November 15, 2008

-image-the letter sisters: beatrice

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This is Beatrice, the second of The Letter Sisters. In naming her Beatrice, I decided to make Scrumptious Jayne’s adorable but erroneous-at-the-time assumption that “Letter Sisters” meant “letters of the alphabet” somewhat true now. There are no letters of the alphabet in the sketches, but I think I’ll name the girls alphabetically. The first sister was Ada and now we have Beatrice. I’m going with more old-fashioned names because I think the girls have an old-fashioned feel to them.

Beatrice, sadly, did not scan all that well. Or the shrunken-down version I’m forced to use on the blog became pixellated in translation. Or I’m a goober. Poor Beatrice.

Each of these sketches is a jumping-off point for things I have in mind for them later — once I’ve, oh, taught myself Photoshop, which I’m getting — installing — downloading — whatever — this weekend. I’ve taught myself a graphics program before, one that is now obsolete, just by flipping through the manual and playing around, so I don’t really have any fear of Photoshop. I completely realize how arrogant and puffed-up that sounds, but please do not say anything to de-poof me or make me a’feared. The few times in my life when I’ve stormed into a situation with blind ignorant confidence it has worked out really well for me. Do not open my eyes in any way, shape, or form. I must sally forth undeterred and undisturbed in my ignorance. It’s really for the best. Thank you.

Oh, and yeah, Beatrice ain’t got no legs either. This was purposeful. I mean, sister Ada is legless, so it didn’t seem right to give Beatrice legs and start a whole sibling leg rivalry or be accused of favoritism or cause the dread sin of covetousness. I mean, I don’t need my sketches turning into high-maintenance divas. I’m the boss, girls. I decide if and when you get legs. And if you’re not nice, I will give you cankles.

Don’t think I won’t.


(image copyright Tracey/BTP 2008 — do NOT copy)

November 7, 2008

-image-the letter sisters: ada

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This is Ada, the first of The Letter Sisters. (Uhm, it scanned huge and I’m sorry and I’m also lazy so it’s not gonna change. I scan various sizes and it’s sometimes hard to find the right size for the blog with each drawing/painting. Oh, boo hoo hoo, Tracey.)

Anyhooey.

Yes, this is Ada, the first of The Letter Sisters. There’s another letter sister in existence right now, but one at a time, ladies, one at a time. You must await your turn on the stage. Wait for your cue. Not sure how many letter sisters there will ultimately be. I just started drawing girls with letters because the whole concept of letters has — well, some interesting and varied meanings in my life. Some good. Some not so good.

Note to Ada:

I am very sorry you have no legs. I have issues. Which is a terrible insensitive self-absorbed rationalization in the face of your double leglessness. But, honestly, I’m afraid that I am obsessed with big heads that take up lots of space — which you have, in case you didn’t notice. If you’re really unaware of that fact, I can hold you up in front of a mirror and you can see what I’ve done to you with that big giant head. But then, if you don’t know about your big giant head, maybe you don’t know that you don’t have legs, either, and it’s best to just let it lie. Let it go. But then, I’d kinda feel like I’m lying to you, Ada, and I’m a very straightforward kind of girl. That’s just the way I roll. On the other hand, I am your creator and just as I find that my Creator doesn’t always engage in full disclosure, perhaps I could take a page from His book and do the same. Although, that might be blasphemous and such and I really don’t want to be smited. Smote. Smoted. Smitten. No, that’s not it. Whatever.

Someday, Ada, through the magic of Photoshop, you will have legs; I promise. That’s the goal here. You’re a kind of template. A work in progress. As are all the girls you hang out with. What you are now, you will not always be because I have plans for you. Double-legged plans. Yes, I do. So, carry on, Ada. Just hang out. Sit tight. I mean, that’s really all you can do, anyway.

Signed,

Me

(image copyright Tracey/BTP 2008 — do NOT copy)

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