Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Two Images
First is something I drew quite a while back. The second is something I drew very quickly in Paint pretty recently. I had thought about posting a story, and even wrote a good chunk of it today... but then I realized that the length of the thing might put people off, considering this is just a silly little blog. The tale is currently about a page in length, and probably has another full page to go. I might go ahead and finish the story later, and post it here... or I might try to make it more concise... We'll see. For now, here are the images.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Future Updates
I have decided that I'm going to find some way to update my blog at least once a week. I might just post silly little nothings, or a hastily drawn sketch (probably from MS Paint... I still don't know what's wrong with the scanner). For right now, I think I'll try brushing off my writing abilities and change a one-panel comic I drew quite a while back into a short short-story.
So, here it goes (keep in mind that this is a spur of the moment thing... so it won't be perfect by any means):
If these walls could talk
Linda and Will were of that rare type of relationship which grew from adolescent camaraderie into something more mature. They were best friends since meeting in third grade, and one moonlit night three years ago, they became that and more. Under the stars, they had come to the realization that they couldn't bear the thought of ever being without each other. They had never even kissed before that night, but for some reason the planets aligned, their hearts beat faster, and their eyes opened.
Now Linda clings to Will's arm. They are newlywed, and the stars still shine bright in their young eyes. Today they are moving into their new house. They try to suppress their anxiety. This will be their first time entering the old, modest construction rather than viewing it through photographs. It may have been a brash move to make, but the price was right, and they are eager to start a life all their own. Once the paperwork was finished, they hopped a plane and now they stand just outside their very own home, surveying the foundation of their future. Will opens the front door and peers in hesitantly. Linda takes advantage of his turned back, and uses all her might to lift him off the ground. She carries him past the threshold. Will laughs, but isn't wholly surprised. On their short, cheap honeymoon Linda had sworn she wouldn't stand for being carried through every new door the two of them crossed together. This was just payback.
Once nestled in the gloom of the house, Linda sets her husband down and tries to regain her composure (and breath). They smile at each other, Will still laughing. It is then that they hear it: a strange, almost groaning sound. The couple's bodies go rigid, their eyes go wide. They both hear it -- something resembling a voice in the vaguely metallic noise. It doesn't last long, and when silence begins to seem certain, Will asks "Did you hear what I did?" Linda shrugs, her eyes still wide; she doesn't know what she's just heard. The noise starts again. This time it sounds less like something clanging against old steel, and has an eerie creaking sound. Will and Linda huddle together silently, listening hard, trying to discern some meaning in the noise. This time the voice is more apparent and they hear the words. As soon as the creaking voice ceases, Will takes his wife by the hand, and they run out the door.
By the road, next to many of their worldly possessions they look at each other, dazed and pale.
"What was that!?" Linda pleads.
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out right now." Will pulls out his cell phone and calls the real estate agent. "Jared, this is Will Barter..."
"Oh, Mister Barter! How do you and the misses like the house?"
"That's what I've called you about! I'm telling you, this place is haunted! My wife and I just heard... things."
"What's that? It's nothing, I'm sure. Old houses make lots of noises. Old pipes, old, strong wood."
"You don't understand! There was a voice from nowhere!"
"A voice, Mister Barter?"
"Yes, Jared, a voice! The first time I think it said 'good enough, I suppose.' How do you explain that?"
"Oh, that! Don't worry about that," Jared Green replies sagely.
Will looks at his wife, far paler than usual, shivering in the summertime. He draws her close to him, and presses the button on his cell to turn on speaker phone. If there's a good explanation, he wants, he needs, his wife to hear it. "Okay, Jared, maybe I imagined the first one, but the second time, I'm sure there was a voice that said 'Well, alright... I guess... that's fine... really...' Now, why, how, would our house say something like that?!"
"Like I've said: It's an old house, Mr. Barter. What you heard was the house settling."
So, here it goes (keep in mind that this is a spur of the moment thing... so it won't be perfect by any means):
If these walls could talk
Linda and Will were of that rare type of relationship which grew from adolescent camaraderie into something more mature. They were best friends since meeting in third grade, and one moonlit night three years ago, they became that and more. Under the stars, they had come to the realization that they couldn't bear the thought of ever being without each other. They had never even kissed before that night, but for some reason the planets aligned, their hearts beat faster, and their eyes opened.
