Another trip to Chennai

This is a late update. Have been busy with my stopmotion project. Unusually busy. But I've been wanting to write about my second trip to Chennai which happened quite a while back as I went to my sister's to chill. As much as I found the place strange earlier; I couldn't help but love the flavorsome city. There was too much to do, and me falling sick was trying to make it worse. I thankfully recovered, but only at the end of the trip. The place where they lived was absolutely beautiful. Right next to a hill with a shrine on top of it. The wind, the 'fruit shop', the beach. There was too much to take in. All put together in a lovely coconut that Chennai is. My sister has now shifted to Bangalore; and we will miss the city, always.

Here are some of the sketches I did there with my brush pen.

A shady couple on the beach:)

My brother-in-law and my sister at the beach.

My sister at home switching from channel to channel; an age old habit.

A construction happening somewhere on the hilltop shrine.

People praying as I shamelessly sketch.

More people and a lot of wind. And a couple.

I follow a couple in the dark as I try to draw them while walking.

And some more of my favorite thing to draw, people.

What a lovely experience. Made possible by my sister and her husband. Thanks. A lot:)

Love.

Climate Changes

My entry for the British Council Cartoon Contest for Climate Change.

Topic chosen: Melting of Ice Caps.

The event was judged by two amazing cartoonists, Ajit Ninan and Martin Rowson. I happened to bag the third prize.The craziest part was when Ajit Ninan pulled my cheek on stage as I went to get the prize and I also got an autograph of Martin Rowson on a book of his I had. I was almost in tears. This goes on to become one of the coolest things that have happened to my life:)

An online poll on the British Council website is on so you can vote for your 5 best entries. Vote HERE.

Do leave feedback on my entry though:)

Like Tea and Water

I drew a girl. Another one. She wanted to be colorful but fate had other plans. I saw a plastic cup of leftover tea and colored her up from head to... erm.. calves. She still looks just as happy:)



A day when you just don't want to use a pen or a pencil.

Feedback of anyanyANY sort welcome:)

FloatMan

My set of watercolors continues to be my best friend as I find inspiration in more unclothed floating beings on a hopeless day to restore faith in life:)

Have a sexy inspiring day!

Erupting in 3D

My Maya model is finFINfinished! Well, apart from the rigging and other stuff, which remains undone.

This is what it looks like and I am obscenely proud of myself because truly, I never thought I'd get even this far:P

For all who don't know the character, it happens to be the character from my first and only comic book, Eruptions, which I completed as a part of a course.

You can catch the comic book here.

Do leave feedback!
Have a good day:)

Illustration Friday - Clumsy / All the Utterly Horrible Things That Can Happen to Your Precious Double Half Fried Egg

Ok. It has been a while since I last posted on Illustration Friday. But 'better this year than never', right?

Me and a few others were sitting and wondering what all could go wrong with the eggs in your first meal of the day; if you happen to get up on time for it, that is:P

All the haunting memories of the days I've had to eat my eggs NOT the way I want it start flashing. And I pen it down immediately.

The most tragedy struck breakfasts are generally when you ask the hostel mess chef to prepare double half fried eggs. If you're lucky, that's what you'll get, if you're not, which is usually the case, these are some of the things you could be in for... Though I do blame personal clumsiness for some of them:P...

Scenario 1: Both the egg yolks will be broken already.

Scenario 2: The egg yolks will be riiiight next to each other, so if you want to eat the yolk by trying to get one of them to reach the spoon safely, you know the other will break.

Scenario 3: The chef blatantly ignores you and makes for you double full fried eggs instead.

Scenario 4: You've managed to get the yolk separated. You carefully put it on the spoon, get it to your mouth, shivering and hoping it wouldn't break midway.

Scenario 5: All your fears come true.

