The Art of Krome

New painting in progress...

2012-01-27T18:12:00.000-08:00

You can probably guess who she is...

Beware this dark path!

2012-01-24T04:14:00.001-08:00

Happy Birthday, Dad!

2012-01-21T06:22:00.000-08:00

I know I haven't been terribly good at posting new material...but part of it has been owing to my indignant stance against SOPA, and the highly successful week-long freeze on my blog updates to protest this outrage.
Content that I may well have brought them to their knees by now, I figured it's time to emerge once again, and what better way than to celebrate my Dad's birthday, who's turning 113 today (KIDDING, Dad...ha ha...ha..).
Here's to an amazing man who's consistently managed over the years to be cooler than Eddie Izzard, Johnny Depp, and Mick Jagger combined. Happy Birthday Dad!

Storybook Illustration

2012-01-15T15:40:00.000-08:00

Couple pages from my freshly finished new kids book...

Scene Design

2012-01-12T17:19:00.000-08:00

Mythologically themed matte painting I threw together this week. Really need to brush up on this art form, but seeing it come together as you do it is magic!

Happy New Year!

2012-01-08T16:52:00.000-08:00

Happy New Years Everyone! A disheartening lack of art posted lately, I know....but I've been tending to extremely important things this last week, like drinking.

2011 was full of the best art opportunities (and sometimes art) I've ever had, and I know this year will be even better. Thank you all for liking me, and even those of you that hate me, but accidentally pressed the Facebook button or landed on my blog looking for porn...have an amazing 2012!

A stunningly accurate artist's depiction of my New Years.

All I Dont Want for Christmas...

2011-12-20T10:46:00.000-08:00

The busiest week of the year for me is finally drawing to a close. Well…traditionally the busiest week…second only to the 7 days in May I spent trying to Google a naked Christina Hendricks after accidentally catching an episode of Mad Men.

We’ve all done this. So avert your fake judgmental glances.

Avert them now. Didn't think so.

It’s the time of year this annual festivity that has been immovably the main part of our winter holidays for over 2000 years at the exact same time every year sneaks up on us with NO warning of any kind whatsoever, discounting calendars, radio, TV, and endless, insufferable commercials.

This year I undertook the mad rush a week early, so that when the time came to realize I had bought my friends and loved ones absolutely nothing for Christmas once again, I would have an entire week to think of an appropriate set of excuses, with time to do the necessary research to back them up. (“As we all know, the bank closes at 3:30 on a Sunday, which inhibited my ability to buy you that Mercedes. Also there was an accident on the freeway leading to Spencers, caused by sleet. Which freezes at -4 to 14 degrees Fahrenheit.”)

Once reliving myself of this burden, I try to wrap up anything else I can think of…metaphorically and literally, before locating an agreeable crowd of people to spend Christmas with. This is the make or break part of the holidays. They must be chilled people, perhaps trusted relatives, who have already seen you naked. People who can handle vomit on the carpet with the sense of humor it requires. Individuals who adore rubbish presents are an integral part of my requirements this year, as I have discovered the amount of people who detest being presented with sports socks to be as numerous as the quantity of which I have them.
I was recently asked if this blog would contain another wish list this year, as I am wont to do every Christmas and Birthday, due to bouts of drinking and too much free time. To those of you who asked, you clearly have no sympathy for the abysmal heart-rending rejection and sadness I experience each holiday…when EVERY simple statement of desire (complete with price tag and internet link) is IGNORED. I will not torture myself thus, anymore this year, foolishly thinking, like “Awake!” magazine, that I can turn “readers”, into “givers”.

It is clear the fickle few who follow this blog have no interest in supplying a simple luxury car or endowed supermodel to a starving artist…only a demand to be further entertained.
Well I shan’t. Instead, I’ve decided to list the things that I would rather NOT have this year, in the hopes that they may speak to those of you who might actually oblige me this time…as they are all effortless things that don’t cost money.

I hope you’re all happy.

From here on, Some of you may think I am a complete Scrooge. I assure you I am not. I enjoy terrifying unsuspecting neighbors with abrupt and hostile caroling at 3 in the morning as much as any festive human being. Devouring food until your ears bleed, decorating houses and trees, until the occupants ask me who I am and threaten to call the Police, the giving of gifts I claim to have bought, struggling to remember relatives’ names and genders, are all highly enjoyable Christmas activities I enjoy with a spiritual and scotch-fueled passion.

But there are those that muddle the good-natured waters of this festive season with their annoying contributions to social networks, for instance. You know who you are….and this list will further clarify your identity…to the point of total shame and repentance, I am hoping.
It is important to understand that there is nothing more annoying, to those of us with busy lives that occasionally have nothing better to do than waste time on Facebook, to sign on, and find hundreds of losers we may or may not know, utterly and irresponsibly having nothing better to do than waste time on Facebook. This abhorrent behavior has got to stop, as do the following habits quite frankly making some of us wish it were January already.

1. POSTING ENDLESS “CHRISTMAS PICS” OF YOUR CHILDREN

You think your child is cute. We get it. (We also know if your child was a toilet seat strapped to Jabba the Hut, you would think they were adorable, but hey…) It’s also Christmas. Yes, we get that too. We’ll even put up with one or two happy family shots of you all under the Christmas tree cuz hey let’s face it, we’ve all gotten drunk and had sperm-related accidents that after a stretch of time, also look cute under trees. But beyond that, you are only plaguing our news feed, which should be featuring other essential updates, like which song Phil Randomite is listening to, and news from the Kardashians. Chances are, you have likely been posting hundreds and hundreds of shots of your kids all year already. The last thing the people currently debating whether or not to delete you need to see is more of the exact same utterly adorable face they’ve grown quietly used to despising but THIS time, with a red hat. (“RED HATS, STEVE!!! We MUST post these….”)
It is estimated 45% of current child-nappers were perfectly respectable members of society who just got too damn sick of seeing your kid photos, and decided to do something horribly effective about it.

This could have been avoided.

Nobody, except you, possibly your spouse, a distant grandparent, and hundreds of online perverts really enjoy them, and they will be treated with the same irritated indifference and eye-rolling we bestowed on the mobile phone photo of your cup of coffee you posted just that morning.

2. POSTING PICTURES OF YOUR “CHRISTMAS FOOD”

Because nothing says “I’m the world’s most repressed and bored loner” like a good iPhone shot of your potatoes. As much as it makes the rest of us immediately be thankful we are not there (or you, for that matter) it’s still depressing us into another drink, and the hopes some jerk doesn’t post a damn picture of a glass of eggnog. Oh wait…half of you just did. Argghhh….
Oh, and if you thought we were going to be festively sympathetic enough to enthusiastically and without a HINT of sarcasm ask you for the recipe, you’re dead wrong.

Open fridge.
Withdraw eggnog.
Pour eggnog.
Weep silently into the night.

We all know it.

This is the only photographically acceptable way to indulge in eggnog.

3. POST SNIPPETS FROM CHRISTMAS SONGS AS YOUR STATUS

You know who you are. This is more pointless and depressing than Vegetarians, and makes us want to bomb your ass with Slipknot songs. Those of you guilty of using phrases like “is in the air” are especially going to hell, and need to shut up and drink the eggnog you’ve just been relentlessly photographing.

In general I would say here for those not fabulously rich, gorgeous, or naked, the goal would be to advertise your Christmas in a way that respectfully reflects the quiet, homey, and moderately pleasant insignificance of your holiday to the outside world. This will of course, build up the necessary repression and boredom to having an wildly news-worthy New Years celebration, for which you are fully allowed…nay, obligated, to post the pictures of your topless selves, lying handcuffed in the cocaine-smeared arms of another man’s wife, on the marmite-clotted steps of the old folks home you just tried to rob.

And for THAT….you will be asked the recipe.

Happy Christmas Everyone.

Character Concept Art

2011-12-17T02:46:00.000-08:00

One of millions of weird and awesome characters I'll be designing for upcoming RPG game. Should mention it's likely the property of Ancient Dreams, who have bought the rights to all half-deer avatars until 2014.

300 Concept Art: Comic to Screen

2011-12-09T15:16:00.000-08:00

Was looking at some of the comic book art by story telling genius (and awful artist) Frank Miller, who put out the comic out in 1998, and immediately won 3 Eisner Awards for it. I really appreciate the way Director Zack Snyder stuck so close to the drawn scenes and story progression for the movie. Remarkably close, actually...

No....CREATIVE.....LICENSE!!!!!!!

Spartan Rugby was brutal...

Adopting the Texan approach to Immigration Control...

Even Lady Gaga makes a cameo appearance!

Colors added...

2011-11-23T11:59:00.000-08:00

The very talented Sabine Rich's color work to my previous page...for the Ancient Dreams pilot comic.

Less ass, (it's the recession) but lovely setting.

New Pencils

2011-11-10T07:18:00.000-08:00

Another sneak peek (a phrase I use FAR too much) look at the pencils for my graphic novel....carefully incorporating the secret elements that make a great page (Bikes and Ass) as per the wisdom of the ancient artists...handed down from generation to generation by word of mouth. This was a fun page.

Awwwwwww....

2011-11-09T08:14:00.000-08:00

There are few things cuter than a caricature of a toddler. Maybe Yoda. Definitely Yoda as a toddler. I always enjoy doing these little favors for friends' kids though.

No, I wont do yours. I'm busy....was just sayin....

The Great Aussie Unknown

2011-11-08T03:20:00.000-08:00

Being from Australia....one encounters a shuddering amount of stupid questions from those who understandably know nothing about it, because of course they've never been there. And are also stupid, or have no internet access.
For those included in the second category, I thought I'd post this brilliant and very informative Q&A from an Australian Tourism Website. The answers are actual responses from tourist officials.

__________________________________________________
Q: Does it ever get windy in Australia ? I have never seen it rain on TV, how do the plants grow? ( UK ).

A: We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die.
__________________________________________________

Q: Will I be able to see kangaroos in the street? ( USA )

A:Depends how much you've been drinking.
__________________________________________________

Q:I want to walk from Perth to Sydney - can I follow the railroad tracks? ( Sweden )

A: Sure, it's only three thousand miles, take lots of water.
__________________________________________________

Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in Australia? Can you send me a list of them in Brisbane, Cairns, Townsville and Hervey Bay ? ( UK )

A: What did your last slave die of?
__________________________________________________

Q:Can you give me some information about hippo racing in Australia ? ( USA )

A: A-Fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe.
Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the Pacific which does not
... Oh forget it. Sure, the hippo racing is every Tuesday night in Kings Cross. Come naked.
__________________________________________________

Q:Which direction is North in Australia ? (USA )

A: Face south and then turn 180 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we'll send the rest of the directions.
_________________________________________________

Q: Can I bring cutlery into Australia ? ( UK )
A:Why? Just use your fingers like we do...
__________________________________________________

Q:Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? ( USA )

A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is
Oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Kings Cross, straight after the hippo races. Come naked.
__________________________________________________

Q: Can I wear high heels in Australia ? ( UK )
A: You are a British politician, right?
__________________________________________________

Q:Are there supermarkets in Sydney and is milk available all year round? ( Germany )

A: No, we are a peaceful civilization of vegan hunter/gatherers.
Milk is illegal.
__________________________________________________

Q:Please send a list of all doctors in Australia who can dispense rattlesnake serum. ( USA )

A: Rattlesnakes live in A-meri-ca which is where YOU come from.
All Australian snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and make good pets.
__________________________________________________

Q:I have a question about a famous animal in Australia, but I forget its name. It's a kind of bear and lives in trees. ( USA )

A: It's called a Drop Bear. They are so called because they drop out of Gum trees and eat the brains of anyone walking underneath them.
You can scare them off by spraying yourself with human urine before you go out walking.
__________________________________________________

Q:I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in Australia ? ( USA )

A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.
__________________________________________________

Q:Do you celebrate Christmas in Australia ? ( France )

A: Only at Christmas.
__________________________________________________

Q: Will I be able to speak English most places I go? ( USA )

A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first

Blame Canada

2011-10-24T12:26:00.000-07:00

Canada is a unique land. Of beauty and diversity, said the article I read on the plane that was taking me to…the Netherlands. The significance of this vital information however, didn’t properly kick in, in a fully appreciated way, until we switched planes in Amsterdam and continued to Canada.
I actually found the article while reaching for the menu card that should have been there instead. I guess Air Canada doesn’t serve food.

Unique bastards.

The travel magazine proclaimed it a land of “Unequaled Natural Beauty” but I wasn’t thrown. I’ve been lied to by Travel magazines before….being lured to lands of Unequaled Natural Beauty on trips to Mumbai, Uganda, Atlanta, Dusseldorf…and of course the Isle of Moderate Natural Beauty. (Hugest let-down of all)

Being the culturally educated, fur-shunning, latte drinking, sock-recycling modern man of the world that I am, however, I thought to get a second opinion. I flipped to the back of the magazine, to find it all in French, and receding to the middle portion where the English stopped. Ok, so this is a stupid country.

But no, I have Wikipedia, which is where unlearned masses like myself, my friends, and the CIA go to collect their intel, and according to which, Canada is the second largest country in the world, and means “village”. You can imagine the sheer boredom of this TV-less flight that urged me to see what else it had to say. What followed, however, was a long list of fictitious nonsense inaccurate enough to join the ranks of Origin of the Species, Paddington Bear, and every mainstream female-authored self-account of childhood molestation.

With the exception of this chick, who clearly had something awful happen to her…

To start off with, it said English is the national language. This a huge lie…as least in Montreal, where spoken English still carries the death penalty, due to their bitterness against the English for their ruthless colonization. Instead they speak French, as a proud French colony, which for reasons no logical human has ever fathomed, is somehow less embarrassing.
Not that I have a problem with the French language…as long as it is spoken exclusively by women. She could be yelling at you to get off her foot and shouting every expletive known to man, and it will still sound like she is imploring you to come to bed with her and defile her. My problem with men speaking French is due to the fact it has the exact same effect.
It is important to learn however, as should you dare ask a question in English, or merely sneeze in a non-French accent, even the most non-violent of passersby will still look at you as though you have just slain their firstborn.

"For asking directions in English....may God have mercy on your soul..."

