogs, but then I noticed the lining of hair that coated the slick walls under the railing, and decided I rather liked being away from the source of all that fluff.
"Hello there, everyone, I'll be the one giving this tour, I just wanted to make sure you saw me once, so you knew who I was," a tiny upbeat woman announced. "During the tour I will point out things, treating the boat like a clock. If I say one o' clock, things will be to your right, near the bow. Most things will appear on the right, because that's where the captain is."
Score! I thought, realizing we had decided to sit right under the captain.
We made it out of port, and ahead was open water. The fog made the water look black... so as the waves rose and fell and rippled it looked like a giant heft bag being spread out. I spent the first mile or so just watching it shift, until my stomach turned. I sat down and leaned back, letting the boat rock me from side to side, peering through the slats in the metal rail.
Then, floating in the water was a shadow, about a foot or two thick.
"Wow," I mumbled. "That's a big fish. Hey Rob, did you see that?"
Rob looked over the railing, but he was too late, the blob had drifted off behind us.
A minute latter there was another shadow, and another, and then, up close to the water, I finally knew exactly what I was seeing. It wasn't a fish, it was a long stinging nettle, riding the waves. A beautiful yellow jellyfish.
"Wow, Robert, do you see? Jellyfish!" I said, pointing over the edge, though me announcing that fact did nothing. It was impossible to have not seen them, there where hundreds of thousands, if you where looking at the water, anywhere in the water, you would have seen one.
But soon we passed through them, and we where back in open water, lazily floating along, being tossed around like a rag-doll by each wave.
And then it happened. This upside down "U" slithered in and out of the water. Like a big black hill had chosen to surface, but then changed it's mind and sank.
It was a whale.... a big humpback whale. I gasped in awe, but assumed that was all I'd see of them, and at first it was. Only the back were visible at first as they'd dive for krill... but then they showed their tail, then there face, and then the calves jumped full on out of the water.
Where do whales get off being that big and that graceful at the same time? It's unfair.
An animal that large should not also posses enough beauty to bring you to tears, and yet, there I was. My eyes watering. Whales jumping. See water mucking up my glasses. My hair trying to beat me to death as the wind blew it around.
I don't think I've ever been so happy... never in my life have I been in such utter bliss.
And as those whales jumped and slapped their jaws on the water, putting on a lovely show, something clicked.
Why I never made the connection, it was so obvious.
Left brain, right brain... when choosing my career, I've always pitted them against one another in a neck and neck battle. Do I live for my passion in comics, bringing these grand stories and characters to life? Or do I better the world and devote my life to the earth's inhabitants, studying animals and spreading awareness?
It was always one or the other, and right brain usually won, but I feared that making art my one hope for survival, in a world like ours, would break me. That my rent and need to eat on a regular basis would kill my art if I made it my only income, which made the already unbearable fear of rejection artists face exponentially worse.
However, I could never to the whole science wrought... I'm too artsy, I'd die without my art.
Never did I think of combining them.
"Robert!" I said, having had an epiphany. "I know what I need to do! I'm going to draw them, I'll be one of those nature artists, that do illustrations for textbooks and anatomy books!"
We continued the trip, seeing dolphins jump from the water, a calf snapping it's jaw open and close, blue whales diving for krill, and some humpbacks making disgruntled huffs as they tried to escape pestering dolphins. All these sights only further proved that my decision was the right one. As we came back, the sun came out, and I was washed over with a wave of warmth. Wishing it would have lasted longer, we turned away from the pissed pod of humpbacks, leaving them to deal with the dolphins in private.
"Wow," I said, sliding down the cabin and onto the floor. "Just... wow."
"Ten years. I'll train, and spend about ten years out in the field, studying animals, and then I'll start my cartooning career. I'll have amazing knowledge of anatomy, I'll have gotten to travel, which was always my dream, I'll be able to be close to animals, which I've always loved... and while I do all this, I'll be able to work on story books, publish reports, work on personal things like my comics and I can take freelance jobs and work remotely... it's perfect for me... I'll just tag along with a research team, travel the world, and live a dream. I mean... if I only get one life... I don't want to spend it doing only half of what I love... I shouldn't have to chose, so I won't. I'll live both my dreams, my art, my science, my travel, everything, and I'll see ever inch of this world," I laughed. I wiped away tears and tried not to show that I was crying. I never cried in public, and I don't think I'd ever cried tears of joy before... it was like every worry had fled, all my world made sense, and suddenly, in that one moment, I had figured out everything, and I knew why I was here.
The sun had come out, the see was bright blue, and everything was right.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Since birth I've been artistic and imaginative, though it wasn't readily apparent to everyone, sense I've always had aspergers (a form of high functioning autism)
My Grandma, (whom we no longer speak with as she doesn't approve of my dad, Soren, being gay) even went so far as to call me unimaginative, as I often refused to participate in the imagination games kids my age were expected to participate in.
In fifth grade, my dad, Robert, participated in a 24 hour comic thing, where artists from around the world would all try to complete one autobiographical comic for each hour of the day. I did the same thing as him, and took a liking to it.
I continued drawing events from my life for years to come, my sketchbooks slowly turning into diaries as I spilled out information. During sixth grade this kept me sane, when my aspergers was effecting my life in the most volatile fashion. We lived in New Mexico at the time, which had harsh social expectations, forcing me to retreat and become completely non-social. I would try to interact, but all attempts would be shot down, so I began hiding from the world during lunch, choosing to write fanciful stories of my much preferable past and about my many characters.
When we moved back to California, the comics stuck, but really started to take hold of my sketch book in eighth grade, thanks to the fact that for the first time in my life I had not one, but several people I could regard as my equals, which was rare for me. In eighth grade I wanted to talk to every one around me, so I started noticing the near but impossible to traverse wall that was aspergers.
I developed coping mechanisms, on purpose, at times. I would put great thought, and go out of my way to find ways to interact with my peers, from figuring out ways to position myself so as to end up at the same place at the same time as my friends, to, in a not so subtle way, making it so they would notice my life comics.
My life comics became, and continue to be the ultimate coping mechanism for me, because when I'm writing and drawing I don't even notice the wall of aspergers, suddenly I can do and say whatever I want. And I can set up and showcase my unique sense of humor, it was perfect!
These comics eventually evolved, and soon I began to notice how valuable they were to me as an artist. So, I decided to start this blog.
I increased the awesomeness of my comics, improved from floaty head comics to six paneled comics, and invented what is now 24 Frames! The unedited life comic of Regan Wolf! (huzzah!)
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