Now Linda clings to Will's arm. They are newlywed, and the stars still shine bright in their young eyes. Today they are moving into their new house. They try to suppress their anxiety. This will be their first time entering the old, modest construction rather than viewing it through photographs. It may have been a brash move to make, but the price was right, and they are eager to start a life all their own. Once the paperwork was finished, they hopped a plane and now they stand just outside their very own home, surveying the foundation of their future. Will opens the front door and peers in hesitantly. Linda takes advantage of his turned back, and uses all her might to lift him off the ground. She carries him past the threshold. Will laughs, but isn't wholly surprised. On their short, cheap honeymoon Linda had sworn she wouldn't stand for being carried through every new door the two of them crossed together. This was just payback.
Once nestled in the gloom of the house, Linda sets her husband down and tries to regain her composure (and breath). They smile at each other, Will still laughing. It is then that they hear it: a strange, almost groaning sound. The couple's bodies go rigid, their eyes go wide. They both hear it -- something resembling a voice in the vaguely metallic noise. It doesn't last long, and when silence begins to seem certain, Will asks "Did you hear what I did?" Linda shrugs, her eyes still wide; she doesn't know what she's just heard. The noise starts again. This time it sounds less like something clanging against old steel, and has an eerie creaking sound. Will and Linda huddle together silently, listening hard, trying to discern some meaning in the noise. This time the voice is more apparent and they hear the words. As soon as the creaking voice ceases, Will takes his wife by the hand, and they run out the door.
By the road, next to many of their worldly possessions they look at each other, dazed and pale.
"What was that!?" Linda pleads.
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out right now." Will pulls out his cell phone and calls the real estate agent. "Jared, this is Will Barter..."
"Oh, Mister Barter! How do you and the misses like the house?"
"That's what I've called you about! I'm telling you, this place is haunted! My wife and I just heard... things."
"What's that? It's nothing, I'm sure. Old houses make lots of noises. Old pipes, old, strong wood."
"You don't understand! There was a voice from nowhere!"
"A voice, Mister Barter?"
"Yes, Jared, a voice! The first time I think it said 'good enough, I suppose.' How do you explain that?"
"Oh, that! Don't worry about that," Jared Green replies sagely.
Will looks at his wife, far paler than usual, shivering in the summertime. He draws her close to him, and presses the button on his cell to turn on speaker phone. If there's a good explanation, he wants, he needs, his wife to hear it. "Okay, Jared, maybe I imagined the first one, but the second time, I'm sure there was a voice that said 'Well, alright... I guess... that's fine... really...' Now, why, how, would our house say something like that?!"
"Like I've said: It's an old house, Mr. Barter. What you heard was the house settling."
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Here's the deal...
The scanner still doesn't scan. Also, I haven't drawn anything particularly funny or jaw-droppingly amazing anyway. However, I am writing a story (which is a little odd for me), or at least I'm trying. After I finish (IF I finish) this new project, I'll most likely post it here. So, honestly, I don't know when I'll finish it or what its length will be.
I'm also doing some art to go with the story. I'm thinking, currently, that the sketches are just a way for me to visualize my characters better and might only be posted afterwards as "concept art," but at this stage it isn't unreasonable to think that they could actually be part of the story. I don't know.
I wish I had amazing and interesting things to tell you (whoever "you" are), and maybe I'll think up some ultra-witty topics later on. But for now, this post is all you get.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Peace,
the Saddest Factory Artist,
Adam.
I'm also doing some art to go with the story. I'm thinking, currently, that the sketches are just a way for me to visualize my characters better and might only be posted afterwards as "concept art," but at this stage it isn't unreasonable to think that they could actually be part of the story. I don't know.
I wish I had amazing and interesting things to tell you (whoever "you" are), and maybe I'll think up some ultra-witty topics later on. But for now, this post is all you get.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Peace,
the Saddest Factory Artist,
Adam.
Friday, April 4, 2008
The Arts.
This is one of those random attempts at wit.
It seems to me that I'll never have the wealth, social standings or grace to ever truly be a patron of the arts. However, I do think that I could make it as a patronizer of the arts.
Due to a temporary lack of scanner, this was drawn by mouse in MS Paint... Also, I think it looks better if you actually click it and view it at a larger size.
It seems to me that I'll never have the wealth, social standings or grace to ever truly be a patron of the arts. However, I do think that I could make it as a patronizer of the arts.
Due to a temporary lack of scanner, this was drawn by mouse in MS Paint... Also, I think it looks better if you actually click it and view it at a larger size.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
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