Scenario 6: You feel like having an omelette and by the time you sit down on the table to eat, you wish you had asked for double half fried eggs; again:'(

Have a lovely breakfast and a happy day:)

This has got to be the post with the longest title yet on this blog. I mean, who the hell names a post 'Illustration Friday - Clumsy / All the utterly horrible things that can happen to your precious double half fried egg'?!?

Life in Current State

It is exactly what the post title says. After so much time spent staring at the computer screen watching Maya progress at the speed of nothing, I try to make myself feel better by looking at others' work on the blogosphere. Then I'm a mix of being mildly inspired and greatly depressed and as I open up my sketchbook, clutching onto a pencil, we blankly stare at each other for about half an hour and then I just wham my head against the table:'(

Any cure?

Another one goes by.

A new year. A fresh start. New resolutions. Not sticking to them. New friends. Old friends. And the feeling of the new-ness disappearing creeping in. Yet again.

This year has been an amazing one for Lady GaGa and well... me, in a lot of strange, un-understandable reasons. Some of them, I wish to pen... err.. type down.

So here's to a year of:

Two lost pendrives.

Watching the world and work evolve.

Sorting good friends from better ones.

Not losing any. Any. ANY weight.

Drinking fruit beer straight from the packets.

A dying keyring. RIP.

Lost of books bought.

Loving living in a single hostel room.

More confusion regarding future post college.

Going down south and finally seeing a bit more of the country.

Trying to keep sanity intact. Trying hard.

LOVING ADIDAS.

Realizing fonts can fascinate.

Downloading A LOT of music.

Realising 'Happy Bunny' is my idol.

Hoarding sketchbooks and not knowing what to fill them up with.

Being a regular at picking up a copy of Rolling Stones magazine every month.

Getting to know what 'de-veining' prawns is about and realizing its an absolute bitch.

Flu and cold and cough and aching and fever. And trying out medicines and capsules of all dimensions.

Looking at people I knew and not recognizing them anymore.

Owning a pair of HOT patent sneakers.

Amassing more & more junk and finding absolutely no space for them to be kept.

Lady GaGa obsession.

Loving early morning gurudwara trips.

Knowing for sure people won't, JUST WON'T sit through a film's end credits in a theater even though they last merely five minutes.

I like my new bunny suit.

I like my new bunny suit.

I like my new bunny suit.

When I wear it I feel cute.

Realizing a whole freaking decade is over!

So well,

A SAXXY NEW YEAR TO ALL from me and the blog:)

P.S. - The illustration has me surrounded by medicines and little mucous-monsters:)

Illustraton Friday : Undone

After a long, long time, I update again. This time, for Illustrationfriday.

It was a secret plan. Rajat used to flee from the tea shop, where he used to lend a helping hand for a few rupees. Meeta, with her hair undone, away from the bucket and the broom. Sarita, who didn't like washing uensils at all, but had to would come along just as quickly. And the little stray pup wouldn't mind joining in for a little bit of fun. They used to play in the valley all evening till dark, leaving their odd jobs just how Meeta liked her hair as she chased the wind in the unending valley.

Have a lovely day:)

Scribblebook

A fancy little note book my friend gifted me once upon a time:)

I used it to fill it with stupid Maya software notes. And scribbles, and more.

Dipankar, a batchmate, longs for a kiss and admires his sexy, big lips as sultry Maya seduces him:D (bottom right)

And Ranjita, a PG batchmate of mine, sits on the computer with her lovely long locks serenading the chair she sets herself on.

And my unsuccessful attempts at getting used to a brush pen.

Life must go on. Mustn't it?

Float Continues...

Ugly grey softwares uninspire and life once more finds faith in a 6B pencil, a sketchbook and a plain set of watercolors:)

A sketch done at one such time.

Characters in Technicolor

Finally I managed to scan in the final scenarios of my character design course.

Heres some of them; most of them, actually..

The Tailor, Rajubhai, inspiration taken from real life characters of the same profession.

The Frog and the Nightingale, a poem by Vikram Seth.

Characters taken forward from the poem and visualized.

