Dorbran Fa is the leader (Father or “Fa”) of a wandering band of gypsies. I created this character one night for my sister but quit working on him when a couple of people pointed out that he bore an unintended resemblance to the 16th president of the United States. A better title for this sketch might be “Abraham Lincoln as a Roving Gypsy…”
gob·lin (g
b
l
n) n.
gob·let (gblt) n.
A few weeks ago I discovered a goblet in my house in the form of little Daniel. While teething, he decided that biting his parents was a funny game. He would bite our ankles and toes if we ignored him; and while we played with him he would go after our fingers and noses with a laugh and a playful growl. Eric and I both thought this was hilariously adorable and began calling Daniel “our little goblet.” Unfortunately, our new apartment complex doesn’t allow baby goblins so we had to put a stop to the biting, but I drew these pictures to remember him by.
First sketch of a sweet young goblet. I liked the idea so much I decided to do a portrait of Daniel as a baby goblet.
First drawings of Daniel’s portrait. I thought the drinking goblet made my little goblin look tipsy so I replaced it with a pet mouse.
The mice were fun, but they just didn’t seem like quite the right thing for my goblet. I drew a different pet for him an Orcan pig-dog named Muhgg but I kept him on a separate piece of paper because I had another idea for Daniel’s portrait.
In the actual picture I wanted Daniel to be playing with a chewed up book. What better object for an illiterate, book-despising goblin parent to give their child as a chew toy? And so without further ado, the final product!
While sorting through my closet in preparation to move to Washington, I came across a folder of my earliest surviving drawings.
I was about eight when I drew these, they are from one of the many make-believe games my sisters and I made up. Growing up I always felt the need to draw the characters from the games I played and the books I read. I’m not sure if that’s normal, or just another symptom of the artistic temperament I was born with. Anyway, I thought these pictures were extremely cool when I drew them. I love the details my eight-year-old self included. I particularly like the views through the curtains in the upper stories of the house, the “legs” of the table, and the strange heads supporting the columns…
Evidence of my early inclination toward illustration, apparently I was quite the author as well.
These gadgets are from yet another game I played with my sisters, we were interplanetary time travellers who did a little spy work on the side. This is all of our gear. I’m especially proud of my collapsible phone/calculator with a keyboard (who needs a smartphone?). If you zoom up on the super cool spy watch I designed, you’ll see that it tells you everything you’ll ever need to know, including whether it’s hot or dry where you’re standing, what creature you are looking at and even what continent you’re in! Pretty cool huh? Oh by the way, the space ship on the bottom right is a Super-Zoomer 2000 which is powered by apple juice! Talk about a deliciously environmentally friendly fuel!
Here a a few more characters, I’ve always been fascinated with medieval knights and wizards and such. I remember when I showed these to my mom she said she liked them but thought their necks were a little too long. Her critiques really helped me grow as an artist and I still go to her when I need a fresh opinion.
And of course a couple of a dragons…a theme I never outgrew.
Like so many of my sketches, these were drawn during class, a habit that has earned me both scowls and extra credit points from my teachers over the years. I drew these in sixth grade when I sat in the back of the classroom with my friend Jason who was also a dragon lover. They look rather like dinosaurs to me now. Later that year I discovered the book “Dragon” by Jody Bergsma and for the first time it occurred to me that dragons look much better with long faces instead of such blunted snouts.
When deeply absorbed in an art project, I have the unfortunate habit of neglecting household chores and my personal appearance. I mean, why bother if you’re just going to get paint on your clothes anyway? Since I’m not very social I can usually get away with it, but occasionally it leads to rather awkward situations…like the one this afternoon. Here is a story I wrote to deal with my embarrassment.
For centuries aristocrats have indulged in the luxury of employing butlers. Butlers, believe it or not, are essentially professional door openers. Butlers have slick dark hair to match their stiff bowties, they bear refined yet unassuming names like Wadsworth or Wilkins and speak in polished British accents…all traits apparently essential to successful door opening. Hiring a door opener is understandable if you are too short to reach the handle, or immobile; but for a perfectly healthy person to retain a butler seems to be the epitome of sloth. The reasons behind the persistence of this seemingly superfluous tradition have mystified me…until today.
Just having moved to a new state and living a somewhat hermetic life, I rarel
y have visitors, so I was unprepared when I heard a knock on my door this afternoon. Daniel and I had been playing rather loudly, laughing and jabbering baby talk. The house was a mess so I didn’t want to answer, but whoever was at the door would surely have realized from the noise that I was home. Hoping it wasn’t an unfriendly neighbor with a complaint about the racket, I peered trepidatiously through the peephole. The knocker was a woman who, to my relief, didn’t look grumpy. Deciding she wasn’t here to complain, I opened the door. The woman was Sister Palmer, a sweet lady from church wondering if I would like to go for a walk. Suddenly the mess in the living room seemed magnified, it was chaos. Much to my embarrassment, while Daniel distracted me with his innocent chatter, most of my possessions (including the T.V. and a kitchen chair) had apparently migrated haphazardly to the middle of my living room floor. Why is it that clutter has a tendency to collect en masse at inopportune moments exactly where it will be most visible? There were baby toys, baby blankets, baby clothes (are you sensing a theme here?), and yes, even baby diapers, all in my relatively small front room for Sister Palmer to see. Flustered, and anxious to shut the door and hide the mess, I suggested that we go walking some other time and said a lame goodbye.
It was only after shutting the door that I realized not only was my house a mess, I was a mess too. My hair was in a disheveled pony tail and I was wearing my husband’s largest basketball shorts with a mismatched olive green jacket. As if that weren’t enough, I was also wearing socks with lurid green stripes that went all the way up to my knees. Those socks would have made me look like the Wicked Witch of the West if the rest of my outfit hadn’t been so ridiculous…I was mortified. If only I could have melted like the Wicked Witch instead of just looking like her.
Conclusion? Someone else is answering the door next time. I’m hiring a butler.