A Grand Collaboration

I want to spend as much time as possible with my kids before:
A. I die.
B. They become teenagers.
C. I die because my kids are teenagers.

I also want to spend more of my time in creative ventures. I feel that part of me has been stagnant and needs a good thrashing.
Now, somewhere on my travels through the vast wasteland that is the interwebs, I've stumbled across a couple people who take drawings done by their children, then modify and/or color them.

BOOM.  Two birds, one stone.  That's how we do.

So I had Isaac draw a basic monster that I could run with, in pencil:

It's a cyclops getting slashed.  Obviously.  Why wouldn't it be?
Needless to say it was a bit rushed, and I think now that he knows what we're doing, the next one will be much more refined.  We're thinking robot, but I'm not one for spoilers.

So I took it and did my thang.  I kept as much of the basic composition and gesture as possible, so it's still definitely his as much as mine.  And here is what happened:

A little color-correction because we kick it Old-school and we've got us a Lovecraftian horror that wants a hug.  And also to eat your soul.  But mostly a hug.

Needless to say, I want to continue to do these with both boys for as long as possible.  Could make for a fairly epic series.  I'll keep you posted.

"Artificial Cheer"

Well, this is it.

This is the first piece I've decided to show in public since I was in school.  I thought I had another week to work on it, but I got my dates mixed up (go figure) so I did the whole thing between 11pm and 5am last night. It's not a big show (Motor City Brewing Works 8x8 Anniversary) but it's something I did, hanging out in the open, where people may or may not decide to look at it, or even buy it.  And I think it's only for one night.  So by the time you read this, it may already be down.

But it was up.

And that is a big step for me.

Cheers.

Strolling the Pink Aisle

Turns out, most of my work isn't safe for little children.
Or adults.
Or small farm animals.  (The bigger ones are fine... like cows.  I have a huge dairy farm following, though I'm not sure why.)

Anyway, this point was driven home while visiting some friends over the holidays.  I was asked by their youngest (We'll call her "Little Z") to draw a princess.  This was problematic for a couple of reasons:

1.  I have never drawn a princess.
2.  If I had, I'm sure it would have been a zombie princess riding an undead unicorn that was on fire.

"Little Z" is 3 years old.  Even my poor judgement deemed that inappropriate.  And that's saying something.

So I got out my sketchbook and started turning through it to an empty page, very aware of the little eyes that were looking over my shoulder.  I found myself flipping quickly past drunk muppets and homicidal smurfs.  I guess my own kids have built up a tolerance over the years, and are more annoyed by my drawings than disturbed.  ("Dad, Mario doesn't look like that...sheesh")  But these were innocent youngsters, untainted by the poison sometimes found in donuts.  And I wasn't going to be the one who started them down that path.  At least not today.

So I got to a blank page.  I readied my pencils, pens, and markers.  Then I realized I had no idea what I was doing.  In every toy store, there are a couple aisles that are completely pink.  This is where the princesses, Barbies, and My Little Ponys come from.  I've never dared to venture there...only heard the tales whispered in the failing breaths of crazed fathers, driven to madness by what lay within.

So I winged it.

I figured a mash-up of the only two princess I've ever cared about ought to do the trick.  Peach and Zelda.  I spent most of my youth chasing these ladies, and a good chunk of my adult hood if I'm honest about it.

Mario and Link save the day again.

Problem is, the whole time I was drawing, I was fighting myself.  I wanted to put sewer slime on the dress, or maybe some broken manacles from the last seven times she got herself kidnapped, or an undead unicorn that was on fire.

But little 3-year-old girls don't want that.  They want it pink, and sparkly, and now.

Thank the good Lord for giving me boys.  I can give the pink aisle a wide berth.

I used to be green...

A loss of innocence.  

I grew up playing the Zelda series.  I have to imagine, Link did too.  At first, the killing is necessary.  You're fighting for your very survival; just trying to secure your place in the world.

But how many enemies were slain for a handful of rupees that would be wasted on your next magic potion fix?  Next thing you know, you're knee deep in the ichor of the fallen, numb to the consequences of your actions. The line between what is right and what is seemingly necessary is a thin one, and easily blurred.  

One day you'll wake up and realize who you are.

Sometimes to save a princess you have to kill a few bugs...

just don't be surprised when you end up with red on you.

Non Sequitur Monday

This is a Canadian llama who has been eating poison chicken.

He loves it.

The Rise and Fall of Sméagol

I started this one last Labor Day weekend.  My brother and I visited a friend in Chicago and in the sparse downtime, I did the pencils. It was originally a request from another friend who asked for some Tolkien content.  I let it sit because I wasn't really happy with how it was progressing. It just wasn't working...and I tend to avoid broken things like the plague. 

Today I inked and colored it.    

Why?  

Recently, I've been struggling with how I feel about the material world.  Learning to let things go and give to those who need it much more.  I'm not a rich man. Never have been.  But the longer I live, the more I realize just how lucky I am.  And how much responsibility that luck carries.  

