Category: Toms

Warts and all

It’s #SelfieArt Day today (25th April) so I thought I’d have a go.

Now, regular visitors know that my Selfies are somewhat strange things, usually consisting only of the top of my head, but lately, my eyes have been getting something of a showing as well. I decided to use one of these Selfies for my first ever actual watercolour (on paper) painting. I usually do digital stuff (badly – but I have a go!) but lately I’ve been getting the urge to use watercolours and oils.

I’ve bought myself an easel, a set of paints – two actually – several stretched canvases (is that canvi?) and umpteen different sized brushes… and haven’t used any of them yet. Instead, I also bought myself a couple of mixed media A4 sized ring-bound art pads and a tin of el-cheapo watercolour paints which came with a brush. And it is with these that I have produced my first ever cartoon watercolour. Just for a practice run, I must add.

I was expecting a masterpiece and got a smudge.

The face is blotchy and a strange yellow/red colour, but I decided to use that photo anyway. The hair is terrible, but I’m used to that. And the eyes are two different sizes – something I hadn’t really noticed before, until I started analysing my features in minute detail. Not different in size as in Quasimodo (or is that Popeye? I always get them mixed up) standards, but noticeable never the less when you look. Unless the photo was taken when I had one of my eye-twitches. That must be it. The large eye had a blain at the time of the photo as well, so that could have been slightly swollen. I’ll go with that as well.

So, I quickly sketched a basic head shape, popped in a couple of odd-sized eyes, and scribbled a few strands of hair. Then, I used most of the yellow paint filling in the gaps.

I’m my own worst enemy, and gave myself just one hour to do it in. Time’s short, and I’m well behind on my blog visiting and replying to comments, yet here I was painting.

The more I painted, the more the el-cheapo brush’s bristles started to flare outwards. When it came to painting the eyes, the bristles were that far akimbo every stroke went beyond where I intended them… so the odd-sized eyes became even odder. I just went with it. Five minutes left, I had no time to worry about such things.

The strokes became dabs and then that was it. Time was up. The result is published above, with the original Selfie (although I shan’t say which is which!)

The last Selfie I painted, digitally, was this one:

This one, however, was completely from memory, and it was at a time when I desperately needed a haircut. I think it was this one anyway, my memory isn’t quite what it used to be.

So, there we have it. A first for this blog. I doubt I’ll be getting any commissions for portraits to appear on bank notes or anything like that, but that doesn’t matter. I spent a good hour sploshing a few colours around, and the next hour being hyper-critical on myself. All in jest, obviously!

With thanks to Charlie at Doodlewash, who told me about the SelfieArt Day, and naturally I had to create something… I have a 2,000th post deadline to meet. But I’m not giving up… I’ve got all that gear to use now, and good or not so good, it’s all good! I’m sure practice will make perfect. Watch this space!

Through the ages (Part One)

I stumbled across a box of old photographs earlier today – and some photos were of me in a past life! I kid you not.

Way back when, long before I was a blogger (and not a very good one for the last few days – I apologise about that!), I was a different person completely.

Back in the year 202AD, I was actually a Roman Emperor. I know! Me! Thomasus of Deva. Apparently, I didn’t last very long in the job, because, according to the limited information I’ve been able to decipher since finding the photographs this afternoon, I was something of a party animal. Far too racy for the hip Romans of the day (and they used to party like there was no tomorrow!) I was deemed somewhat unsuitable for Emperor. The photograph I have of this time is actually a mosaic, but it shows just what a cool dude Thomasus was:

In this lifetime, I haven’t always been as cool. Back in the 1980s, as today, I still had terrible hair (although that came with the bonus of a face full of spots):

I was also the works’ charades champion, but unfortunately, the person who took this photo of me didn’t go to the same Selfie School that I attended, so they managed to get the parts of me into a photo that I usually fail to:

I’ve always been a snappy dresser. Well, with bad hair and spots one has to be.