There are things they neglect to tell you, however, which I thought I’d include a brief list of…should you accidentally wind up here, from a crash landing, kidnapping, or dishonest tourist magazine, etc…

1. Brush up on your hockey knowledge.

Apart from snow tires and hibernation, this is the only thing Canadians are truly knowledgeable about…and failure to be able to hold a hockey-specific conversation longer than 12 seconds on this subject also carries the death penalty.

2. Dress for the Arctic Circle.

If you are not from here, do not go by what the locals wear. These are people that go tanning in between hailstorms.

Canadian bikini model

3. Rob a bank.

The price of living is extraordinary. As if they actually needed to think of more reasons to keep people away.

4. Prepare for stupidity.

Okay, that’s a bit harsh. But do brace yourself for a forehead-smacking dose of human simplicity. These are people who at immigrations, hand back your passport, smile, and ask for your passport. (This happened.) They also routinely forget to give change, so bring small bills. Or repeat point 3.

5. Don’t beat women in public.

Apparently that doesn’t fly here, (thanks, French colony) and the campaigns against it are extensive. Pummeling the fairer sex is only legal in Toronto, or in the event they are wearing a hockey uniform of the opposing team, or have just spoken English.

Or if they look like this

Television ads against it appear on children’s channels every 15 minutes between Tom and Jerry’s, (I’m not kidding) so I’m guessing toddler violence is a serious national concern as well.

6. Bring your stash!

The tolerance for mind-altering substances is remarkably high here…as perhaps studies have shown men and toddlers who are high beat women less.

But I’m not gonna say Canada didn’t have its good moments for me. Like the time I watched Batman cartoons in the living room, while trying to stay warm. Good times.

I’m flying back to London in 3 days, and for first time in a long time, I’m actually glad about that.

I hear it’s a land of Unequaled Natural Beauty.

Note: No Canadians were directly insulted in the writing of this article

Back to the Drawing Board...

2011-10-20T17:09:00.000-07:00

In Montreal, finally penciling for my graphic novel again, which I sneak in, between bouts of frostbite. Here's a sneak peak at one of the panels, from the "Lonely and Curious College Girls chapter".

Okay, that was a lie...but I have to keep your attention somehow.

Steve Jobs Caricature

2011-10-14T13:28:00.000-07:00

Loosening up for the day with a quick cartoon of ol' Steve...whom I am allowed to be on first-name basis with, because I have a Mac.

And cuz he's dead.

R.I.P. Steve

Finished Cover

2011-10-10T08:59:00.000-07:00

Finished the cover idea I'm thinking to use for the Ancient Dreams graphic novel. Loved doing this one, as I really enjoy getting right up close with textures, faces, and detail, and it all turned out purty wicked in my opinion.
It occurs to me (something I may have read somewhere..) that graphic novels need content too, so I'll be probably be spending the next 2 weeks pondering that...followed by a couple days of taking care of it. Stay tuned for the finished product!

21 Life Lessons from Steve Jobs

2011-10-06T06:45:00.000-07:00

Steve Jobs will be remembered as a digital visionary — the man who brought poetry to the microchip.
But before he was a legend, he was a person.
We can’t all be Steve Jobs, but we can all learn from his extraordinary life.

#1 Skate to Where the Puck is Going to Be

In 2007, Steve Jobs said, “There’s an old Wayne Gretzky quote that I love. ‘I skate to where the puck is going to be, not where it has been.’ And we’ve always tried to do that at Apple. Since the very, very beginning. And we always will.”
Steve’s ability to anticipate future trends helped Apple dominate now-burgeoning markets like digital music sales (through the iPod and iTunes Store).

#2 Accentuate the Positive

Steve started life out on the wrong foot. He was given up for adoption at birth because his mother had wanted a daughter.
Tough break? Young Jobs didn’t think so: he was thankful for his loving adoptive parents — who happened to live in Palo Alto, California (which would eventually become Silicon Valley).

#3 Learn from Others

In high school, Jobs attended lectures at a small computer technology company called Hewlett-Packard. Before turning 21, Steve had worked for both HP and Atari. He saw what these companies were doing and learned what he wanted to do differently with Apple.

#4 Start Early

Because Steve was still a sponge-brained teenager when he started working with computers, he learned quickly.
It also helps that he started Apple in his early 20’s: when he was still full of energy, fresh ideas, and not yet restrained by a family or career.

#5 College is Important…

At its best, higher education challenges us to make connections and solve problems.
Jobs credits a college calligraphy course for part of the Macintosh’s development:

“If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts.”

#6 …But it’s Not Necessary

Reed University was expensive and Jobs didn’t want to drain his parents’ savings. If Jobs hadn’t dropped out, he would have been a junior in 1975. He co-founded Apple Computer that year instead.

#7 Travel the World

The year before he founded Apple, Jobs journeyed to India. Travel has a way of broadening a person’s perspective and expanding their sense of what’s possible – good traits in an entrepreneur.

#8 Surround Yourself with Good People

Steve Jobs wasn’t a great computer engineer. Apple would have had no chance if Jobs was the only one building the computers. That’s why he recruited Steve Wozniak.
Through the years, Jobs’ companies have blossomed thanks to the brilliant people he’s brought on board – like Apple CEO Tim Cook and Pixar CCO (Chief Creative Officer) John Lasseter.

#9 Expect Greatness

People tend to rise to expectations.

#10 Fake it Before You Make it

In Apple’s early days, Steve recognized that Palo Alto, California was the epicenter of innovative computer technology. Steve wanted his company to be associated with this place – but Apple was still headquartered out of a garage in nearby Los Altos.
Jobs’ solution was to set up a PO Box in Palo Alto and hire a voice answering service. A potential client would get the impression that Apple was a big company in the heart of Silicon Valley – even though the truth was that it was still just two sweaty guys in a garage across town.

#11 Obstacles are meant to be Overcome

Jobs and Wozniak ran out of money while developing the first Apple computer. Instead of giving in, Jobs sold his van and Wozniak sold his graphing calculator. When there’s a will, there’s a way.

#12 Don’t Value Money

As CEO of Apple, Jobs earned $1 a year. Jobs wasn’t incentivized by his salary, but by his own unrelenting pursuit of excellence. (Then again, his expansive stock holdings may have been some incentive.)

#13 Value People

Jobs hired passionate people and cultivated exceptional company cultures at both Apple and Pixar – and their work speaks for itself.

#14 Take Risks

Jobs was willing to cannibalize his company’s products in the name of progress. Many CEOs would have been hesitant to develop the iPhone, knowing full well that it would help to make the iPod obsolete – but Jobs did it anyway (and took a big bite out of the lucrative mobile market).

Don’t be afraid to take risks. Especially smart ones.

#15 Create a Personal Brand

Steve Jobs was one of the first people to recognize the growing importance of personal brands in the Internet age. His black turtleneck is as instantly recognizable as the Apple logo.

#16 Have a Higher Purpose

Buddha said, “We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world.”
Jobs has turned his vision into reality since he began practicing Buddhism in the 1970’s.

#17 Find the Right Partner

There is no more important decision in your life than the person you decide to share it with. Choose wisely (as Steve did), and you have a partner who will help see you through daily challenges.

#18 Fail Forward

Everybody fails. It’s how you respond to those failures that makes all the difference. In 1984, Steve Jobs was fired from Apple.
At Stanford’s 2005 commencement address, he had this to say about it:

“I didn’t see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.”

#19 Learn How to Take a Brick to the Head

More inspiring words from the Stanford speech:

“Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don’t lose faith. I’m convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You’ve got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work.”

#20 Remember You’ll be Dead Soon

“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.”

Our time on this earth is short. Let’s make it count.

#21 Put a Dent in the Universe

Jobs once said, “We’re here to put a dent in the universe. Otherwise, why else even be here?”
Having a higher purpose doesn’t just help you find success. It redefines the meaning of the word.

Ready to Redefine Success?

I’ll let Jobs have the last word:

“The only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don’t settle.”

Caricature Commission

2011-09-25T09:55:00.000-07:00

Graphic Novel Sneak Peek...

2011-09-17T11:44:00.000-07:00

Introducing The Fates...part of the creepy cast of the Ancient Dreams saga. Was challenging delving into darker, uglier material but they tell a great story.

Bring on the Rugby World Cup!

2011-09-10T14:08:00.000-07:00

With all the recent focus placed on the Middle East, and current historic events in Libya, I know there is one topic prevalent on most people’s minds…

The RUGBY WORLD CUP!!!

If only...

For those of you who were born yesterday, in a coma, mentally impaired, or from the US, Rugby is the forefather, but not remotely similar to, American Football, which from what I have gathered from watching, is mostly comprised of obese black guys in Kevlar body armor running into each other, regardless of whether or not there is actually a ball on the field. As you can imagine, this greatly takes it out of them, hence the 65 breaks during play, allowing for hours and hours of stage performances and cheesy TV commercials, which is the primary reason they came up with the game in the first place.

Not rugby. Rugby is for men. And Real Men don’t wear protection (though Trojan would sue me for saying so). And every four years, some of the largest men from around the world gather to wax their legs, put on tiny shorts, and have giant group hugs on-field, called scrums, in a completely straight, manly way.

This year the cup is held in New Zealand, who proudly posses, among the world’s best sheep, aaaaand….sheep, arguably the world’s best rugby team, the All Blacks, all of whom were talent scouted when playing the Orcs from Lord of the Rings.
An infamous contributor to their winning successes is their physiological weaponry, primarily the Haka, a frighteningly brutal wardance performed in front of the opposing team to demonstrate in carefully choreographed gestures what each of them would do to you, your dog, and your mother, had there been no cameras, witnesses, or rules against cannibalism, buggery, and public castration. To date, no other performance has been found to match the kind of horror this strikes into the viewers heart and sometimes underpants, except on occasion Lady Gaga.

"If you're happy and you know it, slit their throats..."

Opposing teams have long struggled for a response to this spectacular display of intimidation, though none have ever quite manage to counter it…despite my repeatedly ignored written suggestions to my team, the Australian Wallabies, to openly flaunt their genitalia and holler “yo’ mama” jokes.

"it's bubbling, it's bubbling..."

All in all, it should prove to be a nail-biting spectacle of determination, muscle, wits, broken bones, shattered dreams, and bitten nails. By shattered dreams, of course, I mean that those wanting to view the games will get absolutely no sleep, due to the fact they are on New Zealand time, which scientists have proven takes place 5 years before our own…and for the most part at 4 in the morning.

Still….there are die-hards, and I am one of them.

I’ve even waxed my legs.

"Say whaaaaa....?"

First Page Colors...

2011-08-29T04:33:00.000-07:00

Fantastic work by my friend Sabine Rich, on the painting...this is gonna be one awesome book!

Page One Sketch

2011-08-23T11:11:00.000-07:00

It's been a 13 day marathon of some painfully long hours on this project, laboring in the heat and flies of Atlanta, though to the ignorant observer...I just sat at a table with a pencil, some coffee, Hooters monthly, and my invisible friend Natasha. None of these proved much use, in the end, but nonetheless, facing a lack of food, sleep, and beer for up to 4 hours at times, I was able to complete the exciting first edition of the Ancient Dreams series, which I am thrilled to show you the first page of here.
Ok, well thrilled is a strong word, as I was almost too tried and annoyed to scan the bloody thing, but I'm glad to be done, and will be posting the painted pages soon after...

Stay tuned!

Tattoo Design

2011-08-21T15:57:00.000-07:00

Broke up my artistic routine with some fun tattooing for a friend. Nothing injects a bit of refreshing variety into your day like some design work and inflicted pain, heh

Battle Scene WIP

2011-08-20T12:47:00.000-07:00

Now just because I know some of you have been just unable to SLEEP, wondering what the steps were in painting this one...I thought I'd show it, as showing the crappy original is, I find, an awesome away of making the end product seem much better than it probably is.

Bascially just started off with a really rough sketch, blocked in the main colors, added a rough layer of lights and shadows just to help it all make better sense, labored away for HOURS and even some minutes on the rest of detail...then said bugger it, deleted it all, and painted a nicer one.

And there you have it...go sleep now ;)

Finished Battle Scene

2011-08-16T18:14:00.000-07:00

The full promotional poster I painted for the Ancient Dreams project. Really more of an endurance test as far as painting goes, with more time and whiskey dedicated to it than I am used to, but rather happy with the result. Enjoyed the grander, more epic setting, and hope this is the first of many larger scenes to come.

P.S. Despite being completely unable to, after this disclaimer opens your eyes, ignore the dodgy leather strap underneath his sword for what you probably you think it is. Unless you thought it was a totally non-phallic leather strap...then you absolutely win a biscuit.

Sneak Peek...

2011-08-11T23:00:00.000-07:00

Is it a bird? A helmet? Why doesn't he floss?? Exciting answers to these questions and more when I post the full complete poster soon!

Greek Garden

2011-08-08T17:10:00.000-07:00

Some landscaping fun with a 0.3 felt pen one bored evening...

Next Time I'm Walking...

2011-08-05T20:33:00.000-07:00

My hate relationship with all American domestic flights continued in impeccable form this week with another health-defying lunge through the skies from beautiful Long Beach, California (named after it’s….Long…Beach) to not-so-beautiful Houston (named after…the Space God folks cry out to, when they have a problem).

The math on these domestic flights is somewhat reverse to traditional consumer policy, in that the more flights you take, the less you pay. If bars had this same policy the dream of World Peace would most likely already be realized.
For the price of a one way ticket, you can probably buy 50 percent shares in the airport itself, which alternatively means if you want an affordable flight to a destination 2 hours away, you have to be prepared for up to 15 stops…which may include Tokyo or the Vatican.

To ensure these multi-stop journeys are not TOO intolerable, however, and taking into consideration the outside temperature being twice that of the Earth’s core, US Airways have disabled the air conditioning in all of their aircrafts, thus giving you the opportunity to bond with the person next to you via sweat glands.
My flight was delayed for an hour, as there was likely a problem in the aircraft, such as the fans still working, which gave me ample opportunity to observe things such as a flight attendant asking a passenger for food (I’m really not joking).
The flight attendant for our plane needed none whatsoever, and may well have eaten the other one. She must have been at least 300 pounds, and I tried to ignore the overwhelming irony of her protesting against a passenger’s carry on, claiming it was “too big for such a small plane.”

On a cunning survival scheme, I kept my amusement to myself.

