#Gloopy stuff is fun to draw

[stickbug-made-entirely-of-spite]

What do we think peeps, is this gloopy enough?

[midnighthybrid1]

FNAFTober Day 6: Glamrockify a FNAF 2 Animatronic!

PLOT TWIST I DID TWO ANIMATRONICS

(LIGHT BODY HORROR WARNING?)

.

BOOM

I had someone pick a random character for me from FNAF 2 and they picked two characters

SO I ROLLED WITH IT

Shadow Bonnie is now Shadow Glamrock Bonnie, in this weird headcanon Shadow Bonnie thing I have I imagine that the parts that are disconnected (like Glamrock Bonnie’s missing/mostly detached limbs) are filled in by that goopy stuff as opposed to being a full-on shadow. Like the shadow has no form to adhere to so it becomes this gloopy mess. It’s unrealistic as all heck BUT I THINK ITS NEAT ANYWHO LETS GO

And I tried to uh

Do a pun for The Marionette

It’s the… it’s the Poppet

The Popstar Puppet

…

Anyway

Hope ya enjoy these lads, they were fun to doodle up! Even if I think I’d tweak them a bit if I were to draw them again in the future, I like how they turned out as first draft designs!

Reblogs and Likes are appreciated! PLEASE DON’T REPOST MY ARTWORK!

Prompt List Under the Cut! Go check out the creator, @/miiilowo!

[candy-ac3]

I spent like a whole day on this comic for an au I just made two days ago without a name. It is and will still mostly be just a funny au were for the most part there’s nothing to deep but at the same time there be stuff like this to show that yeah they might be having fun for now but still not everything is perfect! Anyways take me Susie and Joey designs I wanted to kinda lean into the not a perfect and pretty gloopy Alice design a lot and honestly I’m pretty proud of her design and then with Joey I hate his hair nothing I do look’s good on him I want to try and make it look like he kinda has demon horns with his hair but with his cannon hair and how I want to draw it well it doesn’t look that great. I’m probably going to change his hair sometime soon but yeah have a good day/night and I see you guys again soon!

[easyfoodnetwork]

In Pursuit of the Perfect Bowl of Porridge

A porridge creation by Swedish competitor Per Carlsson | Clarissa Wei

Each year, gruel fanatics from around the world compete for the Golden Spurtle trophy in the small village of Carrbridge, Scotland

In 2015, Lisa Williams was vacationing in Scotland when she stumbled across a glitzy bagpipe procession and a line of people in aprons holding flags from countries around the world. She took a closer look, inquired around, and discovered it was a porridge parade, celebrating the contestants of a world porridge championship.

“And then you go into the village hall [where the competition is held], and it’s decorated in tartan and heather and with all the flags from all the people and their countries,” she says. “It was amazing. I was hooked. I just said to my husband that I want to take part in this. I want to do it.” Four years later, Williams returned to Scotland, and her porridge was crowned the best in the world. “When they called my name out, I was absolutely stunned,” she says.

Like Goldilocks chasing down that perfect bowl, Williams is among a dedicated class of professional and amateur cooks around the world who compete each year to serve the best bowl of, essentially, gruel. They gather in the small village of Carrbridge, Scotland, on the edge of a national park in the Scottish highlands, for the Golden Spurtle World Porridge Making Championship. Judges for the competition, which is split into “traditional” and “specialty” categories, are mostly recruited from the culinary industry, and rank each bowl by color, texture, hygiene, and taste. The “golden spurtle” refers to both the traditional Scottish utensil specifically designed for porridge-stirring, as well as the shape of the trophy awarded to winners.

James Ross

The bagpipe parade to kick of 2017’s Golden Spurtle championships

What began as a tourism initiative in 1994 to attract winter crowds to the quaint, 700-person Scottish town has grown into an institution, drawing in hundreds of spectators and up to 30 competitors each year. “I read about it in the newspaper and thought that if this isn’t a joke and it’s for real, it’s the most silly and insane thing I ever heard,” says Saga Rickmer of Sweden. She signed up immediately, and went on to compete in the 2016 world championships and ultimately win the Swedish Porridge Competition, a national spinoff competition, in 2019.

This year, due to COVID-19, the competition will move online, with competitors submitting short video recipes and winners announced over social media on October 10 — World Porridge Day. But while the thrill of softening stodgy grains in real time might be missing, the weight of the endeavor seems to resonate more than ever. Anyone who has been cooking and recooking the same simple meals from pantry staples during the pandemic will understand the quest for the platonic ideal of gruel.

