Blue Blood

Hellooo. *waves*

By now you know that when I start a post like that it’s going to be neither wordy nor sensible.

I should probably stop shooting myself in the foot like that.

About a month ago I showed my Mom a drawing. It was a hyper-realistic work of art made (by Kelvin Okafor; check him out on Twitter if you can) that had me drop my jaws. It was amazing! I saved it, and went to my old girl to get her to appreciate it with me. She squinted at my phone and said,

‘You now you don’t draw again.’

Ah.

Like, just appreciate the thing eh.

In her defense, the last time I completed a drawing was in April. I know. My record is iiimpressive. So…

I drew. Again. Yaay.

I’m sorry she doesn’t have fingers.

Seriously. (Took about three hours—some of whose minutes I spent running around my hall, going to the kitchen and saying out loud that I was hungry, dressing up to go and buy roasted plantain, returning home in frustration because there was none…L) In ink. Not because I’m so self-trusting, it’s just…just watch.

Le beginning

It started taking shape small.

I wanted to stop. Like, look at it. Like, really look at it. How did I not stop? Why did I use pen kraa? (Not that if I’d used pencil it’d have been better, but the whole pen thing gives me sort of an excuse, doesn’t it?)

Hehe. If you’re an artist and you look closely (please don’t) you notice the parts where I threw the hatching technique to the wind. Hatching, cross-hatching…3kaa circle. I probably should’ve used pointillism. It would’ve taken longer, but it would’ve been finer. I never even thought about it while drawing.

(Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you with the artsy talk. Keep looking.)