Creatives of today are often too reliant on the promise and delivery of digital technology. Perhaps it’s easier in digital format than traditional analog media. Or maybe it’s just plain cool to create via Photoshop, Painter, Illustrator, or what ever else emergent digital graphic software are available in the market today. Most will agree that the de facto program is still Adobe Photoshop. Love it or hate, it is still the titan in computer art and design. And most will jump on a chance to complement it with an interactive stylus pen and a pressure sensitive tablet. Wacom, the world’s leading manufacturer of pen tablets and digital interface solutions, offers a range of user input devices that can effectively mimic pen and brush strokes reflective of an artist’s gestures. So it’s no surprising that I, and many other creatives, employ such device when drawing or painting in Photoshop or any other graphics software.
Well, yesterday I found myself at a creative loss. I had not planned on working at a local Starbucks café. I was merely there to relax and surf the internet pathways. (Finally, free Wi-Fi!) Much to my astonishment—I was bored out of my wits online! (How in the hell did that happen?! A real world’s first for me!) I decided to work on an unfinished Photoshop artwork. I was excited. I was anxious. “Let’s get it done and posted online,” I thought to myself. But my creative fervor was immediately reduced to a feeble attempt at completing the piece. I had forgotten my Wacom tablet at home! And I can’t even begin to express how excruciating it is to paint in Photoshop using only the touchpad of my laptop computer! Daubs of the digital brush that required varying degree of opacity, pressure, and strokes felt like a massacre to my hand. I ached and I complained, “This must be what it feels like to paint the Sistine Chapel of Rome using a timber log!” I discovered finger and wrist muscles I never knew existed!
“Aw, hell. I’m going home to get my Wacom,” I thought. I shoved my laptop back in my courier bag and prepared to leave the vicinity of brewed coffee and stressed college students. [A note to my friend, Andrew: It's pronounced as "way-com"... Not "whack-'em"... Big difference! Haha.]
At that same moment, I was approached by a mild-mannered 50-year old man wearing a cerrulean blue shirt and gray khakis. Apparently—or possibly I was just too busy fighting with my laptop’s demonic touchpad—I failed to notice the interesting napkin sketches scattered on the table two feet away from me.
“I saw your art on the computer. Are you a professional artist or a student at Cal Poly [Pomona]?”
“I work as an artist,” I replied.
“Wow, you do good stuff.” He took a sip from his latte (or coffee) and continued, “I wanted to be an artist, too. But I had to do construction work to help out the family.” He gathered his napkin sketches of what seemed like caricatures and cartoons. “See, I love to do animation. My kids… They say, ‘Dad, you should’ve been artist.’” He paused momentarily. Maybe he pondered what life would have been like had he traversed it on a different bearing. Could he have been an artist? A successful one? Perhaps an animator at Disney?
“It’s still not too late,” I reassured. “Your sketches have a lot of promise.”
With a polite grin and a sparkle in his eyes, he said, “You think so? Thanks. Means a lot. It's my passion. But gotta feed the family, you know.” He took another sip from his cup. “I wish I could do art for a living like you.”
“You’re very lucky.”
And with that, I placed my courier bag back on the table… And I pulled out my laptop again. Wacom or no Wacom, there is an artwork to complete... And a passion to enjoy. I learned something important yesterday at that café. I realized that an artist’s greatest tool… is his attitude.
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