One of the exercises on the drawing course is to develop a “selfie” cartoon … a character self portrait. This caused me to use up a lot of pages in the sketch book. And to get really upset. Vanity struggles with realism. Ageing is not a good look for me, never mind the artistic challenge of frizzy grey hair.
Who is that?
Me, in ten years time I think.
You forget how old you are, you know, and time does pass. “What do you mean?”
Well, do you know who you look like now … in that hat?
You look just like me, dear.
“That’s enough, Mum. At my age I have enough whiskers of my own without you adding Dad’s beard.” I didn’t do anything dear.
“You did. I know you. You always get me just where you want me.” Oh … how can you say such a thing to your poor old mother.
Anyway … where have I got you? “Confused.”
Where have you been? Have you got over your David Bowie thing yet? It’s all very well being upset dear, but people will stop looking at this if you just flounce off you know.
“Thanks a lot Mum. Actually, I have been trying some animating.” So where is it then?
“I think I have to start again. It’s all flickery. It’s rubbish. Sometimes I just feel like giving up. I’m old, I’m mad and I can’t do it … technically I mean.”
Nothing wrong with being old and mad, dear. I tried it myself before I died. And if that’s the way it goes … Well *San Fairy Ann.
(*Syb’s version of “Ça ne fait rien”)