So, Pluto is by far my favorite Kuiper Belt object. And at the time I made this picture, it was in the middle of getting some much-needed recognition, and thankfully recognition that transcended its ever-controversial classification as a "dwarf planet". Indeed, Pluto was about to be passed by the New Horizons satellite, which is now, by far, my second favorite Kiuper Belt object. You've probably heard about the pictures New Horizons took of Pluto, and being a fan of the universe's one and only ex-planet, I decided to draw a picture of my top four favorite Kuiper belt objects as the second part of my mini-concentration of "space" (the other one being the deorbit of the ISS). This is actually my first proper digital painting, and it went by without nearly as much frustration or phantom limb syndrome as I was expecting. During this process the thought crossed my mind that if I showed a 12th century artist how I was scratching on a tablet made of manufactured metal and petroleum byproducts in order to make an image on another glowing tablet of a celestial body that is A) not a planet B) not a star and C) impossible to see without telescopes at least the size of buildings, they would probably say, "What is a telescope?" or "Wherefore am I here?" or they would just die from sensory overload because technology has advanced more in seven hundred years than it has for the rest of human history and that's a lot to take in. The real question worth asking, however, is "is Pluto a planet?" Of course it is. The way I see it, a dwarf planet is by all means planet. To say a "dwarf planet" is not a "planet" is like saying a "person with dwarfism" is not a "person"; preposterous. Besides, all that needs to happen for Pluto to be reinstated as a planet is for it to become the dominant source of gravity in its region. This can easily be done with a nuclear blast of the magnitude of several hundred Tsar Bombas onto Pluto's largest moon, Charon (by far my third favorite Kuiper belt object, but sacrifices have to be made sometimes) propelling it away from the premises to the point at which it will no longer influence Pluto's gravity. If I ever find myself with the launch codes to a large enough nuclear arsenal, this would be the first thing I would do. |
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You have beaten me again, watercolor, my old enemy. But be warned: the day will come when you submit to my will and allow me to paint even reflective TARDIS-shaped coin banks with you. You shall rue the day you crossed the line of white wax in between you and I.
It's the art time of year again, and you know what that means: it's time to draw some bottles. Artists since the renaissance have delighted in searching everywhere in a ten mile radius for the most mundane object they can possibly find and drawing a picture of it. Baskets of fruit (mainly containing apples and grapes), for instance, have been popular choice since the 12th century. This was a time where, in Florence, there were 31.38 baskets of fruit for every inhabitant. Bread, flowers, cheese, books, pitchers and wine glasses were other popular subjects and gave way to today's theme: glass bottles. Drawings of glass bottles, while still not as interesting as drawings of Jesus hanging out with a posse of cherubs or something, are still cool enough to get on my summer assignment sheet. Thus, here we are, on a blog that has been neglected for four months, looking at a chalk pastel image of glass bottles. In a rebellious impulse against the overwhelmingly uninteresting history of glass bottle-based still lifes, I chose the most relatively outrageous looking bottles I could find, including a sippy cup. These bottles were not as interesting as, say, a painting of the siege of Constantinople, but were just interesting enough to not discourage me from abandoning the drawing half way through.
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April 2016
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