It's always an ugly battle. Scrapping together enough self-confidence to allow some unadulterated creativity without guilt or interruption has never been easy. The looming sense of failure because there are dirty dishes in the sink and an absolute terror that my mother would show up to pass judgment on the disarray in my living room cause my engine to stall while I flounder in front of my muse.
So, it was a certain ambiguous excitement that crept over me when I learned about a Frank Frazetta tribute contest put together by Blues Dragon hosted over at DAZ3D . I have been a huge fan of Frazetta's since I was a young teen, pouring over the covers of dozens of fantasy and sci-fi books he illustrated, wishing I was the voluptuous babe wielding a sword and saving the universe. In my heart of hearts, I knew that this was who I was meant to be. Too bad reality had the upper hand.
In the course of preparing for this contest, where I would be competing with my contemporary 3D artists, I poured over hundreds of Frazetta's artwork, trying to define his style and then use those elements in my submission piece. I had grand dreams of winning. But not for the prizes that would be awarded. No. My prize would be knowing that my work would be seen by Frank Frazetta Jr (the final judge for the contest) who would probably share a peek with his father. My heart was giddy with the knowledge that Mr. Frazetta himself would be casting his gaze upon this mere mortal's feeble attempt to do him homage.
Heady stuff for a woman trapped in her mid-forties, ruing the fact that she STILL wasn't the voluptuous babe wielding a sword and saving the universe.
I guess that's why I was intrigued when my husband bought Forza The Samurai Sword Workout
for his birthday. He used to be a fencer, but after having shoulder surgery almost five years ago, he feared he would never be able to return to the sport. He thought that this exercise DVD might be the road to recovery. He never suspected that I would blatantly steal it and make it my own.
Actually, I was kind of surprised at how much I enjoy it. I HATE exercise videos and DVD's. Young know-it-alls flaunting their skinny, toned bodies, shouting encouraging platitudes that sound more plastic than heartfelt. More fluff than honest concern. They're in it for the money. Wiggling and gyrating in a hedonistic frenzy, moving their bodies in meaningless gestures. It's a power party exalting their own magnificence and clever marketing strategies. It doesn't inspire me.
But Ilaria Montagnani does inspire me. She doesn't spout nonsense, her instruction is clear and meaningful. The movements make sense. You're wielding a sword, for heaven's sake. You can't mistake the meaning in that. No "jazz hands" here. You spend the time concentrating on coordinating the movements of your body in tandem with the arc of the practice sword in your hands. You feel the sense of history, imagining yourself transported to the practice fields of yore where soldiers are running through their daily drills. You flow in a moving meditation as you practice this art, and have a sense of stillness and poise that is sadly lacking in the blaring romp of other exercise programs.
As I do the Forza, I think about my Frazetta contest piece. For the first time I actually feel sort of like the babe with the sword in the book covers of my youth. Granted, I'm still overweight and I have a frumpy hairdo, but the spirit comes alive. As does my artwork.
I frantically work on the piece, but I suffer a blow. A week before the deadline, I'm doubled over in pain, whimpering like a child on my bed. There's a clamping pain from my mid-back around my right side to my lower right abdomen. I can't stand up straight. It takes every ounce of Forza strength concentration to make my way out to the car where I have to drive myself to the hospital. My husband stays home with the kids, as it would be extremely miserable for them and me to bring them all along for the ride.
I am brought down with a kidney stone. A 3mm pellet from hell, ripping its way from my kidney to my bladder. Too small to pulverize, I am told, so I'm sent home with a prescription for pain medicine and a screen to pee through. I bet the Frazetta babe never had to fight a demon like this. A twisting, burning demon that causes anguish and confusion in the faces of my children who cluster around, patting my shoulder and whispering "poor Mommy. Poor, poor Mommy."
A break in the maelstrom in my bladder and it's less than 12 hours before the end of the contest. I frantically coax both my computers to chunk our renders as fast as their CPUs can muster. Foolishly, I had planned to do my submission in layers to be composited in Photoshop. This adds more time that I don't have. I frantically piece each layer together on one machine as another layer slowly renders on the other computer. Beads of sweat burst out on my brow faster than doing Forza. I'm in a blind panic. Pain be damned, I have to get this piece in before the deadline.
Gasping and fumbling with the keyboard, the hour of truth approaches and for a brief moment, my brain turns to jelly. I managed to get a workable image together for the contest. I have it uploaded and in my artzone gallery, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to submit it to the contest. I break down in tears. To have come so far only to fail at the end. Tragic, the hero is conquered and alone. Alone but for the pain in my side and the mound of dirty dishes in the sink.
But then reason sets in. I re-read the instructions. Stupidity subsides and I have my piece sucessfully submitted to the contest with a fraction of a moment remaining. Cheated death again, I sigh, deeply relieved. The poise and stillness return to me and I take a brief moment to check out my work, to make sure I really did get it in on time.
As I sit there, stupidity returns. I stare, disbelieving. I had uploaded the wrong image. Half a boob is missing from the central character. My heart sinks. THIS is what Mr. Frazetta will be seeing and I am embarrassed.
What would the babe with the sword do? I wondered. Would she skulk away, embarrassed and beaten? No. Frazetta would never paint her that way. She wouldn't take it lying down. Or if she was lying down, she'd still have the sword in her hand. She would stand her ground and fight the good fight. So would I.
I decided to submit the correct image, though a half an hour later than my first image, with the explanation of what had happened, hoping that the judges would understand. To my good fortune, they did.
Now to wait to see if I won....
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