Goodbye, Doug

Doug Chaffee was a seasoned pro before I was born. I learned about his work when I was like 15, at a local science-fiction convention. He had mailed-in prints to the print show.The piece at left, an illustration of Bradbury's "The Martian Chronicles," was among the pieces I saw. This was about 1990 or so when I saw it. I immediately noted the name and the work. As this was pre-internet, that's as far as it went, but I did see his work from time-to-time in years following. I had no idea how old he was at the time. Turns out, he'd been at this illustration game for a long time, in a variety of venues. Doug passed away yesterday at the age of 75.

I met him very briefly at a convention some years ago. Not much more than a handshake at the time. Over the years, I had the privilege of getting to know him a little through some discussion lists we were both members of.  When I was living in Asheville, we talked about me going down to Greenville SC for a visit but I didn't manage it, and of course I regret that now. He was also a gentleman, and this is perhaps a rarer quality than good artist, these days. He was creating art basically to the end. Many of my readers will know him from his work on Magic: the Gathering and other card games, especially through the late 90s and early 2000s. But he'd done so much more over the years, in so many corners of the illustration and art world. He'll be missed.

The Odds

Many years ago now, I wrote a little about the comic, "Art School Confidential." It was on my mind again after a recent post, so here we are.

A Prophetic Comic
Allow me to begin by posting this panel from the comic, which will be the basis for this post. Frankly, I could write an article on every panel of that comic, but that'd be wholesale cannibalism. And Clowes has no website. He should be raking in a mint on this. C'mon Clowes, publish it as a standalone eReader comic or something for $.99 or whatever. Heck, I'll buy one and I own no compatible device. But, back to the post:

I could stop there, this panel being worth a thousand words. But let's see if I can unpack a thousand words' worth myself. In that recent post, I talked a little about the financial prospects of a freelance illustrator. And I was dead honest--I have made annual incomes that fall into that spectrum, though it varies widely year-to-year. Yes, even including that last bar: so if you think I was being facetious, think again. And that wasn't even at the beginning of my career--my first couple of years out the gate were decent, actually. It was smack dab in the midst of being a working professional. So if you didn't take that last post seriously, and are considering a career in the arts, please reconsider it. If it can happen to me, it can happen to you. Now then.

Quite apart from the income potential, which is poor, you must understand that I was laying out the income of folks who might conceivably call themselves full-time freelancers. That chart had nothing to say about the likelihood that you even ever get to be a full-time freelancer. Or, that the effort required to even try to be a moonlighting illustrator with a day job will be worthwhile to continue on. When I read this panel, not quite 17 years old at the time, I chuckled. Naturally, I was the kid with the thought bubble. At the same time, I'd just gone from a decent sized fish in my local pool to a passable but panicked fish in a much larger one. In my first weeks of art school I learned how ill-prepared I really was, how many kids had had superior educations to mine to that point. So, it was starting to sink in that this comic panel might actually be prophetic.

Stalking
I mentioned in that last post that I keep a folder with a few names in it, which I check from time to time. I actually don't know how big the illustration department was, because I was a drawing major who spent his time on the fine arts campus (design is in San Francisco vs. fine art in Oakland). Most illustrators took their drawing/painting and other technical classes on the fine art campus, so I'd get to know them there. But it's safe to say I got to know most of them at least by face. I knew plenty by name, but only remembered a handful by the time I started keeping this folder. It was a small school, though.

I also mentioned that I have a longer memory than most, and so the odds of anyone remembering me are probably slim, especially because I ditched college after 3 years and so didn't finish my degree. In retrospect, I'm ambivalent as to whether that was a good idea or not. It went well enough, so I can't complain, but there were downsides.

I further mentioned that I could never find info on Alexi. As of today, I still can't. And my memory may be hazed by almost 2 decades since I met him, but I will say that at the time he was waaay ahead of me. Ok, I was still 16, that wasn't hard to be. But I'm pretty sure his work the year I met him was still ahead of mine when I left. He should have been phenomenal by now...but he's MIA.