As for the image itself, I wanted to catch the exact moment that Sméagol made the choice to become Gollum. Perched atop that precipice, knowing that what lay below was nothing but destruction...we've all been there and let ourselves fall.  It was a choice.  

It's always a choice.  

The things you own, end up owning you -Tyler Durden

Also, I drew a monkey:

Imported from Cybertron

 

Transformers are huge in our house right now.  And Legos.  And Transformers made out of Legos. 

 I am not making this up.  We make Transformers out of bits and pieces of other Lego sets.  Have you ever seen Harry Potter get blown apart by something that appears to be half-mechanical nightmare, half-Lightning McQueen?  

I have, it's horrifying. 

And at the same time, oddly satisfying.  Not only did I manage to create a transforming, robotic terror out of Pixar-parts...I also managed to make a little person who enjoys this type of mayhem as much as me.

This is extremely dangerous for a few reasons:

1.  I love toys.  

2.  I have a credit card.

3.  Have you ever stepped on a lego barefoot?  And not a nice rounded mini-figure head, or a discarded wheel that was lost in a firefight for the ages...no, I'm talking about a "rip you open like a Lovecraftian abomination because its edges were forged in the fires of hell" 2x2 brick.  They ain't kidding around. 

There's also the danger of getting coldcocked by an Optimus Prime wielding 4-year-old because, unbeknownst to me, I've been a closet Decepticon all these years.  Who knew?

Robots in disguise, man.  Robots in disguise.

So, that said...on with the post.

My son didn't want to do his homework.  

First of all, I'm thinking, "who has homework in pre-school?"  

Then I'm thinking, "yeah, I don't want to do homework either...where are the legos?" 

Dad of the Year, right?

But eventually I had to ask myself, "What would Bill Cosby do?"  So I made a funny face and put on a sweater.  Then, I decided to lead by example.  This stone killed two birds and bout of laziness that, quite honestly, should have had it's head up.  

We sat down and I walked him step by step through the process- pencils, inks, markers...while he colored in his lizard and practiced lower case "L"s. (Seriously?  Its a line.  How much practice do you need?)  

He got a picture of Bumblebee (with "Platypus Blue" eyes...which is a story in itself) and I got over whatever it was that was keeping me from posting. 

Sorry it took so long.

I'll never be late again

I read a lot.  I always have.  And if you draw, what you read eventually ends up on paper.  Whether it be a recounting of written events, or a protest illustrating what should have happened.  

This is the latter.

Lewis Carroll has influenced my work as much or more than anyone.  Not just my drawing, but my life.  He danced on the line between art and science...something I've always tried to do with the bits and pieces I was born with.

That said, here is the white rabbit, casting off the shackle of his oppressors and beginning a new life.  It's a character redemption and rebellion that I always wanted to see.  How often do we cling to something or someone because it's familiar, even though it's destroying us? 

Sometimes to fix your world, you have to break something.

The boy who lives...

Well, today I saw the last Harry Potter movie.  Now, let me preface this by saying two things:
First, I am a Harry Potter nerd.
Guilty.
Second, I don't really like the movies that much.  I mean, I can accept them as a visual aid for the books, but definitely not as a replacement.  I haven't really been excited for a movie release since the third one (which they totally dropped the ball on) so between you and me...it was a struggle to get to the theater.  But, they did a good job on this'un.  It worked.  Everything that was cut or embellished or reconstructed worked to tell the story in a visual format.

So in honor of the end of the era, I came home and forced myself into a corner.  The tech pens I usually use also came with some brush pens, that I avoid like the plague.  They feel loose and sloppy to me, and I like complete control.  And its 'bout time that I grew out of that.  So my challenge to myself was a 5 minute Potter.  Fast and loose, with the brush-pens and then finish it off with markers and chalk.  Of course I chose Harry as a child...partially because I'll always have a place for the boy who lived, and partially because I had The Sorcerer's Stone playing in the background while I did it.  But it was fast, loose, and I was happy with the results, which means it ends up here, to be loved or hated by the masses.

News from the "Goon Docks"

Things slowed down for a couple days because half my face got eaten by a hockey puck.  Nevertheless, this is the first stab at the aforementioned piece I'm working on for a friend.   Part dragon, part sunfish...all Nessie.  Needs to be refined a little further, but I'm happy with the vision-impaired attempt. 

Luckily the swelling has started to go down, and I'm looking less like Sloth and more like One-Eyed-Willie.   Stay tuned for more adventure on the high seas.

Fished in!

