Drawing things that don't exist.

The best way to draw things that do not exist in reality is to draw things that really do exist. Does that sound confusing? If so it is only because you have not yet become a Zen Master.

The first rule of designing anything in convincing way, be it machines, clothes, or characters, is to have source material to work from. Almost anything will do so long as you are taking in some kind of outside visual stimuli to help move your design along. I find myself spending a fair amount of time designing machinery, robots, and weapons. As a result I have a database of images built up to aid in the process. Having something to look at is invaluable. Without these aids I find that I invariably fall back on simplified geometric shapes in arrangements that are easy to work with, instead of convincing to the eye. Let's put forward an example.

I like robots, so we'll start there.

I start by coming up with a rough design of the form I would like the machine to take on paper. This usually amounts to some simple shapes and forms defining the character that I want the machine to have; just basics to start, a body and some limbs, maybe a gun turret. From there I get into the source material. The temptation is to cut the corner and cover your machine's skeleton with a a few details, some armor plates, etc. in order to make the invention look finished. But ultimately this is only a skin that makes it look finished at a glance and in the process you will have left out the guts of the thing. It might look alright on the surface, but if you place it next to an image of a real machine you will see the discrepancy instantly.

What you are seeing is the difference between flesh and blood and a skeleton with a sheet over it. (Actually that might be a cool image. But not as a machine. Remember, skeletons are cool, even under bed clothes.)

So let's work on the guts. I start by looking up pictures of other machines so I can steal parts of their structure or engineering to employ in my own machine. This machine will be something of a mechanical Frankenstein's Monster. Pieced together from the best of his piers he will represent the penultimate figure in mechanical warfare. I am particularly fond of steam-punk as a genre, so I often start working from nineteenth century images. Legs can be pieced together from images of crane arms and other hydraulic equipment. I like building frames for bodies and then adding tanks, engines, and hoses as necessary. Hoses have a wonderfully organic quality that contrasts well with the sharp corners of human engineering.

Side note: Industrial scenes look awesome in a way that I wouldn't want in my backyard, but that I love to see on paper. I might like to take a walk in the pure, untouched outdoors, and I loath the idea of forests and fields being replaced by abandoned factories and urban sprawl, but put me in a fictional universe and everything changes. I suddenly relish the texture and grit of filth that pervades industrial science fiction cityscapes. Rotting skyscrapers that blot out the sun captivate my imagination on paper in a way that inspires horror in real life. Have you ever been to Detroit? That's what I'm talking about. Although I have thought before that Detroit could solve a lot of its problems by allowing its burnt out buildings to be covered in thick masses of vines; sort of a post-apocalyptic look. The vines could consume the rubble like some freakish, tentacled, vegetable creature. More on this some other time.

The focus of visual invention is ultimately two-fold when you are dealing with story-telling illustration. First is the side that desires to make the invention look convincing. The second is the aesthetic side that desires to stretch the boundaries of the believable, still in a convincing way, but to create something that is visually appealing in its own right. This second consideration often comes after the first chronologically. Much of this aesthetic is contained in the execution of the design. Certainly there is something to be said for creating a design that is going to be visually appealing, but lest we forget, this design will never be created except by one's self on paper. As a result much of the aesthetic will be communicated in each individual portrayal of the invention that has been created. A design that looks convincing will be exciting to the viewer even if it isn't designed to look elegant. Elegance can be created in the scene that depicts the practical machine by employing perspective, line, texture, color, etc. to compose a visually stimulating image. There is also something to be said for the elegant design that is made believable with touches of source material but I will save that for later. That style is not one I am currently working with, nor am I terribly familiar with it on the whole.

That should be all for now on this subject. We'll come back to invention later (along with those vines) after we spend some time on turning those thumbnails we were talking about into finished sketches.