I was seated next to the Emergency Exits, which I usually enjoy, for the extra leg room, which US Airways has been steadily subtracting from its seating by 14 inches per year. I don’t imagine it will be long before attendants will be instructing passengers to put their heads between their knees not for a crash landing, but rather for the purpose of squeezing into their fun-size seats.
This time, however, I was sharing the space with The Blob of Stewardessing, who duly began the complicated sign language rituals airlines use to calmly alert the passengers just how many things may actually go wrong with their flight. After professionally gesturing to either love handle, indicating the emergency exits, nonverbally reassuring us that if anything were to go wrong, we would be fatally stuck anyway, we settled in for a comfortable flight.

Or so we thought.

After 4 hours of sweating profusely and enduring the honed skills of a pilot whose only training was probably Wii games, I nervously sipped the complimentary cup of ice cubes the airline cordially dishes out to take your mind off the “light turbulence” which is technical Aviator speak for “HOLY SHIT, I almost hit that thing!!!”
Upon landing, the announcement came over the speakers to please shut all air vents, after which, and I kid you not, came the hastened addendum “My apologies, Ladies and Gentlemen I have just been informed the cabin has none.”

He was totally right.

The announcement followed for seat belts to be fastened while the landing gear came out, and we all waited with baited breath for the sudden “Ladies and Gentlemen, it seems we have no landing gear EITHER!! Buwhahahahahahahaha…..”
But land we did, and I could not be happier. Until I saw the Pyramids.

Obviously a few more stops to go….

Before and After Hades

2011-08-02T00:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, so apprently those last images were fecking small...so here's at least the starting collage and final matte.

Enjoy!

You know...for those who misty green scenes of Death. I guess.

The River Styx

2011-08-02T00:05:00.000-07:00

This dark, hideous, boys dormitory-looking scene was done for a film treatment involving a scene at the River Styx, at the entrance to Hades. Tried to really deviate from the usual happy, sunny, rainbow-ridden versions of Hades so prominent in the art world today and really went for something gloomy.
Cuz I'm a rebel like that.

Instead of showing the finished product I thought I'd slap together a W.I.P of the different stages I went through to get my look (for Hades, that is...my own personal journey of image metamorphosis' is far spookier...) and then slap it up here, so you can get to see the steps, and I get to use the word slap twice...which I do enjoy.

Done in Photoshop, using random Google images, custom brushes, and conjured mental pictures of my old neighborhood in Houston.

Temple Concept Sketch

2011-07-27T11:46:00.001-07:00

Buildings are fun....especially Greek ones. And ones with boobies.

Cerberus, Guardian of Hades

2011-07-17T10:16:00.000-07:00

Monstrous, bloodthirsty Spawn from Hell. Needs good family or loving owner to look after him. Not fully house-trained, but responds well to positive reinforcement (LOVES children).
Contact Hades for details...

This Big Bad Wolf was great fun to paint....and a newish venture into the "monster realm" for me.

Sword Design

2011-07-12T18:29:00.000-07:00

You know how everyone's ALWAYS asking if you could have a sword, what would it look like? (you dont...? Well shuddup, no one's talking to you...)
This isn't it.
Mine would be mostly made of breasts, and have a Gummy Bear dispenser somewhere. But this one is still pretty darn cool. Its name is Legus....for the Ancient Dreams fantasy computer game about to stun audiences across the galaxy and in some parts of Mexico.

Had a blast playing with the different textures, and look forward to doing lots more weapon design along these lines...hopefully some of which will dispense Gummy Bears.

Illustration of the Day

2011-07-08T12:13:00.000-07:00

Still trying to always find time for kids illustrations, though it's getting harder these days. It's nice sometimes to just sit down and do a simple character illustration...especially for any project designed to instill in today's child good morals and/or a working knowledge of the female anatomy.

Caricature Victim of the Week

2011-07-05T10:12:00.000-07:00

Cerberus Sketch

2011-07-01T07:21:00.000-07:00

Some pretty exciting concept art I'm doing for an upcoming game...stay tuned for the awesome colored version!

All I Want For My Birthday...

2011-06-25T14:15:00.000-07:00

Yes…today is that fateful day of the year where we all sit back, take stock of our lives and ask yourselves, in the mirror of shameless self-honesty, what you as a human being, with all you have been blessed with, have done for me this year.
And if the answer for some of you, is NOTHING (you all know who are!!!), then this post is for you.

Responses to my Christmas gift list seemed to indicate that I had aimed somewhat high…as apparently, there are those of you who think it’s acceptable to blame something as irrelevant as the current economy for your selfish inability to shell out $200, 000 for essentials like a luxury bike, or a Argentine supermodel.

But this year things are going to be different. And I don’t just mean I’ve lost my taste for Latin women. Ok, so you all ignored my suggestions, thumbed your nose in the face of my need for holiday joy, and cruelly mocked my humble requests for multi-million dollar accessories.
But you’ve had a full 6 months to ponder the gravity of your self-centered mistake, and a I trust on this most significant of days (my birthday, for those just joining us…) you will find it within yourself to correct the error of your ways, and show some gratitude for all the valuable time I have helped you waste on this blog, with the following small tokens of appreciation…

1: A 64-year-old Macallan

Because nothing says Happy Birthday like a $460,000 bottle of whiskey. This baby is the oldest whiskey ever made by the Macallan Distillery from the 1920s,. It comes with its own one of a kind crystal decanter and 2 Asian prostitutes to constantly hold it with perky smiles.

For an extra 50 dollars, they will also name their children after you.

2: The MTT Turbine Superbike – Only $150, 000!

Over $50, 000 dollars cheaper than the Ecosse Spirit I requested earlier, (don’t ever say I didn’t do anything for you) the Y2K superbike holds the Guinness Record for the world’s most powerful motorcycle, which is more necessary than one realizes, when plowing through a crowd of pedestrians on the sidewalk during rush hour. It has a Rolls Royce turbo-shaft engine, when they ran out of planes to put it in, with 300 horsepower.

I have no idea what that means, but I’m assuming if this bike and 299 horses had a game of tug of war, the bike would tear off laughing. And there would be a huge crowd of horses angrily shaking their heads talking about how they almost had it.
Weird, right? Somewhere, some cracked out technician is getting paid to conduct tests like these, while the rest of us work for a living.

It may also hold the record for Most Pointless Gadgets, including mounted cameras, ( no joke) so you can fine yourself for speeding, presumably- since it’s unlikely the police will be able to catch you- radar detectors, touch-start, and LCD color screen, for your 2 year old to watch Toy Story, as you go 0-200 mph in under 15 seconds.

3: A Booty Pillow (ONLY $30!!)

A fun, affordable gift that says ”You’re a sad, lonely bastard…have one of these.”
Booty Pillows bring love and comfort to all men…Virgins, Eunuchs, terrorists away from their families, Polygamists, or just simple God-fearing pervs like myself.

Fake Ass: Bringing people closer together

It’s all the soft comfort of a woman’s back and buttocks without the need for awkward conversation, jealousy between partners, or the ramifications of that night’s dinner.

Also a hilarious prank for blind people...

Go to https://bootypillows.com/ to see their disturbingly diverse catalogue of fake, comfy ass furniture. Unfortunately they’re diversity doesn’t extend to sizes, but I find roping a silk blanket around a queen size mattress works a treat for the Kim Kardashian fans.

Its only weird if you make it weird.

4: A Philip Sonicare toothbrush

Here’s a nice, affordable AND practical little pressie that isn’t gold-plated, gem-encrusted, model-accompanied, or turbo-charged. Well…not entirely.
The Philip Sonicare Toothbrush is not much more than…well, a really groovy toothbrush, and the exact inspiration I need to rediscover the joys of brushing my teeth after about…um…eleven years…

The self-charging Sonicare head vibrates at over 600 strokes a second, which makes it a toothbrush your wife or girlfriend will NOT mind you leave lying around…although for same implied reason, it is just REALLY not advisable to.

Starting at $160, this enviable little appliance is an un-regrettable buy- for those interested in high tech dental hygiene or just happy for the guilt free sensation of a virgin’s hair bristles in their mouth.
Okay, a weird guess…but YOU tell me why it costs that much!

So anyways, those are your options....

I’ll be waiting here by the door…

Work In Progress...

2011-06-23T22:27:00.000-07:00

In a continuing and often futile effort to prove to people I WORK for a living, I thought I'd give a sneak peak at some unfinished pages I'm doing for a new kids book that so far has been quite fun to illustrate. Wont give away the story here, but they all die in the end and the black guy did it.
No, just kidding....but you should still buy it when I'm done to make sure.

I Love the Smell of Tattoos in the Morning...

2011-06-20T19:54:00.000-07:00

One of the cool things about being an artist is sometimes you wake up in the morning and there is a naked woman lying next to you. Sometimes two. Sometimes just a large squeegee. But another cool thing is that you get to draw on them. And they will LET you…aware of the dangerous and unnatural consequences that result in stemming or remotely questioning the flow of your creative juices.

Which is also sometimes the reason they got there in the first place.

I had the good fortune to being privy to a tasty canvas recently, and promptly unsheathed my marker (an impressive trick, when naked…) for some fun body vandalizing.
Credit to my lurvely girlfriend for not squirming, pleading, or recovering from the tranquilizer for the entire time.

Oh, There You Are...

2011-06-17T17:17:00.000-07:00

It has thus far been a month of real rediscovery for me. A beer gut, long-dead cravings for nicotine, reignited arousal for Adele, and half a jam sandwich I lost last November, are only mentioning a spare few…almost all of which seem to have occurred under my bed. The most worrying of all, however, topping even my changing feelings toward Gospel music, and the fact I actually FINISHED the fossilized sandwich, is the fact I had all but completely forgotten about this blog.
I have no words for the embarrassment and guilt I feel for this. Well…I suppose there are those two words. But no more.
I have RETURNED however, to the wild and relieved cheers of you, the 3 people that come here, who have no doubt been forced to do something more productive with your lives during my prolonged absence, like pay attention to your families. Or watch porn.

That’s right…like we didn’t know.

The reasons for my online disappearance are many…involving inebriation, stress, travel, and a certain delicious German girl. Often all at the same time.
But I am now in Houston, if the airline pilot is to be believed, after a flight lasting approximately 7 movies and 3 Seasons of Glee. Which brings up another rediscovery. Houston in summertime shares a daily forecast with the core of the Earth. Outside my very window I can see the piled, smoldering ashes of unsuspecting Texans foolish enough to step outside their homes for deceptive mirages depicting Burger Kings.

This will, on the bright and safer side, keep me indoors at the computer, so I can promise a greater faithfulness to this blog, for as long as the plastic on my Imac keeps from melting.
I shall be back soon…but hunger calls.

And I seem to see a shimmering Burger King outside my window…

Caricature Victim of the Week

2011-05-17T01:56:00.000-07:00

New Storybook on the way...

2011-05-09T03:58:00.000-07:00

Been busy this last month working on some new storybooks to expand the Timeless Tales" series, which we are still hoping will one day make us rich, and maybe even teach kids not to do bad things, if we are lucky.
No final product to show off just yet, but this last one is very cute...and I daresay once it's done, will be hard not to buy. Here's some character design paintings and a sample page, just so you know I haven't been sitting here drinking beer the ENTIRE time...

Wedding Season!

2011-04-28T23:46:00.000-07:00

The fruits of confused, youthful lurve are ripening this month, as couples are choosing, as they have since The Fall, to continue dramatically accelerating the aging process, by choosing a mate to invest ridiculous amounts of cash and stress with, in return for a few months of guilt-free sex, then a lifetime of misery. Haha...oh, but I kid.
There's always guilt.
But more importantly...everyone and their mother are getting married this month, which is fantastic for me as a portrait artist and TOTALLY gross and confusing for people who don't understand that first expression. And to compound this brash life-choice, people are having me DRAW them in the process, so years down the road, they will be able to prove to their disbelieving friends it actually happened.
But newly weds are very cute...even the ugly ones, and I can never say no to a caricature request. Here's a few samples of some of them...

Gothic Queen

2011-04-19T00:10:00.000-07:00

Alot of my paintings are done with a specific purpose...be it to illustrate some profound principle, express the deepest sentiments of my fragile heart, bring someone else's dream to life, or make someone laugh. Then there are times when my creative juices are seized with the irresistible urge to just paint a mascot for National Cleavage Day.

This is one of those paintings.

I've always had a strong Gothic pull in my art, and could never tire of designing and painting outfits, backgrounds, and looks such as this woman has...who, in the case of all my paintings, I am sure actually exists, and is somewhere in a Transylvanian castle waiting either to be rescued, drink my blood, or just have me stand there drooling while she figures out how to sip her wine without the corset tearing.

it's a gift, being this mature.

Painting for the Day...

2011-04-07T14:24:00.000-07:00

Messing about with some character design today. This bloke is supposed to be Caleb, a warrior from the Bible who helped the early Hebrews get started on their habit of claiming land that wasn't' theirs. With a few others, of equal beard size, he played a big part in colonizing Canaan, a land flowing with Milk, Honey, and as the drawing turned out...apparently steroids.

Came out a bit Neanderthal, in the end, but are you gonna tell him?

No...you're not.

Caricature Victim of the Week...

2011-04-01T08:01:00.000-07:00

Photomanipulation of the Week

2011-03-23T03:30:00.000-07:00

I've lately had the engaging assignment of pitching some promotional pieces to some big companies here in Zurich, in the hopes of large amounts of money in brown paper bags showing up at my door. Commercial advertising is fun on a number of levels...specifically the bit where I play computer games throughout the day, before spending a frantic midnight hour throwing some kind of pitch together.

Chrono Swiss Watches was our target for this week, so I got to have some photo manipulation fun for a campaign that should show, as so few of us know, how much better an expensive watch and Photoshop will actually make you look, when running next to a train.
Like one does....

Here's a few samples of the pitch, along with the original shot of the homeless person that agreed to take the picture....just so you can see the transforming power these watches truly have....

If I were Adam...

2011-03-18T09:56:00.000-07:00

Had a bit of blasphemous fun with Photoshop, at a bored moment today. Affirmation that the Renaissance era truly was for me...in terms of physical fitness, if nothing else.