The 2020 competition will also be slightly different in that it will focus entirely on the specialty category, where pretty much anything goes. Competitors can add a bunch of milk, shape the oatmeal into tapas, brulee it, steam it, or bake it. Per Carlsson of Sweden snagged the 2017 specialty win with a cloudberry-liqueur porridge brulee. Neal Robertson from Scotland won in 2011 with a cinnamon and nutmeg-spiked porridge topped with a blueberry compote. Other wins have included a mushroom porridge torta in 2012 and a sticky toffee porridge in 2014.

Nick Barnard of London, a two-time winner in the specialty category, says the key to dressing up an award-winning dish is knowing what the judges like. “The Scots love sugar, salt, and fat,” he says. “So I’ll give it to them in spades.” Barnard won in 2019 with his maple pecan porridge, a mix of pecan butter, maple syrup, dry milk powder, and cream, all topped with pecans sauteed in ghee.

Clarissa Wei

The tattoo on Carlsson’s forearm reads “Porridge Champion”

This year’s competition won’t include the traditional category, but normally competitors in this genre are required to make porridge with just three elements: oats, water, and salt. Minimally processed oats are a prerequisite; precooked oats like instant and rolled oats are not allowed. Almost everyone who has won has used steel-cut oats and soaked the porridge overnight.

While it may seem simple by comparison, the challenge — and honestly, the fun — of the endeavor lies in elevating what’s widely recognized as an archetype of culinary austerity into something worth awarding a large spoon-shaped trophy to. Many home cooks believe all oatmeal tastes mostly the same, but it’s a point of pride for a porridge connoisseur to rise above this stereotype to make a truly distinguished bowl of oats.

“Many older people have grown up with this traditional, gloopy porridge and have a distaste for it,” says Carlsson, who also won the traditional category in 2018. “But I usually give them a sample of my porridge to try, and they say, ‘This isn’t porridge. This is something else!’” At his bed and breakfast in southern Sweden, Carlsson used to rotate porridge duties with two friends, and guests always complimented their meals on days when he cooked. Now Carlsson is behind the stove nearly every morning. A small corner of the dining room is also demurely decorated with porridge paraphernalia: a spurtle, a ladle, Swedish porridge merch and slogans, plus Carlsson’s own book of recipes.

Fans generally believe that the ideal oat porridge should be thick enough to offer some resistance, but smooth enough to go down easily. There should definitely be salt, but not enough to make you reach for a glass of water. It should be thick enough, but not at all watery. Not too much, and not too little. Not too cold, not too hot — just as Goldilocks would have it.

“It’s fascinating. In a competition, porridge is cooked 24 different ways, and they all taste different,” says Robertson, who has competed for a decade and occasionally judges at the Swedish Porridge Championship.

courtesy Saga Rickmer

Saga Rickmer read about the competition in the newspaper and went on to compete twice since

James Ross

Everyone is pushing for the coveted Golden Spurtle trophy, shaped like the ultimate porridge-making tool

Competitors cook porridge every day for months, even years, to drill down the minutiae of the stuff. “You start preparing pretty much the day of the competition for the next year,” says Williams. Carlsson even recruited outside help from Dr. Viola Adamsson, a medical doctor and food nutritionist who has written several books on porridge and made porridge for the Swedish Olympic ski team in 1998 and 2002. “She practically has a doctorate in porridge,” jokes Carlsson’s wife, Catarina Arvidsson. Carlsson and Adamsson trained via Skype and telephone several times a week for a month, perfecting the water-to-oat ratio.

Among niche porridge circles, conversation often lands on four critical elements: oat-to-water ratio, type of oats, and salt. “One part oats to three parts water,” Williams insists. “Soak the oats overnight and use more salt than you think you would. I use Maldon sea salt — the same salt the queen uses.” Williams prefers half steel-cut oats and half stone-ground milled oats from Hamlyns of Scotland. “You get a nutty texture, but it’s not completely nutty. It’s more of a smooth nutty,” she says.

Robertson agrees on steel-cut oats from Hamlyns, but he does one part oatmeal to 2.5 parts water. “I tend to use sea salt,” he says. “It’s a bit softer and a bit more forgiving. And you should always stir it anti-clockwise. It keeps the devil at the bay.”

Carlsson does one part oats and 4.5 parts water. “I cook it for at least 25 minutes, then it is allowed to swell,” he says. Unlike Williams and Robertson, Carlson uses Swedish steel-cut oats from Saltå Kvarn, which are creamy but toasted for a “nice burned flavor,” he says.

In opting for Swedish oats, Carlson throws down the gauntlet in a nationalist sub-debate among porridge cooks. “Countries mill their oats in different ways,” says Anna Louise Batchelor, who won the specialty title in 2009. “Bob’s Red Mill [in America], they sell a really lovely rolled oat that’s very coarse. It’s very shiny and flat and it takes a long time to cook. Scotland loves their salty oats. And in Sweden, their milling is quite rustic.” Batchelor prefers coarse oats from English brand Mornflake.

