Sunday, June 28, 2009
If you aren't familiar with Burtday (June 29) tradition, you should know that every year for my birthday I order a Cookie Cake and incorporate some silly graphic/message on it. One year I did "Happy Birthday, Manuel". Another year I requested "IM N UR BDAY EETING UR CAEKS!" (with picture of cat licking paw). And, of course, "I HAS A BURTDAY," with a Lolrus wearing a Lolhat.
This year I decided to do something different. I had a blank cake (blank except for the border) ordered and requested icing on the side. I then illustrated my own Burtday Cookie Cake. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be; I survived three icing accidents. My rug was not so lucky, however. Damned icing squeeze-tubes!
Anyway, I got a kick out of it. As did my friends who attended my last-minute bowling party:
I actually cranked out this graphic in ten minutes and posted it on Facebook about thirty minutes before the bowling started, hahaha. Thanks to everyone who came out! :D
Oh, and here is the general promo image for my pretend 26-day Burtday Blowout:
Haha, I had a lot of fun designing these super-quick, super-silly graphics!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Makes sweet eyes,
Change a diaper,
Forget me not-
Here crawls the Spidertot.
Is he soft?
Smooth as silk.
Can he eat
His bib says
"Chomp Chomp Dude."
Waddles the Spidertot!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
One theme I keep going back to is that of how oppressive some jobs can be. Working long hours with little creative flow can stifle a person. I'm sure some wish they could stick their heads in the cool, cool clouds.
As a designer/illustrator, I get to create things on a daily basis. Our creative team thrives in those cool, cool, clouds. It's not an escape. It's home!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Straining his smallish mind and flexing his biggish muscles, Krogar decided he would play his hand, after all.
The card dealer wisely let him unfold, and finished the round with a nervous tic.
"Three-of-a-Kind beats your High Three." said the dealer.
RIP Harold "Palmy" Palmetto
He dealt to the best;
Is now laid to rest.
It was in the cards.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Here's my latest t-shirt design. It's actually been completed for a while; I just haven't been able to comp it up on a shirt until now.
The shirt concept is a logistical nightmare: having a drive-by high-five between an astronaut and a scuba diver. But once they figured it out, the high-five was totally necessary.
I spec'd it to be glittery gold and silver ink on a black shirt. Black for deep space AND deep sea. Two blacks for the price of one shirt.
Let me know what you think! I'll submit it to Threadless soon and keep everyone posted on when the scoring starts.
Here's a detail shot:
Thursday, June 11, 2009
A couple of week ago I ventured out to Hobby Lobby to replenish my art supplies. Before I got to the art section, however, I found that there exists a section with little figures. Cowboys, Indians, Pirates, Soldiers, Horses, Dinosaurs, etc. I was very impressed.
I saw that they had a few knights. One of the knights had a stag head mounted to the top of his helmet. This, being pretty intense, caught my eye. I then noticed that there were moose figures. My brain put the two together and then my hands literally put them together. It had to be done. It was too perfect. So then I found a white kingly knight and matched him up with a regal-looking white polar bear.
I purchased these four items, not knowing that I would eventually be drawing them. I did, however, think up a story on the way home:
The Pact of Seasons
It widely believed that the oldest struggle on Earth is Good vs. Evil. But, though it may be hard to believe, there exists an even older contest.
As long as our Sun has burned, but long (longggg) before orbits and cycles were understood and science embraced, the Earth has been contested by the spirits of Summer and Winter. In the early years, the planet's surface was in constant turmoil because of the quest for dominance. Summer wished to irradiate warmth throughout even the deepest caverns, while Winter wished even the deepest oceans to be frozen.
Keep in mind, there was no life yet on earth to be affected. The Earth seemingly just existed for the sport of the two opposing spirits.
Somewhere along the line, however, life was created. Maybe it was because of an especially spectacular bout between the rivals, or the force of some magic instilling life into the ground. Plants sprung up amongst the chaos. Soon afterwards very, very small creatures were peeking their heads out from cracks in the surface.
Winter and Summer took notice of their audience. Once aware that they had inadvertently created life as a byproduct of their struggle, they now felt wholly responsible. A pact was made to dispel any chance that sparring would end the life which they had created.