Character Sketch

2011-03-12T01:26:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I forget why I love character design so much...but this latest little project reminded me. Just grabbing a pencil and and concocting a fictional character's looks based on whatever wild ideas that float into your head is pretty much up there with surfing, beer festivals, and that scene of Megan Fox straddling the bike in Transformers 2.
This guy's name is Drake, and someone has just stolen his Twinkies...as you can see by his expression.

Caricature of the Day

2011-03-03T07:59:00.000-08:00

Painting Of the Day...

2011-02-28T01:47:00.000-08:00

There are some mornings when I just have to wake up and paint a chick with a sword...

Painting of the Day

2011-02-22T00:54:00.001-08:00

My Big Break (and other reasons to whine...)

2011-02-17T13:09:00.000-08:00

Almost everyone has their own special Thinking Spot. A quiet, secluded, or memory-laden place where they can go to relieve the mental burdens of their lives, chew manfully on straw, and just ponder and reflect the Past, the Present, The Future, and That Time They Almost Got the Super Hot Chick’s Number.
For Winnie the Pooh, it was his special Thinking tree. For Superman, it was his Fortress of Solitude (which, Estate Agency-wise, is just really bad marketing). George Bernard Shaw had a garden hut. Charles Darwin had a Sandwalk. George Bush never had one, which explains a lot, but you get my point.

I have the hospital.

This is my favorite place for calm, quiet self-contemplation, as the atmosphere there seems to lend itself to non-activity. By Atmosphere, of course, I’m mainly talking about muscle-numbing drugs and body casts.
To answer the pending question: No, my presence there did not involve a motorbike, terrorists, or even Megan Fox’s bodyguards. In fact, I have decided to simply not mention what put me in that state, as no matter how many embellished revisions of the story I have played out in my head, I can see no way of either of them getting me laid.

Suffice it to say, I began 2011 with a broken ankle, and not the good kind. (I only put that there to see how many people stop to wonder if there really IS a good kind. If you did, then you’re an idiot with too much time on your hands, and this blog is for you.)
This took place in Germany, which is a paradise, if you like living in a factory with the sprinklers on. Before I am accosted with hate mail from all 3 of my German readers, I should mention that it is most likely a beautiful country, and that I was possibly just in a bad part of it. All I’m saying was the operating room had better scenery.

Germans as a whole are very precise, overly educated, and highly trained in all spheres of the work place. An ice cream man here is qualified to be a President elsewhere…that’s how efficient and professional the workforce is. This of course excludes the nurses of this country, who were all flown in from Croatia when the bodies they were feasting on ran out. (By that, I’m suggesting they dried up…there was no actual exiting stampede of running corpses, to the best of my knowledge…)
My nursing experience started with a potentially female individual who had a build one could almost describe as…cuddly. They would, of course, be wrong in doing so, unless they themselves were Shaq O Neil recovering from a very, very bad dream. The X-rays showed my foot to be fractured from the left, so her job description must have been to even the sides out, as she did something that
1: Made me coil in indescribable agony
2: Afterwards made me pray for someone in my life to perform the same regularly.

If you’re wondering what caused these very contrasting reactions, what she did was place both my feet within her cleavage.That’s right. I was knee deep in Giant Nurse Breast, which apart from being a fantastic idea for a Marvel Comic, or arousing horror flick, is actually a childhood nightmare of mine. Except in the dream the feet are my head. And the nurse is my creepy old Italian babysitter. But I digress…
After burying my lower appendages (sorry, lowest) in her vast, highly-trained boobage, she began to slowly lean into me, until my foot was cranked into a position I can only describe as ALMOST UPSIDE DOWN, and held it there to wedge into plaster. I have no idea if all foot patients receive this intimate treatment, and in hindsight, had she not looked like Gary Busey as a sumo wrestler, I might have been flattered or even deeply aroused. But as it was, I had no blood in my lower body, because it had all rushed to my lungs to accommodate the girly, high pitched screams I was encouraged to share with the room. (I’d like to point out at this point this was only the second time in my life I have screamed like a little girl (the first being when Wolverine came out on DVD), and definitely the only time in my life my blood flow has gone from my nether regions to my brain.)

After the 90 pound leg cast was mounted and armed, just as the oxygen in the room was running out, I got to see my luxurious hospital room, with adjustable furniture, oil paintings, and television, complete with 3 channels not even the Germans can decipher, and (I am not even making this up) four security camera channels monitoring the hospital’s Catholic chapel from different locations.
I have NO idea what this was for, but I’m guessing choirboy abuse is at an all-time low here in Germany.
In all I spent 2 weeks in this place, although I was eventually forced to leave the comforting solitude of my room, as it was discovered to be in the women’s ward. I’m not kidding, they put me in the women’s ward. Apparently there was a mix up when they heard me screaming.
So I was cruelly sent to the men’s ward, which consisted mainly of elderly gentlemen on their last legs, or in some cases, their only leg. I did not end up terribly enjoying their company as it came with a great deal of extremely loud bodily functions. The kind where you have to turn and look to see if they were even wearing any clothes, and not holding a loudspeaker to the offending orifice.

On the morning of the operation a highly trained member of staff arrived to draw a large black arrow on my plastered leg, informatively pointing down towards the foot. This is so when I arrive, unconscious, at the operating room, with my swollen, red right leg in a huge brace, they don’t mistakenly amputate my penis. There’s no fooling these Germans and their magic markers.
Still, to be on the safe side, I borrowed the marker to draw a large “X” over a certain area.

Recovery was fairly quick, although extremely painful. Aside from the excruciating pain in my freshly-sabotaged foot, I also had to endure sleeplessness, muscle cramps, and worse by far…3 entire seasons of True Blood.
There were times I found myself yearning for the Empty Chapel Channel.

The best part of recovery though, is the massages. On any given day, at random intervals, people will come in and massage you…a large percentage of whom actually work in the hospital. Although the best by far were the ones with name tags, lotion, and no criminal record, you learn to appreciate any form of company in the wards. It is still best to not make eye contact with any of them, though.
In conclusion, if there is a lesson to be learned, (and I usually try to concoct one before the end of the column) it is to NEVER listen to a single word anyone without a white lab coat has to say. This includes friends, relatives, old wives tales, desperate wives tales, and naked doctors…the last of which being the best to avoid.
Gems of advice shared with me immediately after the incident by concerned and learned individuals included:

“It’s broken! You need to walk on it right away!” (this person did not like me…)

“Put it in cold water!”

“No, put it in boiling water!”

“Stand in a vat of molten lava!”

“Throw salt over your left shoulder and punch a Muslim!”

“Have sex with me!” (Naked doctor here…)

“Seriously, you NEED TO WALK ON IT!!” (Same person, REALLY hating me at this point…)

There are currently enough metal plates and screws in my foot to construct a miniature Eiffel tower, but I am glad to say, not being an idiot, I did the right thing, and am healing beautifully.

As is the Muslim I walloped.

Yes, I look like this now. If you see me, give me money

Freedooooom!!!

2011-02-10T11:35:00.000-08:00

And I have little else to say about that...except that I'm FINALLY out of hospital and will tell you, the desperately curious masses, about what happened over those dark, painful weeks.

As soon as I remember.

Or think of something funny to say.

In the meantime, here's a thought-provoking image...

And maybe something to encourage you to come back...

See? Hot Asian chicks!!!

This is a good place to come back to...

Off to Hospital

2011-01-22T05:21:00.000-08:00

Going in for a foot operation today...If I don't reappear after several weeks, sleep safe in the knowledge I have died. Or eloped with a nurse. Wish me luck!

The Helmet

2011-01-19T04:01:00.000-08:00

Another older painting I thought I'd add to the archives...this was I think for some magazine cover. Lots of fun with designing the armor and painting a different mood to most of my paintings. Good practice with metal textures on this one...

The News Today...

2011-01-14T02:47:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting in Philadelphia airport, waiting for a flight that according to notices on the Magic Blue Screen may be delayed until, and I quote: “The Second Coming”, and I’m forced to do something I enjoy very, very little. And that is watch American News broadcasting.
I despise the majority, if not entirety of American news reporting due to the fact that it is really not news reporting at all. In this country they have evolved it into a depressing form of entertainment…something you would possibly find the “Drama” section of Blockbuster.
I think what makes the news in the USA so unique is (even if you count the fact they may make a lot of it up) that in the rest of the world, one becomes accustomed to a relatively down-to-Earth news story from people who are actual reporters with a complete assortment of facts and very little opinion.
Here in the USA, most news seems to be delivered by retired members of the Jersey Shore, with an overwhelming barrage of pre-formulated opinion and little to no actual factual information. This comes complete with riveting camera work and effects-ridden post-editing, action movie sound effects, casts of hundreds of reporters, all of whom look alike save for skin color and the front bit of their hair, and stirring soundtracks that will one day likely win Oscars. (“And the award for best Soundtrack goes toooo…..The Mutilation in Ghana Story!!!”)

I think the worst part about news casting in America is the anchormen and reporters have already clearly made their minds up about what they are reporting, and have the very shameless agenda of not too gently leading you along the same path of their logic…or more often lack of it. It is hard not to flip through the news these days without finding some worked up middle aged white woman in a grey suit and fake hair that would make Donald Trump envious, demanding justice and loudly voicing her indignant bigotry over a subject that is not quite yet clear enough to anyone in the news room…including her. But let it not be said it stops her from pounding the table with her fist, with an expression so aggressive that you can actually discern it through the botox, calling for parents of America to respond with action and protest…just as soon as her people get back to her on what she is worked up about.

Even worse than all this, however, is a new breed of American news reporting…a curious new concept of visual journalism that in the words of their Anchorwomen I saw this morning…”is not afraid to laugh at the news…”
This is just a swell group of funsters, as you can imagine…dolled up Barbie girls and tall dark handsome hair stylists, who just cannot believe how much fun they are all having, reporting the news. They laugh most of the way through the broadcast, which you think is annoying, until one of them actually starts to speak. Again, these are people that really want you to know how much they just love their job, to the point that they are not going to let a little boo boo like a mass murdering in Arizona spoil their good natured bouts of giggling, ribbing, and- I can only imagine towards the end of the show- probably an on-screen pillow fight after the Weather.
For those of you who can’t quite picture how mind-numbingly stupid and annoying this type of media is…picture a Weatherman laughing the ENTIRE way through his slot with absolutely no reason why.
And because this is a hip new style of reporting…who says the news has to be relevant…or even important? This was the actual news line up from this morning…I’m not making it up, this was the order of stories today…
“The parent’s of murdered child in Tucsun, Arizona, responded to Obama’s well-wishes, and have started a memorial fund in the name of their departed daughter, who was fatally shot, along with 9 others in this horrible incident…”
“And now…in other news….TWO MOOSE SIGHTINGS IN NEVADA? Now locals say one moose is unusual….although occasional. But TWO? Here we have a photograph of the two animals outside a residential area, and Nick has the story….”
These are professional journalists. They’re not going to let a story like congregating moose pass nationwide attention. In fact, if the animals had started to mate, we may have never even heard of the Arizona killings at all.
Next was a story about a girl convicted of being involved in a Meth lab…which, in the words of the jolly anchorwoman, is a lab that makes Meth. Now THIS was a story that the news funsters really enjoyed. I do not know why, but women arrested for drug involvement is possibly a hilarious inside joke amongst reporters. She was also the sister of a cousin of somebody who may play professional football for a team nobody’s heard of...so as you can imagine, the ripples were huge.
Following is the actual report:

Anchorwoman: “So Jeff, I understand this woman was actually arrested for being involved in this Meth lab!”
Jeff: “That’s right, Melinda, in fact, she was taken into custody today right after authorities were aware of her dealings with this meth lab…”
Melinda (Now with huge smile): “I cannot believe it! I mean…who would have thought!”
Jeff (now also with huge, good-natured smile): “I know, right? It was actually the wo….”
Melinda: “METH LAB, huh…?”
Jeff: (shaking his head…starting to chuckle) “That’s right, a meth lab!”
Melinda (biting lip, grinning hugely): “But a METH lab??!”
Jeff: “Meth lab!”
Melinda (now looking as though she just sat on a whoopie cushion): “Well thanks, Jeff, more on this story after the hour…”
Jeff: “Meth lab.”

I am not even kidding here, that was the actual conversation that just took place. So the stories being what they may…I cannot bear to watch another second of news in this country.
In fact, I’m so annoyed I’m going to find a Meth Lab.

Jeff will prolly have more on that story soon…unless some squirrel in Denver learns to roller skate.

Happy Christmas and New Year!!! (And all other events I have been asleep for)

2011-01-07T21:35:00.000-08:00

Well at last the madding rush of the Christmas season is over, and I’m sure that now, like me, in the settling calm, the first thing on your mind is “What the hell am I supposed to do with an Industrial Toaster???” Well as the panic of buying pointless gifts has died down, and the even bigger panic of trying to salvage something from their return policy is also drawing to a close, it’s time to remember all the things we neglected over the wildly festive migraine-rich season. Like the fact we haven’t fed our kids all month. Or shaved. Some of us truly lost it and in stuffed ourselves and shaved our kids. (Not me…I was hoping and waiting for both a shaver and food for Christmas.)
Or the fact we almost totally forgot we had a blog. I have thousands of very good, and actually interesting reasons for this…some of them legitimate, and most of them involving Alien experiments or a fat lady with a whip. But the main thing that’s been consuming my time of late is getting back to my good ol’ caricaturing roots this month.
Christmas is fantastic time to get a caricature of your friends of loved ones drawn, as nothing says “I don’t really care enough about you to get a real present, so here’s a hilarious disfigurement of your face,” quite like one of these little babies. It’s also cheap, which is why I spent the better part of my December waking hours hunched over an easel in a mall containing the same population as China, drawing MILLIONS of people.
This is still one of my favorite artistic pursuits of all time, as it’s incredibly quick, fun, and in the end if you catch them, they give you money.

Anyway here’s some mugshots of what I was up to this month…

And of course the obligatory Christmas Tree Photo. Our big fake smiles are sponsored by Tequila. As you can see, Drake's had more than any of us.

I also want to point out with a certain tinge of hurt, that I got absolutely NONE of the very simple, affordable gifts I humbly requested on my last post. I’m not pointing any fingers, but you know who you are for holding back on me. Mainly because it was…everybody. But if this online relationship is just one of me giving and giving and giving until my fingers bleed (not sure why my fingers…) and receiving nothing, well then….that’s not a very healthy relationship IS IT???