Even the namesake spurtle is a topic of debate. Unlike spoons, spurtles allegedly don’t drag and prevent lumps. Many swear by them. “If you want to whip porridge in a pan without getting it all over yourself, the spurtle is the best tool,” says Barnard. “It brings air and stops it from overheating at the bottom of the pan and distributes the salt.” In 2016, Bob Moore, the founder of Bob’s Red Mill, won using a handcrafted myrtle spurtle from Oregon, where he lives.

Charlie Miller, the current organizer of the competition, says more eccentric attendees often bring specialty equipment too. Pressure cookers, microwaves, and bain-maries are commonly spotted in the competition hall. “Neal Robertson one year brought water that he claimed came from a stream that fed his local whisky distillery,” Miller recalls. In 2018, competitor Lynn Munro brought oatmeal she milled herself and cooked it with water she harvested from the loch at her childhood home. One woman even grew her own oats for the competition.

“Some people are so serious, it’s quite charming,” Barnard says. “The Swedish dress up like Swedish milkmaids and make a lot of noise. Some people have spreadsheets. It’s a circus, really.” But competitors are accepted into the fold regardless of skill. “I met one man at the competition who had never prepared a bowl of porridge in his life,” Miller says, laughing.

Robertson commemorated his 2010 win with a tattoo reading “World Porridge Champion 10.10.10,” rousing envy among friends and competitors. “Neal Robertson had [a tattoo] and walked around showing it off. Then I thought I should get one as well,” Carlsson says. Shortly after his own win, Carlsson shocked his children by getting his forearm inked with the words “World Champion” spiraling around a ladle.

But beneath the braggadocio and heated competition, the Golden Spurtle is, at its heart, about a bunch of people hanging out in a room cooking oatmeal. “It’s just the best time,” says Rickmer, who often visits her fellow Swede, Carlsson, as a guest chef at his bed and breakfast. “Competing in porridge is so cozy and cute. Everyone is so nerdy, which I love.”

Even this year, as competitors dive deep into their individual porridge pots, in their own kitchens, in their own countries thousands of miles apart, they are bound by a shared appreciation of well-cooked grains and what they symbolize. “It’s an ancestral food,” says Barnard. “All cultures around the world have a type of gruel.”

As with any competition, there are plenty of tears and laughter. “When I won, I was absolutely stunned. My face was bright red and I almost burst into tears,” Williams says, beaming as she holds up her trophy. She says she plans on going back to Scotland as soon as the competition is held in-person again, this time to add a specialty category win to her victory in the traditional category. “I have my china all picked out already.”

Clarissa Wei is an American freelance journalist based in Taiwan.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/35tYL5K https://ift.tt/35rwxIB

A porridge creation by Swedish competitor Per Carlsson | Clarissa Wei

Each year, gruel fanatics from around the world compete for the Golden Spurtle trophy in the small village of Carrbridge, Scotland

In 2015, Lisa Williams was vacationing in Scotland when she stumbled across a glitzy bagpipe procession and a line of people in aprons holding flags from countries around the world. She took a closer look, inquired around, and discovered it was a porridge parade, celebrating the contestants of a world porridge championship.

“And then you go into the village hall [where the competition is held], and it’s decorated in tartan and heather and with all the flags from all the people and their countries,” she says. “It was amazing. I was hooked. I just said to my husband that I want to take part in this. I want to do it.” Four years later, Williams returned to Scotland, and her porridge was crowned the best in the world. “When they called my name out, I was absolutely stunned,” she says.

Like Goldilocks chasing down that perfect bowl, Williams is among a dedicated class of professional and amateur cooks around the world who compete each year to serve the best bowl of, essentially, gruel. They gather in the small village of Carrbridge, Scotland, on the edge of a national park in the Scottish highlands, for the Golden Spurtle World Porridge Making Championship. Judges for the competition, which is split into “traditional” and “specialty” categories, are mostly recruited from the culinary industry, and rank each bowl by color, texture, hygiene, and taste. The “golden spurtle” refers to both the traditional Scottish utensil specifically designed for porridge-stirring, as well as the shape of the trophy awarded to winners.

James Ross

The bagpipe parade to kick of 2017’s Golden Spurtle championships

What began as a tourism initiative in 1994 to attract winter crowds to the quaint, 700-person Scottish town has grown into an institution, drawing in hundreds of spectators and up to 30 competitors each year. “I read about it in the newspaper and thought that if this isn’t a joke and it’s for real, it’s the most silly and insane thing I ever heard,” says Saga Rickmer of Sweden. She signed up immediately, and went on to compete in the 2016 world championships and ultimately win the Swedish Porridge Competition, a national spinoff competition, in 2019.

