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Description
I finally got inspiration and was able to draw Sirse again. One of the hardest things to cope with as an artist is the wandering art block. Some days I find I can draw a character with great ease, and the a week later I mindlessly sketch the same pose as before in a futile attempt to create something new.
The ‘Cure’ if you would, to solve this art block is to have a Grand Story Arc (GSA) in progress. With a GSA one is forced to innovate, to think of how postures will affect characters, how they will interact with the environment. This forces the imagination to sculpt and create new ideas.

Time for a true confession, I have run dry for ideas temporarily.

Ideas I do not want to forget and need to finish:

Ombwa and Jerrell

Zootopia: Arctic Drift

Zootopia: Underbelly

Anna and Sandra

And

21s Century Medusa

The forest whispered around her, tree branches swayed scraping their needles against one another in a slow rhythmic fashion that she had come to associate with the breath of the woods. Streams gurgled as they worked their way over rocky outcroppings, splashing as the waters bent and twisted to the curves of the forest floor. Pine needles crunched under her padded feet, stinging in their own bite, yet not puncturing her soft pads.

Three days had passed sense she had been deposited in the woods, away from the bustle of society and the concreate jungle with it’s pulsing lights and steady ebb and flow of traffic. This place was a jungle of its own, and when she had first arrived it had scared her, a wild place that she had all but forgotten about, and had feared. The darkness that crept in undiminished by city lights, and the unheard noises of the forest filtering through the undergrowth to her ears. In place of horns and the dull thumping of night clubs, smaller subtle noises called out to her, the screech of a distant owl, the chitter of field mice, and the brush of foot falls on the forest floor.

There was life here, primal and beating, unblemished and untouched by the paws of civilization and like the primal world she too walked among it unmasked. The wind moved through the branches of the trees as it moved over her naked fur, chilling her as she silently slipped from trunk to trunk. Keeping herself hidden, though she could not recall why seemed important almost as though she were a stranger here in a holy place, unsure if she were welcome or not. The expanse stretched on and on, a wall of green to loose herself in, a red devil slipping from greenery to greenery in a world of beauty.

Somewhere out there she could smell him, her other, a stranger in this land too. Where though she could not see, could not sense, all she knew is that he was out there, here, with her and in this place. Silent feet carried her over the land with grace and ease, scents tickling her nose as she crouched low to the earth. She would find him, or perhaps he would find her, the ancient gods of the forest would tell.

Description
I finally got inspiration and was able to draw Sirse again. One of the hardest things to cope with as an artist is the wandering art block. Some days I find I can draw a character with great ease, and the a week later I mindlessly sketch the same pose as before in a futile attempt to create something new.
The ‘Cure’ if you would, to solve this art block is to have a Grand Story Arc (GSA) in progress. With a GSA one is forced to innovate, to think of how postures will affect characters, how they will interact with the environment. This forces the imagination to sculpt and create new ideas.

Time for a true confession, I have run dry for ideas temporarily.

Ideas I do not want to forget and need to finish:

Ombwa and Jerrell

Zootopia: Arctic Drift

Zootopia: Underbelly

Anna and Sandra

And

21s Century Medusa

The forest whispered around her, tree branches swayed scraping their needles against one another in a slow rhythmic fashion that she had come to associate with the breath of the woods. Streams gurgled as they worked their way over rocky outcroppings, splashing as the waters bent and twisted to the curves of the forest floor. Pine needles crunched under her padded feet, stinging in their own bite, yet not puncturing her soft pads.

Three days had passed sense she had been deposited in the woods, away from the bustle of society and the concreate jungle with it’s pulsing lights and steady ebb and flow of traffic. This place was a jungle of its own, and when she had first arrived it had scared her, a wild place that she had all but forgotten about, and had feared. The darkness that crept in undiminished by city lights, and the unheard noises of the forest filtering through the undergrowth to her ears. In place of horns and the dull thumping of night clubs, smaller subtle noises called out to her, the screech of a distant owl, the chitter of field mice, and the brush of foot falls on the forest floor.

There was life here, primal and beating, unblemished and untouched by the paws of civilization and like the primal world she too walked among it unmasked. The wind moved through the branches of the trees as it moved over her naked fur, chilling her as she silently slipped from trunk to trunk. Keeping herself hidden, though she could not recall why seemed important almost as though she were a stranger here in a holy place, unsure if she were welcome or not. The expanse stretched on and on, a wall of green to loose herself in, a red devil slipping from greenery to greenery in a world of beauty.

Somewhere out there she could smell him, her other, a stranger in this land too. Where though she could not see, could not sense, all she knew is that he was out there, here, with her and in this place. Silent feet carried her over the land with grace and ease, scents tickling her nose as she crouched low to the earth. She would find him, or perhaps he would find her, the ancient gods of the forest would tell.