Nov 26, 2007

Doodle Novel - Vol. 1

'Art for Doodle Novel Vol. 1 - You write the story for this art.'

The fun thing about most doodles, are they allow the one viewing them the opportunity to read into it their own meaning. Most of the doodles I draw have no premeditated idea, they just kind of pour out of my subconscious onto the page and I try not to get in the way. I then take it into Photoshop and continue the artistic experimentation. That is how the above art was created.

Usually that is how the content for a post will begin and end. But I wanted to try something new and that is where you the reader of this blog can play a part. I want to turn these meaningless doodles into what I call a "Doodle Novel".

How it works
- Using "Comments" write a story for the doodle. Anything goes, have fun.
- Weave your yarn as long or as short as you like.
- Include your name

So release your inner scribe and let others enjoy your fictional prose as you author a "Doodle Novel" for my artwork.

I look forward to reading your ideas.


Jorge A. Morales said...

From a poem that I wrote about food while I was angry at my girlfriend and and needed to leave the apartment to vent:


Food has many forms and flavors and forms,

Some whites with black foods and reds and whites.

Everything flavorful, tasty, delicious, and saucy.

"I eat it all! Because I have an insatiable hunger,

the longing of the tongue, saliva teeth, throat and brain.

I can't even breath!"


It makes little sense but I guess I was thinking about how angry I was at my girlfriend and how much I love her at the same time.

I must have had the midnight munchies too.

Jorge Morales.

the deharts said...

After a Thanksgiving wrought with over-eating and not enough sleep, Charlie could only mutter incoherent symbols that seemed to leak onto the subconscious of his listeners....of course, no one told Charlie that he was only wearing his whitey-tighties.

monk1ne said...

Sid Spankmire waited for his ride on the corner of 3rd and Jefferson St. His eyes burned with the fury of an infinite star. Or so he exclaimed in his usual word pictures that would erupt from his mouth and drip on the street.

"Where are my pants?!" He whispered. Sid was often seen wearing only a pair of slightly rancid hanes (with the comfort soft waistband of course) and his uncles fedora. As waited he wondered why this kept happening to him. "I'm not a bad guy" he thought.

At least repeatedly losing his pants isn't as bad as the wing that began to grow from his back last spring. I mean, what can a guy do with one wing. Can't fly. Looks weird. And yellow bubbles float around it. Sheesh!

While contemplating his wing, a maroon Ford Torino creeped up and stopped. The window rolled down and a plume of sweet cigar smoke puffed out. It was Sid's uncle, Raul. "Hop in Sid. I've got a nice handrolled cuban for you" Sid loved to smoke cigars with his uncle and Raul didn't seem to care that Sid din't have any pants on. They drove off.

Seconds later a fat man on a scooter pulled up. "3rd and Jefferson St. just like the note says" he said to himself. "I guess I'll try again tomorrow" He fired up his ride, slung a freshly pressed armani suit over his back and speed off.

Not sure where I was going with this but it was fun to write.

Jeff Burks

Vonster said...

LOL Nice.

Tom Johnson — Graphic Designer said...

Henry, the archangel, in a conversation about Christmas parties at work, had apparently tarred and feathered himself with his own words.