This is an animated gif illustrating the phrase “bootstrapping”, that is “to pull yourself up by your bootstraps”. The phrase is used to describe an impressive task performed without any help from the outside. I mean, just try to imagine what it would take for you to pull yourself off the ground just by pulling your bootstraps!
And yes, I know the girl in the gif doesn’t use the shoelaces to pull herself off the ground. But, you see, it is in a way a self-portrait, and since my beloved shoes do not have bootstraps, it had to be the shoelaces instead. But the point is still the same. I would be so awesome if you could actually do that in real life, right?
Well, hope you like it. And here is the comic behind the gif:
As a rule of thumb the human body can be measured as 7 1/2 head high (the 1/2 being the feet). When drawing a stick version of a human I prefer to remove the neck and thus giving the body cleaner look. A stick person’s height can therefore be measured as 7 heads high. The upper part of the arm is 1 1/2 head long, and the same applies to the lower part. The “navel” is placed 2 1/2 head from the top. The legs start at 3 1/2 head from the top. Each leg is 3 head long. The feet are 1/2 head high.
Hamlet: O! I die, Horatio ;
The potent poison quite o’er-crows my spirit :
I cannot live to hear the news from England ;
But I do prophesy the election lights
On Fortinbras : he has my dying voice ;
So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,
Which have solicited. – The rest is silence.
Horatio: How cracks a noble heart.
– Good night, sweet prince ;
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest !
Gravedigger: A whoreson mad fellow’s it was : whose do you think it was?
Hamlet: Nay, I know not.
Gravedigger: A pestilence on him for a mad rogue ! ‘a poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, this same skull, sir, was Yorick’s skull, the king’s jester.
Gravedigger: E’en that.
Hamlet: Let me see [Takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick ! –I knew him, Horatio : a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy : he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, now abhorred my imagination is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes nor? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now, get you to my lady’s chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thich, to this favour she must come ; make her laugh at that.