The 'Create-your-own-story', Character inspired from the helper in a nearby gurudwara.

Name - Satwinder Kaur

Age, 41

The setup.

The slip offs and professional clumsiness,

And the lousy lousy end:)

Do leave feedback!

Have a saxx day:)

Illustration Friday : Unbalanced

As would be slightly unclear, I'm still not sure who is more unbalanced, the woman or the weighing scale:)

Illustration Friday : Skinny 2

Ok. This might sound funny but when I was young (and small and much more innocent), I applied simple logic to a lot of things, including the meaning of the word 'skinny'. So off my mind went...

Skinny = Lots of skin = Fat

So here's to childhood, it's assumptions and the twisted language called English.

Do leave feedback:)

Illustration Friday : Skinny

It's been a while since I've updated the blog, quite some. Have been rather busy, or uninspired.

But the hostel dog(ess) Babita has finally delivered her new litter of puppies! The other day, she came running and all happy, and 'skinny' as hell. She has hidden the pups somewhere, probably doesn't want many people to know. She still is perpetually hungry, but less whiny:)

Everyone awaits seeing the pups as people have already started guessing their number and color!

So here's to another winter, another litter of puppies and another wave of joy to come:)

Illustration Friday : Flying

The hostel dog Babita is pregnant. Again; after quite a while though. She is generally in a good mood these days and slashes her tail at the sight of people, gets more food than usual and eats it all up, lazes around more often and looks like she's dreaming of flying away with her yet-to-come little ones. Her bump has grown and if you touch her belly, little things kick back. I generally pat her on the head while passing by. Can't wait for the new litter of pups to come. sigh.

Illustration Friday : Welcome

As I pass by the bakery on my way to the stationary store near my college, the chocolate tarts welcome me into their beautiful, ever so devilishly deelicious world.


And as often as I let it not tempt me, sometimes it just becomes an obligation to welcome the pretty little thing into my mouth.

To evil chocolate tarts and calories:)

Illustration Friday - Strong

After aaaages I finally get myself to work for Illustration Friday. This week's word - Strong.

She didn't look the kinds; but she actually was strong enough for the bullies around her to start begging for mercy.

Yo Girl Power!

Do leave feedback.

Have a great day!

Designing Characters 3

The last assignment was to come up with a little story of you own and shell out the character in it.
My story is about a 'sewadarni' (worker) in a gurudwara. Every morning she sweeps the whole gurudwara, though she isn't the best at her job. Or perhaps it is out of choice. She sweeps clumsily so people slip and fall. After all the chaos and giggling at it, she ends up landing on the area she had just swept and slips herself as the others have the last laugh. The character is still in its initial stages and a lot a lot a lot of work is left. Here are some early sketches and the basic model sheet.










Have a lovely day!

Designing Charaters - 'The Frog and the Nightingale' by Vikram Seth

For the second week of the course we were supposed to come up with a short story/poem that is character centric and had scope to be animated. After two days of juggling betweek Oscar Wilde's 'The Remarkable Rocket' and Vikram Seth's 'The Frog and the Nightingale' because I didn't want to work with a human character, I settled for the latter.

So I developed the characters in the poem over a week. I am still finalizing the geography of the characters and making the 'Bingle Bog' come alive. Anyway, here's the poem.

Once upon a time a frog
Croaked away in Bingle Bog
Every night from dusk to dawn
He croaked awn and awn and awn
Other creatures loathed his voice,
But, alas, they had no choice,
And the crass cacophony
Blared out from the sumac tree
At whose foot the frog each night
Minstrelled on till morning light

Neither stones nor prayers nor sticks.
Insults or complaints or bricks
Stilled the frogs determination
To display his heart's elation.
But one night a nightingale
In the moonlight cold and pale
Perched upon the sumac tree
Casting forth her melody
Dumbstruck sat the gaping frog
And the whole admiring bog
Stared towards the sumac, rapt,
And, when she had ended, clapped.