One fellow who did do quite well, seemingly, is Patrick Arrasmith. He moved to NYC right after school, apparently, and has had a regular and what appears to be strong career. His work is stylistically very much as it was in our college classes together, and he was obviously good even then. I'm in NYC, too. I'm pretty sure I saw him at a Society of Illustrators event at one point, but we didn't get a chance to talk, and frankly, I didn't want to have to explain who I was to someone staring at me blankly. If he Googles himself and finds this, maybe it'll facilitate a conversation later. We weren't close buds or anything, but his work and name were noteworthy then, so I remembered. We had a few classes together, but were mostly listen-intently and work-hard types. These qualities often preclude people from being very social in college.

Around 2000 or so, I was really enjoying the occasional webisode of Happy Tree Friends. This online cartoon went on to be a bit of a cult favorite, along with others like Homestarrunner. Then one day I realized that one of the creators was a fellow by the name of Rhode Montijo, another once-classmate. I had him primarily in figure drawing/anatomy classes. During the years I was at San Diego Comic-Con, Happy Tree Friends had a big booth presence, selling all sorts of merch. I was really happy to see someone do well with their own property, and Rhode has continued developing such, including a children's book, more recently. One Comic-Con, I went to go get in line for something or other and saw him there, so I went up and introduced myself. I'd known Rhode a little better. After shaking up his memory a bit, we had a pleasant short conversation, I wished him well and congratulated him on his successes and we parted ways.

And...that's it. Well, there are other folks I follow, but it's difficult for me to assess their careers. I might add myself to the mix as having managed to scrape and claw my way to maintaining a career (as I mentioned last time, with incredible support).

And one guy named Eddie Schantz, probably the one who I was most good pals with, died tragically within 4 years of my leaving school. We were similar--he was a fantasy-oriented guy. He had a great ability to draw the figure without reference, but hadn't really engaged color work. He had begun to approach me about trying to hook him up with some of my clients. I told him he really needed some strong color work. I don't pass along names easily, since my own reputation is on the line, but had he put that color portfolio together, I would have and who knows if he wouldn't have been another you might've known.

The Rest
Of those who remain, a couple have definitely continued with art in some capacity. That they are really hard to track down speaks volumes though, to me. Art is one of those things where its producers have a strong interest in being found. If an artist isn't easy to find, then they are either extremely reclusive or there isn't much to find, most likely. And if an illustrator and reclusive, that's going to be a career killer.

Others, I know, transitioned into other fields, as I suggested might happen last time. Fantastic--I really respect those who think it the better part of wisdom to move on, who don't cling so tightly to art that it cripples their future if they can't find the means to use it. It might have been difficult to accept a move onward, or may have been a very organic and natural process. Either way, there's a high chance they are as or more fulfilled than they might have been sticking with art and all of its headaches.

Takeaway
Art school, as I've mentioned before, is damned expensive. Right about Ivy-League expensive, and you are probably never going to make Ivy-League incomes with your degree. You may find that your actual illustration income doesn't allow you to eat and pay your school loans on a monthly basis, if you have a difficult first few years. Nevermind rent. I entered college pre-interwebz and so had to make do with a lot less information than students have now. So, I guess what I'm saying is that Clowes' 1-in-100 statistic was a little off. A little. Let's assume 3 others of us did well, but I've forgotten their names or hadn't gotten to know them. That'd be like 6 out of, say, 100 or so. Forget that, let's assume I'm totally out to lunch and 3 times that amount of illustrators did that well and are still sustaining themselves with their art to this day. I'll let you decide if 18% or so are good odds for freelance "success" (however that's defined, I've been pretty loose about it).

Magic Duel Decks: Knights vs. Dragons

Another small reprint alert, this time in the form of Magic the Gathering Duel Decks: Knights vs. Dragons. This one, as all of these do, features two pre-constructed themed decks, ready to play with. In this case, they also include my Lorwyn illustration for Fire-Belly Changeling in its first reprint.

As with all of these, they are produced in rather limited numbers, so grab one while you can.  Meanwhile, I'll be back in a couple of days with a lengthier post.

