71 Ashan, 724
.
Continued from here.
Kotton waited with the remaining patience he had until Eustoria, his newfound mentor in art, blessedly decided to speak in regards to the question he had recently asked. "What should I do next?" His eyes were solemn eyes and gravely seeking instruction.
"I want you to not only keep your arm above the paper," she declared, pointing to the ruined lines he had smudged from his forearm. Kotton frowned as he looked at what she was referring to. He felt like a criminal for having screwed up such a seemingly rudimentary task. "I also want you to picture within your mind where you want your art to finish."
Where did he want his piece to finish? He wanted it to finish when he was done, right? But what exactly did that mean? Always overworking and overthinking, Kotton's mind spiralled as he realised he had yet to think about stopping. He could have drawn on and on until the end of time. But it only made sense that he would need to finish. Besides, what was he going to do when he ran out of inspiration? Or paper? How did other artists handle these conundrums?
His eyes lingered over his paper, pupils dilating with explosive concentration. He carefully examined each and every detail with laser-like focus. He couldn't conclude where he wanted his piece to expire, so he did what he had been doing every time he felt lost thus far. He raised his head to meet Eustoria's glinting glare, silently asking for her insight.
“Your movements determine what your art ends up becoming," she said without appearing annoyed. "It takes practise before you become fully aware of when you need to stop. Anyone could pick apart their work, admonish the straightness of their lines or audit the talent that's become of their strokes. Slower movements are better for beginners. I cannot stress that enough. It encourages contemplation and processing in terms of just how peculiar their canvas should be.” Her voice was so passionate it made Kotton shudder, even if he couldn't hear her exact tone. Eustoria's eyes were adhesive, like glue to his paper, as she took some time to carefully analyse what he had drawn. Unfortunately, the young man was still blocked by apprehension as to how he should proceed. His pause gave Eustoria the push she needed to tell him what to do next. "I would suggest you draw an equally proportionate shape as to the horseshoe and use it as a balance to fill up the rest of your page. Then, maybe use that shape, or the horseshoe, it doesn't matter, as a reference before infuse darker lines to create some contour."
Whilst the suggestion took him two to five business trials to comprehend, it was nonetheless appreciated. Yet, the term proportionate was a word devoid of definition in his mind like contour was. So he asked about both, hoping to shave off any waste of time that might have been filled with the floundering semi-confidence of someone who honestly didn't know what they were doing.
"Proportion, as to my understanding, is when someone uses an already drawn object against the prospective size of another so as to create realistic enterprise of an original work of art." After a deep breath, she continued. "Contour is an outline, especially one representing or bounding the shape or form of someone or something. For example, if you were to contour the shape of a woman's face, you would be moulding it into a more aesthetically pleasing shape, one designed to fit into what you view is a better example of perfection."
He didn't need any additional information before he felt confident enough to continue drawing. He subjected his wrist into a needless, but fashionable movement of someone achingly determined to conclude what they had started. He had raised his arm, dropped it, forced his wrist to dart left to right, and eventually forced it to become still. With every error, he anticipated a concurrent negative thought. It was almost impossible not to. That's just how his brain worked. Maybe it was from experience, maybe it was because he had a lot of unspoken trauma that needed to be worked out, whatever the case, he fought these autonomic, pessimistic thoughts and remained optimistic with the potential of finalizing a magnificent piece of art. As doubt slithered into his mind, he absconded from its embrace.
"My fiwst twy," he bashfully admitted. He was slow to the take after having spent countless seconds checking his work and needlessly picking at all the mistakes and blunders that had been made along the way. He tucked a stray strand of burgundy hair behind his ear- an act of self-consciousness. "I may not have talent, but I have heawt,” he insisted.
He felt enriched with power- nothing could strike him down now. Even if a star crash-landed on Scalvoris island itself, Kotton would die happy simply having completed something that was outside his zone of comfort.