This year, due to COVID-19, the competition will move online, with competitors submitting short video recipes and winners announced over social media on October 10 — World Porridge Day. But while the thrill of softening stodgy grains in real time might be missing, the weight of the endeavor seems to resonate more than ever. Anyone who has been cooking and recooking the same simple meals from pantry staples during the pandemic will understand the quest for the platonic ideal of gruel.

The 2020 competition will also be slightly different in that it will focus entirely on the specialty category, where pretty much anything goes. Competitors can add a bunch of milk, shape the oatmeal into tapas, brulee it, steam it, or bake it. Per Carlsson of Sweden snagged the 2017 specialty win with a cloudberry-liqueur porridge brulee. Neal Robertson from Scotland won in 2011 with a cinnamon and nutmeg-spiked porridge topped with a blueberry compote. Other wins have included a mushroom porridge torta in 2012 and a sticky toffee porridge in 2014.

Nick Barnard of London, a two-time winner in the specialty category, says the key to dressing up an award-winning dish is knowing what the judges like. “The Scots love sugar, salt, and fat,” he says. “So I’ll give it to them in spades.” Barnard won in 2019 with his maple pecan porridge, a mix of pecan butter, maple syrup, dry milk powder, and cream, all topped with pecans sauteed in ghee.

Clarissa Wei

The tattoo on Carlsson’s forearm reads “Porridge Champion”

This year’s competition won’t include the traditional category, but normally competitors in this genre are required to make porridge with just three elements: oats, water, and salt. Minimally processed oats are a prerequisite; precooked oats like instant and rolled oats are not allowed. Almost everyone who has won has used steel-cut oats and soaked the porridge overnight.

While it may seem simple by comparison, the challenge — and honestly, the fun — of the endeavor lies in elevating what’s widely recognized as an archetype of culinary austerity into something worth awarding a large spoon-shaped trophy to. Many home cooks believe all oatmeal tastes mostly the same, but it’s a point of pride for a porridge connoisseur to rise above this stereotype to make a truly distinguished bowl of oats.

“Many older people have grown up with this traditional, gloopy porridge and have a distaste for it,” says Carlsson, who also won the traditional category in 2018. “But I usually give them a sample of my porridge to try, and they say, ‘This isn’t porridge. This is something else!’” At his bed and breakfast in southern Sweden, Carlsson used to rotate porridge duties with two friends, and guests always complimented their meals on days when he cooked. Now Carlsson is behind the stove nearly every morning. A small corner of the dining room is also demurely decorated with porridge paraphernalia: a spurtle, a ladle, Swedish porridge merch and slogans, plus Carlsson’s own book of recipes.

Fans generally believe that the ideal oat porridge should be thick enough to offer some resistance, but smooth enough to go down easily. There should definitely be salt, but not enough to make you reach for a glass of water. It should be thick enough, but not at all watery. Not too much, and not too little. Not too cold, not too hot — just as Goldilocks would have it.

“It’s fascinating. In a competition, porridge is cooked 24 different ways, and they all taste different,” says Robertson, who has competed for a decade and occasionally judges at the Swedish Porridge Championship.

courtesy Saga Rickmer

Saga Rickmer read about the competition in the newspaper and went on to compete twice since

James Ross

Everyone is pushing for the coveted Golden Spurtle trophy, shaped like the ultimate porridge-making tool

Competitors cook porridge every day for months, even years, to drill down the minutiae of the stuff. “You start preparing pretty much the day of the competition for the next year,” says Williams. Carlsson even recruited outside help from Dr. Viola Adamsson, a medical doctor and food nutritionist who has written several books on porridge and made porridge for the Swedish Olympic ski team in 1998 and 2002. “She practically has a doctorate in porridge,” jokes Carlsson’s wife, Catarina Arvidsson. Carlsson and Adamsson trained via Skype and telephone several times a week for a month, perfecting the water-to-oat ratio.

Among niche porridge circles, conversation often lands on four critical elements: oat-to-water ratio, type of oats, and salt. “One part oats to three parts water,” Williams insists. “Soak the oats overnight and use more salt than you think you would. I use Maldon sea salt — the same salt the queen uses.” Williams prefers half steel-cut oats and half stone-ground milled oats from Hamlyns of Scotland. “You get a nutty texture, but it’s not completely nutty. It’s more of a smooth nutty,” she says.

Robertson agrees on steel-cut oats from Hamlyns, but he does one part oatmeal to 2.5 parts water. “I tend to use sea salt,” he says. “It’s a bit softer and a bit more forgiving. And you should always stir it anti-clockwise. It keeps the devil at the bay.”

Carlsson does one part oats and 4.5 parts water. “I cook it for at least 25 minutes, then it is allowed to swell,” he says. Unlike Williams and Robertson, Carlson uses Swedish steel-cut oats from Saltå Kvarn, which are creamy but toasted for a “nice burned flavor,” he says.

