The Southern Lights

Last portrait (for now); kinda sad.

( The model is sad, too )

Ok, time for some books!

( Day 8: Most overrated book )

( Day 9: A book you thought you wouldn't like but ended up loving )

( Day 10: Favorite classic book )

And now for something completely different: I had a weird experience the other day.  I had Netflix'd A Dangerous Method, even though Keira Knightly annoys the crap out of me, and the whole time I was watching, I had the unshakeable conviction that I've seen this before, and Ralph Fiennes is supposed to be playing Jung.  Credits say it was based on a play called The Talking Cure.  I went through some old travel journals, and sure enough, I saw The Talking Cure at the National Theatre in London on January 2, 2003.  Google confirmed it starred Ralph Fiennes.  Then I remembered -- the terrible seats, because the thing had been sold out before it even opened; the three-story set that took up the entire proscenium, floor to ceiling; being really uncomfortable during the rough sex scenes because I'd gone to see it with a slightly older male friend. 

What disturbs me about it is that I didn't remember the play for certain until I found the ticket.  I thought maybe I'd imagined the whole thing.  And if I hadn't seen the movie the other day, I couldn't have told you anything about the plot.  I was excited that I managed to see the play, and according to the journal, I really enjoyed it.  I don't know; I suppose the nine-year time lapse makes it forgiveable, but I've always had a really good memory, and it freaks me out when I can't remember things I think I should.  I mean, I'm not 100%, but I'm pretty sure I saw Ralph Fiennes' naked ass (or, as we were in London, arse) that day, and that is not something that should be forgotten.  I'm too young to worry about my mind going, but I do, even if it's probably not warranted.

Incidentally, that's the same London trip in which I met Gillian Anderson as well as Dames Judi Dench and Maggie Smith.  The latter called me "daft."  In an affectionate way, of course (long story involving a friend bribing me to ambush her at the stage door).  Whatever, Professor McGonagall called me daft!  I'm practically a Gryffindor!  ::throws confetti::

Another Thursday, another face.

( I have no idea what I'm going to do with all of these once the class is over. )

Another young, handsome male model in class tonight!  So naturally I made him look like a clown.

( But by god, I gave him shoulders this time! )

The school's "Annual Juried Student Exhibition" is in June, and I'm allowed to enter up to two pieces.  Once I'm done with this class, I may put it to a popular vote to see which ones I should enter.  (Hint: not this one)

I know how you've missed my weekly portraits, but fear not, they're back.  If you recognize this lady, it's because I've already drawn her twice before.  Luckily, she has an interesting face (I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not, but we'll go with compliment.)

( Is it weird that I'm posting three pictures of the same stranger on my blog? )

I know everybody's all a-flutter about the leaked ST pics, but I have something that's just going to BLOW YOUR MIND.

( Prepare to be whelmed )

On a completely different note, I don't think this is a spoiler for any particular episode of Project Runway, but doesn't it always seem like if one of the contestants makes something absolutely heinous, something any normal person would look at and go "Sweet Peruvian corncakes, that was designed by a colorblind five-year-old with fine motor control problems," that contestant is never the one kicked off?  He/she is usually in the second-to-last place, but it seems like if you go all-out, balls-to-the-wall fugly, you don't get the boot.  Remember that guy who made the bikini out of neon pink string and metal washers?  He made it through.  Seems to me a good strategy if you're absolutely stuck is to just start glue-gunning random shit together and "stick by your design" so the person who "played it safe" will go home.

Also, if Mondo doesn't win this time, I'm gonna set something on fire.  Preferably Isaac Mizrahi.  I hate that guy.

This is by far my favorite portrait that I've done so far -- and it pissed off my drawing teacher to no end.

( It's a dude this time. )

Not as happy with my drawing tonight, even though I had the full two hours to work on it.

( She was not really this mannish, I swear. )

I sat on the right side of the room instead of the left this time -- maybe that threw me off?  Ah, well, I still had fun.

Last drawing from this round of classes.  I know you're just devastated.

( Another portrait )

I'd been holding off on doing the year-end fic meme because I'd hoped to post something else before the end of the year... but that's looking less and less likely.  Le sigh.  I haven't so much been "writing" as "not writing" lately.  Hopefully I'll get my mojo back soon, because I do miss it.  Drawing teapots and sad people just doesn't compare.

Nothing terribly exciting this week -- back to all-white objects, supposedly so we could see how we've improved, but possibly because the instructor forgot to bring anything else.

( Teapot and apples, I'm gonna draw the shit out of you )

Good news, lovers of fine art!  Tonight you get not one, but TWO masterpieces.

( To make up for the lack of art last Thursday )