Author: hamishmacdonald

What I was going to say was something like this:

Dad is back! The last few days, he’s been completely himself again, and I’ve really been enjoying his company — his great stories of his days in social work, his acerbic take on world events, and his deadpan sense of humour.

He’s back on his feet, too: I can’t believe how much mobility he’s got back. He can’t go far or for too long on foot, and he needs the walker, but he’s taking steps instead of shuffling, and he’s transferring himself to and from bed and in the bathroom on his own.

I’ve been going to church with Mom. The people there are very friendly, and intellectually awake and inquiring folks. I can see why she relies on this community, and I’ve found comfort in it, too.

It’s not a crutch, as our materialistic age would sneeringly accuse. Neither Mom nor I are Christians„¢©®, but we want to think about this aspect of life, and science, commerce, and the other quotidian processes of our society have no vocabulary for that (save a dismissive one).

[Mom talks a lot. Yes, that can be frustrating, but as I was drawing these yesterday, it occurred to me that her talking is exactly the same world-ordering that I do by journalling, blogging, writing, doodling…]

I got to talk to my darling via the magic picture frame that is FaceTime. I really miss him, and it’s time to go home. I don’t feel bad about that, because things here have reached a new state of normal.

But then…

Last night, Dad fell when trying to manoeuvre around his bed. The ambulance was diverted — Queen Elizabeth Hospital is full — so we’ve been in the Summerside hospital overnight. But Dad’s femur is broken above the knee, and they can’t operate here. So we wait for an opening, then an ambulance to take us back to Charlottetown.

I sat up front for last night’s ride. At first I couldn’t make conversation, but then I slipped into a mode I’ve learned from my work in the last few years: the interview. I learned a lot about paramedicine, and the journey went quickly — for me, at least. [Edit: On the ride up, I talked to a paramedic just starting his career; the journey back was with two seasoned vets who have seen it all and are happy now to just to “transfers”, like Dad’s journey.]

Dad’s been incredibly strong, even been joking with the people working around him. Pain medication interacts badly with his Parkinson’s drugs, but thankfully he hasn’t hallucinated much.

So what now? Does he lose his nursing home room, the one we just decorated yesterday? Can I return to Scotland this weekend, or should I stay? I’ve been away two months; when do I see my husband again? Do I need to move here?j

I’ve no idea.

Ha! That’s the English name of the Japanese movie I found on the in-flight system about a 42-year-old man who’s going through a mid-life crisis and decides to be a manga artist.

How silly.

I’ve left my darling behind, which makes me sad. But I have to admit I’m excited about connecting with my work and friends in Toronto, and spending time with my nephew, mom, and dad.

The world should be smaller. Or something.

I went to my life drawing class last night, even though there were all kinds of things I felt like I should be doing at home before I leave for two months.

The other people who run and attend the class are really lovely, although sometimes I don’t have the energy at the end of the day to be social, and feel like the words coming out of my mouth are just weirdness.

Despite this, I went last night and I’m glad I did. The model was a repeat, because there are only so many people in this little town willing to get their kit off in front of a room full of people. And I do struggle with the longer poses, because I draw quickly; I don’t know how to do more than what I naturally do.

And, yes, I’ve been meaning to try out different materials. Every week I’ve brought in pastels, but I don’t know what to do with them. Drawing with those big smudgy things would not be expressive for me; I have a way of expressing myself I really like, so last night I let myself go with that and I drew in my own way:

During the long timed drawings, I took the opportunity to draw poses just out of my head, because I found that staring at a real person gave me a sense of how things connected and where the weight was — which I suppose is ultimately the point of going to a life drawing class. The cartoon figures turned out to be my favourites, though.

My big temptation is to draw the other people in the class. And I actually wish we could do some sessions with the models having their clothes on — not because I’m prudish, but because I like the folds and details of clothing, and, really, how many times am I going to be called upon to draw somebody in the altogether?

I made myself a new sketchbook a few months ago, and today’s the first chance I’ve had to actually draw anything in it. That’s the trouble with falling behind: you get so far behind that catching up becomes a bigger and bigger hurdle, and it’s easier to keep engaging with the busy-ness. I find, though, that there’s something really healthy, soul-feeding, insightful about reflecting on those pages.

So here goes (you may need to click on these and see them full-size to read them):

Phew! Caught up.