In opting for Swedish oats, Carlson throws down the gauntlet in a nationalist sub-debate among porridge cooks. “Countries mill their oats in different ways,” says Anna Louise Batchelor, who won the specialty title in 2009. “Bob’s Red Mill [in America], they sell a really lovely rolled oat that’s very coarse. It’s very shiny and flat and it takes a long time to cook. Scotland loves their salty oats. And in Sweden, their milling is quite rustic.” Batchelor prefers coarse oats from English brand Mornflake.

Even the namesake spurtle is a topic of debate. Unlike spoons, spurtles allegedly don’t drag and prevent lumps. Many swear by them. “If you want to whip porridge in a pan without getting it all over yourself, the spurtle is the best tool,” says Barnard. “It brings air and stops it from overheating at the bottom of the pan and distributes the salt.” In 2016, Bob Moore, the founder of Bob’s Red Mill, won using a handcrafted myrtle spurtle from Oregon, where he lives.

Charlie Miller, the current organizer of the competition, says more eccentric attendees often bring specialty equipment too. Pressure cookers, microwaves, and bain-maries are commonly spotted in the competition hall. “Neal Robertson one year brought water that he claimed came from a stream that fed his local whisky distillery,” Miller recalls. In 2018, competitor Lynn Munro brought oatmeal she milled herself and cooked it with water she harvested from the loch at her childhood home. One woman even grew her own oats for the competition.

“Some people are so serious, it’s quite charming,” Barnard says. “The Swedish dress up like Swedish milkmaids and make a lot of noise. Some people have spreadsheets. It’s a circus, really.” But competitors are accepted into the fold regardless of skill. “I met one man at the competition who had never prepared a bowl of porridge in his life,” Miller says, laughing.

Robertson commemorated his 2010 win with a tattoo reading “World Porridge Champion 10.10.10,” rousing envy among friends and competitors. “Neal Robertson had [a tattoo] and walked around showing it off. Then I thought I should get one as well,” Carlsson says. Shortly after his own win, Carlsson shocked his children by getting his forearm inked with the words “World Champion” spiraling around a ladle.

But beneath the braggadocio and heated competition, the Golden Spurtle is, at its heart, about a bunch of people hanging out in a room cooking oatmeal. “It’s just the best time,” says Rickmer, who often visits her fellow Swede, Carlsson, as a guest chef at his bed and breakfast. “Competing in porridge is so cozy and cute. Everyone is so nerdy, which I love.”

Even this year, as competitors dive deep into their individual porridge pots, in their own kitchens, in their own countries thousands of miles apart, they are bound by a shared appreciation of well-cooked grains and what they symbolize. “It’s an ancestral food,” says Barnard. “All cultures around the world have a type of gruel.”

As with any competition, there are plenty of tears and laughter. “When I won, I was absolutely stunned. My face was bright red and I almost burst into tears,” Williams says, beaming as she holds up her trophy. She says she plans on going back to Scotland as soon as the competition is held in-person again, this time to add a specialty category win to her victory in the traditional category. “I have my china all picked out already.”

Clarissa Wei is an American freelance journalist based in Taiwan.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/35tYL5K via Blogger https://ift.tt/2DQpX2Y

[mentacose-archive]

Menta! A few weeks ago I got my first wacom tablet! I decided to stop throwing all my art immediately into the garbage and to just keep making art until it doesn't suck so much anymore. You're one of my favorite artists on tumblr. Do you have any tips or advice for brand new baby artists?

whoa okay this is. kinda late i’m super sorry!!! i hope i didn’t make you wait too long aaaaa

ALSO THANK YOU VERY MUCH <333 i’m super happy you like my art cries. seriously i’m so honored rn aaaaAAAAAA you’re too sweet （　´∀｀）☆

AND CONGRATS ON YOUR NEW TABLET !!!!! i’m so happy for you :))

okay back to business. let’s see. this is kind of a hard question but i’ll do my best to answer. if any other artist out there has something to add feel free to do so cause i’m probably not the best teacher but

to begin, i’d say find joy in art. 

oookay you’ve probably already accomplished this step XD but let me elaborate. art takes a lot of practice. and by a lot, i mean a lot. like, draw until your fingers fall off, then draw some more. so, try and find fun in even the most mundane pencil exercises. for instance– fall in love with the way you draw lines. get lost in the value and shading. put music on in the background that inspires you. draw things that are so fun that you could easily spend a few hours on the picture and not even notice the evening shadows lengthening and the temperature dropping. because art takes so much dedication and discipline, i think it’s easier to continue with it when you’re enjoying the absolute heck out of it. 

