My relationship with art would be best described as a series of spontaneous and electric affairs. As I've mentioned before, I'm working to get to a point where art sticks around, even if it means less passion. Sure, some of the magic is gone when art is around all the time leaving the toilet seat up, but it's nice to wake up next to each morning and...
This metaphor is getting out of control.
I just wanted to introduce that at some point I decided I wanted to get better at drawing hands so I started drawing hands. (Crazy how that works.) Below are some (not all!) of the hands I have drawn in the last few months. They're in chronological order and my thumb is cramping from typing this on my phone.
I wasn't too awful at hands to begin with, mostly because this isn't my first go with drawing.
Part of working on my hands was developing and figuring out a style I was comfortable with and liked.
The ones in this stretch were ink pen with watercolor over the top.
Which is by far my favorite style right now.
I did practice just for form as well, sometimes too lazy to go get my watercolors or whatever.
Beyond getting better at hands, I have also come to accept my weird hands. They look too big for my tiny wrists. When we're out and I see people my size (petite af) I check out their hands and they have the hand too big for their wrist thing too. It's grown on me as normal.
More of the same.
Popping out of that style to play with some closer to reality. A compromise, I suppose.
It's my default thing to draw now. That's the cool thing with hands, always on hand... erm wrist... I guess.
Granted, when I can I do try to hold things to add more interest.
I just want you all to picture me sitting at my desk holding half a dragon fruit for 20 minutes.
I realized doing this I need to try to draw my right hand at some point.
Anyway, I'm pretty content by now with my hands and lamenting literally no one commissions drawings of their hands. But damn if they did, I'd be the Met to go to.
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