Ellen Million (ellenmillion) wrote,
Ellen Million


padparadscha gave me five words to elaborate on. I have lost the exact verbage of the mememe, but if you comment, I'll give you five words of your own...


Artists get all kinds of stereotypes applied to them. And they can live up to them, sometimes. I've got firsthand experience with every variety of flake and empty-headed ego. I've dealt with every stripe of angst and emo. I've handled plenty of people who were excellent illustrators, but will never be artists.

Artists are artists because they can't be anything else. I apply this all forms of creativity, not just visual. Artists are the people who have stories, or pictures, or music in their heads, and they have no choice in sharing them.

Some people call it 'muse.' Some consider it 'passion.' Whatever you call it, it defines an artist, and propels them through life.

That the same word is used to define a profession of creating art only confuses the issue.

Art (yes, those are two different concepts in my head)

Mine as well. Some incredible art has been created not from passion, but from a simple need to pay the bills. Does this decrease from the value of the final product? Not in the slightest. In some cases, work for money can be formulaic, and uninspired. But those cases where it isn't? It can be as awesome and moving as anything driven by a muse. Fortunate indeed is the artist who makes his money by happy coincidence of muse and hire.


This is the most common cause of the above muse/money harmony.

I (perhaps naively) feel that very little is not within reach with the proper application of diligence.

I offer no proof of it, though.


Unicorns get a bum rap.

They are little, weak, attracted to virgins, and sort of... well, wussy.

I wanted different unicorns.

The first one I drew was a Christmas card for EMG. It was simple linework, a big, tough looking, hairy unicorn in a snowstorm. (I've been trying to find this image, and failing.)

From there, I went through dozens of iterations, before settling on snow-unicorns as they are defined now.

My unicorns? Have cloven hooves as big as your torso, and fur like a muskox. They aren't telepathic, or particularly intelligent, and they provide raw, brute labor for their rangers. The thing about virgins? That one always seemed a bit far-fetched.

I made unicorns I could *like.*


It's cold here, yes. But it's supposed to get into the 90s next week. We have extremes, lots of them. The days are forever in the summer and the nights never end in the winter. I walked to school underneath Northern Lights. I sit in hot pools outside at 40 below. I lived without running water. The produce is crummy in the winter and shipping costs too much.

I grew up here, so this is what I consider 'normal.'

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