of course, there are gonna be areas that you kinda have to train yourself to tackle, even when you don’t want to. take hands, for example. before i understood how to draw them, they were a bane. now, though, i’m a tad more comfortable with them– and i find them to actually be kind of fun. step outside your comfort zone. it’s gonna be super uncomfy at first, but over time, it’ll get easier i promise. and when you’ve gotten to a point where you’re comfortable with it, find something else you’re iffy on and delve headfirst into it. i think that’s the quickest way to improve.

i think now’s a good time to mention references. look at references. etch them into your mind. eat, breathe, and digest them. references will help you a lot. you’ve probably heard this from every artist out there that ever lived, but draw from real life. it may be dull or uninteresting at first, but it will absolutely help expand your skills. i like to refer to this as eating your artist veggies XD not super fun at first, but once you’ve grown huge artist muscles, you’re gonna appreciate that you did it.ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

i also like to think that in all stages of your art journey, learning from other artists is a good thing. find art styles that capture your heart and take inspiration from those. during my very first years as an artist, the way disney drew soft, round faces for the disney princesses was my main artistic inspiration. afterwards, in my anime phase, i discovered speedpaints done by fantastic artists on youtube and found that my artistic motivation practically tripled in size. because of those artists, i literally shook with excitement as i busted out my colored pencils– and eventually my digital tablet!! so yeah, feel free to learn from those artists. just be aware of the line between “learning from” and “copying”. many artists are very sensitive about this so yeah be careful. ask them before you post a redraw of their piece that you did, and whatnot.

on a small note, making full use of tutorials. they’re gonna be very useful to you. and, as i mentioned before, speedpaints. speedpaints allow you to see exactly what an artist does to achieve their final results– and you might pick up a thing or two along the way!!

it’s also very important to remember to be patient with yourself. art is not a race, and it’s not a competition– but it’s kind of easy to fall into that mindset. there are gonna be people who are going to be more skilled than you, so it’s in your best interest not to compare yourself to them. in my experience, i find that this stunts art and motivation very easily. i’ve fallen into this mindset years ago, and even now i look at artwork done by my peers and feel horrible about the stuff that i’ve drawn. sadly, it’s the biggest thing holding me back right now. comparing yourself to others is not fun, and, i think, only slows down your artistic journey. so, do your best do avoid it.

and finally, this is just something i noticed as i grew as an artist and i have no idea how many artists this actually applies to but. try to understand the things you’re drawing, i guess? haha idk how to explain it but i’ll try my best. for instance, when i first started out drawing faces, in my mindset i was sketching lines that would eventually become a face. as i drew more faces, though, i developed a better understanding of their structure, of how they worked. i understood things like how eye sockets cast a lot of shadow over eyes, and that the length of the philtrum (that’s the area between the nose and the upper lips if you were wondering!!!) determines where the mouth goes. i understood that a stretched-out hand is a little smaller than a face, and that shoulders begin where clavicles end. 

this understanding of how objects work applies to many things. water is gloopy– when drawing droplets, it’s best to draw gloops. clouds are puffy, but they have shape– so the fundamentals of shading applies to them. tree tops and foliage are jagged, but those jags are leaves, so i gotta draw them in the most leafy way that i can. 

i’m sure i’m going off on a tangent laughs. what i’m trying to get at, though, is that in my opinion artists have this understanding of how the world works around them. buckle in your seat belt cause im gonna go off on a long list of examples once again (≧ω≦)

to me, artists know the visual difference between copper and silver cause they have to apply those differences to their drawings. they know how muscles work, and what hands are shaped like, and where facial features are placed because the more they understand it, the more their artistic skills benefit. those who draw a lot of machinery need to know the different parts of a car cause the more they know, the better their drawings will be. just like how an artist who draws people would find it very useful to know the human body’s muscle structure by heart. just… yeah. try and understand the things you’re drawing. i think it would help a lot.

i think that’s everything i’ve got to say. i hope you were able to find something useful from this large jumble of random tips.  

art is hard, so attack it with everything you’ve got. cause with every drawing, you can only get better and better. if you ever have any doubts, or mental hurdles, or art blocks, remember this–

i believe in you. like, a lot. here, have 5 gallons of good wishes!! you got this, so now… go. be great 

(╹◡╹)凸

[easyfoodnetwork]

