Tuesday, 31 March 2009

'The Fires' Graphic Novel for Inksoup #3

This is my experiment with stupidly thin 0.05 pen.

Sunday, 29 March 2009

Colour trial

This is my main character for 'Piano and the Boy'. I have experimented with a limited colour palette and put down colours beneath the original pencilled scan. I may continue with this if this method is successful on the other compositions.

David Bellamy Comparitive Study

I took one of David Bellamy's images and tried to reproduce it. Its just an experiment as i decided t owork in pencil for my Children's story, to which i may add muted colours.

MacMillan's First 2 Final Drawings

I have used just Hb for these two, although i might go back into them with a 5b to highlight the shadows and increase the graphic contrast because this is something i need to improve on!
The bottom half visual of the boy not being able to reach the pedals is important to the text so i might add some subtle contrast here to draw attention to it. the perspective on the windows is a bit off as well so i might dabble and correct this.

'The Fires' First Panels

I'm not used to working in pen so this is an opportunity for me to expand my knowledge in different media and problem solving, by attempting to recreate pencil qualities with pen. I am using a 0.05 pen to achieve high detail.
The story is about the struggle in every human being between honesty and deceit, inspired by the phrase 'Paper Tigers' which symbolises empty threats.

MacMillan's Children's Book Competition

This is the first portion of my story for the MacMillan Competition
& t h e B o y

There was once a boy who played piano.
He loved the piano and played it throughout the day and the night. His melodies echoed up and down the streets of the poor town he lived in.
He knew from a very early age that his biggest love was music. But it seemed that music was still a little too big for him (image of boy not being able to reach the pedals). Regardless of this, he could be heard everywhere in the neighbourhood- and it bought some much needed joy to the quiet little town.
One cold autumn morning the boy woke up and like every other day, he sat at his piano, lifted the stiff cover and began to play. However a rumble sounded, which turned into groans that drained down the wood grains and shuddered through the floors.
He suddenly stopped, and the sounds died away. A coarse whirr: the sound of hope tumbling. Somewhere inside its aged ebony bones, the old piano had given way.
The boy’s only joy had been taken away from him.
He shuffled away from the seat he spent so many hours playing at.
The boys heart strings were frayed. Sadness soon bleached the skies above him.
It became so saturated with sorrow that every dawn, the sun had to rise early to ring out the despair which fell as rain on the small town, affecting the young and old. Even the world turned its back.