anyway courtesy of that last reblog my nyquil brain last night decided to get real invested in the intimacy of putting lotion on someone’s hands. which now that im looking at that sounds Real Weird
You know how amazing you're at drawing hands? Its amazing. Would you please share you're wisdom/tutorial on drawing hands like you do?
I wish there were some recipe for hands, but there’s just not. I mean, there’s lots of great tutorials out there, but the MAIN thing is literally to use refs. That’s it. And draw hands a lot. Years ago, when I did my Hands series, I probably drew 1000 hands, and I noticed I had improved my hand drawing skills a lot!
But yeah, hands and feet are really weird, and when in doubt, use a reference. These days, I don’t use refs as much because I know what I’m doing. But when I want to draw a dynamic hand, I always take a pic of my own hand or pull up a photo ref. The way skin overlaps the fingers and all that is so complicated, and it pulls in unexpected ways, especially if your hand is grabbing something.
Practice realistic hands first, and drawing simple hands will be so much easier later. Trust me. Just draw detailed hands in all sorts of positions and you will eventually make mental notes of where things go without realizing it. There’s no short cut with hands!
No short cuts!! Do the work and you will see results!
“My hands know things the rest of me doesn’t. They type words, sentences, stories, worlds that I didn’t know I thought. They remember passwords and sequences I don’t even remember needing. They tell me what I think, what I know, what I remember. They don’t even always need a keyboard for that.
“My hands are an automatic feedback loop, touching and feeling simultaneously. I think I understand the whole world when I rub my fingertips together.
“When I’m brought to a new place, my fingers tap out the walls and tables and chairs and counters. They skim over the paper and make me laugh, they press against each other and remind me that I am real, they drum and produce sound to remind me of cause-and-effect. My fingers map out a world and then they make it real.
thank you once again @radiationgroove for editing my jumbled mess of writing into something that makes sense <33. you’re the best
Everything was loud; gun fire and minor explosions all around. Everyone was moving, yelling. Green-gold eyes followed the jacketed form, dark hair and bearded face, his weapon was bigger than he was. The woman followed after, ordering men and women the same way the man did. His gut flipped. Mother. he wanted to run to her, he was frightened. She would keep him safe.
"WHO THE FUCK LET A KID IN HERE?!" Eyes fell to him, but Shaun didn't care about them. He wanted his mother. She stared at him, face covered in grime and most likely blood.
"Mom!" His nose scrunched, eyes watered; his ears were starting to burn. He was 11 and he was a big kid now. Why did he want to cry? Why did she look so... distraught?
Her hands felt loose, the dexterity in them null. They looked strong, they looked safe. But when she brushed his curly dark hair out of his eyes, when her palm settled on his cheek, he felt the floor give below him.
"I'm...I'm not your mother kid." Her fingers traced a line of freckles. He hiccupped, tears rolling freely, a tremble to his lower lip. "I'm sorry, Shaun."
"B-b-but-t where d-do I go?" Why? he wanted to ask. Did he do something wrong?
"Just...we'll find you someplace..." Both hands cradled his face, thumbs wiping tears away. They felt strong, then. It gave him hope that she could be his mother.
"Ingram. Send him to Abernathy." She turned her back to him, walking past the man she addressed as “Elder.” Slate blue eyes focused on him; confusion, guilt, and understanding flashed.
Shaun hated the pity most of all.
