When I say “This image must be around 650 pixels high–you can make it as long as you want, but keep it at least 650 pixels high,” you know what that means, right? And if you were doing that image, you would make it around 650 pixels high, right?
You wouldn’t, for example, make it 500 pixels high and then put it on a blank white background that was 600 pixels high, and assume that your addition of blank white space (and not even the correct amount of blank white space) freed you of such size constraints, would you?
In the cosmic scheme of things, this is a minor annoyance, and as is usually the fate of such minor annoyances, I’m saying “It was a miscommunication on my part,” because it’s infinitely easier to say it’s your fault (or nobody’s fault) than attempt to impress on someone you’ve never met, have no authority over, and know only by the intervention of a third party who’s paying you both, that they’ve screwed up and you wish them to do it again, and do it right this time. It’s not that big a deal. They probably just misread what I said. It’s just that when you have issued only ONE constraint that you need followed–and they don’t follow it–you wonder why you even became an artist, when being a medical test subject pays so well, and being a professional beggar in India only requires the loss of one foot.
In happier news, I’ve been on an anteater kick lately, ever since seeing some of the adorable little critters while watching “The Jeff Corwin Experience.” The silky anteater is possibly the cutest thing ever, I think because it’s as simplified as an animal can be. Big eyes, long muzzle, everything else lost under fur. It’s almost a cartoon, and has led to the following exercises in cute.