Chapter Four Pencils, Stephen Fry's Greek Myths

This week, in order to learn how to put a saddle and a bridle on a horse — and knowing I have a lot of horse drawing in my future — I subscribed to a bunch of Horse Lifestyle YouTube channels. And you know what? I was expecting my Recommended Videos to get weird. They didn't and I'm disappointed.

[ As always, spoilers in the images! ]

I just really like this panel (below).

I thought the pencilling for this chapter was going really quickly, and it was, because there are a lot of pages where everything is shrouded in an Eerie Mist. Just like in video game development, if you want things to go faster, just add a bunch of fog. This fact was confirmed once I did, in fact, have to draw some environments again. I see you, Superman 64.

I'm very much looking forward to colouring that last panel there. Same with the whole encounter below. I'm sharing it because I think it's fun, but I'm glad it's barely legible because I do want it to be surprising when you see it finished.

I have really been enjoying pencilling this chapter (as has been the case with every chapter, I guess). They say if you enjoy performing the work that goes making The Thing, then people will feel that spirit when they read/watch/encounter That Thing. Is that true? I hope so. Specifically, I hope it's as true for my work as it is for Stephen Fry's…

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STEPHEN FRY'S GREEK MYTHS

Over the last few weeks, on my drawing days, I have been tearing through the audiobooks of Stephen Fry's MYTHOS, HEROES, and TROY. I had dismissed them at first, but when I dug in, I was surprised how deeply I connected with them.

After some intense navel-gazing (writing the grant applications), I've been wondering: is my whole investment in the Delilah Dirk setting and time period a way to interact with and process my own parents' enthusiasms and values? I grew up in a middle-class suburban home, the child of two teachers. Our hallways were lined with photos that my dad had taken in Greece during his and my mom's travels there. You know what happens when you hang something on the walls of a home: it becomes an icon. If a dad hangs a framed hockey jersey on the wall, you think his kid isn't going to strap on some skates?

Our bookshelves, too, were stocked with all the hallmarks of Western European academic ideals: National Geographics, The Decline and Fall of The Roman Empire, some giant book with an ancient bronze mask on the cover, eyes hollowed out, green with patina. That sort of thing. You might now be able to perfectly picture my dad, the university professor, without my having described any of his physical characteristics. I'd wager your guesses would be accurate.

So maybe that's why, despite liking Stephen Fry's whole deal, I felt these books pushing me away. An old Oxford-educated Briton talking about Greek Mythology is the bullseye on the dartboard of Things I Assume Dad Would Like. That means I would be repulsed by it (ugh, that's a dad thing) while simultaneously having little Jeeves-shaped blood cells flowing through my veins.

And… I loved the books!* Above, I denied being able to tell when someone has poured their love and enjoyment into a creative work, but I might be wrong. It feels easy to hear Stephen Fry's passion here, and not just in his voice. His narrative recounts the myths in a mostly-straightforward fashion, but the points when he interjects with his usual brand of humour or to make connections — they feel well-placed, added with restraint and care. And he is kind: he makes all of this very accessible, so despite the halo of academic baggage associated with classical studies, there is no gatekeeping. Again, I should not be surprised. This has always been part of his Whole Thing.

Additionally, his appendices to each book include some wise suggestions as to how to we (and the ancient Greeks might) interpret the various aspects of the myths, which I appreciated and am in the process of internalizing.

I almost want to re-start Hades now.

* This should not be a surprise! (Slaps self across the face.) I loved Madeline Miller's SONG OF ACHILLES and CIRCE, and Annabel Lyon's THE GOLDEN MEAN. If you take nothing else away from your time joining me on this Patreon, let it be this: the degree to which I will sabotage my own interests is, frankly, astonishing.

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This post is going up a day late on account of both the kiddo and I were laid out yesterday with some sort of cold. I knew that when he started going to preschool, he was going to get sick. A lot. What I didn't expect is that I, myself, would catch a little bit of whatever he has and spend my days in a weird sort of twilight limbo of illness, not quite sick but never feeling great. I'm familiar with the arc of the usual kind of colds I get, and this is very different, and I'll be honest with you: I do not care for it.

Anyway, we're both better today. And kiddo seems to really like preschool, so we don't want to take him out. We'll just have to stock up on Children's Tylenol.

A wild thing about preschool (if I can linger on Dad Chat™ for a moment longer) is that the teachers will share photos from the day, and for the very first time I am seeing this little goof interacting with and participating in the world without either of his parents. This is weird because for his entire life up til this point, except for the occasional visit with his grandparents, one of us has always been with him. No duh, one might say, except it's so perfectly expected and it's so taken for granted that it feels strange to realize it.

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I'm finishing up pencilling for Chapter Four over the next few days. Then I want to take a bit of time to revisit HOW TO GET THERE, and then? It's inking time!

Until next week,
I remain,
sabotaging my own interests,

TC