Overkill

85% of this was painted on my iPad. But then, when I went to watermark it in Photoshop, I was overcome by an inescapable artistic frenzy, which went on to gobble up the rest of my night's free time. But it was fun, so I'm not really complaining. Creative bliss is always welcome, but an hour or so before midnight, when the claws of sleep are tugging at me... it was just unexpected. So to conclude, the other 15% of the piece was finalized on my laptop with wonderful Wacom witchery.

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Welcome traveler, make yourself at home. This is a quiet corner of the web's vast reaches, and it was created for a very specific purpose. Pour yourself some tea, sit back, and take a deep breath. That's right, tea fixes everything... more or less.

To be clear, this is a sketchbook. This a place where my loose, raw, and energetic ideas thrive. While I may polish some of the work here into coherent ideas or flesh out compositions from the chaos, this gallery is first and foremost a digital anthology. It is meant to be an archive, recording my artistic growth and flexibility as time passes.

As an artist, I have always enjoyed browsing through the sketchbooks of my peers or elders, retracing the lineage of their work; absorbing and following the chaotic trail of thoughts that made them who they are today, who they will be tomorrow. A sketchbook is a very personal thing, as it can be a bridge into the very mind of someone, a gate into their thoughts.

Every year, I glance through my own traditional sketchbooks, retracing the progress I've made, searching for any limitations that need to be overcome. Through review, I gauge my strengths this way and focus on tackling my weaknesses. And, every now and then, I find a diamond in the rough, a forgotten sketch that patiently waits for refinement, an interesting scrap waiting for new life, for a second chance.

Sketchbooks are like graveyards, but every now and then something rises from their depths, reborn from the ashes.

Over the years, I've noticed that many digital artists tend to scrap or forget about their digital sketches. They remain buried on hard drives, or flash drives, invisible behind a shield of stoic icons, abandoned within a labyrinth of multiple folders. A lot of times, once the drawing is eventually found, the artist's skills have developed to such extent that the sketch is viewed as obsolete, and is ultimately trashed, deleted. When this happens, there is no going back, no way to examine past flaws and learn from them. By destroying old work, there's no way to track your artistic growth as you could nostalgically rummaging through a traditional sketchbook.

By not examining one's flaws, one limits his or her self to what is comfortable, and that is a terrible cage to be trapped in. Slay your dragons, and once the deed is done, go look for another. Our greatest challenges shape us, our strengths are honed from the gantlets we face.

That said, I welcome you to my gallery, to the sketchbook that I actively assemble here. It will be chaotic and raw, containing the nitty-gritty, unbridled nature of experimentation and growth. I am here simply to engage in eternal metamorphosis and I hope you'll follow me along my journey.

Enjoy your stay.

For those seeking my professional, polished work, you may find it here: [link]

Sincerely,
Brian J. Shafer