Metal 🤘

Despite being a fan of fantasy and sci-fi stories for most of my life - and drawing characters from those stories for several years - there’s one visual staple of those worlds that I’ve avoided like the plague: armor. Something about that combination of shininess, intricacy, and weight always made me balk. So when it came to drawing armor in my own art, I tended to gloss over it and let it disappear into some conveniently-located fog. 

I realized I needed to change my ways when I sat down to draw a character whose face was hidden by a gold-colored armor mask. I did the best that I could, but the result looked less like gold, more like cheddar cheese. I ended up discarding the drawing, but in the back of my mind I wanted to try one more time - this time, slightly better prepared.

So I grabbed some images of armor from my favorite movies and games, and looked at them - carefully, this time - and tried to replicate what I saw. The notions that used to intimidate me started to become concrete and understandable: shininess comes from light bouncing off the surface, creating bright highlights and reflecting the surrounding environment; intricacy comes from combining different pieces so that the wearer can move; and heaviness comes through in shadows that convey the thickness of the material. Even little details, like filigreeing and wear-and-tear, became logical and even captivating.

I’ve still got a lot to learn but I’m glad I took a step towards de-mystifying this topic for myself. You can see some of my process in these videos.

A song of mice and fire

In what feels like a long-lost era, I used to love going to conventions and other events where you could experience works of art - whether music, videogames, or paintings - and learn about the people who made them. The last and biggest one I attended in 2020 was PAX East, a game festival held in Boston. Among the many thoughtful talks and dazzling demos, the part that I found most memorable was the panel discussion with the music team from Supergiant Games, who talked about the studio’s history and creative process.

What excited me most was the style of collaboration between the music composer and the game developers: both sides were able to contribute ideas and influence each other’s directions, while still respecting each other’s creative independence. This idea caught my attention because it sounded like the type of collaboration that I would love to be part of: music has always been a huge part of my life, including how I get ideas for art. While I don’t write music myself (much), being able to somehow contribute to a piece of music would be a dream. And although creating art on my own is fun, bringing other people’s visions into my universe can create even more possibilities for imagination and learning.

So I was excited to try my own experiment in iterative art-music collaboration, with a composer friend! It started with a simple sketch that I had made: an ancient, veiled statue surrounded by falling leaves - one of which carries a duo of mouse adventurers.

As it turned out, this odd combo of austerity and whimsy was sufficient inspiration for a musical composition, whose melancholic harmonies and mysterious vocals guided my choices of color and atmosphere as I fleshed out the drawing.

It also spurred a lot of thought about possible stories behind the image. Who is the statue of? When was the last time a human set foot here? Are the mice hoping to find something in this dark place, or are they fleeing from somewhere worse?

I don’t have answers to these questions, at least not yet. Maybe telling more of the story - or finding someone to tell more of the story! - will be the next step in the process. In any case, you can see the finished picture below, and also listen to the (IMO, very beautiful) song that goes with it.

Clarence Yapp (Composer) · Of Mice And Women