My main occupation for this past little while has been a book I’m working on with Dan (president of Strategic Coach) called Thinking About Your Thinking. It’s been brilliant seeing this project emerge from a conversation we had on a beautiful evening this summer over a bottle of wine in his back garden. Instead of being a passenger, I’ve got to ride up in the engine with Strategic Coach’s conductor — and even provide some directions!

The topic is endlessly fascinating (I won’t get into it too much here, ’cause that’s what the book will be for), and Dan has been the dream client, leaving me completely alone to free-associate on his outlines and create full-page comic strip summaries of each chapter, with spot-drawings at each chapters’ conclusion.

That’s meant a lot of drawing — probably the most I’ve done in my life at a stretch — but that’s been wonderful practice, and my skills have jumped along with my happiness and satisfaction: I can draw anything I want! Oh, sure, there are subjects where I really struggle with my draughtsmanship, but I’m not stopped; it’s just a chance to figure out this new thing and learn from it.

(The book was supposed to launch next month while I’m in Canada, but unfortunately it’s been delayed until March. I completely understand the reasoning for the delay, though: better to polish what we’ve got than to rush it out and undermine all our hard work.)

For weeks, I’ve felt like my 11-year-old self, but with powerful skills I didn’t have then, along with the freedom and funding of being an adult, and the promise of an outlet, an audience. That’s new. Aside from really enjoying the process of cartooning, I love the way people just immediately get it; it doesn’t feel like struggling in an echo-chamber, as writing did.

EB White — or somebody — supposedly said, “There is no greater human urge than the desire to change another man’s copy.” Anyone who’s literate, who can type and string together sentences, can write, right? True or not, it’s easy to imagine it.

But with drawing, most people are immediately aware that they couldn’t do it. So that helps with the appreciation. “I draw like an eight-year-old,” they say. When did they stop drawing? “Eight.” See, I just kept going.

I’m very aware of my limitations, but I’m also getting clearer and clearer about my little niche — the boundaries of what I can do, which are undoubtedly shaped by what I like to do.

I’m sure the reality of full-time illustration might be different, when there are requests for changes or constrictive briefs. Er, I don’t mean tight underwear, I mean people dictating impossible or boring things to draw. Still, this has been a joy.

I’ve also killed off a few other projects I planned to do, like drawing and binding a book about the 52Hz whale. A friend suggested that I’d be a shoe-in for the National Library of Scotland’s bookbinding prize, and I had an idea for a hand-bound hardcover illustrated book — like an any-age children’s story — but ultimately I’ve been too busy with paid work and the promise of more on the horizon, so I’ve been looking hard at these time-consuming, zero-future projects, and realizing there’s no room for them in my life anymore; that’s not where I’m going.

I also remembered the advice of designer Bruce Mau, who, in his Incomplete Manifesto for Growth, instructs, “Don’t enter awards competitions. Just don’t. It’s not good for you.” It’s true: that path has always led me to second-guess my themes and set my expectations on other people’s whims, which is a recipe for discouragement and confusion. As I said again and again in my podcast, we should do our own work for our own reasons.

And, finally, as I sit here in the pub, about to slip back into my writing work (wasn’t this the dream at one point?), the television this Remembrance Day bleats about “heroes” and the usual bumpf about how glorious war is. The best thing I’ve read on the subject is this: War is a Racket, by Major General Smedley Butler.

Thanks for coming back. Thanks for reading.

Oh yeah, and I’m about to change the design of this site, ’cause there’s no mention of illustration or copywriting — which, given that those are my trades, makes this site a rather poor calling-card. But I promise not to change the location of this page or the RSS link!

I spent all day yesterday inking in my blue-pencil roughs for the book I’m working on with Dan. I’ll just show a thumbnail here, because I don’t want to prematurely disclose the contents of the book (not that they’re really secret, and I’m know Dan’s talking about this a lot in his workshops):

This is the most cartoon layout work I’ve ever done: as I kid I was always more interested in drawing characters than putting in backgrounds, frames, or even a story. So this project is a great opportunity for me to step up my composition skills, and I also feel that I’m doing the best illustration work of my life. How wonderful, then, that it’s all going towards something that’s going to be published to a built-in audience that’s bigger than anything I’ve had access to before!

“If there’s one thing I’m not interested in — at all- it’s drawing photorealistically. I’m a cartoonist, and I’m interested in using cartooning to abstract a figure into a shape that’s useful due to that abstraction. Like, you take most of the figure away, then add a little bit of yourself, and pow! you have a cartoon.”

— Dustin Harbin