Whilst it was just art he was creating, he felt that there was a little something more to it. With every stroke against the paper, with every line drawn and shape constructed, there was a release. May it be a release of tension, sadness or fear- he wasn't sure, and it didn't matter anyway, because those feelings were no longer bottled up inside him with all the other disgusting and disapproving and disgraceful thoughts and emotions he felt on a daily basis. They were all being evacuated in the form of a flood from out of his body. Of course, it would be asinine to assume he had been cleansed of all negativity. No, there were still evil beings that tried to feed off his soul, but he felt better, lighter, and more invigorated with purpose. He understood now why people painted and drew and sculpted. There was so much more to art than simply moving some form of medium across an empty page.
He noticed Eustoria's grinning then. Had he made her proud? Had he, a pestering annoyance in the eyes of a stubborn artist, made her proud?
"That's a good use of unity there," she declared pointing her index figure at his drawing. Wait- unity? What was that? He scavenged his memory for the term but found nothing. He would need to ask about this. So he did.
"Unity is another artistic principle that refers to the sense of cohesiveness and completeness in piece of work. It's a feeling adjoined to the notion that everything belongs together in whole, like a tapestry with all its lines and segments and threads..." She trailed off, but Kotton didn't notice. The way she spoke about art was something else- it gave him shivers just to 'read' the passion that came off her tongue. If immortals explained their domains through the perspective she had about art, he was sure it would 'sound' exactly like this. He felt a little envious, to be honest. He wished he could be as passionate about something as she was with drawing.
He watched Eustoria just a little while longer, but instead of focusing on her techniques and methods, he was was more enamored by her looks. He took in the texture of her hair and the way it blew against the enfeebled breeze. He admired her beauty and was finally coming to terms with the way she saw things. Her perspective was just so unique. Whilst he had only moments ago seen her as abrasive, callous and stubborn, there was also this part of her- passionate, endearing, a sort of 'go with the flow' persona. The best part of her personality though was her confidence. She liked what she did and that made her knowledgeable about it.
Eustoria suddenly flicked her finger toward another spot of his drawing. "And that there-," she said, tucking a lost strand of hair behind her tiny ear. "-is an excellent use of variety."
Before he even had a second to open his mouth and ask what variety was, Eustoria was speaking. "Variety is another artistic principle that refers to the use of different elements, techniques, and designs to create optical interest. For example-" oh how he loved when she gave him examples. "-by using the colour red against the colour blue, you give a contrast that excites the viewer and directs them towards pieces of evidence that declares, 'I am not boring!'. It's basically like changing up the plot of a story so as to keep your reader's on the edge of their seats."
Finally, an analogy he could easily understand. Kotton was about to ask more questions when he noticed the darkening shades of the sky. He was running out of time. He had someone to get back to and he had people to feed. And Kotton did not want to suffer the consequences of hearing howling and mewing and general complaining for the rest of the night.
But maybe he had a few extra minutes?
He looked down at his piece of art and began another take at the outline of the horseshoe. He spent equal amounts of time shading various spots of importance and performing linework appropriate to Eustoria's take on proportion. Once he was satisfied with the way the outlining looked, he transitioned to the details. He used full range of movement to create several circles that represented the many notches that lined the horseshoe and then chanelled his strength to further mar his paper with heavy swipes of charcoal. He applied more pressure to certain areas to adjust the amount of darkness and opacity.
He wanted to keep going. He really did. He had learnt so much and wanted to use what he had learnt to further impress his tutor, but he also desperately needed to head home.
After finalising his last stroke, he bolted upright like he had been struck with lightning. Responsibilities didn't simply vanish when you were having fun. There were only so many folders in his mind and he wasn't yet able to figure out which one was playing music and which one required an immediate business response.
“I’m sowwy for my abwupt depawture, but I weally must be leaving. I have someone waiting fow me, you see." Even after stumbling and fumbling over letters he couldn't hear, he still tried to appear respective. He had just taken hours out of someone's day after all. "It was nice to meet you,” he concluded, was less in an expression of sincerity and more so outside his chest due to superfluous anxiety.
There was no doubt that what he had with Eustoria was anything other than a radical and miraculous experience. It may not have been entirely enjoyable given the hardheadedness and rudeness that had occurred during the first few hours, but overall, the half-blood felt indebted for having run into someone such as she. He had learned so much from this experience that he could practise for trials on end off the information he'd gathered alone- maybe even weeks! With the fundamentals and basics of drawing now clearly defined in his mind, he had an infinite amount of potential to create anything and everything he desired.
