#life hack: draw badly and persistently and for long enough and it will eventually get less bad

[ko2vo]

hi i've been reading Bad Seeds and i think it's a great comic and i love your art style and choices! looking forward to when you pick it up again, keep up the great artwork and hope you're having a good week :)

also, can i ask what you think gave you the best help in practicing art to get to where you are? like drawing with references or copying and repeating certain anatomy structures or just sketching if something pops in your head, etc.

also if you don't read comments on the comic blog i wanted to say here that i think the detail you put into flesh and gory stuff is really nicely done and visually pleasing + believable.

anyway have a good day ^^

Aaaa! Thank you so much for reading it and for noticing the details ;O; I love reading tags and comments on Bad Seeds, they sustain me so thank you for a most delicious and hearty meal

For practicing art! I’ve chronically sketched and doodled since I was kid (in the margins of school notes, in cheapo sketchbooks, etc), went through a visual art program in my high school, and then did a couple of figure drawing classes in university, so I’ve done a mix of everything. Honestly, the past couple of years are the longest I’ve gone without consistently drawing (grad school kicking my ass) so I dunno if my advice will be too helpful, but I’ll ramble a little under the read more:

Studying anatomy and generally referencing photos/real life helped me improve my art the most, personally. IRL references helps more than photos because it’s easier to get a sense of form, depth, and lighting. In school, we did a lot of drawing exercises like contours, blind contours, and quick gesture drawings in our introductory classes and I remember being frustrated when I did them because they always looked awful to me, but it was kinda the point of the exercise. It helps trains hand-eye coordination and build confidence in line strokes because they’re all timed. Gestures are typically very quick, like 1 min, 30 seconds, 10 seconds; contours were usually a lil longer, like 4 mins, 6 mins, etc.

Here's some contours from when I was uhh 16 I think:

Exercises, studies, doing art projects that challenged me in different ways, experimenting with different mediums and styles, looking at other artists contemporary and old alike, they all helped. All of it can absolutely be self-taught as well, there are tons of art challenges/prompt lists out there and resources. One of the biggest benefits to formal classes was feedback from teachers and peers, but a good community or friend group can also serve that purpose.

I continued to do studies after high school, these ones are around when I was 20 or 21:

More than that though, I didn’t JUST study and train, that would have turned me off art real quick. I drew for fun and knew what I liked. For subjects, that was people, figures, and characters. For mediums, it was ink and pen and digital art. Overall, art for me was about storytelling and comics. There are dozens of sketched comic thumbnails that have never seen the light of day in my sketchbooks, as well as RPG maker game maps, concepts, and character designs.

I remember this was me doing a comic of my high school friends and I in a zombie apocalypse at 15 lol:

General sketching comics and character ideas and fandoms from ages 15-18 (I didn't do a lot of fanart but OFF was a big one, idk why I drew homestuck dave tho cuz I haven’t read beyond the first 2 acts lol):

I like getting the ideas down, even if it's messy and they never develop fully. I used to be very precious and secretive about ideas, but at this point I’ll toss ideas at my artist and writer friends cuz im not doing anything with them and we’ll tell the stories differently even if I do get to it. I like exploring toxic and unhealthy character relationships. I wind up exploring queer and peripheral topics. Gore and body horror and bodies. Quotes litter my pages, some are concepts, or snippets of conversations characters have, or what I overhear from people irl or streamers, or just words that sound pleasing.

Here’s an RPG I wanted to make about a group of masked kids that steal rich people’s pets to collect the reward money, and it eventually goes all wrong:

Here’s another RPG about an Angel Surgeon, who needs to deliver a pill by travelling inside a mutated angel with his surgical team (I was really inspired by a yume nikki fangame game called Vis I think):

I also just like hanging onto all of my sketchbooks to revisit ideas I’ve mindlessly jotted down, seeing what I’ve improved on and sometimes digger deeper into old ideas. Bad Seeds started out as a few sketchy interactions in comics I drew in an itty bitty dollar store sketchbook when I was either 19 or 20 lol first Daniel I ever sketched:

Not the first Poet tho; Poet was repurposed from another, even older story I had where he was an obsessive stalker of one of the main characters, but he was very out of place cuz the story was supposed to be a silly and cozy college romance? And Poet just emerged from the ether and brought a ton of darkness into that otherwise lighthearted universe LMAO but I liked his character, so he got shelved until Bad Seeds happened. It's useful, sometimes I've completely forgotten my own ideas and artwork until I pull out a sketchbook and rediscover old ideas.

