A very quick attempt at a style I haven’t quite figured out.

I think the main reason I can’t be one of those sidewalk caricaturists is that I have a mental block against drawing flattering pictures.

Like most swinging bachelors in New York, I’m sitting in on a Saturday night watching an Eddie Cantor movie.

And for my final shameless tracing, here’s a panel from a series of strips in which Mickey attempts various methods of suicide. (Spoiler alert: he doesn’t succeed.) This time I went with warm, comfortable digital inking.

My mom asked if I was getting arthritis from drawing too much; actually, I think what’s happened is I’ve come to rely on my graphics tablet so much that I haven’t developed a lot of manual dexterity. With digital, I can zoom in to my heart’s content and use my whole arm to draw tiny details or letters.

On paper, even if I’m drawing on a large scale, there are bound to be some details that require fine movement of the wrist and fingers.

One thing I discovered when taking my oil painting class is that I’m actually capable of some fine motor skills, but, in a way that’s kind of hard to explain, I have to get in sync with my breathing. There’s a certain pace at which my trademark wobble disappears, and I can hold a brush by its back end and paint an eyelash in the spot I intended.

I think there are a couple of factors at play. One, I tend to rush. Second, I pace myself better when I’m standing. I think tomorrow I’ll try a round of conventional inking while standing, and see if I can’t recapture some of that magic.

Another attempt…think I’m getting worse! Actually, Mickey’s not so bad, but my hand cramped up by the time I mangled his telephone and tried to letter with a brush pen. Ouch.