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I drew a portrait a month ago that I was proud of. It was a mastercopy, so the master artist, Jacob Collins, had worked out the composition, the color palette -- all the planning problems. All I had to do was make a good copy of his painting, and soak in the artistic wisdom. I spent about 15 hours on it, using about 30 colors of pastel pencil.
Later, I decided to frame the drawing, and I found a good frame in my studio. I only needed the mats. I prepared my drawing for a trip to the frame shop. I looked around for a sheet of slippery paper to tape over the drawing to protect it. I couldn't find anything in my studio, and I was running out of time. I went into the house and I saw a roll of wax paper on the kitchen counter. Eureka! Wax paper! It's cheap, it's on hand, and it should work. I tore off a sheet and taped it over my drawing.
At the frame shop, I removed the wax paper and chose the mats. (Why do I always choose expensive mats?) I put the wax paper back on, and I put the drawing in the back of my car. I drove to school to attend a painting class. The drawing sat in my car for the whole afternoon, and it was a warm day. As I later discovered, the wax paper warmed up, leaving spots of melted wax on my drawing.
Back at home I removed the wax paper and stared. My drawing! My drawing! Oh no!
It was ruined. For the next two days, I felt depressed. I moped. I thought about tearing up the drawing. I thought about ways to salvage it. I couldn't really think about anything else. Eventually, I came back to life and did a little studio organizing.
Now the drawing is hanging on the studio wall, unframed. It will not be framed or offered for sale. I will, however, refer to it when working on my next portrait.
The morals of the story are: (A) Child, step away from the wax paper. (B) When one drawing dies, another will surely be born. Have a good cry, and make your way back to the easel.
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Update (2018): I framed the drawing after all, wax spots and all, and hung it in our bedroom. A cautionary tale.
Later, I decided to frame the drawing, and I found a good frame in my studio. I only needed the mats. I prepared my drawing for a trip to the frame shop. I looked around for a sheet of slippery paper to tape over the drawing to protect it. I couldn't find anything in my studio, and I was running out of time. I went into the house and I saw a roll of wax paper on the kitchen counter. Eureka! Wax paper! It's cheap, it's on hand, and it should work. I tore off a sheet and taped it over my drawing.
At the frame shop, I removed the wax paper and chose the mats. (Why do I always choose expensive mats?) I put the wax paper back on, and I put the drawing in the back of my car. I drove to school to attend a painting class. The drawing sat in my car for the whole afternoon, and it was a warm day. As I later discovered, the wax paper warmed up, leaving spots of melted wax on my drawing.
Back at home I removed the wax paper and stared. My drawing! My drawing! Oh no!
It was ruined. For the next two days, I felt depressed. I moped. I thought about tearing up the drawing. I thought about ways to salvage it. I couldn't really think about anything else. Eventually, I came back to life and did a little studio organizing.
Now the drawing is hanging on the studio wall, unframed. It will not be framed or offered for sale. I will, however, refer to it when working on my next portrait.
The morals of the story are: (A) Child, step away from the wax paper. (B) When one drawing dies, another will surely be born. Have a good cry, and make your way back to the easel.
---
Update (2018): I framed the drawing after all, wax spots and all, and hung it in our bedroom. A cautionary tale.
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