So yeah, TLDR: when in doubt, just draw! Training and doing different exercises helps improve anatomy, memory and accuracy, giving yourself challenges can help you discover preferences and weaknesses to work on, but don’t forget to just draw what you enjoy and be self-indulgent, even if you think its bad.

My sketchbooks have turned into more of an esoteric visual journal recently as I try to get back into the groove. Some recent scribbles, quite happy with my crayon croissant:

Hope that was a lil helpful! Thank you for messaging!

[shions-heart]

(( @audioerf / @audreykare on Twitter has this awesome werecrow/werecat AU for Haikyuu!!, and some recent sketches she made feat. kuroken’s origin story sparked my inspiration, and I just had to write my interpretation of it XD I hope you enjoy it, Audrey!))

A deafening roar shakes the table in front of Kenma, causing his inkwell to tip over. He watches in dismay, as the ink spreads across his parchment. He frowns then, annoyance forming a headache that twitches above his eyebrow.

It took me two hours to draw that.

For the past three days, some creature in the woods beside his village has plagued them with growls and roars ranging from soft and pitiful to loud and threatening. Preliminary reports bring back a tale of a horrifying monster that appears to be stuck in some trees, and although everyone seems bothered by it, nobody has ventured to take care of it.

“It’ll probably eat us on sight!” one villager exclaims.

“Maybe if we send an army they’ll be able to defeat it!” another one suggests.

“Where are we going to get an army? Just let it be. It’ll starve itself eventually,” yet another says.

And on and on it goes. Kenma has grown tired of it. He hasn’t been able to sleep. His work continuously gets interrupted. Meditation is impossible.

Someone has to do something.

Gathering some meager supplies and picking up his wizard’s staff, Kenma sets for the woods the next morning. Those on the street call to him, warning him of the danger, telling him he’s a fool. Kenma ignores them all. If he dies, then maybe at least it’ll be quiet.

It doesn’t take him long to find the source of the noise, and he slows to a stop before it. Caught in the bramble and brush of the forest, sits a large beast. It’s easily three times larger than Kenma, towering above him. It has piercing golden eyes, a giant muzzle with rows of sharp, glistening teeth, and long thick fur covering its entire body. It resembles a giant wolf, or a lion . . . some massive animal-like creature.

Kenma stares, as it howls and roars and thrashes in the underbrush. Peering closer, Kenma can see why. It’s long fur has gotten tangled in the branches of three gnarled trees. Leaves surround the forest floor beneath the trees, the beast having shaken them off with its attempts to free itself.

As terrifying as the beast might’ve been under different circumstances, all Kenma feels in this moment is exasperation.

“You’re telling me all that noise was really just you throwing a temper tantrum?”

The beast stops abruptly, looking down at Kenma with a sharp gaze. Kenma suppresses a shiver at the power he feels emanating from the beast, but he can’t help but think that if this beast was all-powerful, it wouldn’t be stuck in a bunch of trees. It’s probably not as dangerous as it looks. So, squaring his shoulders, Kenma reaches into his knapsack and pulls out a large knife and sets to work.

At first, the beast wiggles around, attempting to free itself as Kenma hacks away at its fur.

“Stop that,” Kenma snaps. “You’re just going to make it worse.”

Surprisingly, the beast listens. It stops and simply watches, as Kenma carefully picks his way around the beast, finding the knots in the fur and sawing them away. He can hear the heavy breathing of the beast, feel its eyes on him, but he remains resolute in his mission. It hasn’t tried to attack him, so Kenma figures it’s safe enough, and he has his magic to defend against it if it decides to attack afterwards.

Finally, the last bit of tangled hair falls away. Kenma steps back slowly, as the beast moves to stand. Tucking the knife into his obi, Kenma grabs his staff, holding it in both hands in front of him. As the beast shakes itself free of the branches and takes a step forward, Kenma takes a step back, throwing up a ward between him and the creature.