And like all my unhealthy relationships, I will obliviously continue…see you all soon!

All I Want For Christmas...

2010-12-19T21:18:00.000-08:00

Ok, so yes I know I’ve been an absolutely AWFUL blogger…ignoring the online masses, drawing a blank on vital updates I haven’t made up yet, and I won’t even MENTION my inability to leave the toilet seat down.
But I haven’t been inactive at all, I assure you…artistically, poetically, lyrically, physically, OR orally. In fact, you can probably take any activity ending in “lly” and you have my word I have been doing my humanly best to attain proficiency or at least regularity in that sphere. But onto something that makes sense…
I’m in Texas, as those of you who inserted the painful tracking device will know…and having one of the busiest yet funnest (translation: Most Fun) months I’ve had in a while, doing things I don’t wholly remember with staggering clarity except all of them have been sweaty and time-consuming.
We have a new apartment, which is a big improvement, because the old one had people in it. And insects. All of which drank and called us names. So we’re glad to have a new location to lay our hat…which is, yes, a communal hat that we’ve all long since agreed we’ll take turns laying.
I’ll post more in-depth articles about the month’s activities later, complete with footage, live interviews, and free hot dogs, but first, I am here, at last, to answer the one question that EVERYONE is asking me this time of the year. And I do mean just….EVERYONE. Those of you who haven’t asked this should get yourselves checked out at the nearest clinic, as there is a very real chance you are dead, or simply just not that….cool.

The question is, as you’re all guessing: “Mike, what do you want for Christmas?”
Usually followed by…”Just name it! Anything!”
And then…”Seriously…Anything!!! You can have the WORLD!!”
And then often…”Mike…wake up! You’re drooling on the sofa!”

So I thought it fair to lay these pestering and constant inquiries to rest by putting together a little wish list…of things I would be pleasantly surprised to find under my tree this year. Again, this is not mandatory, but if any of you out there wish to remain my friends in any way…well, I would dust off the ol’ Visa Card, if you catch my drift.
But really, no pressure.

Number 1: The Ecosse Spirit

Life as an artist is rife with the constant needs of transport, from trips to Starbucks, the mall, the strip clu-GYM, and back to Starbucks. So this year I thought it would be nice to have a little run-around bike, for all that pesky to-and fro-ing. The Ecosse Spirit seems to facilitate this adequately, and considering all the gas you will save on this lustrous little lightweight, the starting price tag of $203,000 seems hardly worth mentioning. I only bring it up now, because well…YOU wanted suggestions!

Number 2: This Model.

Or Any Generously Endowed Latina Model. You know what…just any friggin Latina will do. Please include receipt as will return in 8 weeks as advised for this brand.

Number 3: A Slightly Pimped Out iPhone.

Ok, so understandably iPhones continue to be the rage, but I find myself unwilling to be just another victim of global marketing; submitting, like everyone else, to the siren call of Steve Job’s gadgetry. But as a compromise, I am willing to join the iPhone trend providing mine is designed by Austrian jeweler Peter Aloisson, who has adorned the iPhone 3G Kings home button with high quality 6.6 carat diamonds and every corner of the phone with a white gold line which contain approximately 138 finely shaped additional diamonds. As back-up, I suppose.
This shiny toy starts at $2.4 million…and I know what you’re thinking…”That’s the most ridiculously expensive phone in the WORLD!!!!”
Well…yes, Genius. It’s 2.4 million dollars, for Heavens’ sakes…you could almost buy a HP inkjet refill with that!
But cmon, it’s Christmas.

I should probably stop there, because I know if I go on, I’ll just start to get greedy, and start lusting after outrageously priced things I have never and will never need…made so expensive there is no way the creators are ever getting into the Kingdom of God, unless they give him a loan.
But there you have a little snapshot of things you can maybe, in the festive spirit of generosity, start poking around Craigslist for. I know they may be a little out of the traditional price range…but again, it’s Christmas. And Christmas is the season of giving, and giving is timeless.

You have 6 days.

Kim Kardashian Caricature

2010-12-10T15:44:00.000-08:00

So I've always wanted to do a caricature of Kim Kardashian, due to reasons I've probably mentioned before, regarding God giving certain people um...certain gifts, that deserve to be commemorated in art. (She has fanTASTic elbows...)
I also intend on kidnapping and marrying her, Borat-style, as soon as I can clear up some time on my schedule, so doing her portrait in advance seemed a good preparatory measure.
Took alot less time than I thought it would (although time does fly when you're deeply inspired... or lustfully motivated)...about 4-5 hours in Photoshop, with a Wacom.
Glad to add a more female presence to my growing collection of celebrity caricatures...

If you have any suggestions for future victims that would make a good caricature....do share!

My Awesome Sister

2010-12-04T21:22:00.000-08:00

In completely unrelated, non-important news, my little sister Keren is all grown up and modeling, sniff. Even if the motif does appear to be the Paris Terrorist Spring Collection, and some of the outfits I am convinced will be used to smuggle families of Mexicans over the border under the flowing, lacy tresses, I'm still very proud of her for continuing the Krome family tradition for using our flesh for profit. (details and circumstances apply)

Eat it, Jemima Khan

Stimulating non-infidels since 2005...

Texas here I come...

2010-11-27T17:29:00.000-08:00

Well it's been a delightful few weeks in the belly of the Alps...working on things I thought I'd never work on before, such as movie scripts, storyboards, and my tennis backhand. The animation project I've been undertaking the character development for has been an interesting mouthful to be sure, and I've had the pleasure of inventing MILLIONS of fantastic characters for what should hopefully prove to be a real 3D cinematic delight one of these days.
I'm off to the States now, though...with 45 kilos of hardened fondue in my stomach that I intend to work off by dashing through US immigrations with myself and my luggage doused in Vaseline. Pray it works...

Stay tuned for more fascinating developments...

Swiss Christmas Premier

2010-11-20T08:55:00.000-08:00

One of the very important aspects of a creative team's job is to make appearances at client events, and sample large amounts of champagne. It's nobody's favorite part of the job, but it really has to be done. Last night we attended the Premier of Swiss Christmas here in Zurich, which was a Christmas-themed variety show of breakdancers, singers, acrobats, comedy, and lots of other amazing performances.
Afterward we spent a fun couple of hours hanging out with the extremely talented international group of performers, exchanging numbers, drinks, and completely dishonest comments about how we'd love to do what each other does, etc...which made for a very groovy night out.

One of the amazing dancers

Drunk acrobats are cool...

10,000 Visitors!

2010-11-17T06:08:00.000-08:00

Are you guys CRAZY??? Where do you find the TIME???

No but seriously, well done and thank you. I've had fun sharing my art and world-changing ideas and ramblings with you, dear Complete Stranger, and as a reward for the diligent regularity (suppressing toilet joke...) exercised by all you wonderful people out there with far too much free time, I reward you with my ultimate solution to a very serious problem that has plagued artists and all men, in fact, for centuries.

I believe it was Socrates who first posed the question "How can a mortal man engage himself in a lustful, visual relationship with breasts without being considered a complete pervert?"
Socrates asked many profound questions in his life- indeed, is considered the Father of Questioning, which few people know was just a tactic to sidetrack people from the fact he was a raging drunken pedophile himself...but this was perhaps the most important one he asked.

And the simple solution was...make it art! This is unparalleled genius on many levels, as for years since, dedicated boob men like myself have been able to gaze longingly and uninterrupted at countless exhibits of female voluptuousness under the pretentious mask of being connoisseurs of the Arts. Better yet we have been able to unclothe the very subjects themselves, in a process that used to involve diplomacy, begging, beatings, trickery and in truly grotesque incidents...marriage.
Now, however, in this very Nouveau, artistically hip world of ours, it is in no way out of the ordinary to approach a women on the street, declare yourself an artist, and suggest casually that she display her artistic half to you in broad daylight...and she will!! Try it. And for Heaven's sakes, film it...however this potential patron of the Arts chooses to express herself will be worth viewing again, I assure you.
Anyways...as an example of what I mean, here is an older painting of mine, a gift for a friend who was truly blessed with topics of art the size of which closely rivaled my interest in them. Moments, memories, accomplishments, and large fleshy orbs are not things any artist in his right mind should ever let pass by...and I held fast to my creative beliefs.

This is The Scorpion Queen. Designing and painting the jewelery was an absolute delight, the hair an absolute nightmare, but the whole thing a truly gratifying piece for me. Go on...stare. Zoom in...print it out, ask it out to Lunch. Don't be ashamed.

It's just Art.

A Word Of Caution: Should the lady in your life see you looking at this, it is essential, of course, to immediately express your complete disgust with the picture, and remind said person that her breasts are the most amazing specimens in the world, and how sad it truly is that all women do not look like her. This is an excellent opportunity for her to show you hers again....should you ask. Which you should...you can't help it.

You're an artist, remember?

On the Road Again...

2010-11-05T09:34:00.000-07:00

I’m in Switzerland this month, which as you can imagine has been an absolutely delightful change in surroundings. My apartment has Vinyl flooring, for instance, instead of carpet, so we’re all quite excited. All around, it’s been an excellent opportunity to just unplug the ol’ computer back home, have a stretch, buy a European adapter, and plug it back in here. Life is good.

Tad gloomy today, but still a gorgeous view

The view from my office is something people pay good money to see. Actually they probably just go on Google and see it for free, but somewhere out there, I am sure there’s an idiot paying good money to see this view that I have constantly at my visual disposal. It’s in Zurich, in a beautifully quaint little part of town, full of standard-issue cheerful little Swiss people, doing cheerful little Swiss things, in adorable little Swiss houses, making Swiss food that for the most part smells distinctly like the inside of one’s shoe, but that any day now, I am sure I will have to sample, gasp, and roll my eyes in ecstasy at.
Outside, within arm’s length, merely 20 yards away (The Swiss have huuuuuge arms) is the Lake of Zurich. The Swiss, of course, (being Swiss) felt the need for a more elegant and enchanting name to better capture the profound beauty of the thing, so they named it the “Zuri see”.

It means Lake Of Zurich.

All day I watch with envy the little boats that sail it’s crystal surface, the cartoon-style town of Meilin beyond, the wonderfully painted cloud formations and sunsets that adorn the endless skyline, and the topless bikini models that ceaselessly patrol the street below, just searching for true love and maybe a bit of Appenzeller. Ok, the last one may not be entirely true, but this place is pretty amazing.
I’m working with a new production company here in Zurich on character development for an upcoming and very unique animation feature and possible series, which has been a very welcome change of work. Character development is one of my dream jobs, due to it being essentially exactly what I was doing when I was 9 years old, and I enjoy it just as much now at 23. Or 24. Fine….25.
There are no limits to character development, until the Director shows up, so the trick is to mess around as much as possible before then.
Even then, it’s hardly been work. Inventing characters, pretending to be them so you know how they feel, act and behave, drawing them in every way possible, playing out movies of them in your head, then throwing it all away when the Producer tells you what to do is all in all a pretty fun gig, and one I hope to do much more of in the future.

Here's some sample character sheets:

Motorcycle Diaries: Durban to Joberg...and other totally irrelevant stuff

2010-10-29T08:36:00.000-07:00

I am not one for long motorcycle rides. My sentiments on the subject have always been that if God wanted man to travel at life-endangering speeds with the stench of fuel in their nostrils, the wind slowly freezing your intestines from the inside out, and with an alarmingly increasing discomfort in your crotch region, He would have created the world a giant London Tube Train. Nonetheless, one cheery, fresh, sunny and pleasant Friday morning I resolved (to forever try to use less adjectives when describing weather) to make the long trip to Johannesburg from Durban on my faithful Yamaha R1, which, at 1000 cc, was a chest-puffing step up from my last 650cc Honda.
That last little factoid is something motorcyclists drop when they are worried they may otherwise appear uninteresting or have small private parts. Nobody knows what the hell 1000 cc really means, but on a crash scale of “Whoopsie” to “Violently Imploding” 1000cc is in the region of “Moaning Fresco on the Wall”.
The leading argument behind this wild impulsive, and groin-insensitive decision were primarily to do with the fact that I don’t, have never, and probably will never have a car. My sentiments on this are that if God…

You know, I actually don’t have one for this just now, but give me time…

The final factor though, that decisively propelled me into this long voyage was, as in the case of Paul Revere, Captain Cook, and That Guy Who Swam The English Channel, that my friends on the other side had lots of alcohol.
And so I packed my bags excitedly, enjoying the tingling sensation in my heart and lower body, knowing I would soon be completely unable to feel the latter. And then swiftly unpacked, remembering I was going on a bike and would thus be rendered completely luggage-impaired.
Biking is a man’s sport for 2 main reasons. Number one is we are not really ashamed of butt crack…which in a recent study was shown to chronically affect 89% of bikers. Really, we’re fine with it. To women, however, showing butt crack is the equivalent of being caught cheating on their husband with the postman. The black one.
Reason number 2 is you have to travel light. For years experts, scientists, and self-help gurus have tried in vain to teach this art to the fairer sex without the slightest hint of success. Modern Bible scholars are just now reaching the long sought-after conclusion as to why the Hebrews took 400 years just to get to the Promised Land, and the simple (and controversial) answer is with Pharaoh having killed off most of the baby boys, Moses was left with nothing but a bunch of women.
Millions of them. Who not only all tried to direct him from behind and tell him he was walking much too fast, and needed to stop and ask for directions, and “Oh My God, that’s the Red Sea, I told you this was a dead end”, but who foolishly tried to take EVERYTHING with them. Seriously, go watch The Ten Commandments. Moses takes his staff, and Joshua his Goatee, while in the back you see women hauling camels, jars, kitchenware and IKEA cabinets.
You simply cannot take much with you on a “hog”, which is a both fun and popular buzzword for “bike”, due to sounding tough and conveniently having less…..syllables.
So I grabbed the basic essentials: Body spray, gum, underwear, camera, traded underwear for Men’s Health Magazine (in which, ironically, was an insightful article into the necessity of underwear), Giant Swiss Roll, all shoved into a backpack and voila…testosterone and exhaust throbbing, I stepped out into the…fog.
Gutsy decisions are easy on sunny Friday mornings heavily armed with pleasant adjectives. Saturday was to Friday what Amy Winehouse is to Megan Fox. And nobody in the world wants to spend 5 hours with Amy Winehouse.

