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  1. #1
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    Possible improvement between first and last post

    And so We begin.

    Possible improvement between first and last post


    Well, I'm glad you're here. This is my sketchbook, you're on CA, you draw, I draw, I'm sure we can get along well.

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    to be a sketch of friend turned into a mess

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    I actually had a perfect explanation as to why this doesnt make any sense but now I've typed too much to get around to remembering it
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    picked up "Dynamic Anatomy" by Hogarth
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    Possible improvement between first and last post

    Many, many thanks for all that have stopped by
    Last edited by yoshikee; April 27th, 2012 at 04:36 AM.
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  3. #2
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    Possible improvement between first and last post
    short film idea
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    bone anatomy got a bit boring
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    broken head study. But hey, I resolved that I'll upload all studies regardless of quality. Started to play around with tissue paper to soften things up
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    another broken head. All bald males are ripoffs of either Dr.Manhattan or Jean-Luc Picard(of the uss enterprise)
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    doodle of boredom
    Last edited by yoshikee; October 6th, 2009 at 05:04 PM.
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  4. #3
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    Now that the flu's left my body in peace(and my attendance in a firestorm), I've had some free time to drown myself in anatomy for a bit.
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    all on A4 printing paper
    Every single minute I spend drawing out of this book leaves me with another wondering whether I'll ever be able to draw anything in perfect proportions.

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    broken hands
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    While you're not looking at my sketchbook, why not read this rough draft of a description of a dream I had? I'm justifying myself posting it on my sketchbook by the fact that they're sort of an inspiration to me. That and I've also got a fascination for hearing other people's dreams, so if this gets one of the insanely creative people on this site to write about theirs, I think that'd be awesome.


    ( Click to show/hide )

    The funny part:

    I find myself in a conference room, with a man in a business suit giving me a presentation. Apparently, this is an "evil corporation" which has found a method to extract the "tea organ" from Manatees. The former Great Britian's beloved beverage, and the latter the sea mammal in florida. The presentation continues with all sorts of diagrams and charts, some showing the layered anatomy of the manatee, others the immense yields of tea bags from their tea organs, and such and such and such. What I could gather(sort of) was that the Manatee had used the "collective consciousness" that Americans had toward it's near-extinction as a "driving force" for it to evolve it's "tea organs" thereby making it useful to humanity, which would then take to domesticating them, keeping the species from extinction in a feat of psuedo-science evolutionary extroidinaire.

    Finally, the presentor has nothing more to say of the subject, bringing us(now there are two other men beside me), to his main point. One of us three will now have to extract the "tea organ" from a dead manatee. Apparently we were all suspects for revolt against the company(being evil and all) and this, was our punishment. To decide who out of the three will have to expirience this tortuorous ordeal, he takes out a large glass cup, filled with water. He then summons his colleague for an eye dropper filled with chinese calligraphy ink. Claiming that, "this was a common gambling method in ancient China"(which I'm quite sure it's not), in what I guessed to be my head taking another nod to "1984". He then drops the ink into the cup. My guess was that our fate was dependant on what shape the ink took in the water, but no one actually knew what shape constituted as a win, and what shape a lose. This did not matter however, as my memory for that plot ends there, bringing me to a new one.


    Where I found myself in this dream, was in the middle of what I somehow knew to be, "the rich side of town". Every where there were huge houses and small mansions in a graphical style reminding me of MC Escher's perspective distorting engravement pieces. Whether the perspective distorition was present or not was questionable as the dream left that unclear, and my hazy memory making things worse.

    What was the matter however, was that I had been walking amongst a yard in this "town" filled with concrete lunch tables embedded into the ground, also being concrete. My two dogs were with me at one point, but they had dissapeared at another soon after, my guess being that they were insignificant to the events at hand. As I reached the end of the yard and took a turn at the also concrete balcony, a "childhood friend" came from down the stairs. He was probably at the height of my knees but, as I've made clear before, nothing in these dreams ever are clear.

    I'd assume we exchanged small talk, but soon events shifted me to an ally way where I had found a friend vacationing to Japan, which was now the clear setting for this dream. The buildings to our side forming the ally were at an impossible height that left the sky to be but a single line of light between the two monolothis. Apparently, my friend was in a bit of a pinch. Having come to this country only to find that all of the national delicacies were totally inedible to him(he being a sort of a xenophobic in real life too), he had spent all of his money on black market(I assume they were illegal) imported foreign, "edibles"(the term he reffered them as. I thought that the opportunity of being in a foreign nation would be totally wasted without actually experiencing what the country had to offer, so I suggested that I take him out to get some ramen, as we agreed that it was a universally good taste universal to any human.

    So, we found ourselves a restaurant and entered, but it turned out to be serving western food, and also had a bakery with western pastries in it. At this point my mother and sister were also present, but they had seated away from my friend finding him to be "creepy". So, as I bought some pastries(but also stole them somehow) I had my friend wait for me at a table.