A porridge creation by Swedish competitor Per Carlsson | Clarissa Wei Each year, gruel fanatics from around the world compete for the Golden Spurtle trophy in the small village of Carrbridge, Scotland In 2015, Lisa Williams was vacationing in Scotland when she stumbled across a glitzy bagpipe procession and a line of people in aprons holding flags from countries around the world. She took a closer look, inquired around, and discovered it was a porridge parade, celebrating the contestants of a world porridge championship. “And then you go into the village hall [where the competition is held], and it’s decorated in tartan and heather and with all the flags from all the people and their countries,” she says. “It was amazing. I was hooked. I just said to my husband that I want to take part in this. I want to do it.” Four years later, Williams returned to Scotland, and her porridge was crowned the best in the world. “When they called my name out, I was absolutely stunned,” she says. Like Goldilocks chasing down that perfect bowl, Williams is among a dedicated class of professional and amateur cooks around the world who compete each year to serve the best bowl of, essentially, gruel. They gather in the small village of Carrbridge, Scotland, on the edge of a national park in the Scottish highlands, for the Golden Spurtle World Porridge Making Championship. Judges for the competition, which is split into “traditional” and “specialty” categories, are mostly recruited from the culinary industry, and rank each bowl by color, texture, hygiene, and taste. The “golden spurtle” refers to both the traditional Scottish utensil specifically designed for porridge-stirring, as well as the shape of the trophy awarded to winners. James Ross The bagpipe parade to kick of 2017’s Golden Spurtle championships What began as a tourism initiative in 1994 to attract winter crowds to the quaint, 700-person Scottish town has grown into an institution, drawing in hundreds of spectators and up to 30 competitors each year. “I read about it in the newspaper and thought that if this isn’t a joke and it’s for real, it’s the most silly and insane thing I ever heard,” says Saga Rickmer of Sweden. She signed up immediately, and went on to compete in the 2016 world championships and ultimately win the Swedish Porridge Competition, a national spinoff competition, in 2019. This year, due to COVID-19, the competition will move online, with competitors submitting short video recipes and winners announced over social media on October 10 — World Porridge Day. But while the thrill of softening stodgy grains in real time might be missing, the weight of the endeavor seems to resonate more than ever. Anyone who has been cooking and recooking the same simple meals from pantry staples during the pandemic will understand the quest for the platonic ideal of gruel. The 2020 competition will also be slightly different in that it will focus entirely on the specialty category, where pretty much anything goes. Competitors can add a bunch of milk, shape the oatmeal into tapas, brulee it, steam it, or bake it. Per Carlsson of Sweden snagged the 2017 specialty win with a cloudberry-liqueur porridge brulee. Neal Robertson from Scotland won in 2011 with a cinnamon and nutmeg-spiked porridge topped with a blueberry compote. Other wins have included a mushroom porridge torta in 2012 and a sticky toffee porridge in 2014. Nick Barnard of London, a two-time winner in the specialty category, says the key to dressing up an award-winning dish is knowing what the judges like. “The Scots love sugar, salt, and fat,” he says. “So I’ll give it to them in spades.” Barnard won in 2019 with his maple pecan porridge, a mix of pecan butter, maple syrup, dry milk powder, and cream, all topped with pecans sauteed in ghee. Clarissa Wei The tattoo on Carlsson’s forearm reads “Porridge Champion” This year’s competition won’t include the traditional category, but normally competitors in this genre are required to make porridge with just three elements: oats, water, and salt. Minimally processed oats are a prerequisite; precooked oats like instant and rolled oats are not allowed. Almost everyone who has won has used steel-cut oats and soaked the porridge overnight. While it may seem simple by comparison, the challenge — and honestly, the fun — of the endeavor lies in elevating what’s widely recognized as an archetype of culinary austerity into something worth awarding a large spoon-shaped trophy to. Many home cooks believe all oatmeal tastes mostly the same, but it’s a point of pride for a porridge connoisseur to rise above this stereotype to make a truly distinguished bowl of oats. “Many older people have grown up with this traditional, gloopy porridge and have a distaste for it,” says Carlsson, who also won the traditional category in 2018. “But I usually give them a sample of my porridge to try, and they say, ‘This isn’t porridge. This is something else!’” At his bed and breakfast in southern Sweden, Carlsson used to rotate porridge duties with two friends, and guests always complimented their meals on days when he cooked. Now Carlsson is behind the stove nearly every morning. A small corner of the dining room is also demurely decorated with porridge paraphernalia: a spurtle, a ladle, Swedish porridge merch and slogans, plus Carlsson’s own book of recipes. Fans generally believe that the ideal oat porridge should be thick enough to offer some resistance, but smooth enough to go down easily. There should definitely be salt, but not enough to make you reach for a glass of water. It should be thick enough, but not at all watery. Not too much, and not too little. Not too cold, not too hot — just as Goldilocks would have it. “It’s fascinating. In a competition, porridge is cooked 24 different ways, and they all taste different,” says Robertson, who has competed for a decade and occasionally judges at the Swedish Porridge Championship. courtesy Saga Rickmer Saga Rickmer read about the competition in the newspaper and went on to compete twice since James Ross Everyone is pushing for the coveted Golden Spurtle trophy, shaped like the ultimate porridge-making tool Competitors cook porridge every day for months, even years, to drill down the minutiae of the stuff. “You start preparing pretty much the day of the competition for the next year,” says Williams. Carlsson even recruited outside help from Dr. Viola Adamsson, a medical doctor and food nutritionist who has written several books on porridge and made porridge for the Swedish Olympic ski team in 1998 and 2002. “She practically has a doctorate in porridge,” jokes Carlsson’s wife, Catarina Arvidsson. Carlsson and Adamsson trained via Skype and telephone several times a week for a month, perfecting the water-to-oat ratio. Among niche porridge circles, conversation often lands on four critical elements: oat-to-water ratio, type of oats, and salt. “One part oats to three parts water,” Williams insists. “Soak the oats overnight and use more salt than you think you would. I use Maldon sea salt — the same salt the queen uses.” Williams prefers half steel-cut oats and half stone-ground milled oats from Hamlyns of Scotland. “You get a nutty texture, but it’s not completely nutty. It’s more of a smooth nutty,” she says. Robertson agrees on steel-cut oats from Hamlyns, but he does one part oatmeal to 2.5 parts water. “I tend to use sea salt,” he says. “It’s a bit softer and a bit more forgiving. And you should always stir it anti-clockwise. It keeps the devil at the bay.” Carlsson does one part oats and 4.5 parts water. “I cook it for at least 25 minutes, then it is allowed to swell,” he says. Unlike Williams and Robertson, Carlson uses Swedish steel-cut oats from Saltå Kvarn, which are creamy but toasted for a “nice burned flavor,” he says. In opting for Swedish oats, Carlson throws down the gauntlet in a nationalist sub-debate among porridge cooks. “Countries mill their oats in different ways,” says Anna Louise Batchelor, who won the specialty title in 2009. “Bob’s Red Mill [in America], they sell a really lovely rolled oat that’s very coarse. It’s very shiny and flat and it takes a long time to cook. Scotland loves their salty oats. And in Sweden, their milling is quite rustic.” Batchelor prefers coarse oats from English brand Mornflake. Even the namesake spurtle is a topic of debate. Unlike spoons, spurtles allegedly don’t drag and prevent lumps. Many swear by them. “If you want to whip porridge in a pan without getting it all over yourself, the spurtle is the best tool,” says Barnard. “It brings air and stops it from overheating at the bottom of the pan and distributes the salt.” In 2016, Bob Moore, the founder of Bob’s Red Mill, won using a handcrafted myrtle spurtle from Oregon, where he lives. Charlie Miller, the current organizer of the competition, says more eccentric attendees often bring specialty equipment too. Pressure cookers, microwaves, and bain-maries are commonly spotted in the competition hall. “Neal Robertson one year brought water that he claimed came from a stream that fed his local whisky distillery,” Miller recalls. In 2018, competitor Lynn Munro brought oatmeal she milled herself and cooked it with water she harvested from the loch at her childhood home. One woman even grew her own oats for the competition. “Some people are so serious, it’s quite charming,” Barnard says. “The Swedish dress up like Swedish milkmaids and make a lot of noise. Some people have spreadsheets. It’s a circus, really.” But competitors are accepted into the fold regardless of skill. “I met one man at the competition who had never prepared a bowl of porridge in his life,” Miller says, laughing. Robertson commemorated his 2010 win with a tattoo reading “World Porridge Champion 10.10.10,” rousing envy among friends and competitors. “Neal Robertson had [a tattoo] and walked around showing it off. Then I thought I should get one as well,” Carlsson says. Shortly after his own win, Carlsson shocked his children by getting his forearm inked with the words “World Champion” spiraling around a ladle. But beneath the braggadocio and heated competition, the Golden Spurtle is, at its heart, about a bunch of people hanging out in a room cooking oatmeal. “It’s just the best time,” says Rickmer, who often visits her fellow Swede, Carlsson, as a guest chef at his bed and breakfast. “Competing in porridge is so cozy and cute. Everyone is so nerdy, which I love.” Even this year, as competitors dive deep into their individual porridge pots, in their own kitchens, in their own countries thousands of miles apart, they are bound by a shared appreciation of well-cooked grains and what they symbolize. “It’s an ancestral food,” says Barnard. “All cultures around the world have a type of gruel.” As with any competition, there are plenty of tears and laughter. “When I won, I was absolutely stunned. My face was bright red and I almost burst into tears,” Williams says, beaming as she holds up her trophy. She says she plans on going back to Scotland as soon as the competition is held in-person again, this time to add a specialty category win to her victory in the traditional category. “I have my china all picked out already.” Clarissa Wei is an American freelance journalist based in Taiwan. from Eater - All https://ift.tt/35tYL5K

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