And he was excited for it.
Kotton waited with the remaining patience he had until Eustoria, his newfound mentor in art, blessedly decided to speak in regards to the question he had recently asked. "What should I do next?" His eyes were solemn eyes and gravely seeking instruction.
"I want you to not only keep your arm above the paper," she declared, pointing to the ruined lines he had smudged from his forearm. Kotton frowned as he looked at what she was referring to. He felt like a criminal for having screwed up such a seemingly rudimentary task. "I also want you to picture within your mind where you want your art to finish."
Where did he want his piece to finish? He wanted it to finish when he was done, right? But what exactly did that mean? Always overworking and overthinking, Kotton's mind spiralled as he realised he had yet to think about stopping. He could have drawn on and on until the end of time. But it only made sense that he would need to finish. Besides, what was he going to do when he ran out of inspiration? Or paper? How did other artists handle these conundrums?
His eyes lingered over his paper, pupils dilating with explosive concentration. He carefully examined each and every detail with laser-like focus. He couldn't conclude where he wanted his piece to expire, so he did what he had been doing every time he felt lost thus far. He raised his head to meet Eustoria's glinting glare, silently asking for her insight.
“Your movements determine what your art ends up becoming," she said without appearing annoyed. "It takes practise before you become fully aware of when you need to stop. Anyone could pick apart their work, admonish the straightness of their lines or audit the talent that's become of their strokes. Slower movements are better for beginners. I cannot stress that enough. It encourages contemplation and processing in terms of just how peculiar their canvas should be.” Her voice was so passionate it made Kotton shudder, even if he couldn't hear her exact tone. Eustoria's eyes were adhesive, like glue to his paper, as she took some time to carefully analyse what he had drawn. Unfortunately, the young man was still blocked by apprehension as to how he should proceed. His pause gave Eustoria the push she needed to tell him what to do next. "I would suggest you draw an equally proportionate shape as to the horseshoe and use it as a balance to fill up the rest of your page. Then, maybe use that shape, or the horseshoe, it doesn't matter, as a reference before infuse darker lines to create some contour."
Whilst the suggestion took him two to five business trials to comprehend, it was nonetheless appreciated. Yet, the term proportionate was a word devoid of definition in his mind like contour was. So he asked about both, hoping to shave off any waste of time that might have been filled with the floundering semi-confidence of someone who honestly didn't know what they were doing.
"Proportion, as to my understanding, is when someone uses an already drawn object against the prospective size of another so as to create realistic enterprise of an original work of art." After a deep breath, she continued. "Contour is an outline, especially one representing or bounding the shape or form of someone or something. For example, if you were to contour the shape of a woman's face, you would be moulding it into a more aesthetically pleasing shape, one designed to fit into what you view is a better example of perfection."
He didn't need any additional information before he felt confident enough to continue drawing. He subjected his wrist into a needless, but fashionable movement of someone achingly determined to conclude what they had started. He had raised his arm, dropped it, forced his wrist to dart left to right, and eventually forced it to become still. With every error, he anticipated a concurrent negative thought. It was almost impossible not to. That's just how his brain worked. Maybe it was from experience, maybe it was because he had a lot of unspoken trauma that needed to be worked out, whatever the case, he fought these autonomic, pessimistic thoughts and remained optimistic with the potential of finalizing a magnificent piece of art. As doubt slithered into his mind, he absconded from its embrace.
"My fiwst twy," he bashfully admitted. He was slow to the take after having spent countless seconds checking his work and needlessly picking at all the mistakes and blunders that had been made along the way. He tucked a stray strand of burgundy hair behind his ear- an act of self-consciousness. "I may not have talent, but I have heawt,” he insisted.
He felt enriched with power- nothing could strike him down now. Even if a star crash-landed on Scalvoris island itself, Kotton would die happy simply having completed something that was outside his zone of comfort.
Whilst it was just art he was creating, he felt that there was a little something more to it. With every stroke against the paper, with every line drawn and shape constructed, there was a release. May it be a release of tension, sadness or fear- he wasn't sure, and it didn't matter anyway, because those feelings were no longer bottled up inside him with all the other disgusting and disapproving and disgraceful thoughts and emotions he felt on a daily basis. They were all being evacuated in the form of a flood from out of his body. Of course, it would be asinine to assume he had been cleansed of all negativity. No, there were still evil beings that tried to feed off his soul, but he felt better, lighter, and more invigorated with purpose. He understood now why people painted and drew and sculpted. There was so much more to art than simply moving some form of medium across an empty page.
