Friday, January 28, 2005

Rain King.


It's raining in Socal again. Bloody weather could use a change. And I could use a free carwash... you know, being a struggling artist and all.

Sunshine is overrated. God, that's blasphemy for a Southern Californian. Proof that I just don't belong here.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

Son of Radio Hed.

Juxtaposing my rough sketch against clean, smooth graphics. Looks interesting, but I just don't know. Something 's missing.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Another one.


Or without.

I'm not done jackin' with this piece. I'm adding a grenade with devil horns.


Or without.

Can't decide. I should be asleep by now. But instead, I'm up effing with Photoshop. Meanwhile, Doodlebug is mining for some resin. Madvillain's track 9 is skipping like a little schoolgirl. And in front of me, a glazed donut is fearing for it's life.

Cowboy Bebop is on. It's the one where they ingest the wrong mushrooms. Hah, the dog just ate some.

Saturday, January 08, 2005

Kiss My Converse.

Back in art school, I witnessed a girl paint her chucks with oils. It's made out of canvass, she points out with a shrug. Painting on windows and milk bowls, and cold locker doors drove her insane. Concentric circles of black, red, and yellow were applied with delicate care, as if painting her nails. She's spent eight lives, claiming she's born with nine. Carefully, she walks out the door, her scent laced with linseed oil and the glow of cadmium red surround her ears. A room playing Trane drowns her tail as she sees visions of Dali clocks dangling like sneakers from power lines. She licks her paws waiting for her shoes to dry. Wouldn't it be pimp if I could kiss her Converse... And hang her masterpiece in an old, circus sideshow for all eternity? Oblique. Sho'nuff.



What are you?

And look at all that negative space.

I'll get back to you. What!


"Ogrecorns of Mars"

Some say these creatures have existed as long as Mars have existed. They live in underground burrows and have a natural affinity for the land. Copper manholes carved with elaborate sigils mark the entrance to their dwellings. They grunt in heavy Russian accents. Vodka is their choice of drink, and they drink often. They consume caviar twice their body weight. They have a surly demeanor and are prone to violent outbursts if provoked. Look at them funny and see what happens.

Friday, January 07, 2005

Thursday, January 06, 2005


Disappointed in the new UNKLE cd. Nice cover art though...Futura 2000.

Kentucky Fried Chucks.

Son of Road Runner. Beep-beep.
This one's a quickie. "I Am Citizen Insane" looping in the background.

Wednesday, January 05, 2005



For my cousins- Kevin in Vegas, Ray in Sydney, and Ram in Okinawa. Yeah, I got cousins EVERYWHERE.

Almost done. Just need to finish up the scimitar. Sharpen up some soft edges and a bit more to tighten up the skull. That should be it... Unless I get the urge to add more crap.

There's a little bit of me in that face and posture. Didn't notice until now. Goes to show what the subconscious can do. A teacher once told me that artists tend to project themselves into their piece. I think it's vanity. But my teacher literally meant people can physically project themselves in their artwork and travel to a two-dimensional state with less complexity. They live in a reality where there is no perception of a third. A simple world with two-dimensional problems.

Right then and there I knew my art teacher "smoked."

So there I am, two-dimensional and simple...Sporting a big scimitar and cowboy boots.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Do not disturb.

For my cousin Bobbie.

Her name is Candle. She's from Mars. Not the Mars you think you know. It's not the planet Mars favored by science teachers and astronomy books. It's a younger, petulant Mars awaiting the coming of a second moon. A place that mixes childhood imagination and a mad king's hallucination. Mars, the fourth world from the Sun.

Candle is a Princess, though she doesn't act like one, second in line to the throne of Pax Ares. She was born with a special charm, a gift bestowed upon Candle by her one-eyed godmother. Her kiss can put dragons to sleep... and sometimes into coma. Clueless ducks who cross her path be warned. Candle likes kicking ducks, just because.

Candle swears Martian Summers are fun because they last twice as long.

Imagine that...Summers twice as long.