Exercises for all the homies who want to have a long career drawing.
The true problem with being an artist and drawing all day (as I wanted my whole life) is that human backs are not designed to hold that position, so it is very common for artists and designers to have really stiff shoulder blades, creating a chain of muscle strain towards the arm AND the back... and a lot of pain.
These are some physical exercises for artists and honestly anyone who works at a desk.
(all credit to my physiotherapist)
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thinking about how as Aemond’s wife you are the model of perfection.
Your back is straight as you curtsy when you first meet him and hair neatly braided with fine jewels. Your voice is even and never waivers as you speak to him of your family and how grateful they are for this union.
You are intelligent and beautiful, the perfect wife.
It’s why Aemond hardly ever spends time with you.
He bears no ill will toward you, of course. There is no resentment or hatred to his lady wife, but there are no fond feelings either.
He knows of courting and romance, his mother taught him everything from a young age. The poor woman would hold her son’s hands tight and explain that a man must not only respect his wife, but truly cherish her. Love her in the eyes of gods and men. As he grew older he noticed the way his father would wave off her constant advice and concerns until the dreaded night where she was the only one defending him after he lost his eye.
But practice was one thing. When you were nothing but a concept. A figment of Aemond’s imagination when he was ten and marriage was only spoken of during his lessons. Before he lost his eye. Before he heard the ladies of the court whispering about his mutilation and before he watched a whore flinch at the sight of his scarring when Aegon dragged him to a brothel on his thirteenth name day.
He learned then that no matter how much he would love and worship his wife, it would not be returned.
Rather than attempt to force it (he was no brute and had no intentions of doing something so cruel) he simply let you be by yourself.
Yes you were married. You sat by one another at every meal and formal event and on the rare occasion he would even ask for your hand in a dance. But Aemond’s affections toward you were few and far to find.
But there were moments.
Where his icy facade would weaken and you found yourself able to slip through the cracks.
Alicent had told you of his “moments” when the engagement had been announced. The queen herself taking you by the hand as you walked through the garden and explaining gently of Aemond’s condition.
“There are times where he feels a great deal of pain because of the-” She paused, chewing on her cheek while trying to find the most inoffensive way to describe the tragedy that befell her son. “-incident he had as a child.”
You knew enough of it. Many rumors flew through court the day Aemond targaryen walked in with a patch on his eye after Laenor Velaryan’s funeral at driftmark. Some day it was from a sparring incident, others say it was a mark he bore from the first time he mounted the mighty vhaegar. Others say that the Rouge Prince Daemon Targaryen himself gave it to his younger cousin after crude words were exchanged behind closed doors.
You didn’t know what was the truth. Aside from the day the princeling got his scar, was the same he got his dragon.
A fair trade, some would say.
But they didn’t live with the attacks he did.
Nerve damage, is what the maester’s called it when you asked them for more information. His wound may have healed years prior but the prince would continue to live his life with constant bouts of mind-numbing pain brought on by the slightest touch or too sharp of a wind to his cheek.
“Senseless fits.” Aegon called it. When he heard about your curiosity about his brother’s condition he had all but cornered you late at night in the hall. “Anything will set him off and send him throwing a tantrum like a belligerent child. It’s quite entertaining.”
But there’s a moment where the elder brother frowns and you see a shred of concern in his eyes.
“He doesn’t like to be touched during those moments. It makes the pain worse. So if you’re trying to find some way to comfort him I’d recommend you do something else.”
What was ‘something else’ you learned, was simply being there.
Sitting by his side when he curled into himself, trembling fingers reaching out to grab yours and not complaining when his nails dig into the palm of your hand as he cries out in pain. When his breath evens out and the pain subsides, he crawls to you and presses his face to the crook of your neck. He’s far too tired to cover the gnarled scar covering the side of his face but you show no fear or disgust at the sight of it. Your fingers run through his hair, gently combing back the silver tresses and ignoring the tears that stain the shoulder of your gown.
The next morning your husband would wake in your arms and takes a moment to watch your peaceful expression and the way the morning sun kisses your skin.
That day Alicent notices her son sits closer to you at breakfast, speaking softly to you of something she cannot understand. But when she sees his hand reach out and grasp yours, she smiles.
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Three skills you need to make beautiful art, in order of importance:
observation/perception
taste/creativity
coordination
Note that these are skills. They’re not gifts bestowed by some divine entity. And skills can be improved through practice.
Note, also, that I rank observational skills highest, even above creativity, because without strong observational skills, you won’t be able to identify your own mistakes. It’s also not intuitive to train.
Here’s a simple exercise to get you started:
Pick an aesthetically pleasing photo or artwork that doesn’t have obvious lineart. Turn up the contrast a bit if the colors are muddy. Print it out or import it to your choice of drawing software.
Put some tracing paper over it or turn down the opacity and make a new layer. Don’t use tracing paper that is *too* transparent.
Trace out the areas of light and shadow. Don’t get hung up on details, just the broad strokes. Fill in the shadows, try to stick to just 2-3 values of shadow. Try hard NOT to outline “objects” in the image. Try not to erase.
Now view your trace without the original image. Can you still recognize the original subject? Can you see where you messed up/want to make changes?
Now do it while looking *at* the image rather than tracing directly from it.
Compare your referenced drawing to the traced one.
Repeat steps 1-6 with new photos/images.
Once you feel confident, try drawing from a reference without tracing.
This exercise will help you learn how to use light and shadow to define 3D forms as 2D shapes. Questions you should ask yourself during this exercise:
Can you tell where the light is coming from?
Is it a strong or weak light source?
Is there more than one light source?
What kind of materials are you observing?
How does light interact with shiny surfaces versus matte ones? Soft versus hard? Round versus angular?
Where are the edges of light and shadow? Are they soft or hard edges? Is the transition gradual or abrupt?
How would you use these observations to depict something from your imagination?
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The thing about SAD is that it's a very real, sometimes debilitating condition, but it also makes me feel so silly.
Like I was born and raised here and still I've got a brain that's like "holy shit it's way too cold and dark, we absolutely cannot make any of the good chemicals until we fix that" and I'm like "until we fix... the existence of winter? the thing we've experienced 28 times already?" and my brain is like "exactly"
and THEN it feels even sillier to be like "well if I want my brain to make any good chemicals for about 7 months of the year, I need to plug in a special lamp and sit in front of the special lamp every single morning, because if I don't I get extra sad"
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