Today was the first day bag to school for my kids. And for the first time, they took their lunches not in brown paper bags decorated with dad's drawings, but in standard, reusable canvas box, bags pre-printed with characters of their choice.
This has been a fun activity for the last two years. But for now, it's time to take an extended hiatus on lunch-baggery.
There are two reasons for me abandoning the kid's lunch bag drawings.
One is that the kids requested it. Not that they are embarrassed by dad's goofy bags (anything but!). But, believe it or not, they both expressed desire for reusable lunch bags, expressly for environmental reasons. They are kids with big hearts and minds and I couldn't be prouder. I experimented with making reusable, washable bags out of chalkboard cloth or oilcloth that I could draw on, but the medium wasn't going to work for me.
The other reason is that, in the second half of last school year, I was becoming decreasingly less motivated, and finding the process less fulfilling. Maybe the story-telling effort of the Baglands was just a little too much. Maybe having twice as many bags in year two caught up with me. Maybe I became anxious about other things that I wanted to accomplish, and this just became one more obligation keeping me from other projects. Maybe I was just burned out. Whatever the reason, I found that instead of being happy to draw a bag, I was happy to not have to draw a bag. And I didn't miss it once school let out. Even the lagging of my posting the bags online (it was two and a half months by the time I got caught up) demonstrates how I'd become disinterested.
But it's been a fun experiment while it lasted. The kids enjoyed it, I enjoyed it, and some people out in the world whom I've never met have enjoyed it. So much good has come out of this little lark. I've grown a little artistically. And I've grown a lot in my ability to stick to a routine schedule. I've always been horrendously bad and sticking to something on a regular, sustained basis when it wasn't required by some higher authority. That fact that I more or less kept up with this for two months, let alone two years, kind of astounds me.
So what's filling the whole left behind by brown paper bags and markers? I have been meaning to direct my attention to some professional development goals for a few years now, so I'm hoping I can find the same diligence with that that I did with the lunch bags. And once I become comfortable with my progress there, perhaps I'll finally dig in on a sustained effort for an ongoing webcomic. Or I'll produce one of the several children's books floating through my head. Or something else. Or, next year, I'll pick up this blog where it left off with more lunch bag drawings. Only time will tell.
In the meantime, feel free to stop by, have a look around, and drop me a line.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Friday, August 8, 2014
My girl
The last bag of the school year. Since I ended my son's bag year with a cartoon portrait, I figured it fitting to do the same for my daughter. But this one didn't catch me by surprise, so I put more than five minutes into it.
My boy
I thought I had timed the Baglands story to end with the last sack lunch of the year. I missed it by one day for each child. And I found out I hadn't on the morning of my son's final bag lunch of the year. Wish I hadn't been confused, because I would have done something more memorable that this hastily drawn cartoon portrait of him for his last bag of the year.
Baglands. Episode 24.
Thus ends the Baglands saga.
Its been a fun journey, for me, my kids, their fictional counterparts, and hopefully all five of you who read through my increasingly sporadic posting schedule to reach the end.
I discovered some surprising things about my children's senses of humor and their still maturing understanding and awareness of standard storytelling tropes. This final installment, for example, totally perplexed them. My son wanted to know how they got back home in their beds. Even after I explained it, he seemed dubious.
I didn't have any particular goal in mind in terms of story length or depth, other than I wanted to be sure to wrap it up before the semester was over. I figured it would go on for maybe a month, but that was before discovering that the story bags took a little more of my attention, causing me to occasionally take a break when I wasn't feeling up to it. I started with a very rough idea of the basic classic framework of heroes enter the unknown land, receive counsel from a wise sage, endure three trials on their journey, and finally reach home once again.
Given my lack of intent, I was pleasantly surprised to discover I had apparently developed an innate sense of comic-story pacing over the years. You see, the story ended up at 24 episodes (essentially 24 pages). This is significant because that is the length of the standard, traditional US comic book is 24 pages (or was, prior to some budget stretching issues at DC a few years ago). The few other times I have written a comic story (24-hour comic day), I've used this convention. Discovering I instinctually pace comic stories out to 24 pages--even when plotting them out a handful of pages at a time, staggering over several months--just kind of made me happy. Even moreso because for the first time in three years, I failed to take part in 24 -hour comic day this year. And each bag, once I figure in time for plotting and writing probably took a bit under an hour. Which means I more or less did my 24-hour comic this year. I just stretched it out over a few months.
Baglands. Episode 23.
Another serious beat was in order before the comic adventure came to a close.
Not sure why it took me until nearly the end of my story to bother finding a pen that was a good weight and feel for legible lettering.
Scribblenauts Flash
Day three of lazy, not really up to bag-art crayon drawings. This time The Flash, in the style of Scribblenauts.
The kids and I had been reading the DC Scribblenauts comic series. And they have really enjoyed it. I got to have a conversation with Josh Elder, the series writer, at C2E2. It was apparent that he enjoyed putting the series together as much if not more than my kids have enjoyed reading it.
Action Cats
Still not feeling up to full awesome on the bags, its another crayon day. This time with some Action Cats from the guys out at Aw Yeah Comics. Because Art's simple character designs are my goto on lazy bag days.
Herobear
I was feeling a bit meh and couldn't be bothered to go get my markers for this day's Herobear bags. Whatever crayons where rattling around in the drawer next to me were deemed good enough.
If you are unfamiliar with Mike Kunkel's Herobear and the Kid, you should fix that. It's what Bill Waterson's Calvin and Hobbes might have done worked in animation for Cartoon Network (but was, admittedly, less sharp as a humorist.)
Faster pussycat
This was almost a no-bag-art day. I had forgotten. I was tired. I was probably running late for work. My wife was just starting to apologize to whichever child was about to get a plain brown paper bag (I forget who I was about to let down. Besides myself).
But then I reminded myself of a mantra that has helped me push through 24-hour comic day several years: It doesn't need to be good. It just needs to be. Two minutes later, I was only running behind by another two minutes.
Overwhelmed with requests
I was invited into my daughters class to give a little presentation about my job. The kids where attentive and engaged as I showed them illustrations that went beyond their favorite characters colored brown paper bags, and brochures and advertisements that went way beyond their favorite characters colored brown paper bags. But, inevitably, when question time rolled around, things devolved into a game of "can you draw X?"
Of course, I could draw X . But that wasn't the point. The point was "would I, please, right now, draw X?" Which I did not. Because: time (mostly).
So, for my daughter's bag the next day, I slapped down a giraffe, a teenage mutant ninja turtle, a mermaid, and a ninja, thus covering at least 50% of the requests.
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