The Flow: Perspective

Hello friends!

Can you believe…I’m starting my post out with that again? It feels like I do every time. A week flies by. A month. We are a third of the way through February. Tomorrow will be October. Next year I’ll be 85. What even is time?

I’ve been busy with a million little life things so sadly I haven’t made any progress on BELOVED. I do have that second chapter to share though so somehow I will make it fit into what I’m talking about today XD

The Writing

Perspective and POV seem to go hand in hand a little too well.

In art, what camera angle you choose to tell your story makes all the difference in how your painting is perceived.

Couldn’t the same be said for what POV (1st, 2nd, 3rd) you choose? Ok, not going to lie, I had to google what 2nd even was (so sue me) and the search came up with this little ditty - “choosing the right POV is vital for setting the tone, managing intimacy, and controlling the flow of information.”

So I guess I was on the right track.

For BELOVED I will be writing in 1st person, as this story is autobiographical in nature. The first chapter (for those who need a refresher you can find it here) was fragmented and unfurled in a rather quicks succession of somewhat disjointed thoughts. If you felt disoriented reading it, I did my job.

The second chapter is a break from that sort of style as Kizzy isn’t as discombobulated anymore and is adapting to her surroundings. I’ll stop talking now.

Chapter 2: Breathe Me

Day Sixteen

Nights are the worst. Door stays open. Hospital sounds drift in, which are louder than you’d think they’d be. It’s not like I needed total silence when I slept. I liked to listen to the rain. But the coughing, the intercoms, guards shifting positions…The “how did you sleep?” question was beginning to make me bristle.

Speaking of guards, apparently that’s what a 5150 entailed. I’m to be under constant surveillance. Not a modicum of privacy. I learned that phrase from a British woman in a movie I saw once. It’s even more fun if you say it with the accent.

You know what’s not fun though? Using the bathroom with someone watching. To my surprise, I get used to that pretty quick. I think I’m just grateful the catheter and ass-wiping are behind me.

The guard on this particular night is wearing a uniform that sags off of her frame, sleeves swallowing her hands. Her head is as smooth as an egg, and she is blacker than Adelaide, the tarantula I kept in a glass tank. Until she escaped, that is. She doesn’t seem to notice I’m awake.

She is perched on a stool by the door. It hung open, as per usual, neon silhouetting her against the dark room. Her head is down. Eyes glued to her phone. Its glow carves her face out of the blackness, just barely, and the whites of her eyes glint like a cat.

I move a fraction of an inch.

Her eyes snap up, twin beams cutting right to me. I try a weak smile. The other guards so far hadn’t really made much of an effort to talk to me, but I can’t stop myself from trying anyway. She stares at me a beat too long before rising from the stool, silent like Adelaide when she was stalking her prey. The phone dangles at her side, its screen flickering.

Was that Beyoncé?

She stops within an arm’s reach. My eyes are glued to the phone, afraid to meet hers. The air between us feels electric. The hairs on my neck prickle. Silence, thick as the hospital apple sauce.

“Hey,” she said. “You like music?” Her voice is strangely warm.

No hey, how are you doing? Or hey, why did you try to kill yourself? I don’t voice this intrusive thought but it was what I’ve been bracing for over the last couple of days. Unnecessarily, as it never comes. My face doesn’t give any of this away. I’m queen at keeping my face deadpan no matter what I’m feeling. A coping mechanism I learned from years of interacting with my folks. The stammer in my voice gives me away though. I manage a “what?” that turns into a fake cough.

Guard lifts the phone so I could see a bit better. For a second it was just Beyoncé moving across the screen, shiny and perfect. Then—flash. A face like something from a nightmare, stretched and grinning, replaces it for a heartbeat.

I jerk back.

Guard doesn’t so much as blink. Her smile widens.

She continues to hold the phone there for me to see, and I think she says something about Beyonce’s latest album but my mind is reeling.

Clearly what I saw must’ve been in my head because Guard is watching Beyonce twerk back and forth no problem. I blink hard.

“You okay?” Guard asks. There’s genuine concern on her face.

I nod but turn my head away, shifting uncomfortably in my bed while doing so.

“You need to use the restroom?” she asks softly.

“No thank you” I manage. “ I’m fine.”

“Demons aren’t real,” she mutters. Almost imperceptible.

My stomach does a somersault. Not because she’s acknowledged what I saw but because the thought that crossed my mind just a microsecond before -- was it a demon? -- has seemingly been answered. Out loud. Clearly I’m tired.

Without a word she heads back to the stool, back to me and continues muttering into her walkie-talkie.

Just for shits I call another thought into my head.

Do you like spiders?

Nothing happens. She doesn’t turn to answer me because I hadn’t said anything.

So I try a more direct question.

“What was that?”

She doesn’t turn to answer. She probably didn’t hear me. I’ve been known to mumble.

“What was that?” I say again, or what feels like shouting.

Guard turns to look at me quizzically.

“The video?” she asks. “I think that was off of Homecoming.”

“Not that,” I say a little impatient. “The face.”

Hadn’t she just said demons weren’t real? I was staunchly unreligious but the thought had wandered into my head anyway.

“I gotta run,” she says suddenly. “But Guard Number Two should be here in a minute.”

Of course, she didn’t say “Guard Number Two” but I forget names just as quickly as they’re uttered.

I’m working on it. Sort of.

She’s gone for only a few moments before the other guard shows up, but I watch the shadowy corners of the room, eyes straining to pick up on any ounce of movement.

Somewhere down the hall a cart rattles. A baby farts. Or at least that’s what I cling to because that face begins to replay in my mind.

It’s only 8 o’clock.

Guard Number Two steps in, shooting me a smile before settling down.

Now sleep feels possible.

Kizzy?

The Art

So how do you choose the right angle? I suppose it goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, it’s entirely dependent on what you’re trying to convey.

For me, I try to figure out if my painting is going to focus more on the characters or the environment. If characters are the focal point, in general (and this isn’t a hard rule) I will try to at least do a medium shot (you can see the full body large on the spread) if not a closeup (you’re cropped in).

If your focus is on showing off an environment I tend to fall back on the common “epic” trope where you have a teeny weeny character amidst a fantastical background. And because I tend to like painting scenery as opposed to characters in my personal work, I also fall back on showing off environments!

Of course you can zoom into an environment as well and treat it more like a character, but there’s something about playing with such an extreme in scale that catches my eye and tickles my fancy.

The other big decision to make is where to place the camera - high up (birds-eye view), at eye-level, or down low (worms-eye view).

Just by their very nature extreme angles offer a lot more dynamism so my suggestion is that they’re reserved when that sort of thing suits your story. They’re also MUCH harder to pull of just on a technical level, although there are ways to cheat at perspective if you know how to bend the rules without coming off as an amateur. Evan Turk is a current favorite of mine on how to push interesting POVs.

We see the world (most of the time) at eye-level, so using this POV is perfectly fine. You’ll have to revisit the rules of composition on how to make it interesting though.

The best book I’ve found and have kept to reference on how to compose a shot is Framed Ink by Marcos Mateu-Mestre. Come to think of it, I actually haven’t looked at it in a while so I may dive in and do that in the next day or so! He explains everything in great detail, gives tons of examples, and is super easy to follow (unlike me LOL).

If you need to get in some practice with drawing different perspectives, pausing your favorite movie and sketching/tracing the still you see is great for building your visual library! For me nothing beats old Disney (90’s, early 2000’s) as far as mastery in storytelling. Don’t overthink it. Give yourself 60-90 seconds or so. See what your eye catches. Try to get the overall feel and composition and camera angle down.

I’ll leave you to it!

Until next time :D