It was agreed that the annual cycle of the sun would be split in twain, with each party reigning for half of a year. Of course, because of their furiously competitive natures, the exchange date of the power would always be in flux. Impatience and greed usually added or took away from the deal a little. Some years would be exceptionally heated, while others would be predominantly frigid. But on average, the two spirits kept to the deal, and life flourished.
Throughout the different ages of Earth and Dinosaur and Man, Summer and Winter have grown fond of taking the form of whatever life-form is most dominant at the time. In these guises, they will hold contests to match strengths on a tangible battlefield. For example, in what is known as the Jurassic age, they would often assume the role of Tyrannosauruses and chomp it out. Much later, they would assume the position of knights on a chivalrous battlefield. There have also been dogfights in the skies, naval battles in the sea, and laser-blastings via rockets in space.
Of course, one can feel the struggle continuing, be it through a sweaty forehead or the chattering of teeth! Tell-tale signs of the never-ending rivalry.
Here are some pictures that Merlin snapped during the Middle Ages. He was using magical future camera technology.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
During times of chivalry and damsels-in-distress, clashing swords and splintered lances, there quested a tiny hero.
The common-folk (and common-babies) referred to him as the "Babeknight," probably because he was both a baby and a knight.
In times that toddlers terrorized territories, the Babeknight was often called upon to help rid the land of stinky/cranky evil.
In contrast to his cutesy appearance, the Babeknight was actually quite ruthless in his quest for the Sippy Grail. He longed to find it and drink milk from it. He pursued clues for it tirelessly, with except for five naps a day. Though he craved the Grail, his quest never made him power-hungry. Instead, he remained only normally-hungry, on a diet of formula and mashed carrots.
Wielding his rattle-mace, the Babeknight felled many foes (many of them older and larger than himself.) He once fooled King Myron of the Shady Vale (whom was rumored to know the whereabouts of a map to the Grail) by pretending to need a burping. Once the King picked him up and began patting, our valorous knight dealt a swift baby-chop to the King's neck, incapacitating him. The ensuing search did not yield the map; instead, the Babeknight found an ample supply of blankees and hand-sewn rabbit dolls. Oh, happy day! He then had to be changed by a nearby nursemaid.
Oh, and he rode a feline steed. Oh, and the Babeknight is in no way affiliated with the Children's Crusade. No, sir.
Tales of the Babeknight resounded far and wide until the times led the world West. Exploration and over-sea voyages opened new routes and new doors for strange and wondrous tales. Out of these, a new mythical figure arose. With the claiming of new lands in the name of Spain, the Conquistadorable One made his name. But that is a tale for another time.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Hello, everyone! Just wanted to let you guys know that I posted a new Booksketch just now. It was inspired by George Orwell's classic novel Animal Farm. I added a little modern touch to it, which you might have expected from the title.
Here's the link: Pigs Are Texting! Pigs Are Texting!
If you like the site/illustration, please feel free to leave a comment. I luvs them.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Where are the cowboys of yesteryear?
With the West thoroughly explored, one can no longer "go" there, young man. Cowboys have been replaced by shepherd dogs, which were replaced by robot shepherd dogs, which were quickly replaced by super-smart whip-wielding babies.
The true cowboy spirit, however, shall never die out. Hardcore enthusiasts kept the tradition alive by adapting to worldly changes. What's left to explore? Well, the deep sea, of course. Cowscuba riders and beacheros boldly navigated uncharted waters on genetically altered giant-sea-horses (it was deemed most appropriate). Returning from a long day underwater, our adventurers would retire to their coral corrals.
That only whet the appetite of the adapting cowboys, however. The largest "West" still lay ahead. Or, rather, above. Actually, in every direction: SPACE.
They were dubbed Cowbonauts, since "Astroboy" was already taken and legally secured. Since the universe is expanding, their explorations and tales of zero-G derring-do were infinite. Though they embraced many new technologies, cowbonauts were often seen sporting the attire of traditional cowboys of times past. These throwbacks help remind the cowbonauts of their heritage and calling.
Cowbonaut Chantey: "Saddle-ites In Space"
Though-oh-we may have traded colts,
For these buckets full of bolts,
That eat not, want not, drink not- Nay!
But sure still pack a jolt!
And-oh-you may note this as well,
We've ditched that cattle smell,
Which suits us fine (Oh, we don't mind!),
Let's hear that cowboy yell!