Ducks had swum and herons waded
To her as she serenaded
And a solitary loon
Wept, beneath the summer moon.
Toads and teals and tiddlers, captured
By her voice, cheered on, enraptured:
“Bravo!” “Too divine!” “Encore!”
So the nightingale once more,
Quite unused to such applause,
Sang till dawn without a pause.

Next night when the Nightingale
Shook her head and twitched her tail,
Closed an eye and fluffed a wing
And had cleared her throat to sing
She was startled by a croak.
“Sorry – was that you who spoke?”
She enquired when the frog
Hopped towards her from the bog.
“Yes,” the frog replied. “You see,
I'm the frog who owns this tree
In this bog I've long been known
For my splendid baritone
And, of course, I wield my pen
For Bog Trumpet now and then”

“Did you… did you like my song?”
“Not too bad – but far too long.
The technique was fine of course,
But it lacked a certain force”.
“Oh!” the nightingale confessed.
Greatly flattered and impressed
That a critic of such note
Had discussed her art and throat:
“I don't think the song's divine.
But – oh, well – at least it's mine”.

“That's not much to boast about”.
Said the heartless frog. “Without
Proper training such as I-
And few others can supply.
You'll remain a mere beginner.
But with me you'll be a winner”
“Dearest frog”, the nightingale
Breathed: “This is a fairy tale –
And you are Mozart in disguise
Come to earth before my eyes”.

“Well I charge a modest fee.”
“Oh!” “But it won't hurt, you'll see”
Now the nightingale inspired,
Flushed with confidence, and fired
With both art and adoration,
Sang – and was a huge sensation.
Animals for miles around
Flocked towards the magic sound,
And the frog with great precision
Counted heads and charged admission.

Though next morning it was raining,
He began her vocal training.
“But I can't sing in this weather”
“Come my dear – we'll sing together.
Just put on your scarf and sash,
Koo-oh-ah! ko-ash! ko-ash!”
So the frog and nightingale
Journeyed up and down the scale
For six hours, till she was shivering
and her voice was hoarse and quivering.

Though subdued and sleep deprived,
In the night her throat revived,
And the sumac tree was bowed,
With a breathless, titled crowd:
Owl of Sandwich, Duck of Kent,
Mallard and Milady Trent,
Martin Cardinal Mephisto,
And the Coot of Monte Cristo,
Ladies with tiaras glittering
In the interval sat twittering –
And the frog observed them glitter
With a joy both sweet and bitter.

Every day the frog who'd sold her
Songs for silver tried to scold her:
“You must practice even longer
Till your voice, like mine grows stronger.
In the second song last night
You got nervous in mid-flight.
And, my dear, lay on more trills:
Audiences enjoy such frills.
You must make your public happier:
Give them something sharper snappier.
We must aim for better billings.
You still owe me sixty shillings.”

Day by day the nightingale
Grew more sorrowful and pale.
Night on night her tired song
Zipped and trilled and bounced along,
Till the birds and beasts grew tired
At a voice so uninspired
And the ticket office gross
Crashed, and she grew more morose -
For her ears were now addicted
To applause quite unrestricted,
And to sing into the night
All alone gave no delight.

Now the frog puffed up with rage.
“Brainless bird – you're on the stage –
Use your wits and follow fashion.
Puff your lungs out with your passion.”
Trembling, terrified to fail,
Blind with tears, the nightingale
Heard him out in silence, tried,
Puffed up, burst a vein, and died.

Said the frog: “I tried to teach her,
But she was a stupid creature –
Far too nervous, far too tense.
Far too prone to influence.
Well, poor bird – she should have known
That your song must be your own.
That's why I sing with panache:
“Koo-oh-ah! ko-ash! ko-ash!”
And the foghorn of the frog
Blared unrivalled through the bog.

And here's the characters...

I finalized the one in purple.

Do leave feedback:)

P.S. - I am sliiightly partial towards the frog.