    Suddenly, the dream takes me to a flashback of sorts, in which there were a series of newspaper headlines with which I was able to gather, "Minister of Bicycles nephew rides unlicensed". The nephew in question here being myself, and the Minister my uncle. What made this such a problem, is quite obviously, me not having rode the bicycle I had borrowed from my uncle with a license. Equally obvious is that in Japan there are no licensing issues for bicycles, even though I did borrow a bicycle from my uncle during my stay(who was not the minsiter of bicycles). So, now I am caught up in this scandal, the location for my questioning being at the balcony of my Uncle's. My questioner is my aunt and she shows me newspaper clippings on the matters, along with a great lecture of, "the disgrace I had brought upon [her] husband", all the while I had flashes showing my uncle walking back home with a stern face.

    In fear of my Uncle I had taken to hiding behind a Greek-temple style column that happened to be erected on the balcony although it did not reach the ground below it(the balcony somehow being supported by itself). Right next to my Uncle's house just happened to be(as everything else is) the train port(not station) to America(from Japan). I saw an oppurtinity to be there and jumped off the balcony and took flight.

    In front of the train I had found two....noticeably misplaced things. One was a gigantic structure holding a holographic projection of a Japanese cartoon robot. Apparently the system was that one could operate the control panel to project their favorite robot and take a snapshot with it. I thought of it to be a most ingenious tourist exploit, but soon my vision was caught up elsewhere, bringing me to the second "thing".

    What this thing was, was a huge hole in the ground, in a design I suppose most people would think to be a nuclear silo. However I thought it was simply a subway station entrance. Feeling an urge to descend into the depths of this structure, roughly the size of, say, the commons in Chatfield High school, I soon found myself a stairway hugging to it's circumfrence. As I walked down and darkness started to overcome the light from aboce, the curavature of the stairs became uncertain, occasionaly becoming zigg zaggy or simply straight at times. Adding to the uncertainty was that my vision(and consciousness) was now focused on a comic that had projected itself into the darkness. The comic was made of probably nine panels, all of equal size, but with the way consistency takes its presence in dreams, that would not matter for long. The scene, as I understood, was a parody of the O'brien-Wilson torture scene in "1984" by George Orwell. Two particularly senseless differences were that Wilson was a rat, and O'brien a constant refferer throughout the entire conversation this comic was to present, to "[him] having to beat [his] wife". The conversation continues between the two in a typical torturer-torturee manner(if thats really typical at all). Until Wilson the rat goes into a long speech, which then turned into a narration accompanied with visual, which in turn became an essay. He talked of something on the lines of "the western misinterpretation of the true nature of the flooding in the asia-pacific triangulate islands", which is probably a small(distorted) portion of what he said, but that was all I could remember from it. As the monologue began to lengthen Wilson saw it fit to pester it with parenthesis and foot notes throughout, one of the footnotes being, "(@__@_____---@---____@[subscript]___@[subscript]" continuing with the "@"'s and such until it finally closed with another parenthesis. Finally the monologue is over, Wilson is out of breath, and looks up to O'brien in a questioninng manner, possibly with a hint of triumph. O'brien responds however, with, "that is irrelevant as I must hurry so I may go beat my wife". And so he prepares for the next portion of the torturing. The last panel shows Wilson in fear with his tail high in the air with scribbles representing his trembling, along with a illegibly faint orange text, also scribbled, next to his face. At this point whatever plot my dream had is totally lost. My friend at the restaurant, the balcony, disgrace, uncle, aunt, train port, hologram, silo, everything is lost and then replaced by another, shorter story.

    I find myself in a conference room, with a man in a business suit giving me a presentation. Apparently, this is an "evil corporation" which has found a method to extract the "tea organ" from Manatees. The former Great Britian's beloved beverage, and the latter the sea mammal in Florida. The presentation continues with all sorts of diagrams and charts, some showing the layered anatomy of the manatee, others the immense yields of tea bags from their tea organs, and such and such and such. What I could gather(sort of) was that the Manatee had used the "collective consciousness" that Americans had toward it's near-extinction as a "driving force" for it to evolve it's "tea organs" thereby making it useful to humanity, which would then take to domesticating them, keeping the species from extinction in a feat of pseudo-science evolutionary extraordinaire.

    Finally, the presenter has nothing more to say of the subject, bringing us(now there are two other men beside me), to his main point. One of us three will now have to extract the "tea organ" from a dead manatee. Apparently we were all suspects for revolt against the company(being evil and all) and this, was our punishment. To decide who out of the three will have to experience this torturous ordeal, he takes out a large glass cup, filled with water. He then summons his colleague for an eye dropper filled with Chinese calligraphy ink. Claiming that, "this was a common gambling method in ancient China"(which I'm quite sure it's not), in what I guessed to be my head taking another nod to "1984". He then drops the ink into the cup. My guess was that our fate was dependent on what shape the ink took in the water, but no one actually knew what shape constituted as a win, and what shape a lose. This did not matter however, as my memory for that plot ends there, bringing me to a new one.