But I had made my choice. I had committed to this journey. I had also locked myself out of my apartment. So I flung myself into the dull, grey unknown, stopping briefly at the gas station for directions to lessen the amount of unknown-ness, as not since Christopher Columbus have there really been any benefits at all to getting lost on long voyages. Actually, I’m not sure his experience had many benefits either.
Reflecting on how fortunate I was that my American friends have such a great sense of humor, they would NEVER take offense at that thigh-slapping notion, I gradually began to set my mind to more profound, travel-related matters…like trying to remember what flavor my gum had started off as…or if it was really gum after all. Or if the insect splotch on my helmet visor didn’t just look a tiny bit like Yoda.
In this insightful fashion, I navigated my way out of the city, and onto the long strip of highway that wound it’s unending way through the Drakensberg like…well, so much highway. Upon reaching the majestic Drakensberg mountains, my mood changed instantly, all thoughts of regret and my Yoda-splotch gone.
The word Breathtaking is grossly over-used these days, dropped casually for anything ranging from your 3 year old’s stick drawing of you to the new and absolutely awful dress your wife wants your opinion on. But what the word really implies here (linguistic connoisseurs will note the secret is in the spelling) is something so fantastic it literally temporarily deprives you of oxygen.
Rachel Aldana’s cleavage is another example…and one I could make a stronger point with, but I digress. The Drakensberg is truly breathtaking….and makes the 5 hour trip to Johannesburg quite possibly the most gratifying ride you can make in the modern world without the use of strippers or mind-altering drugs. Seeing as I have just used the word strippers in the same sentence, many of you will already be Googling The Drakensberg, so I hardly feel the need to elaborate, as many of you who are not aware of this extraordinary paradise can see for yourselves online what I’m talking about.
Those of you not knowing how to use Google are probably from there, and will also need no further explanation. Everything is incredibly rural…in the most delightfully authentic African/Dutch way. Everything is done manually, including conversation. Actual villagers (locals) can be seen carrying authentic jars (Jerry cans) of water from real-life lakes, and even fuel must be paid for in paper money (cash).

The Berg...legendary South African mountains

Jenna Jameson, legendary porn star (just keeping your interest)

Residents of this wonderful place live life at a different pace…a pace that suggests they have already watched the film 2012, and know when the end of the world is here, they will be the only humans left alive anyway, so there is no urgent need to fill your tank with gas necessarily today. Verbal exchanges may ensue, in a variety of accents not always discernable to today’s city-dweller, but generally centering around Biltong, which is a kind of dried meat produced there, not directly related to any food group, due to being 85% melted plastic chair. This enables the consumer to feed off of this salty South African delicacy for long periods of time, depending on the quality (longevity/rubber content) of the particular brand of Biltong. There are residents of the Drakensberg currently chewing strips of Biltong older than they are…Biltong that has become a family heirloom, with a rich heritage of generations of teeth engraved in it’s flavored spine. They’re a traditional folk.

I will skip over the next 4 hours, as testicular jokes are not really my “funny area”. But my advice to any man saving up to get his tubes tied needs only do what I did that day, and you will save yourself a hefty medical bill. And score some fantastic biltong. The Grandchildren you will now never have would thank you…

My experiences once in the capital are material for a whole different volume...one I will never write, due to them being deeply personal accounts of revelry and abandon involving many close but anonymous friends and a Ferret named Frank. (hahaha…no that was a joke. Nobody calls their ferret Frank. )
Suffice it to say, was a memorable time, and definitely worth the trip…one I hope to make again soon, once I get my new liver. And no, not from drinking too much. I fell asleep in a KFC, and my God, they’ll steal ANYTHING.

To my friends in Joberg, I will miss you…

Some highlights of our epic weekend...

Apparently, you're supposed to EAT with these. Disgusting.

I want YOU...to buy this book!

2010-10-21T05:26:00.000-07:00

This isn't a new product so much anymore, but thought I'd do a shameless plug for it for any Inuit tribes and such that JUST got internet access.
The Great Adventures is a groovy little kids Bible with some of its most interesting stories put to super cute art (by yours truly) and some questionable music that I think was originally written for John Travolta. Nonetheless, it's highly entertaining and scripturaly accurate (except for the Jonah scene where he accidentally swears in Hebrew underwater, upon sighting the big ass monster that eats him...look it up) and something I would even read to my own child.

That's how good it is.

This is not a Photoshoped pic! It actually glows like this...and

will continue to do so for as long as you posses it. Yeah.

Get your own copy Here while stocks last!!!! (If you can't immediately, don't panic...stocks always last, but we find they sell faster when we imply they are roughly 11 copies in the world.)

Sample Page

Buddha Wallpaper

2010-10-01T05:59:00.000-07:00

Not at all going through any kind of religious epiphany or phase...just an interesting commission for Sterling Media, and I did get paid a lifetime's supply of beer money for it. Meant to go across a 9 by 7 foot conference room wall (photos of the final product would have been a good idea, come to think of it). I wanted something that deviated from the traditional Buddha in a more fleshy, human way, but that still held an ethereal statue-like quality, and this was the middle of the road I ended up with.

Portrait, portrait, on the wall...

2010-09-21T15:09:00.000-07:00

Have been much, much too busy of late for petty human tasks such as eating, scratching, Rhino-hunting, or updating blogs, but thought to throw up a quick post to alert the 1.4 people that care that I am still alive, and as yet unable to remove art equipment from my hands this week. Portraits have been in high demand this month, which is an alarming yet financially comforting sign that vanity is once again on the up n' up, while Comfort Food and Enya album stocks plummeted.
If you've ever fancied a gorgeous, personalized and deceptively flattering portrait of yourself or other loved one, and would like to contact me for an immediate refusal, please do.
One loves the attention.

No really, just kidding...if I do like you, or you pay me, wear DDDs, or at least promise to name your children after me, there is a chance you can own your very own picture of....you...
To look at.
It's the BEST investment you'll EVER make...

The Man of La Mancha

2010-09-07T14:19:00.000-07:00

He lived in a world of fantasy
Where all were mad but he.
He lived in a world of madness
Where he alone was free!
He lived in a world of madness
Where only he was sane
He brought them joy and gladness
They only brought him pain!
He lived in a world of madness
Where only he was wise...

The story of Don Quixote used to completely captivate me as a kid...and still does, in fact, given my affinity to people that are capable of losing themselves in fantasy worlds of their own creation, and thriving. This is my tribute to fiction's grooviest lunatic, and my attempt at giving him the face I'd always pictured him having.

I wanted a less romanticized, more realistic and human portrayal and was relatively happy with what I came out with...although the armor could've been much better, I think.

Done in Photoshop, about a year ago.

The Timeless Tales

2010-08-30T11:19:00.000-07:00

Today I thought I would share with the world that I have at last joined the elite ranks of a proud, small group of hardworking nay-sayer...um...defiers by doing something not every artist gets to accomplish in their lifetime. I played 90 minutes of football on a stomach FULL of beer without throwing up. The beer was voluntary...the football I was forced into.
But enough about that. I actually have no idea why I brought it up.

What is infinitely more exciting and barf-free for me, is the fact my new series of Storybooks, or the "Timeless Tales" is on the market, and available for you, helpless fan and dedicated consumer, to purchase and tell all your rich powerful friends at work that you posses, leading to better jobs, shinier cars, and hotter girlfriends.

The "Timeless Tales"

For me, that is. You, however, get a priceless new addition to your dusty kids bookshelf, with endless pages (24 per book, but endless is a cool sales gimmick) of fully illustrated (fully is true here...at Goldquill, we believe in finishing most of our art) stories packed to the brim with great story telling and important morals. The books are so full of morals, we were in fact getting rid of as many as we could by the time we came round to final production. We have ROOMS full of leftover morals at Goldquill HQ that we just don't know what to do with. Yeah.

Aaaanyways, please do look them up at goldquill.co.uk and give one or 2 a try with your kids. They're best appropriate for ages 4-8, although the richly illustrated pages hold younger kids attention too. Titles are:
The Mockingbird's Tail

The Camel's Nose

The Rock in the Road

The Story of Snowflake

Page from The Camels Nose

Page from the Rock in the Road

Page from The Story of Snowflake

Hope to have more on the way soon. To those who get one, thank you...really.
To those who don't...you suck. But thanks for looking, heh.

Irony

2010-08-26T16:04:00.000-07:00

South Africa's response to the need for Stadiums for FIFA 2010: 43 Billion Rand

South Africa's response to the need for airports for FIFA 2010: 7.9 Billion Rand

South Africa's response to the annual "needs" of Zuma's wives: 15.5 Million Rand

South Africa's response to the plea for adequate government education and medical salaries: Rubber bullets and tear gas.

Realizing the Planet's most amazing continent is run by corrupt, ignorant apes: NOT priceless!

Some things in life make sense and are fair. For everything else, there's South Africa.

Mucho Gusto

2010-08-23T05:43:00.000-07:00

Dedicated to all those who have it...

Smile!

2010-08-18T01:32:00.000-07:00

Motivational doodle for the day...

Caricaturing at the Home and Garden Expo

2010-08-11T05:50:00.000-07:00

FIFA 2010: A True Story

2010-08-04T08:03:00.000-07:00

Slowly, piece by piece, South Africa is finally curing itself of World Cup fever. And a raging bloody epidemic it was too…ranging, as fevers do, from goodie-we-get-to-stay-home-from-school-and-watch-videos-in-bed type fever, to bend-over-this-giant-vaccination-needle-wielding-hamster-won’t-hurt-a-bit type fever.
The effects from all the hype are gradually wearing off, as the estimated 57.4 billion tourists that swarmed here months ago return to their home countries, brimming with stories, pictures, emotions, souvenirs, and STDs.
And now life for us in South Africa can at last return to its natural state. Already the roads are being stripped of their newly-laid tarmac and replaced again with their original sand and coke bottles. Hotels can now be demolished, friendly signposts taken down, schools disbanded, monasteries sacked, and as the last of the foreign press board their flights, we can finally just shed our damn clothes and get back to beating each other over the heads with traffic light poles.
HALF OF YOU PROBABLY BELIEVE ME DON’T YOU??!!!!!

Idiots.

South Africa doesn’t have traffic lights!!!!
Ones that work, anyways. But if you believed me, you’re probably one of those tourists that thought Africa was one big country, run primarily by huge tribesmen in skirts with human bone bling and the IQ of…human bone bling. Well I have something to tell you, ignorant foreigner…you are COMPLETELY wrong about the first one!
Oh and for all those who HAVEN’T figured it out yet…(yes, you same people that still faithfully watch the flight attendants do the seatbelt thing every flight) “Ayoba” is a South African slang word that denotes Joy, Excitement, Amazement, Approval, Delight, Agreement, and on rare occasions, with adult supervision…Surprise at finding yourself in bed with a strange woman.
On several South African tourist websites prior to the World Cup (I am not making this up) there were actually hugely helpful examples for studious and culturally aware tourists with large amounts of time on their hands of how they could use the word “Ayoba” in real life sentences, such as:
“Hi Nick, how’s it going?”
“Pretty Ayoba!”
“What do you mean, Nick?”
“Well I just got this Ayoba 2 for one deal at the Ayoba Lobster shack, which was totally Ayoba”
“Wow…that IS Ayoba…hey, why are we in bed with strange women?”
“AYOBA!!!!”

The guiding principle being, locals would then respectfully acknowledge that the tourists were studious and culturally aware, and return their wallets.
The meaning of this Jabberwocky was underlined to me the other day as I was riding downtown, and happened to see a huge billboard for FIFA that I’d not seen before. This immediately became my favorite as it said “That’s not the heat and humidity you smell…it’s Ayoba!”
This irreverent remark about Ayoba’s personal hygiene aside, it was true in it’s own way…everything and anything that happened over the tumultuous 30 days of World Cup madness was just that…Ayoba. It was all-encompassing. Traffic was no longer annoying and murderous because everyone was intoxicated and waving flags while driving (Which for the thousands of people who can only do 2 things at a time, ruled out all possibility of using the brakes, by default making it ironically more murderous but at least even the victims were genuinely enjoying the ride.)
Even old people became friendly…cops could be seen with beer, public antics that would usually wind anyone up in jail were applauded and laughed at good naturedly (haha…those darned plane hijackers…). In general, everyone fully and unreservedly immersed themselves in the spirit of Ayoba. Millions of years ago and light years away, even Darth Vader was chilling out (Really, Mike? A STAR WARS joke???? You disgust me…)
But this beautiful and 32% unsullied country did take a great leap for the better in terms of international awareness, technology, infrastructure and economy. The Lord was also faithful to miraculously supply BILLIONS of Rand to a government with self-admittedly no finances. In the same way he rained manna from Heaven for the wandering Hebrews, massive funding suddenly appeared in the impoverished ranks of the South African economy every morning, and after years of informing the South African public it was completely unable to afford better education, transport, medical care, or toilet paper, a plethora of 5 Star hotels, casinos, airports and brand spanking new stadiums materialized…altogether costing twice as much as the Death Star. (ok, seriously now Mike…you’re embarrassing yourself…)

We are now anxiously hoping and praying to host the 2068 Olympics, so we can get running hot water.

But all in all it was a magnificently heady time of celebration, unity, and good cheer. Thousands of people who had never gone farther than their corner store flew millions of miles around the world to cheerfully exchange their patriotic bigotry with other fellow-aliens, and to experience those priceless rare things only Africa can offer, and I daresay the warm affection, cultural differences, exotic food (here we serve McDonalds without pickles) and multiple carjackings will be a thing they will cherish for a generation to come.
Stadium atmosphere was an incomparable experience in itself. Around the world, much is spoken of Africa’s savage wonder, animalistic nature, untamed wildlife and tribal upheaval. Gratuitously, by a stroke of tourism genius, the FIFA games were all that and more. And because every jungle needs a jungle horn, another innovative and brilliant invention was spawned. The Vuvuzela is the brainchild of South Africa’s Tourism committee wanting their country to be the LAST thing any visitor ever heard. It is wholly and uniquely African in both its noise level and disease-transmitting abilities.
For those not aware of the nature or capabilities of this Satanic instrument, I will do my best to explain…
Who here is familiar with Metallica? Those of you who said no, I suggest you return to your alien planet before I report you....
To those of you remaining 2-legged mammals, think on the harsh, searing expulsions of your most abrasive Metallica song. Now imagine lead vocalist James Hetfield turning off that song, marching a rabid band of Diseased, Horny Elephants (GREAT name for a punk group, by the way) to the world largest sound system, and inviting aforementioned mammals to loudly procreate at the top of their trunks into aforementioned sound system, channeling this otherworldly phenomenon into your eardrums via headphones at 300 decibels.