Whiteback Sketches Pt.6

I've had a good time doing these whiteback sketches for folks. What's happened is that I've begun to work more and longer on these, and while the drawings done have gotten more involved over time, so has the time commitment. I had initially asked for 30 days for me to do the drawings and get them out, but there have been occasions where I have been backlogged and unable to meet my own personal commitments, partially because I'm spending more time on each.

So, I've raised the price for these whiteback sketches this past weekend, with the re-jiggered shopping cart, from $10 to $15 per card. I'm afraid that by doing so I'll simply be giving myself more permission to spend even more time on them, and I'm aware that there's a ceiling for pricing on these small drawings. I'm not sure where, and I don't want to hit it.

Drawings that span multiple cards can be rendered in almost any configuration and orientation. Here is a 1x2 drawing based on Soul Warden:

I also have done some World of Warcraft card sketches:

(L)Retainer Kai (R)Slay or Stay

It is Possible, But Very Difficult

The Scenario
A few times over the years, usually at San Diego Comic-Con, I have had a parent or two accompany a child, perhaps in middle-school or so, to my table. Sometimes the child knows who I am, sometimes not--Comic-Con is notorious for being populated by people with sketchbooks who will wander the floor looking for artist types who they will ask to sign or draw in their books simply because they look artsy. (Note: I do not look artsy)

In this scenario, whether they know me or not is not important. The parents will then proceed to scope out my work, their eyes moving across my table of prints, some small originals, drawings and the like, to behind me where I might have a larger work or two on an easel. Then one will say to me that their child likes to draw and ask would I mind looking at their work. Naturally I'm happy to, so the child will sheepishly (or with parental goading) pass me a sketchbook or binder or whatever. I'll have a flip-through, trying to think of what this budding artist might need to hear at this time. While doing so, the parent will then casually ask me the real question:

"So, can you really make a living doing this?"

The Dilemma
Suddenly the whole scenario takes on a different tone. No longer am I looking at a youngster's work thinking how I might encourage them or point them in a better direction simply to improve their work. This parent has come to some independent assessment that their child is perhaps getting unusually good, or obsessively interested in art, and is struggling with conflicting desires they have regarding validation and stability. Suddenly the scenario has become such that the parent is looking for evidence that their child has a chance at a stable future, if they pursue art. Or, perhaps they are looking for the proof they need that they should cease encouraging these artistic pursuits, and should instead enroll them in more college prep X courses or whatever. No longer do I hold the innocent art of a kid's free time in my hand. Now I hold their future.

It's a rather awkward situation to be in, but I understand. How should I answer? It's not for me to say it doesn't matter, that the child should do what they love--my values have no sway or influence there, and I'm not sure that's my answer anyway. At the same time, I don't want to crush the aspirations of a young artist. I myself, by Jr. High, was already contemplating a career in the arts, after all--inchoate as the path forward was.

Chief in this is now going to be my estimation of the youth's work. Perhaps I give a confident answer to their first question, that making a living at illustration is a reasonable expectation. However, their particular child may not yet show signs that they would be able to attain it.

The Answer
I've taken to answering in the following way, and this answer holds true for anyone looking to enter this field, regardless of how old (at least in this genre, though many illustrator friends in other genres might agree): "Yes, it is possible, but very difficult." I can't lie to them--it is likely that their child would earn a better living doing almost anything else. And I really mean that. I know illustrators who earn comfortable livings through their art--these tend to be artists at the top of their game, however. Ones you all know by name already. But they are not the majority, or even a sizable minority. I usually go on to say a second true thing: "I've been at this now for (15+ or whatever) years. Some years I have done alright, other years have been very difficult. Overall, if I didn't have a supportive wife with a regular paycheck most years, I couldn't have maintained a freelance career this long." They've scoped out my work and have judged it at this point. I leave it to them to consider whether that's surprising or not.

Life as a freelance illustrator, compared to everyone else

From there I'll move forward with my thoughts for their kid. Here I'll speak to their child directly. My advice will always be to encourage them in what they are doing right, to give them 1-2 very specific things they should do, or projects to try, and warn them away from a bad habit or two.

