Of death, rebirth and feeling like you just bummed it up big time

Confidence issues ahoy, Cap'n.

Anyhoo, a bit of overflow from the last post;

HARBINGER OF DOOM: . . . Oh and Pee-Ess, your computer's gonna get a nasty adware virus a few meegly wee hours after you make the post and you will recieve an email about Dreamworks coming to campus and wanting to see illustration portfolios just in time for your lovely, evil 16-hour work week-end to make readying anything worth looking at deliciously borderline impossible and migraine-worthy and you'll spend several consecutive nights sacrificing sleep to it as well as brain cells and sanity very possibly.

ME: Fabulous. Anything else I should know?

HARBINGER OF DOOM: You have major self esteem issues and your lack of confidence is one heck of an Achilles heel.

ME: May I ask how telling me my self-esteem and confidence are bumly is supposed to help my self esteem and confidence?

HARBINGER OF DOOM: Hoy, I dun make the news, I just deliver it, and my union has a strict don't-shoot-the-messenger policy. Byyyye! ::nips off with a case of munchies::

La la la, I have been wrestling with computers and portfolios for the past week and am now quite knackered as a result. Winter holiday will provide for some much needed time to breathe, rest and generally function as a human being, rather than a confuddled-by-work art stoodent. Seriously, my post-computersickness, post-Dreamworks brain feels like something that flew into a window and is now sliding down the pane.

So! On that lovely note, art:

A picture of Ross Campbell's character, Trilby Bernarde, drawn for him as thanks for taking the time to let me interview him, and for sending me a signed copy of Wet Moon vol. 4.


Hoooly ship, it's concept art.


And a doodle done in class.


I feel a little punk and miz now, so Imma go bed the noo. Night night, all.

Me, myself and crow

Oh, for the love of trousers . . . Every time I think I've caught everything up, some forgotten assignment comes slithering out of the woodwork (read: swiss cheese) of my long-term memory and proceeds to tap me on the shoulder in all its stealthy harbinger-of-doomness.

Case in point occuring today;

HARBINGER OF DOOM ::taptap::

ME: Hang on a sec! I'm trying to watch Total Drama Island and put on my socks at the same time. No small task, and one which requires my utmost concentration.

H.O.D: Sure, I can wait a bit.

ME: Thanks . . . ::puts socks on, pauses episode, loves Veoh for a moment:: . . . Right then, you were saying?

H.O.D: So, yer. Your senior portrait is due in four days.

ME: Pftpftpftpftpft! Aw, mosey along with your leg-pulling. Go have tea with a politician.

H.O.D: No really, you have four days to complete an entire portrait which is to represent you and everything your stand for on your graduating class's poster and for countless years to come.

ME: That's cobblers, it's not due till the 5th of December.

H.O.D: Which is in four days.

ME: It's not due till that Friday which is quite a ways off.

H.O.D: Yes, four whole days off.

ME: . . . You're really serious? You are not in any way having me on, taking the mick, alluding to a certain villian played by Heath Ledger, or otherwise not being serious?

H.O.D: Four days, bub. You'd best get started.

ME: Is there time for me to step in front of a bus?

H.O.D: Well, four days does seem like a pretty sufficient amount of time when one considers the buses run every thirty minutes, doesn't it?

. . .

Well, you get the idea at any rate. So yes, colour me pretty wigged for a good few hours (probably about eight potential bus encounters' worth). However, I did manage to come up with a sketch during class, which I managed to flesh out into a finished piece tonight;



I was just going to leave it in black and white. Flatmate Kelly, however, suggested I try adding some colour. Mad props to her for that one, because I wouldn't have done it otherwise and I actually like the colour version rather more than the first;



So yes. That much is done. Crisis averted, meltdown prevented, order in the universe restored.

H.O.D ::taptap::

ME ::sips tea and is generally a fair shade triumphantly smug:: Aaaaaye?

H.O.D: By the by, November was Trans Awareness month.

ME: Oh ho ho ho, how tasty irony is, say I, for I have since completed that assignm-mwuaaaah . . .?

H.O.D: And you totally need to do some art for it. Which is hilarious because today is the 1st of December.

ME: There's a such thing as Trans Awareness month?

H.O.D: Apparently. And you totally missed it, tee hee.

ME: Hrm, what to do . . . Do you think if I get rear-ended by a bus going fast enough, I can go back in time?

H.O.D: Anything's worth trying once.

Buzz Buzz, Baa Baa . . . Book Book?

There's a dead bee in our kitchen light. Poor thing flew in here and sort of ghosted about the flat till he climbed into the light casing and got stuck there. Sad -_-

. . . Er, yes. Less waffle, more art.

Did this quickly today, having found myself with a few hours in which I had the option of Doing Art Not Neccessarily Related To My Thesis. I've been watching Black Books a tadge obsessively over the past week or so, and this came of it;



(click the image to see a bigger version)

This is, of course, based on that bit in the episode entitled "Grapes of Wrath," in which Manny discovers the shiatsu machine. I was rewatching it and simply had to draw it.

Aaaand i had time to do this because, as of today, I am finished with all of the spots/sketches for my children's book! Huzzah! Just need to deftly insert the final additions into the dummy book and I am ready to send this puppy off to the publisher. In the meantime, here's a few of those last little sketches.