Every year, I go to my friend's-parent's-cottage (follow that?) somewhere around the 4th of july.  The last couple of years, his mom (who has been a second mother to me through parts of my life) has asked me to draw something to adorn the walls of the lake house.  I have no problem with this.  Makes me feel like I'm earning my keep.  Today I brought my book and markers because I was going to work on an upcoming project, but ended up getting sidetracked for her.  So I did a sunfish, which is what the kiddies were catching all morning.  This is significant for a couple reasons:
1.  It is the first piece I've done with any amount of reference in quite some time.  Usually it's just me thinking about what things should look like in my head.  Don't tell any of my old drawing instructors...I'm pretty sure they'd shoot me for even thinking about going reference-less.
2.  I was able to do something that will directly apply to the project I'm working on for another friend.  The treatment of the scales, fins, even the eye...all usable for an upcoming piece.
Two for one sale, pal.

MOAR CHICKIN!

I've always been a fan of storytellers who can do a lot with a little.   And good zombie movies.  Put those two things together and you have the original Night of the Living Dead.  It was released in '68 and still holds up today.   And if this flick has taught me anything, its that little girl zombies are creepy.  Especially ones that are just gnawing on a bone. 

This was also inspired, in part, by this picture i took of my son massacring a plate of spaghetti.

So you get a freaky little zombie girl, going to town on a piece of chicken.
The colonel would be proud.

Gargamel's End...GNAP!

Well, it was a long weekend.  Figured I needed to throw something together for a Monday post.  

I apologize.

I saw the new Smurfs trailer.  Let's just say, it doesn't look like the movie I wanted to see.  Add that to severe sleep deprivation, and you get today's post.  

Once again, I apologize.

It's actually just a working sketch for a  much larger piece I want to do with the theme.  It's not quite right yet, though.  He looks too sinister, and I want him to be a little cuter and have a little less intelligence.  Like a dumb little puppy that just mauled a bunny.  He didn't do it to be mean, he just did it, because that's what he does.

*Side note..please don't try to evaluate my psyche based on the images you may see here.  Sometimes they take on a life of their own and give me the willies.  This is a prime example.  I even debated whether or not I should post it. Is it worth risking the weak stomached or easily offended just to get a quick post done?  Would people still love me if they knew this was the kind of thing I was capable of?  

Was it too much poison and not enough donut?

Then I figured, "Ah, smurf it."

Yarrr...it drives me nuts

Needed a more lighthearted approach today.  Figured I'd knock out a request*

It's been an 80's onslaught of late.  Actually, this one made me think of my old Garbage Pail Kids.  I wish I had a DeLorean, so I could go back and do some of the artwork for them.  Maybe I'll try my hand at one anyway.   

*This one was requested by my donkey-riding canadian friend. Scurvy pirates never say die. Wait...that's Goonies.  Scurvy pirates say die all the time.

Apologies to Jim

I scratched this out today and immediately regretted it.  Why?  It made me sad.  And think too much.

I'll explain. 

A long time ago I observed something about the Muppet-verse.  Of all of the original muppets, Rowlf was the only one who appeared to be a success.  Think about it...Miss Piggy just wanted to be beautiful, Gonzo just wanted Miss Piggy, Fozzy just wanted to be funny, Kermit just wanted to make a show that didn't fall apart at the seams...the list goes on.  They're all inherent failures.  

Except for Rowlf.  He's a fantastic pianist, and appears to be living the dream.  A while back, I found out I was not a unique and special snowflake, and that someone else had this same revelation.  Scott Kurtz did a comic about it, and in doing so coined the term Muppet Jesus.  Which, as a side note, I still want to do a piece on.  But that got me thinking.  What if Rowlf wasn't the exception to the rule?  What if he was, in fact, the most tragic example. What if he had a dream that had nothing to do with playing a piano, but never pursued it?  What if he took the job as a part-time gig, and now wonders where his life went?  At least the others attempted and continue to strive for their goals.  All the dog can do is bang on the ivories and howl at the moon when it all gets too real.

These are the things I think about.

Will work for gold bars and diamond rings...

Well, here's a quick piece that I can dedicate to my old friend, RCA. Thanks for the support, and keep the requests flowin'.  Ain't nobody makin' Pitfall Harry jump...

It'sa me...

 

This is a drawing I've always wanted to do, and I'm just now getting around to it.  It turned into a 2 AM calamity, so there is quite a bit I would do differently.  No undo button with markers though.  I could Photoshop it, but that would kind of go against the reason I'm doing these in the first place.  

We'll call it version 1-1.

Splinter was never human.

 

I've been a Turtles fan since the original Eastman and Laird days.  To this day I remember Being at the Quo Vadis Theater watching the movie, and feeling my first pangs of nerd-rage  as the incognizant masses raised on the  cartoon or the Archie's comic said things like, "That's wrong, Splinter was Hamato Yoshi, not his pet rat..." Still makes me a little twitchy.  

 That said, I've been drawing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles since the mid 80's.  This is my first one in probably 15 years though.  It was mostly an excuse to use some new marker colors I picked up at the art store that day, but the 11-year-old in me was also really anxious to see how cool it would end up.

I realized two things in this venture: 

1.  I need to get back to figure drawing, my anatomy has gotten weak.

2.  I have no idea what the actual anatomy of a mutant turtle is...teenage or otherwise.  I was just making stuff up.