The beast stops, tilting its head. It looks down at Kenma for a moment, before slowly lowering its head toward him. It opens its mouth, and Kenma doesn’t wait. He whacks the beast on the nose, grabs his knapsack, and sprints back toward the village.

His heart pounds wildly in his chest, as he reaches his home. He slams the door shut and locks it, not entirely sure why he’s shaking so badly. Nothing went wrong. In fact, everything went very smoothly. Perhaps too smoothly?

Not wanting to overthink it, Kenma draws himself a bath and gets ready for bed. In the blissful silence, he settles down for a long, well-earned nap.

**********

He awakes to the sound of a knock on his door. Frowning, he throws his blanket over his head, hoping whoever it is will go away. The knocking persists, though, and Kenma sits up with a sigh. Pushing his hair out of his face, he stalks over to the door and opens it with a faint scowl.

An unfamiliar man stands in front of him. He’s completely naked, with thick long hair falling wildly around his lean, muscular frame. It falls nearly to his waist, and tiny sticks and leaves are caught within the locks. Kenma stares, unblinking, as the man slowly grins, revealing sharp canines.

“Hi,” he says, his voice deep and rich.

Kenma slams the door shut.

“Hey, wait!” the man calls, his voice muffled behind the door. “It’s me! From the forest, remember? You saved my life!”

Kenma grimaces. He can’t have his neighbors hearing him and coming to investigate. Everyone knows everyone else in this village. This guy stands out and there will most certainly be questions and people gathering to look at the spectacle and bothering him and . . . ugh.

He opens the door again. The man looks back at him imploringly.

“I only wanted to thank you--”

Kenma reaches out to grab the man’s wrist, tugging him into the house. He shuts the door behind him, locking it and putting several wards on it, to keep anyone walking by from listening in. When he turns back around, the man has approached him, standing directly beside him. Kenma shrinks back against the door, wondering if he should’ve grabbed his staff.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man says. “I’m in your debt.” He drops to his knees in front of Kenma, bowing his unruly head of hair. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

Kenma blinks, his cheeks warming. What is this? Some sort of weird dream?

“I just wanted some peace and quiet,” he mutters, looking away.

The man looks up. “No riches? No glory? No enhanced magic?” He appears perplexed.

Kenma narrows his eyes. What sort of creature is this? Able to grant these things? Able to shift its form? Should he even be trusting it?

“I’m good, thanks,” he says.

The man sits back on his heels, looking at a loss. He glances around the interior of Kenma’s home. It’s a modest house, with a single room. His bed sits against one wall, surrounded by spell books and story books. A fire pit is in the center of the room, with a low table and cushion beside it. On the table are a few parchments, his inkwell, and his brushes. His clothes are folded and kept in a crate beside the bed. Kenma wonders what the man is thinking.

Slowly, he inches away from the door, making his way toward the bed where he left his staff.

“So, um, you can go now,” he says pointedly. “I don’t need anything. I just wanted you to stop making so much noise.”

The man watches him, head tilted to the side. His golden eyes fixate on Kenma, and there’s an expression there that makes Kenma feel warm and uncomfortable at the same time. The man places a hand on his chest. “I’m Tetsurou,” he says.

“Okay.”

Tetsurou remains kneeling, waiting.

“I’m . . . Kenma,” Kenma offers after a moment.

Tetsurou grins. “Kenma . . . Kenma. Kenma,” he says slowly, as though tasting it.

Kenma’s face grows even hotter. “Stop that.”

Tetsurou moves forward, faster than Kenma can move away, and places himself directly in front of Kenma once more. He leans forward, apparently having no concept of personal space.

“I’m in your debt, Kenma,” he says, his eyes flickering over Kenma’s features. He grins again, a somewhat dopey grin that speaks of an affection that totally shouldn’t be there considering they’ve just met. “You saved my life.”

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Kenma says, his heart pounding faster despite himself.

Tetsurou picks up Kenma’s hand, pressing it against his chest. “What can I do for you? I have to pay you back for your kindness.”

“It wasn’t kindness. I told you, I just wanted you to shut up.”

Tetsurou laughs. “True enough, but I still owe you.”

“No, you don’t,” Kenma says, pulling his hand away.