Behold . . . WEIRD AND WONDERFUL SHEEP! (I'm Scottish. If this comes as a surprise, then you are a sad sack of poo)




And a bit of info about each one;

RAMBOUILLET: In 1786, King Louis XVI received a flock of Merino sheep from the King of Spain and developed the new breed exclusively on his own Rambouillet estate, with many years passing before a single animal left it.

RACKA: This Hungarian breed's straight, spiral-shaped horns are unique among sheep and can grow to a length of up of to two feet.

LONK: The name of this sheep is a variation on the word "Lanky." It is a very durable breed, but thrives in only two counties in Northern England.

HEBRIDEAN: When the Vikings arrived in Scotland, they brought their sheep with them, and this breed came about. They have two to four horns, though the odd three-horned specimen is not unheard of.

ALTAI ARGALI: Hailing from the mountainous regions of central Asia, this breed has the largest and heaviest horns of any kind of sheep.

MANX LOAGHTAN: Indigenous to the Isle of Man, this sheep can have up to six horns. The word "Loaghtan" means "mouse-brown," and this breed was developed both for its wool of that colour, and for its meat (it is considered a delicacy and is raised for meat on only two farms).



. . . And yes, all of these sheep are actually real. Wiki them if you think I'm telling porky pies.

Lastly, just for fun, a picture from Hallowe'en!



Featuring flatmates Sara Joy and Kelly and Kelly's sister Aileen. Sara Rase is the Lydia in the middle. I'm the one in the stripes :P I bloody love Hallowe'en, so I do.

Funnily enough, the Salad God is the one making the sacrifices

Well! Indeed.

As of yesterday, I am the week-end Salad God at the school cafeteria. It's nothing fabulous, but it'll put a few quid in my pocket and hopefully deter me from continually sponging off of my poor parents. So yer, if you're a Ringlinger popping in for brekkie or supper on Saturday/Sunday and you see a short, doofy kid attempting to discreetly do yoga behind the hotplate, do say hello ^_^

At any rate, the point of this post is to say that now, due to the fact that I now have a seventeen hour work week-end, I really have had precious little time for art (there were more sketches for the children's book scratched out between my shifts and before sleep, but even those I have not had time to scan in O_O;) I shall need to be working round that . . . As it happens, I'm the computer labs right now, printing out my portfolio before my 4.00 PM shift. I'm still in my uniform, even O_O Crikey O'Reilly, this think makes me look like a fourteen-year-old cul de sac kid who is trying to bring bin liners into fashion O_O

ANYHOO. ART.

Since Photbucket decided to be a cunningly oversensitive pansy and delete my other Tata Gala picture, I'll post this one purely out of spite :D


A watercolour I splashed out in hopes of selling prints of it at the new school store (they did not want it)


I'm posting old art because of the whole portfolio-putting-togethery thing. Sorry to you lot who are seeing this twice;

Inspired by one of my very favourite films, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind


Last year, I was walking with Sara on the beach and we happened upon an injured seagull. He wasn't bleeding and nothing looked broken, but for some reason, he could not seem to lift himsel fup off of the sand, and simply thrashed about with his wings when we got too close. A few months later, we were at the beach again, and happened upon another seagull, this time very plainly hurt with a badly bleeding wing. When we came near, he sort of shuffled away from us as best we could. Strangely enough, he was heading for the water. We decided that if he was stil there by the time we were done with our walk, we would pick up and take him away. However, when we did return, we found him bobbing about in the shallows, dead. It was almost as if he did it on purpose, like he somehow knew what we were planning and did not want to be saved. . . . Which sounds utterly ridiculous, I know, but it still sort of haunted me.


And now, a happier seagull picture!

This was for the editorial assignment;


I based it off of this story;



Doot doot doot, that will be all for now. I'll post something a bit fresher soon. Toodle pip.

Yar, ELLO

So, first post, eh? Let's hope it's a good one, what with how impressions go and such . . .

Och aye, I'm Fala Lee. I spend most of my waking hours drawing, writing and drinking tea (though the non-waking hours apply to that last one as well, on occasion . . . Hoy, some people sleepwalk, don't they? Myself, I'm not beyond the occasional sleepteadrinking excursion).

::rereads that::

. . . Wow, I think we can safely colour my first impression unimpressive. For the sake of clinging to the last measly shreds of my dignity, I shall refrain from expounding upon my obsession with sheep (strictly hereditary, I assure you).

So yer. I make art, I write stories and poetry, I speak French, and I know enough X-Men: Evolution trivia to kill a horse. Other than that, I am fairly useless and should be trusted with precious little. I made this blog for entirely legitimate reasons (i.e. networking, expanding my career opportunities, because the cool kids are doing it, et cetera), and not at all because I have nothing better to do than ramble on and on about myself (well, clearly!).

And for the sake of ending this post before it rides too far off into the ADD sunset, here, have some art.


Front cover for the children's book I'm working on.


The second of two entries to Tata Gala, a local fundraising event.


The second of two entries to Art The Vote (the first one made it and was printed, whee ^_^)


Scary, scary maquette which suffered an unfortunate pitfall (quite literally . . . He fell on his poor, horrible face and needs redoing).


Many, many storyboards


Part of a job I did this summer, painting a little girl's room to look like an underwater scene


One of two pictures I did for the buzzword project from earlier in the year (this one was "chick flick")


Part of an ongoing collaberative project with another bloke


A painting from this summer


Charaiacature of Nick Pitera, a Ringling graduate whom I admire very much

JeezFalaSHUTUPALREADY.

Mmmkay, off to drink tea the noo. Cheers, all.