i Drawed This On My iPhone #1

There's a nifty little program called Sketchbook Mobile Express that was recently released for the iPhone platform. As the perceptive reader may have guessed, this is a scaled down version of the popular Sketchbook application from the whiz kids over at Autodesk. As a personal fan of the product, I was excited to give Sketchbook Mobile X a whirl. I only had one minor hesitation--

--drawing on the iPhone sucks.

The reason that drawing on an iPhone sucks so many kinds of cheese is pretty simple really, thanks to the unique sensory technology the iPhone touch screen employs. Because of the special capacitive materials at work underneath the glass, input is not registered from a stylus, a glove or a carving knife but rather that of the human hand, or more specifically, a fingertip.
In other words, the only way (with a few minor exceptions) you're going to be doing any drawing on the iPhone is by finger painting. Like in Kindergarten, only far more frustrating because your canvas is smaller and you don't have all those wonderful colors on your hands and face when you're finished (the most important part of finger painting).

So would Sketchbook Mobile X be worth my time? Would I come to embrace this micro art tool as a crucial component of my on-the-go creative endeavors or would I hurl my iPhone at the wall, dashing it to pieces in a fit of desperate rage befitting the emotional imbalance of the great artists that had come before me? There was only one way to find out: test the product by drawing pictures. With my finger. Behold an early attempt:



I call this one Sanitarium de la Crofforde, a strenuous examination of the human psyche in times of famine and war. It's a difficult piece, wrought with emotion and tears, but mostly it's got some blue and pink in it to make it pretty.

As I continue to experiment with drawing on the iPhone with my finger I will post my findings here. You may desire to unleash the critic within to eviscerate these tiny masterpieces, but I reserve the right to think your opinions are full of detritus and poo. Of course, I'd much rather you'd share your own iPhone art with me, mainly so that I might attempt to obfuscate you with my nonsensical readings of your work.

Self-Explanatory

More Beaver madness here.

Neat! Look at him dance!

I'd like to introduce you to the Wizard of Oz if the Scarecrow had been watching Silence of the Lambs and decided to wear your face like a mask. Thanks, Scarecrow! You sure scared us!

Seaman Retrospective

I owned a Sega Dreamcast. It was a video game console with some very bizarre games.

Including the incredible SEAMAN.

Seaman has you, the player, raising the titular Seaman, a creature that combines the body of a freshwater sturgeon with the face of Japanese video game programer. In addition to the fact that you are rearing a fish with a human head, the game is unique in that included a microphone peripheral that allowed you to communicate with Seaman who would regularly throw barbed insults into you face and berate you for a general lack of personal hygiene. This posed an interesting moral dilemma: would you, the video game player, continue to feed and care for Seaman after his regular verbal abuse? Would the emotional trauma you had endured by his fin push you to cranking the thermostat in Seaman's tank to unbearable levels, potentially killing said Seaman? And what sort of conflicted feelings would one uncover the next morning upon discovery of Seaman's lifeless husk floating at the top of the aquarium?

Luckily, these moral conundrums are in part avertable thanks to Leonard Nimoy who acts as mentor and guide in the wonderful world of Seaman. Knowing the limitations of the natural man inside all of us, Mr. Nimoy instructs us in the proper care of Seaman, including regular counseling for the psychological health of the player. Mr. Nimoy's sagely wisdom inspires and motivates us to action while the cooling effect of his otherworldly voice soothes and reassures the player in moments of keen Seaman distress. In other words, Leonard Nimoy is a god among men.

I like Seaman. Often times I lie awake in bed with my arms crossed behind head looking up at the stars dreamily (I sleep in the woods like all strong men are want to do) and reminiscing of Seaman and the many lessons we learned together. Seaman was good to me and I was good to him. And therefore, as the wise man said, I can sleep in peace.