The parents are usually appreciative of my advice and candor, and go on their way. I then sit back and wonder what I might've just done. Will this child be allowed to continue pursuing art? Will they naturally move on to other interests anyway? Have I foreclosed on the possibilities for this kid? Have I introduced a rift that'll plague their relationship forevermore, as a growing-in-seriousness artist is not supported by parents who have their best interests at heart? Will this person be made to pursue another field, only to regret it years later, retrain and try to reclaim their passion after years of therapy and a marriage ruined by unhappiness from their other career? Ok, perhaps some of this is a little overblown. Perhaps.

Or, is it possible that they'll be steered away from illustration as a career, live a happy life doing something else for which they will be paid comfortably, and that I might have just saved them from years of personal and financial difficulty? Perhaps I'll never know. Perhaps one day one of them will approach me again and let me know.

It's odd how a 5-minute conversation has the chance for becoming the turning point in a person's life. I'm guessing/hoping those parents will ask the same question of other artists. I know some folks will want to put the best face forward for the industry, or perhaps avoid admitting their own financial situation and feeling judged as a result. I can only hope that my counsel is weighed against others'.

End of an Era

Back in 1996, I picked up a book on HTML at a local bookstore. Now, some of you may have been born around that time, so let me paint the picture a little: Firefox's grandfather, Netscape Navigator, was in version 2.0. The internet on Netscape's father, Mosaic, was so poor and difficult to get around on on my 28.8 modem, that I went to a store and purchased the browser in a box.

I then learned the bulk of basic HTML, played around a lot, and created my first website, mostly by hand-coding. That website, hosted on my dial-up internet provider account, was called Daydream Graphics. That I created it showed a certain technological impatience on my part. I wanted a website for my own work, and I was frustrated that so few artists had websites back then. In 1996. In retrospect, given the state of the internet and my own efforts to get one up, it made complete sense why no one wanted to bother. As it is, many artists don't want to bother even now, or to maintain one that's been put up. So, I reached out to some friends and said, "Look, I'm doing the work already. Why don't I do it for all of us?" It was harder back then to find your way to various artists websites, so having us all grouped together, in theory, would mean more people would find us, and then find the others. Cross-pollination.

The business model was based on a couple of key goals, which were and remain important to me, having been on the butt-end of so many deals illustrators get handed:

1. I would take a modest commission on sales and facilitate everything. A real gallery can easily take up to 50% of sales. Granted, they have rents and the like. Still, that means that the price of art increases significantly, since if an artist wants to eat, they either raise their prices to account for some of that, or they suffer for the benefit of getting their work out there. I took as low a commission as I could.
2. Pay artists reliably and on time. I've been stiffed on payments plenty of times as an illustrator, so I promised I would never, ever, stiff an artist. I paid quarterly, and in 15 years have never once stiffed an artist. There were a couple of times when expenses had fallen past income. In those cases, I wrote a check out of my personal account. At worst I was late a few days, usually due to deadlines...in an industry when months-long delays can be common.

Beyond that, customer service is always a huge goal for any business. Because I was working with illustrators who sometimes disappeared under deadlines, the bulk of my issues ended up being trying to keep a customer informed on the status of an occasionally late order.

Over the 15 years I've worked on DDG, I have greatly enjoyed getting to know many of the artists who came and went, and when I was able to write a large check to any of them from time to time, I felt warm fuzzies knowing I was contributing to the careers of an illustrator whose work I admired. Some artists eventually moved on, but never with any acrimony. Sometimes an illustrator was just ready to take control of their web presence. Sometimes their career changed to where they had other web presence needs. Whatever the case, there was never any ill will at all among any of us.

Because of all that, I do have a little sadness in saying that as of May 1, 2011, or near enough, Daydream Graphics will close up shop.

I say a little sadness, because it just feels right, it's the right time. Had I been forced to close up earlier, I would've been much more sad about it. But, the world has moved on, and probably had moved on awhile back. The writing has been on the wall for a couple of years now. I spent a good amount of time thinking and deciding whether it was worth my time to overhaul the whole thing again for a new era, what that would entail; I did some research and crunched some numbers and decided against it. All the factors were properly aligned, and so I'm letting it go.

All the artists were told about this 6 months ago or so, so they could make plans to migrate their sites elsewhere. Whether they do or not is up to them. Any custom URLs they have should point you to their sites, as they become available.

