On Images

On Images

I'll admit it now: I am a terrible artist.

My stick figures are on par with those drawn by a pre-schooler, except I am embarrassed by them while the child is having fun. My penmanship remains as shoddy as ever. Perhaps in an older time I would have had the motivation to fix it, but in this age where writing is done through electronic devices, it seemed less necessary.

I have trouble appreciating art too. Oh, I go to museums on occassion. And I examine the paintings, trying to understand their meanings. Some are obvious enough that I can work it out. But abstract art works? I have no idea.

Not that there aren't some that blow me away with their beauty. On a recent trip to Las Vegas, my adorable wife and I visited an art store in the Planet Hollywood mall. I still recall a picture there, the most astounding Autumn scene I have ever seen, trees with leaves of orange and yellow so real I felt that I could reach into the painting and touch them. The store owner said she could give us a special deal for only $20,000. Yes, that was quite a bit above our vacation budget.

Yet, as a writer, I am called upon to describe. I'm sure ever author faces their own challenges. Some may struggle with plot, others with rewrites, and some with heart-felt language that doesn't sound like a science journal. I'm not saying coming up with colorful, descriptive imagery is my largest challenge, but making something visually come alive is a tricky task.

When I imagine the differences between myself as I am, and what I would be like if I were an artist who made realistic pictures with a paintbrush, the main distinction is that if I were an artist, I would know how to see. Perhaps as a writer, I know how to break things up in words. It is even as intrinsic as my own thoughts. I think in words. Some people think in pictures: a concept that is nearly as confusing to me as describing music to a deaf person. But sometimes even the deaf can feel vibrations in sounds, and sometimes I have flashes of visual beauty, or even visual accuity. If I were a doctor, I could imagine committing latin names of illnesses to memory. I can visualize calculating the proper dosages of medications with mass and grams. But studying someone's skin in search of a slightly off-color redness to indicate a certain condition? That sounds the hardest of all.

My novel is the story of Torak, a young, green skinned Orc, light on his feet, strong on arm, quick to anger, who carries a spear on his back that he can pull out in a quick motion for a fight. He wears a mix of rags that he can wear as coverings when it's cold, or tie around his waist when it's hot. He carries a skinning knife in his belt, and wears a bone necklace with the skull of a rodent as the hang piece. His hair is rough and unwashed, sticking in clumps, tied together with bands of different colors. Like most Orcs, he has pig-like features, and tusk-like teeth that come out of his mouth

But what does he look like?

My novel is the story of Dallet, a human who is enslaved by Torak. But a word like "human" is as generic as can be. Dallet is well-read, and in his knapsack he carries books that he studies as often as he can. He wears worn robes, and a grey-brown travelling cloak, the holes repaired with home-done stitching. This is the dress of Dallet's people: the Luminean Exiles, a despised group of pious nomads who no longer have a homeland. Dallet studied books all his life, but never done so much as skin a fish for dinner. He taught children to read, but never learned how to handle a weapon, start a fire, or build a camp.

But what does he look like?

Like I said, I am not an artist. But I'm as curious as anyone to see my characters. If anyone wants to try their hand at illustration and send me a copy, perhaps it will be used in websites for the future, and I'd be happy to credit good pictures. I'm interested in what people can come up with.