Series of WIPs revolving around the Chinese place we’d hit after animation class over at the local JC, back around 2001. The restaurant is gone now, but as with most things from the old hometown or the college years there’s next to no visual record of any of it other than a few scattered photos and memories. Which is probably why there are Nintendo characters running around in these: As with any memory, it tends to be idealized in some form or another. Maybe it’s because we see in hindsight what roads we took or could have taken, and can muse over opportunity that much clearer (“Here’s how I would have done things differently,”) while appreciating the time, place, ambiance or whatever of something that no longer exists. The best of both worlds.
Side by side comparison of day / night lighting treatment on the initial piece that started this. I tend to remember being there during golden hour sunset hours, though night time always sets up for more dynamic scenes.
The initial sketch. I wanted to do larger studies of some of the smaller characters here to get a better feel for their poses and silhouette; hence the above day/night pieces.
Originally posted on Instagram. Drew this as a fun homage to Max Ulichney‘s original design (bottom left).
The above is for this year’s Forget Me Not: Art Against Alzheimers charity art auction.
Below was a preview for prints I submitted to last year’s show. Most of the themes revolve around pop culture references, movies and video games mostly, though I’m able to sneak in an abstract thing here or there. Not to mention concept work from, well, work; mostly stuff that’s either been aired already or were otherwise unused concepts.
Babuskully – Symmachia – Res Ipsa.
Series of illustrations, available as individual prints at the upcoming Art Against Alzheimers benefit, hosted by Mr. Brandon Tokunaga. Some X Files with a Russian twist, Periclean democracy, and the genesis of Gonzo Journalism. Not bad for a makeshift triptych.
~ Through The Snow ~
“How is a road beaten down through the virgin snow? One person walks ahead, sweating, swearing, and barely moving his feet. He keeps getting stuck in the loose, deep snow. He goes far ahead, marking his path with uneven black pits. When he tires, he lies down on the snow, lights a home-made cigarette, and the tobacco smoke hangs suspended above the white, gleaming snow like a blue cloud. The man moves on, but the cloud remains hovering above the spot where he rested, for the air is motionless. Roads are always beaten down on days like these – so that the wind won’t sweep away this labor of man. The man himself selects points in the snow’s infinity to orient himself – a cliff, a tall tree. He steers his body through the snow in the same fashion that a helmsman steers a riverboat from one cape to another.
“Five or six persons follow shoulder-to-shoulder along the narrow, wavering track of the first man. They walk beside his path but not along it. When they reach a predetermined spot, they turn back and tramp down the clean virgin snow which has not yet felt the foot of man. The road is tramped down. It can be used by the people, sleighs, tractors. If they were to walk directly behind the first man, the second group would make a clearly defined but barely passable narrow path, and not a road. The first man has the hardest task, and when he is exhausted, another man from the group of five takes his place. Each of them – even the smallest and weakest – must beat down a section of virgin snow, and not simply follow another’s footsteps. Later will come tractors and horses driven by readers, instead of authors and poets.”
~Alien lady unwinding for the evening.
~A member of the krokodeme, a hoplite acting as courier for a sophist.
Green seems to be the only common thread here.