He noticed Eustoria's grinning then. Had he made her proud? Had he, a pestering annoyance in the eyes of a stubborn artist, made her proud?
"That's a good use of unity there," she declared pointing her index figure at his drawing. Wait- unity? What was that? He scavenged his memory for the term but found nothing. He would need to ask about this. So he did.
"Unity is another artistic principle that refers to the sense of cohesiveness and completeness in piece of work. It's a feeling adjoined to the notion that everything belongs together in whole, like a tapestry with all its lines and segments and threads..." She trailed off, but Kotton didn't notice. The way she spoke about art was something else- it gave him shivers just to 'read' the passion that came off her tongue. If immortals explained their domains through the perspective she had about art, he was sure it would 'sound' exactly like this. He felt a little envious, to be honest. He wished he could be as passionate about something as she was with drawing.
He watched Eustoria just a little while longer, but instead of focusing on her techniques and methods, he was was more enamored by her looks. He took in the texture of her hair and the way it blew against the enfeebled breeze. He admired her beauty and was finally coming to terms with the way she saw things. Her perspective was just so unique. Whilst he had only moments ago seen her as abrasive, callous and stubborn, there was also this part of her- passionate, endearing, a sort of 'go with the flow' persona. The best part of her personality though was her confidence. She liked what she did and that made her knowledgeable about it.
Eustoria suddenly flicked her finger toward another spot of his drawing. "And that there-," she said, tucking a lost strand of hair behind her tiny ear. "-is an excellent use of variety."
Before he even had a second to open his mouth and ask what variety was, Eustoria was speaking. "Variety is another artistic principle that refers to the use of different elements, techniques, and designs to create optical interest. For example-" oh how he loved when she gave him examples. "-by using the colour red against the colour blue, you give a contrast that excites the viewer and directs them towards pieces of evidence that declares, 'I am not boring!'. It's basically like changing up the plot of a story so as to keep your reader's on the edge of their seats."
Finally, an analogy he could easily understand. Kotton was about to ask more questions when he noticed the darkening shades of the sky. He was running out of time. He had someone to get back to and he had people to feed. And Kotton did not want to suffer the consequences of hearing howling and mewing and general complaining for the rest of the night.
But maybe he had a few extra minutes?
He looked down at his piece of art and began another take at the outline of the horseshoe. He spent equal amounts of time shading various spots of importance and performing linework appropriate to Eustoria's take on proportion. Once he was satisfied with the way the outlining looked, he transitioned to the details. He used full range of movement to create several circles that represented the many notches that lined the horseshoe and then chanelled his strength to further mar his paper with heavy swipes of charcoal. He applied more pressure to certain areas to adjust the amount of darkness and opacity.
He wanted to keep going. He really did. He had learnt so much and wanted to use what he had learnt to further impress his tutor, but he also desperately needed to head home.
After finalising his last stroke, he bolted upright like he had been struck with lightning. Responsibilities didn't simply vanish when you were having fun. There were only so many folders in his mind and he wasn't yet able to figure out which one was playing music and which one required an immediate business response.
“I’m sowwy for my abwupt depawture, but I weally must be leaving. I have someone waiting fow me, you see." Even after stumbling and fumbling over letters he couldn't hear, he still tried to appear respective. He had just taken hours out of someone's day after all. "It was nice to meet you,” he concluded, was less in an expression of sincerity and more so outside his chest due to superfluous anxiety.
There was no doubt that what he had with Eustoria was anything other than a radical and miraculous experience. It may not have been entirely enjoyable given the hardheadedness and rudeness that had occurred during the first few hours, but overall, the half-blood felt indebted for having run into someone such as she. He had learned so much from this experience that he could practise for trials on end off the information he'd gathered alone- maybe even weeks! With the fundamentals and basics of drawing now clearly defined in his mind, he had an infinite amount of potential to create anything and everything he desired.
And he was excited for it.