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

Tetsurou tilts his head again. He looks around the room. “You live alone.”

Kenma crosses his arms over his chest. “So?”

Tetsurou looks back at him. “I can assist you, here. I can clean for you. Run errands for you. Keep you company. Warm you during the cold nights of winter.” He says this last one with a suggestive smirk.

Indignant, Kenma flicks his nose. “No, you won’t,” he says.

Tetsurou rubs his nose. “Well, I can help you with the other stuff anyway.”

Kenma sighs, looking away. He’s getting the feeling that no matter what he does, Tetsurou isn’t going to leave him alone until he pays off whatever debt he thinks he owes to Kenma. It’ll probably be easier and less of a hassle to just give him what he wants.

“Fine,” he says, after a moment. He looks back at Tetsurou with a frown. “But you’re not staying here looking like that. You’re a mess, and you’ll probably shed everywhere.”

Tetsurou’s eyes widen. “But I can stay?” he asks hopefully.

Kenma wonders why he looks so happy. “I guess.”

Tetsurou grins. “You won’t regret this.”

I regret it already.

That’s not strictly true, however. Kenma has to admit to himself that living alone, while it does have its perks, can be rather lonely, as well. He’s never had an interest in forming close connections to the others in the village, because, frankly, he’s bad at talking to people and making friends. There are plenty that he likes, but not many that he would consider bringing into his home.

But as Tetsurou sits in the bathtub, and Kenma sits behind him to help him work out the many tangles in his hair, he has to admit that it feels kind of nice. Tetsurou chatters on about his life in the woods and how he came to be stuck in the bushes, and it’s an amusing story. Kenma listens, fighting a smile, as he combs through the knots and burrs. It’s almost soothing, in a way. The repetitive motion, the low cadence of Tetsurou’s voice, the occasional splash of water as he cleans himself, it’s nice.

Don’t get used to it, Kenma tells himself. As soon as he’s satisfied, he’ll leave.

It takes them two and a half hours to finish cleaning and detangling Tetsurou’s hair. The sun has started to set, as Kenma helps pull the hair back from Tetsurou’s face into a large bun held together by a couple smooth sticks. There are some strands in the front, though, that are too short to pull back, and they hang in front of one of his eyes. The other looks back at Kenma, as he finally steps back, satisfied with his work.

Tetsurou’s wearing one of Kenma’s yukata, which is too short but fits well enough, and he actually looks human. He smiles, and Kenma suddenly realizes that he’s rather attractive. His heart flutters, much to his annoyance.

“Thank you,” Tetsurou says, bowing deeply. “Again.”

Kenma looks away, willing his cheeks to cool. “It was nothing.”

His stomach growls, and Tetsurou straightens. “You’re hungry,” he says.

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll return shortly!”

In an instant, he’s transformed into a massive cat with shaggy black fur. He slips out of the yukata and bounds toward the door. He bats at the lock and opens it, disappearing into the growing night. Kenma stares after him, somewhat doubting that he’ll really return.

He looks around at the mess they made, the long strands of hair on the floor, the dirty water in the tub, and sighs. Slowly, he starts cleaning, knowing he’s going to want to do it even less if he lies down now.

Not a half-hour later, however, the door bursts open and Tetsurou trots in triumphantly, soaking wet, and holding a large fish in his jaws. Kenma stares, as he places the fish at his feet, and shakes himself, the cat transforming into Tetsurou kneeling on the floor in front of him, naked once more.

He looks up at Kenma expectantly, proudly, and Kenma’s unsure of what he wants him to do. Slowly, he reaches out and pets the top of Tetsurou’s head.

“. . . Good boy.”

Tetsurou laughs. He grabs the yukata he left on the floor and pulls it on, as he stands. “You’ve done a lot, today. Rest. I’ll finish cleaning and prepare the meal.”

Kenma blinks, realizing that having company might not be the only perk to this arrangement. He steps over to the table, lowering himself on the cushion and turning to the parchment in front of him. Tetsurou whistles softly as he works, and Kenma finds it hard to concentrate.

He seems happy. Like he truly wants to stay here . . . with me.

Kenma peeks at Tetsurou from behind his hair, wondering what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

Whatever it is, however, he’s looking forward to seeing how it all plays out.