I'm working my way through the heel gusset of my second Jaywalker. But it's dark so I'm not going to take ANOTHER crappy picture. Honestly, I fancy myself an artist, and then I post positively horrendous photos on my blog. Of course, I'm never in my home when it's light unless it's a weekend, so I'm going to have to wait until Saturday to post a picture. Instead, I think I promised a long time ago to say something about painting things to be seen from afar.
My set looks pretty good from far away, but when you get up close, the freaks come out. Here's the little mutant girl, who doesn't have features, just creases:
Have you ever been to the Cosmos? It's this crazy-ass house in the Black Hills in South Dakota that they claim has all these weird, mysterious forces. Whatever. It's all how it's constructed. The floors and walls are at odd angles so it looks like you're standing on the wall or a ball is rolling uphill. I've apparently channeled the Cosmos Mystery Area in my church- this building is NOT structurally sound:
And no freak show could be complete without a bearded lady:
So that was all in fun- really, I felt pretty good about the set. However, I noticed when my friend Nestor came over to do the lettering (he wants to get into set painting- he does billboards right now) I immediately began to point out all the flaws. I thought I was making a joke, but at one point he said, "Man, you haven't said one nice thing about yourself all night!" And I realized that he was right! I didn't even feel bad about what I was saying, it just seemed natural. Like I needed to say, "Hey, don't think I didn't notice that thing sucks. I don't want you to think I'm dumb and didn't see it or anything." Why do we do that? It's almost encouraged in women.
I'm beginning to think that shit is for the birds.