Some changes, moving forward:

1. We will cease taking orders via DDG April 15th. That may include my own site, temporarily, although I am close to having changes done that would mitigate any loss of service on my site. We will continue to honor all customer support for outstanding orders until they are cleared out.
2. About May 1, the artists' sites will be pulled down. My own site should stay up during that time.
3. Shortly after May 1, my own site (http://gallegosart.com), will migrate to the home page. As you know, currently the site lives at gallegosart.com/artists/gallegos/whatever. After that, it'll simply move up two folders to gallegosart.com/whatever. I plan to keep all existing links working, with code that will redirect old links to their new homes, invisibly.
4. At that time, visiting daydream-graphics.com will simply take you to gallegosart.com. The DDG header bar on my site will disappear.
5. Hopefully with no break, the store aspect of my site will resume. I'm working on it now. At that time, it will be completely integrated with PayPal checkout, bypassing DDG's now-cumbersome checkout process and its rusty errors.

So, for those of you who visit my blog and my site, it should remain up the whole time, with only a few bumps. In the end, you'll get a better gallegosart.com and this page as a memory of DDG.

Thanks to all the artists who have called DDG their home over the years: Matt Wilson, Bryon Wackwitz, Drew Tucker, Ben Thompson, Jean-Pierre Targete, Brian Snoddy, Adam Rex, RK Post,  Terese Nielsen, Jim Nelson,  Jeff Miracola, Quinton Hoover, Liz Danforth, Matt Cavotta, and Jason Behnke. Many apologies if I've forgotten someone.

And thanks to you for your support of DDG over the years. Your patronage made a real impact in the lives of the artists you've supported. You literally helped put roofs over our heads and food in our bellies.

Those of you who continue to follow my work--thanks for doing so. We'll continue riding this track without the other box cars. See you next week!

Museum Studies, Pt.8

LIONS!

African Lion 5.5x8" Conte on paper (purchase info)

The Hall of African Mammals at the American Museum of Natural History is a main attraction, being the first thing you might enter if you walk in the main hall and head straight down the central aisle. It has some amazing dioramas, on two levels, including a pack of Elephants in the middle of it. I'm particularly happy to see that a large reason why these dioramas are so impressive is that they are backed by incredibly well-done and large paintings, which form panoramic backdrops, and more often than not blend convincingly with the foreground rock and plant elements. Honestly, as a painter, the backgrounds of many of the dioramas at the AMNH are worth a visit to see on their own. Fantastic landscape and wildlife work.

Chief among the dioramas is the African Lion, for obvious reasons--he's the King of Beasts. Everyone loves a lion, and lions are among the first animals children learn about due to their legendary ferocity. This means that drawing in front of this diorama is very difficult. Drawing in this particular hall is very difficult, actually.

First off, the entire hall is very dimly lit, so as to allow the lighting in each diorama to reign, it seems. This isn't the case in other equally-effective areas (like the bird dioramas), so I've avoided drawing in this hall due to the very dim light.

Secondly, as I said, this hall is popular. People are coming by to look, and they often take flash photos in front of it. All the kids yell, "Look! Lion," and drag parents over to see. I can't very well stand right in the center of it and draw for an hour or so. So, I chose a spot off to one edge, and tried to stay out of the way of the informational placard. Being near to it also gave me a little more light, from the diorama itself.

African Lion, 5.5x7" Conte on paper (purchase info)

True to life, there is only one maned male in the scene, and a few females. So to draw him again, I changed my angle and height. This angle would have required that I stand right in the center. As I said, I couldn't do that, so I backed up and sat down on a bench under the elephants. After standing for the first drawing, this was a relief anyway. However, now it meant that this drawing took a lot longer than it should have. A constant stream of folks came by to stand at the glass, and so my view was obscured constantly. I had to wait, get a few-seconds glimpse, and draw while waiting for folks to enjoy and move on.

Before I venture into this hall again in the future, I'll remember to bring my wife's mini book-lamp. I draw on a standard office clipboard, and it would've solved the lighting issue and helped the drawing. Of course, it would also draw attention, which I'm not too big on.