Blocked.

It’s been awhile since I posted here, and the longer I go without posting, the guiltier I feel. I had to think about the reasons for this gap, aside from the usual distractions of life, of which I have at least as many as any other person.

No matter what I may be doing at any given time, there’s always a part of my brain thinking about BLEAK HOUSE, about the next picture, about finishing this project, about NOT finishing this project, and about constantly moving it forward, in big and little ways.

I’ve finished a few new pieces and made good progress, but wasn’t moved to write any posts, as my list of topics had been dwindling. Then things in other areas got busy and BLEAK HOUSE was put aside for awhile. It didn’t last, but when I came back to it I found I was blocked.

As a commercial illustrator, and even when I was doing easel painting, creative block was not something I ever encountered, and I do count myself lucky in that regard, as I know this isn’t the case for all artists. The thing about artists, painters, illustrators and the like, is that it’s a solitary pursuit, so I have no firsthand knowledge of how other artists work or how they deal with creative ups and downs, other than what we’ve all seen in over-heated movies and stories about artists.

BLEAK HOUSE, in breadth and scope,  is unlike any other project I’ve ever undertaken. I’ve done other large-scale and time-intensive projects, but they were all my sole creations. Dickens and BLEAK HOUSE require more than the usual attention, but the effort is repaid because the work is endlessly inspiring. I started on this in the Spring of 2019, so I’ve been at it for a little over four years, and I still can’t read passages from this book without aching for these characters.

I was blocked once before on this project a couple of years ago, and for days I sat and wished for some inspiration. The amazing thing is, I got it. Out of the blue, I got a DM on Facebook from a woman who has a PhD in graphic novel studies,  has been a judge and sat on panels at San Diego Comicon, and is a Dickens fan. We had a long and highly connected phone conversation, were clearly on the same wavelength, and I was charged up and renewed in my direction and commitment. 

And then she ghosted me.

Well, I only wished for inspiration, not for someone to hold my hand!

Needless to say, I was inspired to give more thought and especially more shape to a project that until that moment was just a personal art project searching for a reason to exist. Among other things, it led to the creation of this blog. 

So I’m in the home stretch, but it’s felt like that for a year or so now. I try to do three or four smaller illustrations as a set, and that process has worked well for making good progress. By my own reckoning, which is entirely subjective, I have  a set of three small pieces and two full pages to finish. I say “subjective” because, with the 68-chapter book entirely laid out, there is room at chapter ends for maybe another six small pieces if I am inspired to really run myself ragged. So when I choose to call it finished is TBD.

Of the set of three pieces I’m trying to work on, I’ve sketched extensively on two and gotten exactly nowhere. Interestingly, the third went smoothly and it’s a perfect metaphor for my blockage: Lord Dedlock, recuperating from a stroke, lays helplessly in bed watching the snow and sleet, a tablet in his lap and a pencil falling from his limp fingers.

Ouch! And I did this one, start to finish, in three days.

The other two, which I’m struggling with, are two minor, unrelated characters who nevertheless add a great deal of color. They are Madame Hortense, a stone-faced, short tempered French maid, and Phil Squod, a comically maimed and disfigured gunsmith.

The Madame Hortense image is one where the lawyer Mr. Tulkinghorn confronts her in the dark while holding a candle. I tried this a little but nothing came of it, though in my mind’s eye I can see the set of her square jaw and the deep, menacing shadows.

Phil Squod, assistant to Mr. George who owns a shooting gallery, is described like this: 

“The little man is dressed something like a gunsmith, in a green-baize apron and cap; and his face and hands are dirty with gunpowder and begrimed with the loading of guns. As he lies in the light before a glaring white target, the black upon him shines again…He is a little man with a face all crushed together, who appears, from a certain blue and speckled appearance that one of his cheeks presents, to have been blown up, in the way of business, at some odd time or times.
…
it appears that he is lame, though able to move very quickly. On the speckled side of his face he has no eyebrow, and on the other side he has a bushy black one, which want of uniformity gives him a very singular and rather sinister appearance. Everything seems to have happened to his hands that could possibly take place consistently with the retention of all the fingers, for they are notched, and seamed, and crumpled all over.”

BLEAK HOUSE, Chapter 21

I find Phil completely irresistible. But while I’ve had good luck rendering some pretty rough characters in the course of this project, I tried Phil for days and seem to have gotten further away from anything that moves me to want to complete it. The one thing I feel good about is the fact that I keep sketching, though nothing is usable. There’s always a breakthrough when the *one thing* you hadn’t thought of before suddenly pops into your head.

I’m counting on it!

Thanks for stopping by for a read. You can drop me a line at dickens@mooneyart.com