    My sister, distraught, comes towards me in tears. I ask her what matter was, and that I was more than willing to assist her in her predicament. She replied that she was having trouble playing Ode to Joy on the piano. Which I expected her to be perfectly capable of, except that she was required to play it with her fists. By what forces this requirement had befallen to her mattered not, as the responsibility of an older brother was at my shoulders(nor did I care for the fact that I do not play the piano). And so I began my lesson by first setting an example to her, by of course, playing it. With my fists set to hit the keys, my arms dramatically rise above my head,. I pause to add to the drama, and slam them down to the piano. The keys produce the exact kind of insane loudness you would expect from playing with such force. I play through the piece.

    The dream ends. I awake, extremely confused.
    [/SPOILER]
    [/SPOILER]
    Last edited by yoshikee; May 16th, 2015 at 03:34 AM.
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  5. #4
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    wow, haven't been drawing at all for this short while. Either been sleeping or reading, rather than say, studying anatomy(which makes me feel like I'm doing both of those at once).

    anyways, stuff:

    Possible improvement between first and last post
    some ideas to jot down, and a bored attempt at life drawing, and all of that just building up around pacman


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    sorta for a drawing class assignment. After a photocopy of my failed ink drawing failed I instead opted for using this. Using it for, being that I then applied it onto some wood with a white gooey sticky liquid. And almost got splinters
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  6. #5
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    Again passes by another week by which I only commenced a couple short-lived drawing sessions in front of the TV.
    Sleep, I swear, is my biggest motivation and my greatest enemy.

    None of that should make sense, nor what will followthat's what a lonely sketchbook thread does to your mind)
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    People looking through my sketchbook, or rather, loosely bounded folder of paper, keep thinking that I'm some sort of foot/hand fetishist.

    I really need to actually commit to trying to reproduce what I see onto paper with these studies, slowing things down is such a pain.

    Possible improvement between first and last post
    and so a new fetishistic miss-assumption is born

    I'm confident that I can produce much more work than this with the time that I have, it's just........

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    quickly glanced caricature, got some ear anatomy mess into it too

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    I took up some stills from samurai shows I was watching. The guy drinking the sake definitely did not look that antagonistic. Also working on motion portrayal

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    Good fun

    As this month reaches it's I notice that it was one which I've drawn the most I've ever had in it's amount of time. Which, isn't really much to brag about since with the amount of idle time at my disposition I should be able to go through the entirety of "dynamic anatomy". But, well, maybe I'm just lacking in motivation.

    And so my archive continues.....
    (I refuse to refer to monologue as a thread)
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  7. #6
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    [INDENT]As a snow day spent at the historical sections of the museum began it's end, and me and my buddies took to disposing the gutter in our minds with the employement of youtube poop, I came across a photo of a fat fangirl. That's really all there is to it.[INDENT]



    But, anyways, Halloween:
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    Toad is ready to trick some treaters, and spend the results on shrooms.
    I don't mean drugs, god no, why would such a cute thing do that.
    What I speak of with the word, "shroom" is of the toadlerite slang for female toad prostitutes. Despite mushrooms being asexual and all. But I request you take notice that his torso is attached to his stem, and his hands more human than of mario's, who is supposedly the only human in this mess along with his brother(peach being from an alternate dimension and all). So even if you're not entirely familiar with the mario franchise, you could imagine that sense is a commodity quite readily disposed of in their little world.
    Last edited by yoshikee; April 27th, 2012 at 04:32 AM.
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  8. #7
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    Something from the same string of boredom that produced the previous two works.
    Except I sorta tried to add to it with cross-hatching, which took long enough for me to remind myself that it was insanely broken and that it best be disposed with.
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    Last edited by yoshikee; April 27th, 2012 at 04:31 AM.
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  9. #8
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    So I've lost computer access for a while and injured my hand, but that was some two weeks after my previous post, so anyways:

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    still life of shoe I was forced to do in class, 'bout a week after previous post

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    vermeer study, didn't do anythin at all between this vand the shoe, which was less than a week

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    Dalek
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    doodle on a study guide

    Somemore stuff I'll be editing in including my insanely unfruitful attempts at drawing with my left hand. My right hands taking its sweet pathetic time to heal up, but tyhankfully it'll be back in a week allowing me some good time to draw before winter break ends.

    Maybe commenting on some more sketchbooks will get some people here, problem is I dont really have much to say besides awkward sounding praise. That and typing with one vhand is just plain painful.
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    as much as I'd like to say that I didn't post anything since my last one for such a long time due to my unmanageably large work output, such is not the case as I am still intensely unproductive.

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    Draw an animal, prefferably a bird, with a top hat or monacle and you can call yourself witty:
    Possible improvement between first and last post

    This guy called Marx from kirby:
    Possible improvement between first and last post
    Last edited by yoshikee; May 11th, 2010 at 01:37 AM.
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    shananigans
    Man, this is depressing, since I started this sketchbook I've pretty much accomplished nothing, and now I have no clue what I'm supposed to do.

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    Last edited by yoshikee; May 16th, 2010 at 02:58 AM.
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