You’re already pleading, teary-eyed for the Metallica song, aren’t you?

Now picture 70, 000 of those headphones tearing into your cerebrum, smear the back of your head with a friend’s saliva, ( I say friends, because foreign saliva is hard to trust…) douse your clothes in beer, under the shade of an enormous Ghanaian man’s armpit, and you have a fractional idea of what the stadium atmosphere was like.

The most notably affected victims were the referees, who overcome by the unearthly raucous, completely lost their sensory abilities and entered a state of incurable madness, the result of which were a continuing stream of offside goals, disallowed goals, unfair yellow cards, uncontrollable cackling and displaying of genitalia to the crowds, and in some very extreme cases, sympathy for Ronaldo’s diving antics.
The FIFA medical team was undoubtedly the true talent of the competition, however. These professionals have amazingly refined their art to the point of not actually needing to administer any kind of medical help to the footballers themselves anymore. At one of countless intervals in the game, one of the many 6 foot international icons of peak fitness and strength would collapse to the floor in violent convulsions, unbearable screams, and agonizing facial contortions in a display closely rivaling Halle Berry’s reaction to winning an Oscar Award.
Heart-rending scenes such as this were the frequent result of violent instigations such as a particularly strong gust of wind, a harrowing flashback to the player’s childbirth, a passing swarm of molecules, Portuguese descendancy, or as the rumors have it, the ball being stolen from them. As the victim of these ghastly circumstances would go to ground clutching their head, (which is a well known and ancient cure for dealing with immeasurable pain…available only to footballers) and howling their frustration and agony in a haunting noise that can only be described as “sometimes heard above the Vuvuzelas”, the medical team would rush onto the field, armed with stretchers, cold spray, and FIFA lollipops.
At the mere sight of these highly trained professionals, the football star who only seconds before, was moments from bursting through the Pearly Gates, would spring to his feet without even the use of his hands, and with a smile and a wave to the crowd would resume running at 40 miles an hour for the rest of the game.
I have no idea how they train these FIFA medical staff, but similar techniques must be applied immediately to other services around the world. Imagine a group of UN workers jogging into Ethiopia, relieving the entire country of their hunger within seconds, with nothing more than their mere presence. Or a team of highly qualified teachers sauntering through America, transforming the IQ of that entire nation.
It has promise, I tell you...but who listens to me.
But now it is gone. The madness that caught us all up is now gracefully letting us down with a hangover to remember it all by. 2010 was here…and we felt it, as the commercials urged us. Mostly in our eardrums.
But just remember…it’s not deafness you’re suffering from. Or Malaria, bankruptcy, or alcohol poisoning.

It’s Ayoba.

Caricature Commisions

2010-08-01T10:33:00.000-07:00

Always a welcome break from my to-do list to knock a few of these off...

Angel Portrait

2010-07-28T03:12:00.000-07:00

As always, precious little time for personal projects these days, but I forced myself to finish a long-promised sketch of my adorable neice (due to insistent requests from an unstable and potentially dangerous sister.)

Happy Birthday Mum!

2010-07-22T10:31:00.000-07:00

Throughout my years of endless travel, personal experiences, and tireless research, I have unearthed a great and unshakable gem of truth which is basically as follows...

My mom is cooler than your mom.

Period.
And not even in a "loving tender son" kind of way...but she literally, genuinely, is way groovier than any maternal relation you, Dear Reader, could possibly drum up. (Getting adopted by Pink, would, of course, not count in this scenario.)
I say this, of course, not to in any way lift myself up, but mainly to just make others feel that much smaller and less significant, that they were not born into our family and shared in this amazing woman's life.

She's the one on the left...

Similar to my dad, who at 60, is still deciding what he wants to be when he grows up, mum has literally done everything. Descended from a long, noble line of cutthroats and kidnappers in Australia, she turned Crocodile Hunter as a teenager (no, I'm not making this up, Jackass) and became Steve Irwin's feminine equivalent in the exciting, baked, infested, poisonous mess that is the incomparable Australian outdoors. There are few kids, I imagine, with the privilege of growing up watching footage of their mum stringing up SUV-size salt water crocs, snagging giant turtles underwater, and other hair-raising pursuits that get an Marine Biologist up in the morning, but we did.
The Croc Frolicking stopped when she met my dad (whom she accidentally wrestled, hog-tied, vaccinated, and tagged, before realizing he was, in fact, just a British tourist taking a mud bath in the swamp...a story told more romantically by them.) but the fun-loving sense of adventure she thankfully kept with her and used to enrich the lives of all of us growing up throughout a myriad of bizarre and wild circumstances, in which her indestructible...ness came in handy many a time.
I would love to get into more nostalgic detail, but since time is precious these days, you will all just have to take my word for it...she's the most incredible woman in the world.
Love you Mum

Illustration work flow...

2010-07-17T12:55:00.000-07:00

I get asked quite often (by the MILLIONS of people I mentor and imagine each day) and other aspiring illustrators, what my work process is for some of my illustrative work. Well here it is...
GO FIND YOUR OWN!!!
Haha, no, don't go...I'm kidding. I'm actually not, though...come to think of it. The truth is, I think every artist just really needs to find their own method of what works for them, and stick to what gives them the cleanest or fastest results.
For the sake of it though, I'll show the way I do alot of my quick kiddy illustrations in Photoshop, using this latest Bible Bookmark project I'm working on. I'm sure there's more professional or more "painterly" ways of doing it, but I'm often working with nasty deadlines with big teeth and bad breath, so time is generally of the essence, especially when the client won't accept my pirated Google images and I actually have to CREATE something.

And the finished product...

Tattoo Design

2010-07-12T08:11:00.000-07:00

I used to love designing tattoos. When I was younger (than I am now), I had scrapbooks full of them, but kinda stopped when I started pursuing other consuming interests like crime fighting and online lingerie model browsing. When I was recently asked to come up with some tattoo designs, I jumped at the chance, as having evaporated my DSL cap from aforementioned browsing, I needed something to do. And thankfully, it's just as much fun as before.

How it should look if the artist does well, and the girl becomes a supermodel...

Please don't feed the cops...

2010-07-10T09:05:00.000-07:00

As you can see, South Africa has been afforded some HEAVY security for the World Cup. We can all now walk the streets unafraid at night, knowing South Africa's finest are here to watch over us.

Possibly hungrily.

More Inks...

2010-07-05T13:19:00.000-07:00

Too lazy to finish up new work this week, so I'll slap up some old ink jobs for the sake of looking productive. I really do wish sometimes I was back in my teenage years when I had all day to do this sort of thing... but then I remember I had acne and listened to Dr. Dre, so thank God for evolution.
(P.S. Those prone to voluptuous-related allergies will want to sign out now...)

The Adventures of Gluteal Cleft

2010-06-25T09:50:00.000-07:00

Well it’s just about that time of the month (no, the other one) where I take some completely personal and uninteresting detail of my life and share it with the uneager world for absolutely no logical reason whatsoever. More importantly, I’ve also stumbled onto a vital breakthrough in the field of medicine and health that I would be cruelly denying the general populace not to divulge.
The most common question I find tossed around the vast, uneducated void of cyber-space these days (after “What in God’s name is wrong with Lady Gaga????”) is: “What is the fastest way to lose weight?”
And the answer is, ladies and gentlemen….get an operation! A back operation, to be more precise, as I was personally privileged to discover firsthand. It all started out, as so many things do, with an abscess…which is a totally gross infection on the inside of your body that grows into the size, shape and color of a fruit basket. Upon discovering the residency of aforementioned fruit basket on my lower back, I went to the doctor to have it checked. Like so many of the people I meet on a day to day basis, I was immediately asked to remove my trousers, lie down, and not make sound. Scarcely 5 minutes later, I was given the dreaded result…England had drawn 0-0 with Algeria.
I also had a massive abscess just above the “Gluteal Cleft”.
The Gluteal Cleft is a fancy medical term for people who cannot say “butt crack” without breaking into fits of giggling. It also makes it sound formal and professional, for the times when it must be used in a business-like manner, out loud. (i.e. “In other news, Kim Kardashain’s Gluteal Cleft blocked out the sunlight for hundreds of Los Angeles residents, today…”)
So I dragged my unwilling Gluteal Cleft to a private surgery, where I paid the extortion/consultancy fee for the privilege of posing naked for more trained professionals, who told me they’d be happy to operate on me for the tidy exchange of say…my left leg…and my arm, of course, should I need to stay a few nights. Not being very happy with that exchange, as over the years I have developed a great affection for my arms and legs, I was left with only one dreaded option…government hospital.
In South Africa government hospitals are cunningly disguised as massive lavatories, but easy to find if you know where to look. The trick is to look for large groups of very large nurses that look as though they have no soul. Inside one of these places, the lavatory ruse is diligently maintained, to the delight of all your senses. If you ever need a place to go to develop an enormous gratitude for your many blessings, this is the place to go, however. I saw things in that building that I never want to see again, and I’m not just talking about the Zulu nurses, who, as a side note, are people you never, ever want looking after your wellbeing, should you ever want to go on to do things like…say…live.
To make a long story short, it was a week in hell. Not only was I in incredible pain, weak as an infant, and suffering dizziness and infection, but there was also no DSL. I waited what seemed like days to see a doctor, which in this part of the world, is anyone who is not sick and has a clipboard, and was then shipped off to more parts of the hospital to strip for another succession of useless individuals who seemed very interested in what white people look like naked. By this time, I was as accustomed to undressing on command as Pamela Anderson, a fact that was exploited by 3 doctors, 6 nurses, a surgeon, and a tourist named Liona.

Live footage of me being...brave

The actual operation was a whole journey of self-discovery in itself, where after lying naked on a stretcher in a refrigerated hall for over an hour, I was found by the species of nurse that inhabit the operating theatre, who by some miracle performed the correct procedure on me that had been prescribed (another rare occurrence, for this part of the world). A needle roughly the size of a baseball bat was introduced to my spine, and I completely lost all feeling in my lower body…a procedure I understand, that happens to women in labor or men who have seen Rosie O Donnell naked.
Before I could so much as demand identification from those involved, I was strapped to a table, hoisted crotch first into the air, and had my feet lashed in a neat V miles in the air, as I prepared to give birth. Or so it seemed.
For the next 20 suddenly painless minutes, I lapsed into a period of vulnerable self-contemplation, as one generally does when naked, high on morphine, and staring your own genitalia in the face. Thoughts raced through my head…What were they doing? Would they still respect me when it was all over? And how on earth can genitalia have a face?
I found no answers in this bright, sterile room, and was promptly whisked to post-op, where I lay happily neglected for almost 2 days. I am not making this up…for almost 48 hours, I waded in and out of consciousness with the pain flooding back in, wallowing in self-pity and stench, while I tried to capture the attention of nurses with the IQ and training of zoo animals to have a little look-see at my chart and maybe give me a bath in Morphine.
In the end, I was saved by the most wonderful Indian nurse in the world, who made sure I immediately got my meds and underwent the horrible dressing-and-packing procedure where they shove what felt like a king-size duvet into the wound, soaked in sulfuric acid.
Afterwards, we were given a riveting lecture in the ward on the topic of sanitation and disease-awareness, where we were made strongly aware of unheard of conditions such as measles, chicken-pox, and HIV. Some of the nuggets of wisdom shared with us were:
1.    Avoid having children, as some have been found with measles.
2.    Always wash your hands after handling hospital food.
3.    Never tickle-fight with lepers.
4.    To avoid AIDs, do not, under any circumstances, have sex with Elton John.
All in all, it was an enlivening experience that I never want to repeat. Ever. Unless it happens again.
The worst part of all, was that it fell on my birthday, which did a great deal to dash my plans of riotous partying and football hooliganism, but that’s life, and there will be times for streaking and molesting tourists later.
But of course…the silver lining! As the proud loser of over 10 kilos from that hideous experience, my advice to any dear potential weight-loss enthusiasts out there, is simply go to Government hospital!
Because as the saying goes…what doesn’t kill you or give you AIDs will definitely make you skinnier.

Geisha Bath

2010-06-14T04:12:00.000-07:00

They say God is in the detail, and in all great art that I have seen, it's definitely true. I think a good painting should be able to grab one's attention and keep it there for as long as possible, drawing them in to same window of imagination the artist drew his inspiration from. Really haven't much time to work on personal projects lately, but when I do, one of the most gratifying (albeit laborious) elements of it, is spending hours on all the minuscule little details of a painting that make up the entire feel of the piece. Not that this is any masterpiece in comparison, but was great getting into the whole exotic feel of the picture and trying my hand at Asian fabrics, design, mood, etc, as it's a genre I've scarcely touched in my years of drawing.
There are times, I know, that minimalism can tell a better story, but in general intricate detail is worth the effort in any picture, I think. I hope you enjoy this one...

Thanks to Marie Meyer for being the model...hope it did you justice

God Bless Adobe

2010-06-07T15:58:00.000-07:00

Because even Madonna needs Photoshop...

If you could only see some of these celebrities without the God-given airbrush...you'd think twice about being a fan. Proof that Graphic Designers have one of the most important jobs in the world!

Valkyrie Queen

2010-06-04T12:52:00.000-07:00

A little blast from the past here for the sake of artistic content (I know, cheap, right?). I did this painting several years ago for a certain scrumptious friend of mine who apart from the body, hair, armor, expression and surroundings, looks EXACTLY like this...

