Our Man in Abiko's Blog, page 5

Abiko abandon

This here is Our Man’s first ever water colour. It’s a house, round the corner, whose shutters are always shut, gate is always rusty, and has had less paint slapped on it in 30 years than Our Man has used in the last 30 minutes. Our Man realises he can’t do much detailed work in water colour which, given his poor attention span and lack of patience, is just fine with him anyway. Will try to do some more of these.

Magic ink

Our Man had a great idea after surviving his 10th Japanese school sports festival today. He thought he’d pop down on his bike to the Orwellian named Unidy to pick up some water colours to add some warmth to his rather dour-looking monochrome sketches. 
The DIY emporium was all out of water colours, so Our Man bought some black and red ink and a set of brushes and thought he’d mix them up with some water  and add a wash to some sketches tonight. But when he got home he found that the Magic Ink he’d shelled out 200 yen for turned out to be disappointingly unmagical marker pens. Still, they do look pretty bold and smooth, might be able to add them to his repertoire, being er, bold and smooth himself, ahem. 
***
Later, just realised, forgot to put George Orwell's name on the book, tsk tsk. But you knew the quote already, right?

Tom Boys and the Lapdog of Doom

So here’s Our Man, back facing his demons. This one being an exercise in drawing a woman’s face. Well, it is what it is, caught halfway between naturalistic and cartoonish, boyish or girlish, with eyes wide-shut. The lips work and all the bits are in the right places, but she’s supposed to be looking down and yet we can see up her nostrils. It’s a muddle.
But that’s life.
Just realised this is the anniversary of 9/11 (actually just passed here in Japan) and Our Man has nothing to say other than looks like another war to celebrate the occasion. Laptop of Doom? Are you serious Foreign Policy? Call Our Man old fashioned, but he preferred it when propaganda was a bit more subtle. Like under Stalin. Sheesh. Still, you never know what a malcontent might do with a laptop and a recipe for a bomb. 
He might write a novel, forchisssssakes.

Pick up lines

The Masked Woman

Our Man has worn a mask like this one he just sketched. It’s a dust mask, not one of the flu or hay fever “surgical” masks that are commonly seen worn on the streets in these parts. The last time Our Man wore one of these was a couple of months after the tsunami, one day in May in 2011, in Ishinomaki, and then it wasn’t to ward off dust but to combat the stink of rotting fish, sea water and god knows what else that was fouling the land. But Our Man digresses. The various distinctions of mask play a role in his second Hana Walker novel and he needs a cover image. We’ll see if this or something like it cuts the mustard.

The tanuki in the garden

This one-foot high tanuki from the edge of the garden stares at Our Man everyday as he works. So today, Our Man spent lunch staring back. And sketching. Our Woman reckons he looks like a sphinx, but Our Man thinks it’s just how he drew him. Tried drawing a Japanese maple next to the little chap, but it came out a mess. So, added to the must-improve folder (currently containing hands, faces and proportions) are maple trees.

And yes, the tanuki in the garden is a little creepy, but probably better than the elephant in the room.

Chiba Zoo

High Life

Our Man survived his Saturday soiree with the Abiko’s artistic elite. His take away from it all was: it’s not a question of sucking or not, it’s more about expression. He thinks. And also having an artistic vocabulary to play with. And there’s only one place to get that: by ripping off other folk. (Er, surely you mean practice -- Ed.?) So here’s Our Man’s latest rip off, er, inspiration from those rofftop climbing selfie ruffians that the Washingrton Post doesn’t know whether to celebrate or castigate. All Our Man knows is that those shots give him the willies. But the perspective is pretty wild.

The Family of Our Man

Our Man is a bit nervous. See, it’s all very well to show his sketches online to his, er, fan(s), but it’s quite another to meet a couple of artists for drinks this weekend. Proper artists, not piss ones like Our Man. They told Our Man to bring his sketch book. Yikes. After he had removed the shopping lists, he realised it’s a bit thin on his own work. So he has a couple of days to add Proper Art and Such. Hmm. His latest how-to-draw book (Playing with Sketches) recommends practicising by copying the masters at an art museum. But the only proper museum in Abiko is devoted to birds and Our Man didn’t fancy sketching the stuffed ones on the third floor. So he commandeered a weighty tome of black and white photographs (left on his shelves by a fleeing ex-pat) called The Family of Man (hey, guess that title worked in 1955) and ripped off, er that is to say, paid homage to p183 (below). Our Man realises he got some of the proportions wrong and he is a bit frustrated with his lack of technical abilitiy, but while not many of the sketches actually look much like their subjects, they do capture how they look to Our Man pretty much. Which is a start.

The shrine at Mt Tskuba

Your bog-standard torii gate.Our Man sketched these sights of the Shinto shrine halfway up Mt Tskuba, about 50 km from Abiko, but a world away from the cares of the bunker. The overnight trip was a welcome respite from the shock news received on Friday that a good friend of Our Man’s has been diagnosed with stage four cancer. There is no stage five.

An 800 year-old tree. This took me an hour to finish. So many lines to put in, but each
 represented an individual piece of timber.  Must have taken the carpenters
quite a bit longer to put the real thing together. Now wash your hands.