When it comes to art, I’m a huge flake. I’m coming up with new project ideas constantly, and some of you might’ve noticed that my book has changed title about a billion times. The fact is, though, the “right” process is the one that works and I create my best stuff when I’m giving myself freedom to do as I please. In other words, I think less about “but I’m supposed to be doing this” and more about what just feels right.
If I rewrite a chapter–so what? Likewise, calling something a Venetian canal doesn’t lock me into actually making one. We’ve all heard certain phrases about the best laid plans and designs, too, almost always look fantastic on paper. Actually translating an idea into something three dimensional, though, is where you learn. My original design required boxing the bottom portion of the “canal” in, so as to accommodate resin “water.” But guess what: as I neared the end of the–initial–painting process, I realized that wasn’t going to work. Or, rather, it could work…but it wouldn’t be my best work.
An additional issue, I discovered, was that faithful historical reproductions aren’t, and will never be, my cup of tea. They’re awesome, absolutely! They’re not, however, part of my story. Increasingly, I find myself drawn to the storytelling potential in fantasy and I want to incorporate in those themes, which speak to me. In particular, I’m excited about combining my Appalachian background with my love of medieval history (in which I also possess a surprisingly non-useless degree). I want to, I suppose, speak my truth.
Now, keeping this rather longwinded preamble in mind, the Venetian canal is…getting a somewhat odd makeover. I see the world I’m creating as existing in a future so advanced, we’ve come full circle in a sense and reverted to–roughly–13th century tech. Accuracy…what’s accuracy? The canals in whatever Los Santos version of Venice this is have long ago dried up, sprouting gardens in their wake. Stay tuned.