#hourlycomicsday no. 1; midnight
(three panel black and white comic: a desk with some junk and drawing tools, captioned "hourly comic day begins... this year it is Saturday." a hand holding a black marker, captioned "will this be the year my ancient warm black finally dies?" a hand turning off a light switch, captioned "let's find out".)
Hello, my lovely #MastoArt-ists!
February 1st is Hourly Comics Day!
On Hourly Comics Day, artists and cartoonists all over the world celebrate by drawing one (short, sketchy) autobio comic for every hour they're awake. It's a great way to chronicle your day and get to know your fellow artists.
the thing about getting a drastically appearance altering haircut before #hourlycomicsday is that i've spent very little time doodling myself in this new look so here we are
(three pencil sketches of me, two wearing cycling caps and one wearing a big animal-eared hood)
cracks knuckles might as well refresh myself on how to update my own instagram clone https://modgethanc.com/instagram/4efc882a96a7e09a56c66836ae320853.html
i've learned that i benefit a lot from having some distance (physical, temporal, psychological) between exposing film and looking at it closely. i'm going back over collections of years and years of older images and collating patterns, neuroses, dreams. it feels like me, but not always me.
slowly, carefully coming out of an art hibernation. might run some prints again in the near future. gotta develop this film backlog. gonna declare todo forgiveness on my whole studio tasklist and start over.
it's personal work, which i tell myself means there's nothing at stake, but it really means that there's everything at stake.
The boy curled up in the corner of the barn, weeping silently, too completely exhausted to move even when the hens flocked over him. The clucking was actually a little comforting.
"Where did that useless girl get to," the farmer growled, peering at the heap of hens before moving along, calling out for his child.
The hens couldn't help him as there was no girl in the barn; just a hatching egg that needed warmth and protection.
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i can't say for sure if i've refocused at all; if anything, relaxing that pressure has left me even more scattered and lost. but, i've spent so much of this year being curious, letting myself be vulnerable, exploring new landscapes and meeting new bodies, that it certainly feels worth it for the unexpected growth i found.
life is strange, and there is beauty in the mystery, even when it is hard. i still regret nothing.
be easy with yourselves as we spin towards the solstice, friends.
and it was good to have that intentional pause, even if it meant dropping habits, letting skills rust over, losing connections with others, because that's what i needed to do to make space in my own head.
this year i bought a house, started therapy, processed the early stages of social transition, buried ghosts, and laid some big questions to myself wide open.
i told a mentor, "i'm taking some time off to refocus my priorities."
we're coming up on the end of the year and i'm loving all the reflections coming through; it's really an honor to feel this community here and to listen to everyone's stories.
when i look back on my own posts on this instance and think about my work, i'm acknowledging that it was a down year for me, a year to withdraw and observe and sit quietly without putting things out there. i had to deliberately relieve myself of the pressure to produce, especially to produce mindlessly.
hey, it's december!
this month, year after year, was once horrifically excruciating for me. 7 years ago i experienced a trauma. 3 years ago i made a comic processing it. last week i realized making this zine was legitimate therapy. today i am doing well.
read it for free (or PWYW) here: http://binglin.itch.io/december
content warnings are in the link.
My latest! Wanted to do something a bit harder, more editorial & direct that usual. Originally made for the Holodeck‘s risobook anthology Future Conditional, ‘The Last to Drown’ imagines the logical outcome our current situation–a global society that privileges whiteness, militarism & extractive capitalism, turning a blind eye to their consequences. As rich as the richest get, as tall as their towers are built, all they’ll be is the last to drown.
I'm Binglin, a nonbinary artist whose day job is at an aquarium doing graphic design. For fun, I like to knit and cook and draw furries. My goal is to keep exploring and growing my personal art practice, and to always keep trying new things. Here are a few different ways I like to work!
(I've got more links and tidbits on my bio 😊)
(when i was asked what animal i would be, i hesitated and said, 'uh...a.....rabbit.......' and they were both like 'omg totally see it you're so quick and running around all the time' while i was crunching down a mouthful of raw bell pepper and thumping my foot out of nervousness)
give me a bicycle or i'll run everywhere
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