Back then, I was a very studious person, and used to scrutinise everything I could get may hands on to read:

All that studying meant one thing. There had to be time for parties once again:

(The above photo was one of my early Selfies, where I’d set the timer on the old 110 camera and run around to get into the shot before the time was up. On most occasions, I failed, but some, like the above, I almost made it) Fortunately for me, somebody else managed to take the photo that I failed at:

This trip down memory lane will continue in a future post. There’s a lot of photos to wade through!

Aq uicj essage

Helol!

Fnigers here, Toms ‘ Inner Tpyist. Tmo’s fast asleep right nwo. Shattereda fter a har dyas toli, so I decided to lte my fnigers do the working======alking on his kebyoard nd post a quick mssage..

I kno wthat tom nedes to psot everyday, so I’m helpign out here, I wouldn’t want hmi to miss a day, especi ally withD ecember benig as close asit  is. Lcukily for oTm, Im’ an expret toucht ypist and don;t need to see through To’ms eyes to tpyr. I’m srue Tom wanted to reply to commensy and visit blosg thsi eevning, but cicrumstansec had otehr ideas… atlhuogh he’ll be catchign up tomorrow,

Is the art of writing
In the typing
Or the words
that come across?

Does the style of typing
Affect the writing
I’m at a loss

The written word is the written word
But the written word is not just the story
So the written word typed badly
Is still the same story, surely?

Is a badly typed well-written tale any different to
A bad story typed perfectly?

Pehw. Toko mea ges to type that. To omany carriage retruns.

In eed to move Tom off the mouse now (hes’ sulmped across it) soI  can post this bferoe he wakes.

Bey forn ow… Fnigers!

Professor Y… Oh why oh why?

Secretly, I’ve always fancied myself as a TV star.

Very secretly, as I’m such a private person I don’t think I could cope with the attention that comes with being a TV star, but there’s one side of me that wonders, on occasion, what if?

And another side of me adds to the confusion by saying what if I had a character within me that became a TV star? Not an Inner Being, I hasten to add, but a whole new character.

Then, I was whisked into a parallel universe where such a character exists. Now, what are the chances of that happening?

The character’s name is Merriman. Tom Merriman for short, Tomliam Merriman for long. My doppelgänger in this parallel universe is either very hard working, which is not so unlike myself (at times) or is constantly on repeat.

As I was in this alternate reality, waiting to get back here, I had nothing to do but flick through the TV channels to see what was on.

On one channel, a strange programme about an alien visitor to Earth who travels with a shoebox was starting. Professor Y it was called. Tom Merriman was Professor Y. I watched about five minutes of it, and couldn’t make head nor tail of it, so I switched channels.

The next channel burst forth with the unforgettable Dallas theme tune. The latest episode was just starting, and look who was in it:

 

It must have been from years ago as my alternative-reality-ego looked so much younger than I do today. He does today. We do. Erm. Moving on.

Anyway, I didn’t feel like watching myself in Dallas, so I changed channels yet again.

This time, I was in luck as an episode of Smallville was starting, which was one of my favourite shows from a few years ago. Until I saw who was in it.

I decided to work through the cringing, and watch the episode. Luckily, my character’s double’s character didn’t appear for the first ten minutes of the episode, due to the plotline being set up by a treacherous scientist by the name of KS Elming, tapping into his evil alternative self, known as Mister E, threatening to release the Moon from Earth’s orbit.

I watched from behind the sofa as the character played by the alternative me made his first appearance in the show. I couldn’t bear it. I had to get out.

I ran out of the room, and across the road to the supermarket. When in dire need, get lemonade, I thought.

Worst mistake ever.

Being on every TV channel at the same time has its drawbacks.

The shoppers recognised me. They thought I was him.

Why did I come to the supermarket? I thought, as they tugged, photographed and requested autographs.

Somehow, I managed to escape their clutches and ran out of the shop without my lemonade. Outside the shop, I suddenly realised that I’d been transported back to my correct dimension, and I was out in the Grinds.

Back to normality.

Back to obscurity, more importantly.

Although I now have a very strong urge to watch Space:1999… hopefully without ‘me’ in it.