Home Sweet Home

2010-05-30T04:34:00.000-07:00

There's a song that says something to the effect of Home is where you lay your hat. To myself and doubtless millions of similarly underprivileged people who have never had a hat, being rendered homeless in this fashion can be very disorienting. I have finally, however, gotten back to the closest thing to home I know...in glorious South Africa. Glorious is not really a word you'd use for South Africa, but I'm writing this out in one sitting without a thesaurus so there you have it.
It's been a dizzying last 6 or 7 weeks...the kind of vacation you come home from, saying you need a vacation. Over the last 6 weeks I worked out that I traveled a grand total of 18, 780 miles over 3 different continents...which is just roughly 6000 miles short of the distance around the entire world, a journey I am still planning to make one day, in a rickshaw.
And now, as reality, strikes me hard on the back of the head, repeatedly, with a sledgehammer (the squeaky blow up ones, though, that you buy at novelty stores), I'm missing terribly all the awesome places and people I ran into. The gorgeous beaches, gorgeouser (yes, a word) women, hilarious friends, dodgy but wonderful siblings and situations and events you just can't plan for. It was brilliant...we surfed, we drank, we frolicked, we made out with supermodels, (or so they seemed after Tequila) drank some more, and danced with the Queen of New Orleans.
Not sure where I was going with that...
Anyways, to sum it up visually, here were the highlights:

This one actually never happened...was just part of a really weird dream I had.

United we SUCK!

2010-05-21T02:58:00.000-07:00

Millions of years ago on September 6, 1620, a disgruntled group of “Pilgrims” or “Separatists” (today known as “Yanks”) left the shores of Plymouth, UK, and landed conveniently in Plymouth, USA, due to a fortunate GPS mix up that resulted in the founding of a new country. One can only imagine the confusion and finger-pointing this caused amongst the navigators, but the New Land proved itself an excellent place to indulge in what would soon become treasured All-American pursuits, such as gluttony, thievery, mindless violence and the discovery of mind-altering herbal life. These original Puritans were in search of a Utopian destination in which to freely practice their religion and the wearing of tights as they wished, without the persecution or mockery from the English Church and the notoriously harsh London fashion police. They chose a ship called the “Mayflower”, after hearing it was “totally fabulous”, and began a grueling 66 day voyage to the Americas.
(FUN FACT: This is the exact same amount of time it takes to get from Southall to Heathrow today)
Recently I decided to retrace the footsteps of those brave pioneers by making the same journey but with one enormous critical error.

I flew with United Airlines.

Anyone who has undergone this same ordeal will know what I mean when I say that I would much, much rather have taken the Mayflower. For those who have not experienced this American insult to modern travel…well, let me explain by stating (in a very respectfully regretful, and sensitive way) that if the plane responsible for the 9/11 disaster was a United aircraft, the passengers would have been weeping with relief as they finally torpedoed into the towers.

My real mistake was flying with Emirates a few days previously; a newer, shinier company that still clings to those funny old fashioned business habits like Customer Satisfaction. In fact, Emirates economy seating is even better than United first class…only named so, for the extra 9 cms of leg room you get, a larger drinks holder to deposit your 55 dollar class of wine dregs, and it’s close proximity to the bathroom, where you are not even required to bring your own toilet paper.
So when I reluctantly jammed my (by American standards tiny) backside into the flight seat that I am sure once served as a McDonalds highchair, I was NOT prepared for the grueling experience that was to follow. As is the unshaken tradition in my life of traveling, my seat partners were handpicked by the Cruelty Gods for their sheer lack of convenience and sanitation. To my left was a contestant for Largest Texan Lady In The Friggin World, who cheerily misunderstood my seat placement as a desperate appeal to know all about her husband’s ski lodge, university attempts, and eventual divorce…which she attributed to the distance, but I (silently) to his last sexual experience with her, the details of which I grim-facedly braced myself to hear at some point in the 10 hour flight. I bravely smiled, however, as I have trained myself to do during long flights and visits with in-laws, as the subject veered towards liberating Iraq, whilst I nonchalantly tried to liberate my seatbelt from under one of the stomachs she had decided to share with my personal space.
To my right, a gratefully much smaller Mexican was pleading for his life, by the sounds of it, at the top of his lungs on a Blackberry. The only confusing part would occur when he would periodically break into nervous laughter before the 300 decibel assault would resume, but marriage is a cruel thing, and not waiting to deduce from the phone call whether he was going to live or die when he got home, I closed my eyes, jammed what looked like headphones into my ears, and desperately searched for my Happy Place.

Real Live footage of my cabin

To make a very long, painful story short…I died. Or something very similar, but more prolonged, made more excruciating by the showing of “New Moon” twice in a row (which actually gave me an AWESOME idea for a joke involving “what’s worse than watching New Moon?”)
Yeah…I know
My dinner on Emirates had been a delightful Lasagna with red wine, potatoes and chocolate cake (Not in that order…I always eat the desert first…a bizarre habit from my childhood involving not knowing when someone would steal your food).
Whereas United…well…I don’t like to exaggerate, so in the spirit of giving them as much credit as possible, brought me a vulcanized lizard appendage with what I can only hope was a bun, and to wash it down, cordially invited the cabin to purchase beers for roughly the same price as their plane ticket. Giant Texan Lady was already done with her food and halfway through her tray and napkin, which, in her defense, looked more edible anyways. So after a brief dry-puke, I put the Main Course back under the seat it had quite likely been pulled out of, exchanged the bun for the use of her very comfortable elbow fat, and cried into it till I fell asleep. In that order.
In the end there was some respite, in the form of Finding Nemo, which was fortunate to come on just as I was losing a bout of my very own made-up United game of Guess The Gender, involving the stewardesses. My flight staff was almost entirely comprised of middle-aged, butch-cut disgruntled ex-military types, armed with rippling steroid-pumped limbs, angry gazes, Southern accents, and the dinner buns for ranged attacks. There were men on the flight too, but I scarcely noticed them. American Flight personnel are the most paranoid people in the world, highly trained to be on the lookout for any possible terrorist activity, such as using the bathroom, so things can get tense.

So all in all, my advice to those going to the States, is…….DON’T GO!!! Because even if unlike me, you are smart enough to pick a proper airline without molten mini-seats and assassin stewardesses serving food Oliver Twist wouldn’t ask for seconds of…even if you survive ALL of that, you have still to tackle the next Herculean task…getting IN to the USA. Not even Hercules managed that…that’s how bad it is.
I was fortunate in the end…to be smuggled in under one of Giant Texan Lady’s stomach flaps. So all’s well that end’s well…but more on that later

Beckham Caricature

2010-05-19T04:36:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd gear up into the World Cup spirit by caricaturing a few footballing legends, and who better than the Metro-sexual Wonder Becks himself...One of my childhood idols and on less-informed occasions hairstyle models, (It was tough picking which look to draw, as this guy is the Cher of footballers) This bloke was great fun. Was tactfully brought to my attention I accidentally omitted his Godawful English teeth, but why mar a God.

Multi-tasking...

2010-05-14T02:41:00.000-07:00

New Cartoon

Geisha Girl

2010-05-05T10:56:00.000-07:00

I love doing intricate black and white pieces...there's just something very gratifying and stress-relieving about spending a couple hours inking in tiny little details. This is an old one I did for a friend's birthday, but kind of original and one of my favorites.

Mexico, oh Mexicooooooo...

2010-04-28T17:54:00.000-07:00

There are many things in life I have found that require the 2-drink minimum. These range from romantic comedies, driving in Uganda, clapping for mediocre punk rock bands or (Lord forbid) Dane Cook, submitting to the ravenous desires of a 200 lb woman, or even eating sushi. All of which I have surmounted, been mounted, or lived to speak of, due to aforementioned drink requirement.
Visiting my relatives in Mexico proved to be no exception, except the drinks minimum went up drastically to…(in the sympathetic interest of my non-Commonwealth readers I will use the measurement system of…) A BLOODY LOT.
And yet as I sit here, partially recovered and listening to the monosyllabic sound of my liver eroding, I consider it money and time well spent.
I began by spending a BAJILLION dollars to take a plane to El Paso, due to it being 3 bucks cheaper than actually chartering and flying my own craft, and slightly more attractive an option than using the infamous Greyhound (MOTTO: More Urine Smell For Your Buck!) which takes approximately 598 hours to get from Austin to El Paso depending on the amount of gang warfare, defecation, or prostitution that occurs on board during that time. Then onto the Mexican border to submit to the ruthless searching, questioning (and possible ridicule…we are not sure…) of 3 Stone Cold Steve Austin lookalikes at Border Patrol. These poor men had clearly been in the sun too long, as each, in their turn, asked each member of the car, in turn, where they were going. From 3 verbal assailants directing this important investigation towards 4 very sweaty, very half naked surfing/terrorist suspects, it amounted to the same question being repeated a grand total of 12 times, which became highly annoying, to say the least. Matters became tense when my 3 year old son had no answer to the question produced for him, and a gun battle was barely halted, upon a desperate explanation that he only talks to people that feed him, and that he was, in fact, 3…with absolutely nothing life-threatening on his person except a dubious McDonalds burger (with mayo).
30 minutes and minus a burger later, we were on our way for the pleasant yet scorching drive through 15 hours of bullet-riddled real estate. The Mexican border towns are so violent, in fact, that Obama is preparing to move in with the American military to not only divert attention from his useless Medical Bill, but involve himself in a conflict he might ACTUALLY WIN! If they get past the Steve Austins, that is.

When in Mexico...

We stayed first at my sister’s house in Chihuahua, a town so ugly they named the world’s ugliest dog after it, and then onto Guadalajara (Pronounced: Gua da la ya har ha ha ha la ra ja ha) before working our way, beer by beer, to the beach.
What transpired the following week was honestly a bit of blur. Scenes of Tequila, vicious waves, inviting sands, inviting-but-then cruel sun, and a monkey named…Chad spring to mind, before being hurriedly banished. For those not partial to food or toilet paper, however, it was the campers dream, although not to be lived too often, if one wishes to reach their 30s.

My brother and sister lived up to their reputations of unexplainable strangeness and fun, and Drake and I got ourselves a wicked tan, among other questionable souvenirs. To all those who have not partied in Mexico, I highly recommend it.
Just bring toilet paper.

My adorable niece

My adorable son

My adorable attempt at surfing...

Lord of the Bling

2010-04-23T23:45:00.000-07:00

Fun little Frodo caricature, who I always look to when I'm stressed and tell myself it could be worse...I could have that HAIRCUT...good Lord. I liked doing this one.

Dedicated to all the Hobbits out there...

Inner Peace...

2010-04-19T11:25:00.000-07:00

New kids illustration

"Hero of War"?

2010-04-12T20:13:00.000-07:00

You may not like this song....but I doubt you'll forget it anytime soon

I'll be back...

2010-04-06T09:58:00.000-07:00

Haven't been posting much of late, due to my life being a swirling dervish (I have NO idea what a swirling dervish is...) of planes, trains, and insufferably cramped automobiles. Been having a whale of a time though (NO idea what a whale of time really actually means...) and as soon as I am within grabbing distance of a complete strangers computer for more than 10 minutes I will be rushing back to grossly exaggerate everything I have been up to....life has been good

The Oddessy (intro)...

2010-03-27T16:44:00.000-07:00

At certain times throughout the year at unpredictable intervals I am suddenly seized by the uncontrollable urge to run screaming out of whatever place I am living, and never return until I have spent at least a month in a foreign country and made out with a celebrity. This is a habit I have, with the help of the authorities, learned to curb, after once undergoing aforementioned seizure in the midst of a shower whilst George Clooney was desperately unfortunate to be taking a walk outside. (ok, yes, yes…I hear you skeptics screaming already. It was a JOKE!!! I never shower….)
But I digress. The point is I am prone to cold feet…or itchy feet, I forget. Anyhow, at certain times in the year something unusual happens to my feet that propels me to hit the road.
I love to travel…a compulsion I have had since an early age when I began to inherit a dreadful stream of insufferable caretakers called “Aunties”. Thanks to them I learned to walk at the tender age of 2 months and learned to pack bags by the time I was 6 months. My parents successfully persuaded me to stay till I was at least weaned, and then schooled, and then 16. Those sneaky parents...you give’m an inch...
But by 16 I was off. I have actually had the fortunate experience to live on every continent in the world, and go places and do things many people only dream of. Much of this is thanks to my international Missionary upbringing but also again, the cold/itchy/dirty feet phenomenon I have been blessed/cursed with.
So anyways, polluted international airspace called, and I obeyed. I left the sunny comforts of Durban, South Africa, last week, and sit writing this from wonderful, icy, depressing England. I actually quite like the United Kingdom…it has always been more of a home to me than anywhere else and I tend to stay there longer than I do most places…partly due to the fact I am often too frozen to go anywhere and also the fact it has a certain civilized charm to it that I sometimes miss when living in Africa.

So here I sit…dealing with the ultimate irony of my “cold feet” issue, as I am actually too terrified to stand up for fear my frozen toes will crack off. The pain would not be an issue, as they’ve been numb for 2 days, but there are those who would hate me for never being able to tapdance again, and the world is too sorrowful a place to further rob them of such joy.
I plan to be traveling a fair bit over the next couple months, and will keep you, dear reader, duly posted if I do anything more interesting than scratch myself. (Which on the plane coming here, was actually a process that took 4 minutes, but perhaps more on that later…)

(facially expressing the deliciousness of warm beer)

Right now I’m going to go do all the special Englishy things that I have not done in such a very long time, such as freeze, have someone desecrate my chips with vinegar, drink warm beer, and maybe maul a Chelsea fan.

There’s no place like home.

Curiouser and curiouser...

2010-03-17T14:40:00.000-07:00

I was delighted/insanely envious/and incidentally yet totally irrelevantly needing to go to the bathroom when I discovered my favorite caricaturist (and possibly best of all time) Jason Seiler, was one of the concept artists involved in the designing and creating of the wonderfully fascinating little mutants of the awesome film Alice in Wonderland. Jonny Depp may not have been at his best, but the character designers certainly were, and Jason did an amazing job pulling these creations out of his head. I have to say the movie was scarcely more entertaining than the 1760 A.D Disney cartoon, but the CGI did this century immense justice, and of course Jason's characters were much...muchier than I even expected.
This man has the grooviest job in the world (with the possible exception of Jeremy Clarkson and the Guy Who Oils Beyonce Up For Photo Shoots.)

Behold the muchness...

The Red Queen

For a model, he cleverly used one of my childhood caretakers...

Beware the Bandersnatch...

And the jewel on this creepy crown, Tweedledee...or Dum. One can never tell...

To bask in more of his brilliance, check out his blog here.